#And how far she can take it until he's forced to comment | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

shinhyunjin · 16 days ago

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── .✦ fan service.

⟢ pairing: bang chan x female!reader

⟢ genre: fluff, idolverse, friends to lovers (kind of)

⟢ word count: 2.3k

⟢ summary: when you and chan were expected to do tons of fan service because of how much your fans loved your interactions, it was only fair to take a little advantage of it at times.

⟢ author’s note: helloo, this is a request from @cant-see-sam, who asked for “something where she gets protective over one of her younger members and chan is just like one the corner giggling and kicking his feet” hehe. i don’t know if this is close to what you had in mind, but i enjoyed writing it and i hope you enjoy reading it<3

“Loverboy’s staring again” your second to oldest member, Kyungmi, let you know with a smirk.

She didn’t need to mention who was staring at you for you to know it was Chan, and you loved the thought of it so much that you found yourself fighting the smile that threatened with curving up the corners of your mouth.

“Don’t call him that” you murmured.

“He is, though” she pushed it, looking over your shoulder to the idol she was shamelessly throwing under the bus. “All he can see from over there is your back, yet he’s been stealing glances every two minutes”.

“Kyungie…” you warned her, carefully looking around and making sure there were no cameras pointing at your table—thankfully, there weren’t any. “There are cameras everywhere,” you reminded her regardless. “Be careful with what you say”.

She shrugged, lying back on her chair as her eyes went to the Award’s stage in front, which was now filled with staff members rushing from one side to the other as they prepared it for the next group to perform.

“There’s nothing interesting happening over here right now, they won’t bother filming us just yet”.

“Still…” you leaned back on your chair as well. “There are fans in the venue”.

“And they love your interactions with him!”

Rolling your eyes at her cynical excitement, you remained quiet—her words being far too truthful for you to even try and deny them.

Openly being friends with an idol of the opposite sex was always a hit or miss—people either loved it and asked for more interactions, or they hated it and wanted you to stay as far away from each other as possible.

Luckily for you and Chan, his fans, as well as yours, had loved your friendship ever since he first mentioned you in one of his weekly lives back in the day.

He didn’t think much of it when he did, as he had mentioned a handful of other idols before. He simply read a comment asking if he got along with the girl group that had recently debuted under JYPE—that being your group—and his genuine answer ended up with him bringing you up; mentioning how out of all the members he was the closest to you, since you were the leader and, as a very inexperienced one who wanted to do her best, you used to turn to him for advice.

That simple mention of your name was all it took for the fans to go wild, asking for more and more interactions between the two of you as the time went on, to the point the company itself would make sure to put the two of you together for dance challenges, variety shows, special stages, and whatnot.

It was fan service at its finest—until it was not.

You were both human, at the end of the day. It didn’t take long for the two of you to discover how much you had in common, and the chemistry you shared was so strong that it was impossible to ignore. And so, what started with your company forcing you together for clout, ended up with the two of you becoming closer than they expected.

What started with casual corridor conversations soon turned into daily chats over texts and casual video calls, where you would talk about anything but work, and you would find yourself blushing over his dorky—yet smooth as hell—way with words.

Just like that, although most of your interactions in front of the cameras were planned by the company in order to make your fandoms happy and increase your groups’ popularity, sometimes even taking it one step further by telling you what to do or say, since both you and Chan were quite private and definitely needed a push or two to act in front of everyone the same way you did when the cameras were off, it came a point when you simply let loose.

Fan service or not, whether it seemed too much to the viewers or not, you started to act just as close as you were regardless of there being cameras pointing at you or not.

A dream for many, as not all idols got to publicly interact with each other without having either rumours or hate spreading all over.

Unfortunately for you, however, sometime along the way of your forced proximity, bickering turned into flirting and friendly smiles turned into heart eyes—each day making it harder for both of you to hide your growing feelings from the media.

That seemed to be the case for Chan that night, as he found his eyes being drawn to you every couple of minutes. But what else was he supposed to do when your table was right next to theirs, and his seat gave him the perfect view of you? Well, the perfect view of your back, but still of you nevertheless.

And, well, you weren’t doing any better either, for you found yourself turning around to look at him after Kyungmi stole another glance his way and smirked over how amusing the situation was to her. Your eyes locked with him immediately, feeling your heart flutter and laughing under your breath when he tried to play it cool by looking at the stage instead.

You had already caught him red handed, though, and you could only feel relief and shyness altogether when it was confirmed to you that Kyungmi wasn’t just making it up for the sake of teasing you.

“Maybe we should invite him to sit with us,” Kyungmi proposed. “The fans would love that”.

“Stop” you laughed this time, hiding your face in your hands for a moment before you watched everyone get off the stage, as the next performance was apparently about to start. “Should I call the girls to rush back here? I think Aespa is coming up and Yumi really wanted to watch them”.

Kyungmi shook her head no, gesturing towards their empty seats. “The dorks left their phones here. I’m sure Yumi’s already dragging Soomin over here, though”.

“We’re here! We’re here!” Yumi announced a little out of breath, reaching your side as if on cue.

“The line to the restroom was so long,” Soomin whined, not wasting another second to slump down on her seat next to you. “I thought we wouldn’t make it back in time”.

“But we did, right?” The youngest asked, going around the table to her seat. “Aespa hasn’t performed yet?”

“No, th—”

Your words were caught in your throat when, just as Yumi was about to sit down, a staff member pulled her chair and took it with him.

She managed to catch her balance in time not to fall to the ground—with some help from Soomin, who had instinctively held onto her upper arm rather forcefully—, but watching her lost eyes as they followed the man and the idea of her having fallen down because of his careless action, were enough for you to call him out before he could leave.

“Excuse me, she was using that” you tried to sound as polite as you could, considering how you had to raise your voice in order for him to hear you from across the table.

He turned to you with an annoyed semblance, and you could already tell this wouldn’t be a pleasant exchange. “She wasn’t sitting on it”.

“But she was about to,” you argued. “That seat was assigned to us, can you please give it back to her?”

“Another group is missing a chair and I have instructions to take one to them”.

“Well, can’t you look f—”

“Y/N…” Yumi tried to ease the situation, carefully speaking up. “I’m okay, I’ll just go look for another one”.

Her words were like fuel to the guy in front, who took that as his chance to get out of there and trotted away from you before you could utter another word.

With a defeated sigh as you watched him leave, and with a visibly upset Yumi who was just left standing there as she had nothing to sit down on now, you stood up.

“Yumi, come here” you motioned towards your seat, pulling the chair back for her to sit down on instead.

“I’m okay, really” she shyly tried to reassure you the moment she realised what you were doing—still, she went up to you like you told her. “I’ll go look for a spare one”.

“Come on now, you’re way too shy for that” you smiled softly, receiving a genuine smile from her in return—both your heads turning to the stage when the lights went down and the performance she was looking up to the most began. “Let’s just enjoy the show for now and I’ll go look for a chair afterwards”.

Yumi’s smile now parted her lips, brightly showing her teeth as she agreed with you, and quietly thanking you before she took the seat you were offering her.

Placing your hands on her shoulders and quickly getting too immersed in the show taking place before you, you were completely unaware of the guy that was looking at you from afar, and how he needed to bring a hand up to his mouth and fake out a cough, in order to play it cool and—poorly—hide the big smile that was beginning to part his lips.

“What happened?” Felix asked him with furrowed eyebrows, leaning closer to his leader since the music currently playing made it hard to hear.

“She’s so cute” Chan answered, allowing his smile to take over yet still hiding his mouth under his hand.

Felix smiled, shaking his head and looking over to you, as he did not need his leader to mention your name for him to know he was talking about you.

“Did we just watch the same scene play out before us a minute ago?” He teased him. “Yumi literally got her seat taken from her and you’re laughing”.

“I’m not laughing about that,” Chan corrected him. He was mad about the whole situation, of course. “I just think Y/N’s cute when she gets all protective”.

“More like you think she’s cute all the time”.

“Whatever,” Chan rolled his eyes, knowing there was no winning this fight, for he could not cover the sun with a finger. “Can you go give my chair to her? I’ll go look for a spare one for myself”.

“Look who’s being all protective now,” Felix chuckled. “I mean, I could go up to her and give her your chair, but I’m sure everyone would take it the wrong way”.

“People might take it the wrong way if I do, too…”

“Everyone thinks you’re just friends, they’ll love the fan service”.

“We are just friends, though…”

Felix laughed—the sound of it overpowering the one coming from the stage. “Okay, whatever you say. I’ll look for a spare seat, you go give your friend your chair” he proposed with a taunting smirk. “I don’t think she’ll take it as a platonic gesture, though”.

Chan shook his head in defeat, resting against the back of his chair and focusing on the performance taking place on the stage instead.

God, he wished you wouldn’t take it as a platonic gesture. It was hard to draw the line when your interactions were expected to be merely friendly.

As soon as the performance ended and the lights were back on, he channeled the courage he had been earning up for the last minute and stood up, grabbing his chair and bringing it with him all the way to your table.

He could feel your members’ eyes focus on him the moment he reached it, yet you were too focused gushing about the show with Yumi to even notice him standing right behind you.

So, with a small tap on your shoulder, he brought your attention to him.

“Um…” he hesitated when you turned around and your eyes met his, feeling his confidence abandon him as it hit him just how much more beautiful you looked up-close. “Here”.

Feeling your piercing stare on him as he placed the chair on the space Kyungmi had just made for it by sliding her chair to the side, he couldn’t ignore the goosebumps on his skin. And when you were still far from saying anything after he rested his hands on the back of your new seat, he couldn’t help the breathy, nervous laugh that escaped his lips.

“Don’t tell me you actually wanted to stand for the rest of the Awards and I brought a chair over here for nothing”.

“N-No, um… thank you” you breathed out, feeling your heart pounding against your chest. “I didn’t think there were any seats left”.

“There weren’t” he laughed.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Please don’t make me say it and just take the chair” he felt his cheeks burn.

Feeling your face heat up like only he could make it, you decided to take it easy on him and not push for an answer. Instead, you smiled at him and nodded before you took the seat he was offering—feeling your heart race all over again when you did and he gently pushed you closer to the table.

You looked up to him with a smile, covering your mouth just in case before you said, “You just went a little too overboard with the fan service there, don’t you think?”

He chuckled, shaking his head and looking down at you with a smile. “It stopped being fan service a long time ago now, didn’t it?”

Hearing your members giggle, and turning around to see his members shaking their heads as they looked at him with amused grins, Chan realised that maybe this particular interaction would be hard to defend as a platonic one.

The image of the heart eyes you were looking at him with right before he went back to his table, though, was enough for him not to worry about a thing and to be over the moon for the rest of the night.

Fan service came in many ways, after all. He just got lucky enough to be able to court the person he had feelings for while at it.

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rhaenyratargcryen · 8 months ago

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you're my shotgun lover and i want it all | tyler owens (twisters)

masterlist ❈

summary: Every once in a while, the two of you will get a little too drunk, stay until last call, sneak back to your motel room, and fuck. Nobody knows – at least you don’t think they do – and you never talk about it when you’re sober. Tyler will generally stay until you fall asleep, but he’s always gone when you get up the next day. Only once has he woken up in bed with you the next morning, and you’ve never made that mistake again. There isn’t a name for what you feel for him, you don’t think, and you can’t tell what he thinks of the arrangement. Clearly he likes it, or he wouldn’t be making eyes at you from across three people’s laps as you pull these peanuts from their shells. author's note: i...wrote this...in one.......single......afternoon. my fingers hurt anyway he's so hot i have had a crush on glen powell since 2018 (set it up supremacy) but this movie reawakened something in me. i should probably watch top gun now

pairing: tyler owens x f!reader word count: 9,123 (...oopsie) warnings/tags: pWp (with, y'all!), alternate universe: canon divergence, friends to lovers, friends with benefits

also cross-posted to ao3 okay love you bye xoxo your comments and reblogs are appreciated but not required i will love you all the same i hope u like !!!! <3

all characters are 18+ these are 18+ activities minors pls do not interact my eye is twitching as i write this

It has been one hell of a week.

The tornadic activity has been off the charts – more storms built up under ideal conditions for weather hell-bent on destruction in a multiple-day stretch than you can remember ever tracking before. Your team had obviously been up for the chase, but now that the storms have passed, and the sun shines on the cleanup efforts, you can’t help but wish you’d chosen a different life path. You love what you do, but God, were you tired. Blisters have formed on the palms of your hands despite the gloves you’d donned. You could practically feel the knots forming in your neck. You shovel one more load of leaf litter before heaving the blade into the ground and leaning against it. Across from you, a backhoe is demolishing and excavating the remains of a house.

You close your eyes and try to just let the sun warm your face, thinking about how fast it can all just be gone. Mother Nature’s a beautiful force, but she can be cruel.

“Hey, don’t be slowin’ down on me,” Tyler jokes, clapping a hand between your shoulder blades. You hadn’t heard him approach, and his voice has startled you, pulling you from your thoughts. “We’re ‘bout halfway done with our part, I think.”

“No,” you reply, swiping the back of your arm across your forehead, trying in vain to clear your bangs from your eyes, but they won’t budge. Tyler reaches up and, almost as if he isn’t even thinking about it, takes the unruly pieces of hair between his thumb and forefinger and tucks it behind your ear, underneath the temple of your sunglasses, to make sure it stays this time. The action is so intimate it sends a flush crawling up your neck. You chance a look around to make sure no one else has seen. “Not slowin’ down, I promise. Just thinking about how lucky we are to be alive. How sad it is that all these people just lost everything.”

You’ve known Tyler since the two of you were in college together, fast friends who’d stuck together through a lot that could've put a strain on any other relationship, although you hadn’t studied meteorology – you’d been in school to be a librarian.

One night, he’d asked you to stay up and help him with a lab he’d missed for one of his classes, and he loves to say he knew it then – that you were hooked – but you were too far along in your degree to do anything about it now. Switching from an arts degree to one in STEM? You’d have had to start over from scratch.

Tyler had formed his team while you were in grad school and he was working as a cowboy for the rodeo back home, and you’d dropped out without a second thought when he asked you to be a founding member, to travel the country with him every tornado season. Said he wouldn’t – couldn’t – think about doing it without you. You’ve been riding with him ever since.

The two of you share everything, always have, and sometimes you wonder if it might be too much for the professional relationship you’re supposed to have.

“That’s what we’re here for,” Tyler grins, the hand still glued to your back rubbing gently, sending goosebumps across your skin under your shirt. “To help ‘em feel like their luck is turnin’.”

Always the optimist, Tyler Owens. He clears his throat, the hand on your back pulling away, and steps slightly closer to you.

“One of the folks over there gave these to me,” he says, gesturing to a group of people gathering in front of a house that looks like something had tried to suck it into the ground from dead center. “I saved their cat from their screened-in porch, poor thing had been yowling all night apparently. Know these’re your favorite, so, here you go. I think you earned it.”

You take the tin from him and open it, your mouth instantly watering at the sight of the small, round butter cookies inside. “God,” you groan, picking one up and taking a bite, savoring it over your tongue. You can feel Tyler watching you carefully. “Thank you. You get me.”

“Do we get cookies, Tyler?”

Lily’s voice sounds from your left, and you glance over at her. The shit-eating look on her face tells you she did see Tyler fix your hair for you. Your stomach somersaults.

“If you’re good,” Tyler says, smirking, “after the sun sets, we can head back to the motel, find some shitty bar, and drinks’ll be on me, okay? How’s that sound?”

Lily whoops, turning to Dani, who’d since appeared beside her, and the two snicker and fist bump.

“You need any help over here?”

You look back at Tyler, cupping one hand above your eyes to shield them from the sunlight. Despite your glasses, it shines bright from directly behind him, and you can hardly stand to look at him.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you murmur in reply, bending down to toss some siding that had been blown off one of the houses on this street into the wheelbarrow you’ve been using. “You should go see what Boone’s up to – I don’t think anyone has seen him in a minute.”

No doubt Boone was hiding somewhere with one of the breakfast burritos Lily and Dani have been rolling since early that morning, seeing how long he can get away with not doing his part. He’s a good guy, but the manual labor side of the job isn’t really his thing.

“Eh, he’s better off wherever he is,” Tyler laughs, and a small smile takes over your face, too. “Hey, you sure you’re okay? You don’t need a break? You can take a minute to yourself, no one’ll judge. I know how this can all get to you a little more than it gets to everyone else.”

You know him well enough to know he’s not calling you weak-stomached, that he’s genuinely concerned for how you feel, but he’s right. It does all get to you. Settling in to help survivors of these natural disasters is just something that comes with the chasing – there isn’t one without the other for you and the rest of the crew. You nod, glancing back up at him.

“I’m okay, Tyler. Go off and be the face of the operation – you don’t have to worry about me.”

Tyler’s eyes narrow, his gaze shifting between your eyes, trying to find evidence you’re withholding the truth from him, but he seems to find nothing. With a minute tip of his head, he turns to resume working through a long-term plan for rebuilding the town with the mayor and some other members of the local government.

This is something else you know he loves to do – shmooze with higher-ups, show off his people skills. Not only are they higher-ups, they’re small-town folk. His kind of people. He knows how to get through to them, how to get them to trust him. You love that about Tyler. He’s never condescending – he always has a genuine desire to help. He’s been through this hundreds of times, and these people may only have been through it this one time. You look around at them, at the people of all ages picking up the pieces that remain of their community, then cross your fingers and send a thought out to anyone listening:

Please let it be the only time.

After a few more hours of genuinely back-breaking work, you hear Tyler’s sharp whistle and know it’s time, meandering over to his truck where it’s been parked for almost eighteen hours. Using your teeth, you pull your gloves from your hands and hiss. They’ve been rubbed raw, the skin blistering where each finger meets the palm. You try to ignore the throbbing sensation, leaning against the passenger side door and closing your eyes. The rest of the crew sidle up to you, taking long drags from water bottles and cigarettes and trying to make peace with how you’re leaving this place tonight.

“Does anyone else want to break off to shower first?”

It seems Dani’s the only one, and they shrug, putting their hand out, palm up, to Dexter, who hands them the keys to the RV.

“Meet y’all there,” they say, stifling a yawn, and you know it’ll be a bit before you see them. The rest of you will have to pile into Tyler’s truck, and before you can object, the other three crawl into the back seat and leave you on the front bench with Tyler. You let yourself in and close the door behind you, buckling and watching as Tyler shakes someone’s hand and hustles to meet the rest of you. His Texans cap hits the bench before he does, between the two of you, and he turns his keys in the ignition, buckling his own seatbelt.

“Where we headin’?”

“There’s a place with a mechanical bull nearby. I vote there.”

“How nearby is ‘nearby,’ Boone?”

“Uh,” he pulls his phone from his pocket, does a quick Google to double-check. “Forty-five minutes?”

Dexter leans over and grips Boone’s phone, reading the screen. “In the opposite direction of the motel, Boone.”

Everyone groans, objecting, and you press your hand against your temple to alleviate the pressure there. The noise, God, the noise.

“Could we go somewhere closer to the motel, maybe?”

“It’s got a mechanical bull,” Boone stresses, and everyone rolls their eyes.

“Boone, you know damn well we’re not making it back to the motel if we go that far away.”

He groans, and you pull your own phone out, checking Maps to see what’s around the motel.

“This one’s three minutes from where we’re stayin’,” you say, showing Tyler your screen, and he nods, shifting into reverse, backing out, and starting down the one lane of the street that’s been cleared of debris.

“Hey Boone,” you toss over your shoulder as Tyler shifts into second gear. “By the way. Long time no see.”

Lily snorts, smacking you on the shoulder to let you know she thought that was a good one. Boone shakes his head.

“Hey, just because you didn’t see me all day doesn’t mean I wasn’t out there, too. How do I know you were workin’, weren’t sitting on your ass in the shade somewhere, hm?”

You hold your raw, red palms out for him to inspect and that shuts Boone up quick. Tyler whistles as he gets an eyeful of your skin.

“God damn, girl,” Lily murmurs. “That looks like it hurts. I think I might have Aquaphor in my bag back at the motel if you want some.”

“I’ll be alright,” you reply, knocking your elbow against her knee behind you in thanks. “Appreciate you.”

The rest of the drive is taken mostly in silence, everyone in the backseat trying to rest their eyes, but you stay up, your eyes on the road, so Tyler isn’t the only one making the thirty-ish minute drive back to where you’re staying, where you checked in only after it’d been decided which towns had been hit the worst, so you could reach all of them easily by truck.

“What’s goin’ on in your head? Hm?”

You turn to look at Tyler and he glances at you from out of the corner of his eye, then at your lap, at the fingernails you’ve picked down to the quick. “Real quiet over there.”

“Nothing,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Don’t let Boone get to you,” Tyler says, tapping his right fist on your thigh once, twice, then letting it rest there. You brush your knuckles against his and he opens the fist immediately, taking your hand in his but not squeezing, careful not to put pressure on the blisters on your palms.

“It’s not that,” you start, then realize your mistake, your admission. “I really – I think I’m just tired. It’s been a long week.”

You’re acutely aware of your hand in Tyler’s. It’s not like you’ve ever been shy around him – your cheeks flush at the thought – but this is…different. Sweet. More.

“Yeah, that it has,” he sighs, adjusting his left hand on the steering wheel so he can drive a little more comfortably, but his right hand stays in yours.

You settle back into silence, Tyler seemingly having dropped the subject, and your eyes return to the road, but you feel him looking over at you, checking on you, every once in a while. You try your hardest not to meet his gaze.

Soon enough, Tyler is putting the truck in park, then shutting the thing off. The noise – or lack thereof, you guess – wakes Dexter in the back, then Lily, who snorts when she sees your hand in Tyler’s. You pull away and unbuckle your seatbelt, watching as Tyler, with a hurt look on his face, wipes his hand on his jeans and swings himself down and out of the truck.

“C’mon, Boone,” he shouts, slapping a hand on the door that Boone has his head resting against, and the man sits up straight, wiping sleep from his eyes. “The sun hasn’t even gone down yet. Drinks on me, pal!”

The motel really is that close to the bar, so you all decide you’ll leave the truck parked there and walk home at the end of the night. The unspoken verdict is that you will all be getting shitfaced tonight.

The lingering smell of cigarettes in the air seems to rejuvenate everyone and Lily pumps a fist when she spots the old-fashioned jukebox across the room, then claps a hand over her mouth when she realizes there’s a TouchTunes sitting right next to it.

“Oh, I am so forcing you fuckers to listen to Chappell Roan all night,” she says gleefully, and you laugh along with her, looping your arm in hers and letting her pull you across the room while the boys settle in at the bar.

“So what was that all about?”

“What was what all about?” You play dumb, shrugging when Lily gives you a hard look and unhooks her arm from yours.

“Girl, seriously,” Lily scoffs, bumping your hip with hers and slipping a twenty dollar bill into the TouchTunes. Evidently she wasn’t joking when she meant you’d be listening to Chappell Roan all night. “I saw that thing earlier, the hair thing, don’t think I didn’t. And y’all holding hands in the truck. What’s going on there?”

You shake your head but she grabs your wrist. “I’m serious, Lil. Nothing’s going on. We’re friends – good friends. He noticed I was having a hard time today, and wanted to make sure I was alright. That’s all.”

You can tell she doesn’t fully believe you, and when she opens her mouth to object, you cut her off.

“I’m gonna run to the bathroom, okay?”

Lily watches you, trying to read the small line between your eyebrows, but eventually she nods and lets go of you, letting you turn away from her. You push through the door to the women’s restroom, your nose wrinkling at the smell, but you ignore it. Standing in front of the sink, you watch yourself, hands shaking. This isn’t you. You’re better than this at shoving these feelings for Tyler down, way down – or, rather, you had been, up until this week broke you, apparently. Turning the knob for the cold water to the left, you let it run over your sore hands, hissing at the feeling. Carefully, you cup your palms and watch them fill, then splash the water onto your face, soothing the flush. There. That should help.

There’s a cold bottle of Coors in front of the seat next to Dexter when you arrive back to the group, “Red Wine Supernova” playing from the speakers. You almost snort at all the old men – regulars, no doubt – groaning out their distaste for whoever chose the music all across the room.

“Thanks,” you toss over your shoulder at Tyler, sitting on the other side of Dexter and Boone. He nods and nurses his own. You frown and settle onto the stool, leaning an elbow on the bartop so you can turn and face your friends. The cold beer against the palms of your hands feels so nice.

What’s wrong with him? He won’t make eye contact with you, and you notice his jaw clicking as he grits his teeth. What’s got his panties in a twist?

As the night unfolds, you find yourself laughing more and more, loosening up, letting the stress of the last week fade into memory. Someone has produced a deck of cards from God knows where and Dani – who did join the group eventually – is showing off card tricks you didn’t even know they knew. You feel a warmth spreading through your body, and you can’t stop thinking about how much you love all of these people. Your friends. Your family. Empty bottles are swiftly replaced with full, cold ones without notice, and everyone is languid, relaxed, unburdened by the work that you’re all doing.

You take a pull from your drink, using the cover of the bottle to risk a glance to Tyler three seats down from you to find that he’s already watching you, and the look in his eye tells you exactly what he’s thinking. That somersault-y feeling is lower than your stomach now. You’re only three beers deep, but the air in your head reminds you that you’ve barely eaten all day, so you’re a little more affected by the alcohol than you’d usually be. Impolitely, you reach across Dexter next to you to grab a handful of peanuts from the basket to his left.

Glancing back up at Tyler, you meet his heady gaze again, and he smirks around the lip of the bottle against his mouth. He knows he’s got you right where he wants you. You swallow nervously around another sip of beer.

Every once in a while, the two of you will get a little too drunk, stay until last call, sneak back to your motel room, and fuck. Nobody knows – at least you don’t think they do – and you never talk about it when you’re sober. Tyler will generally stay until you fall asleep, but he’s always gone when you get up the next day. Only once has he woken up in bed with you the next morning, and you’ve never made that mistake again. There isn’t a name for what you feel for him, you don’t think, and you can’t tell what he thinks of the arrangement. Clearly he likes it, or he wouldn’t be making eyes at you from across three people’s laps as you pull these peanuts from their shells.

“Alright, y’all,” Lily says, slapping a hand on the bar, startling you out of your thoughts. You watch her, popping a nut into your mouth. “Think I’m gonna head out. I suggest you all do, too, fuckers, it’s late.”

Everyone starts to protest, but one glance at the clock tells you you’ve all stayed much longer than you thought – it’s a quarter past midnight, and you’ve got to be up with the daylight. You balk, but if you want to talk to Tyler tonight, you know you’ve got to shoulder your exhaustion and stick it out a little longer.

“I think I might stay for a bit,” you murmur, watching everyone stand and gather their things. You glance over at Tyler, who you can see clearly now that everyone’s out of their seats, and he’s watching you, too. The look on his face reads plain, now – he wants you.

“I’ll stay with her,” he says, eyes on yours. The green in them has disappeared almost completely, you notice, his pupils blown wide. “Walk her back. Y’all head back if you want.”

“I might stay, too –” Boone’s voice cuts off, coughing as Lily elbows him in the stomach, maybe a little too hard. “What the fuck was that for?”

“You’re going to bed, too, Boone,” Dani interrupts, a hand on his shoulder, guiding him towards the door. They poke him once when he starts to protest. “C’mon, now.”

Everyone shuffles out the front, Dexter calling good night, and all of the sudden, it’s just you and Tyler. You don’t know why, but your palms begin to sweat at the thought of being alone with him again. He stands, palming his drink, and slides onto the seat next to you, his body angled towards yours.

He’s never made you nervous like this. You don’t know what the fuck is wrong with you.

“So,” Tyler starts, grinning at you. “You come here often?”

You snort, emboldened by the booze, and he chuckles in response. “Idiot.”

“God, but I do love making you laugh.”

You blush under his scrutinous gaze, and take a quick swig of the dregs of your drink, unsure what to say to that. He mirrors you, taking a sip of his own while his eyes bore into yours. Accusatory.

“You don’t do it much anymore, you know that?”

“Do what?”

“Laugh.”

You press your fingertips to your mouth and Tyler’s eyes follow your hand. “I guess I just haven’t had much to laugh about lately,” you start, sighing deeply. “Tornado season’s been hard this year, and you know how much that – it gets to me. As much as I love what we do. You know. Remember that family a couple weeks back whose daughter was stuck under her bunk bed when it pressed on her too long, lost her leg below the knee? That got to me, Tyler. It did.”

“It gets to me, too,” he murmurs, knocking his knee against yours. “I guess I’m just better at hiding how bad it affects me. You can talk to me about it, though. You can talk to any of us.”

“I know I can,” you breathe, trying to keep your hands from shaking. “I know. Sometimes I don’t know what to say, though, you know, what is there to say? It’s not fair to complain about how sad it makes me to watch these people lose everything.”

“You’re allowed to feel sad. And to feel frustrated. It’s not fair, you’re right, but we’re doing good work, yeah? Fighting the good fight. Figuring out what makes these things tick, how to warn people when they’re in the path, get them outta the way and safe. Maybe they lose their house, their car, but they won’t lose themselves, or each other. That’s what matters most. Just remember that.”

You look up at him, set your elbow on the bartop, and prop your chin on your open palm. Your hands don’t hurt so bad anymore, you notice. “Thanks, Tyler.”

“Anytime,” he smiles, but you shake your head.

“Seriously. You always know what to say.”

A look crosses his face then, too quick for you to read, and he sets his drink down, flagging the bartender over to close out the team’s tab. You frown, wondering if you’d, ironically, said the wrong thing.

“What’s up?”

Tyler looks back to you, and this time, the look in his eyes is unmistakable. It burns. “Taking you home, sweetheart.”

The walk back to your motel is done in silence. Tyler’s hand swings next to yours, and you feel it searching for yours more than once, but you don’t take it. You climb the stairs together, slowly, and he walks you to your door. His room is one more floor up.

You can tell he thinks you won’t invite him in, that you’ve changed your mind – or maybe that you never made it up. He hadn’t, after all, told you plainly that that was why he’d stayed with you at the bar. You unlock the room with your key card and step inside, opening the door only far enough for you to fit through it. You turn back to look at him, his face awash in the street lights shining into the hallway. You flip the lightswitch on next to you, illuminating the room behind you, too.

“Well,” he murmurs, making to head back down the stairs. “Good night.”

“Tyler?”

His head turns back to look at you, watching as you hold out one hand and he takes it, letting you pull him closer to you. You press yourself into him, push your whole face against his chest, your hip keeping the door from closing on the two of you. You inhale deeply, the smell of him overtaking your senses. His cologne, yes, but underneath that, the smell of dirt, earth. Home.

You feel his arms wrap around your back and you turn your head to the side, press your ear to his heartbeat. Your hands come up to scratch down his back and you feel it when he shudders.

“Stay?”

You hear his breath hitch in his chest, then the deep rumble of his voice as he says, “Alright, baby.”

With a short inhale, your eyes flutter, nearly closing at the term of endearment. You step back, pulling him with you, and as you close the door behind you, he pushes one hand up into your hair and pulls your head toward his.

“I, uh,” you whisper against his lips when they get close enough to yours, “I think I might shower first, if that’s okay with you?”

“Alright,” he murmurs, unlacing his hand from the strands of your hair before toeing his boots off and carefully setting them under the chair next to the front door. “You want company?”

You swallow. You’ve never done anything like that before. It’s always been quick. When you do this with him, you hardly ever have time for a chat before he’s got your shirt over your head and his mouth on your skin.

“Sure,” you reply. You feel him watch as you turn around and pull your shirt off, reaching back to unclasp your bra. The modesty feels redundant, but you can’t help it.

“Not gettin’ shy on me now, are you? S’not like I haven’t seen you naked before,” he chuckles, and you throw a look at him over your shoulder just as he’s pulling his own shirt over his head. He left his hat at the bar, you think. You’ll have to go back in for it when you pick up the truck.

“Tyler,” you scold, and he laughs at you, steps across the room to wrap an arm around your torso and press a kiss to where your neck meets your shoulder. The place he knows makes you melt. You sigh and push back against him, the feeling of his hard chest against your bare back a welcome one. This feels more like what you know, what you’re used to.

“Shower,” you remind him, and he nods, his forehead pressed into that spot now, and he pushes his fingers underneath the waistband of your jeans, running them along the bit of skin there around to the front, where the fabric splits at the button. He pops it undone, then uses his thumb and forefinger to grip the zipper and slowly – so slowly – pulls that down. He can’t help himself, you know that, and so you hold your breath and wait for him to push his hand into your panties. Ever a predictable man, he does just that, and you gasp at the feeling of his warm hand against you.

“Are you sure?” Tyler’s breath against your neck makes you shiver, and you press your ear to the side of his chin. He runs his fingers along the seam of you, finding first your clit, your legs twitching at the sudden rush of pleasure when he brushes his hand against it, then pushing down to find you wet and wanting. You cry out softly. “You don’t sound sure. You don’t feel sure.”

You hum, your neck stretching back until your head is pressed to his chest, and he pulls his hand back up to start working small circles on your clit, your wetness on his fingers allowing for smooth movement, with just enough friction to have you panting for more.

“Sounds more to me like you kinda want me to fuck you with my fingers.”

“Tyler,” you whimper, telling him with just his name that you are getting close. He smiles against the side of your neck, pulling his hand away and shoving your jeans and underwear down just enough that his hand has room to smack your clit lightly. You squeal, right leg kicking out at the feeling, and he continues moving his hand in circles to soothe the hurt.

Your breath is coming out of you in short huffs, and before you can come, Tyler takes his hand off of you and wraps it around your stomach to join the other. You pant and whine, rubbing your thighs together to chase the feeling he’d had you practically pressed up against, now ebbing with the loss of his fingers.

“You said you wanted to shower,” he whispers in your ear, pulling your panties back up, and you scowl, pushing away from him. He laughs and holds his hands up in defense as you pick your t-shirt up off your bed and crack it at him like a whip. “Let’s shower, baby.”

“I might kick you out right now, Owens,” you snark, but the small smile on your face gives you away, and Tyler unbuttons his own jeans, leaving them in a pile on the floor at the end of the bed. Your jeans join his, and you’re both left in your underwear.

“You wouldn’t,” he replies, pulling his briefs off slowly, biting his bottom lip as you watch him. “You like this cock too much.”

You can’t help laughing at him, but the sight of him bare in front of you does have you biting your lip. You step forward to cup his growing length in your hand. Before you can move it, Tyler puts a hand on your wrist.

“How’s your hand?” He makes to pull it away, presumably to turn it over and appraise your blisters, but you shake your head.

“S’fine,” you whisper, tightening your grip. You tug once, twice, and press a kiss to his bare chest, then tip your head back to search out his lips. He leans down to oblige you, his lips parting against your mouth as you twist your fist. You love these moments you share with him, when you’re both bare, physically, emotionally, away from the real world, and you can pretend this is an everyday thing. When you’re not trying to tell yourself you feel nothing for him. Like this is just how it is between you.

Tyler groans when you pull your hand away from him and you click your tongue, press that same hand against his bicep.

“Doesn’t feel so good, now does it?”

Before you even know what’s happening, Tyler is picking you up, one arm underneath your back and the other around the backs of your knees. You look up at his face and laugh. “Put me down, Owens!”

He grins and carries you the few paces into the bathroom, placing you on your feet in front of the tub. Tyler leans down and pushes his thumbs underneath the waistband of your panties, waiting for you to put your hands on his shoulders and step out of them.

He lets you pull away from him to turn the hot water on, adjusting the cold side until the temperature is perfect, before pulling you against his chest once again. This time, you can feel his hard cock pressed against your backside, and you hum appraisingly. You reach behind you to fist him again, but he shakes his head – you feel his chin brush against the top of your head – and he groans out, “Mm-mm.”

“What?”

“We’re gonna shower, baby, c’mon.”

You glance back towards him and watch as he flicks the overhead light on. “So we don’t slip and die,” he says, and you laugh, pushing the shower curtain to the side. Holding Tyler’s hand, you step over the lip of the tub and under the steady stream of warm water, inhaling deeply when it hits the sore muscles in your shoulders and back. Tyler groans at the feeling, too, when he steps in behind you.

“Here, switch with me,” he murmurs, guiding you by your waist until you’re the one underneath the water. You let it fall onto the top of your head, over your face and down the back of your hair, for a moment, eyes closed, relishing the feeling. Tyler reaches both hands up and brushes the water out of your eyes, runs his hand over the top of your head.

“Shampoo?”

You open one eye, the other shut against the water, and nod. You gaze up at him, heart squeezing at the way he’s watching you. His smile widens and he takes the tiny bottle in his hand – it looks even more comically small now – and dumps the product into his other palm, setting the bottle down onto the edge of the tub and rubbing his hands together.

“Turn around.”

You do as he asks, inhaling sharply through your nose when you feel his hands run through the hair at the crown of your head. Your stomach aches with longing as you register how unnaturally intimate this is. His fingers feel so good against your scalp, which is slightly sunburnt, you’re now realizing. He massages the shampoo further into your hair, running his fingers down the back of your neck and across the tops of your shoulders. When he’s satisfied with his shampoo job, he steers you by your arms to face him again, then carefully helps you tilt your head back and rinses it all from your hair.

You watch him pick up the other small bottle from the shelf, warm water still running down the back of your head.

“I’ll do my conditioner,” you murmur, taking the bottle gently from his hands. “It’s a – it’s a science.”

“I am very good at science, if you can recall.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “It’s something I’ve gotten perfectly right. It’ll take just a sec.”

So you work the conditioner through the ends of your hair, avoiding his gaze as he watches your hands first coat your hair in the product, then rinse it out. He reaches forward to run his own fingers across it, as gently as he can.

“Hm,” he makes the noise in the back of his throat, pulling his hand away. “Soft.”

You can hardly look at him, the twisting feeling in your stomach shifting to something warmer, something further from apprehension, something that feels a lot like want. “You?”

Tyler shakes his head. “I’m good. Here,” he says, rubbing his hands across the plane of your upper back. “You’re tense. You worked hard today. Let me help.”

You weren’t going to protest, but before you can, Tyler guides you forward and out of the direct spray of the shower, then presses his thumbs into your muscle. You groan, your head falling forward onto his chest at the feeling, and he chuckles at you, continuing with his hands. “Feel good?”

“So good,” you whimper, and you feel his cock twitch against your stomach.

“You fucking dog,” you joke, and Tyler laughs against you, pushing your hair off the back of your neck and pressing his thumbs in there, too.

“Hey, what can I say? I like making my girl feel good.”

You freeze. His girl? His girl. He hasn’t noticed your reaction, and he keeps pressing his fingers into your sore muscles, pulling one hand away briefly to push the showerhead down and away from the two of you. You glance up, already missing its warmth, but you find that the steam rising around you is doing a good enough job at that.

“Here, baby,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead and guiding you to press your hands against the tiled wall to your left, running his hands down your back.

“What are you –”

Before you can finish the thought, you feel Tyler’s fingers parting the seam of your cunt from – from behind, and you groan at the feeling of his middle finger slipping inside of you.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he groans, his knees hitting the floor behind you. You toss a glance at him over your shoulder and your own knees nearly buckle at the way he’s looking up at you – with hunger, and with reverence, and with something else entirely unrecognizable. He looks wild. He looks in love.

One of Tyler’s hands clamps down around your hips and he leans forward, pressing a kiss to the back of your thigh as his finger starts to shift in and out of you. You shiver and push your face into the cool tile, groaning softly when he finds that rough bit of flesh inside of you, the one that makes you come undone if he works it long enough.

“Yeah?” Tyler sounds fucked out already, his voice breathy against your skin, and you can picture the look on his face, the concentrated expression he gets when he’s trying to make you come. You try to focus on the feeling of the shower’s spray where it hits the edge of your foot rather than how good his finger feels inside you because if you think too closely about how good it feels, you’ll get lightheaded. And nobody wants that.

“Yeah,” you reply weakly, and for a few minutes it’s just like that, the only sound in the bathroom the shower, your panting moans, and the noise your pussy makes as he pulls his finger in and out.

“Sound so good for me, baby,” he says, pressing a kiss to the back of your thigh again, and you whine, trying to protest when he slips his finger from you. He laughs deep in his chest and lightly smacks the swell of your ass.

��Don’t complain when I’m doin’ somethin’ nice for you,” he jok, and you can feel then that he’s shifting himself around. You want to look over your shoulder, want to see for yourself what he’s doing, but freeze when you feel his palms cupping your ass, his nose pressing against the inside of your thighs.

Your mouth forms the word oh, but no sound comes out until you feel his mouth press against your cunt, tongue pushing inside of you, and then you cry out, chest heaving, when he presses a sloppy, wet kiss to your clit. You pull your face from where it’s still resting against the tile and look down at Tyler to find he’s already looking right up at you. His grip on your ass tightens when you make eye contact with him, and he spreads you open wider for him, eyes narrowing as his tongue flicks again, and again, and again.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he moans against you, the vibrations causing your legs to twitch. You already thought you were going to burst, the steam from the shower, the way he’d washed your hair, the fact that he was in your room at all – it all made you feel slightly insane. To add insult to injury, he’s just pushed two fingers inside of you and immediately found the spot that takes you out, and you start to shake a little.

“Tyler,” you whine, pushing one hand down to grip his hair. He groans when you tighten your hold on it, fucking into you a little faster. “Tyler, fuck, gonna come.”

“So come, baby,” comes his reply, and you do, you come so hard that the toes on your right foot curl until you’re on tiptoe and Tyler has to reach up and grip your waist to steady you. You feel it crest, and peak, then subside, but he keeps working you through it, his mouth moving against you still, and a second, smaller – though still good – orgasm wracks your body right after the first.

You breathe through it, push your foot down so you’re standing flat on the surface of the tub again, and wait for Tyler to pull his fingers out of you.

“Baby,” Tyler groans, squeezing your hips, his fingernails biting slightly into your skin. “You gotta let go’a me, if you want me to get up.”

His voice, fuck, his voice, you think, releasing your grip on his hair and turning to watch him rise from his knees, the tile cold against your back. You surge forward to kiss him square on the mouth and he catches you, smiles against you when you part your lips to taste yourself on his tongue.

“Was that good?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, pressing one, two, three more quick kisses to his mouth, before he reaches behind you to turn off the water. “So fucking good.”

Neither of you bother with a towel, instead opting to stumble toward the queen bed in the middle of the room and climb right underneath the covers.

“Hi,” you whisper when you’re settled in, the duvet pulled up under your chin. Your eyes rove over his face, then glance over to the alarm clock behind him. 1:56 in the morning. “You still wanna fuck?”

Tyler snorts, reaching over to poke you in the side, gripping the skin there until you start to laugh. “You still wanna fuck?”

“Yeah,” you reply, grinning, when you catch your breath. “Wanna?”

He’s quiet for a second, watching the duvet rise and fall with each breath you take, before he peels it off of you, using his elbow to push himself up until he’s leaning over you. There’s a rosy flush on your chest, your breasts heaving and it’s all he can do not to lean down and take one of your nipples in his mouth, the one closest to him. Instead, he runs the back of his other hand across your chest, catching against the hard peak, and watches your breath stick to the inside of your throat. You feel yourself subconsciously leaning toward him as his face comes toward you. You want him to kiss you, but instead, he angles his mouth to kiss the skin below your chin.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes against your neck, pressing his open mouth to you there, and you gasp at the feeling – of his mouth against you, and of his praise. It all feels so nice. He just made you come in the shower, and now he’s going to make you come in this bed, hopefully more than once.

You wrap your hands around his back and pull him toward you, watch as he settles in between your thighs. You can feel his thick cock, heavy, insistent, where it presses against you, and you want to take him into your hands, but he has other plans.

With one hand pressed into the pillow on either side of your head, Tyler uses his knees to knock your legs out further, sitting back against his heels when he’s satisfied. He wraps his big hands around your thighs and pulls you closer, smiling down at you. “You’re so beautiful.”

You blush when he repeats himself, suddenly feeling very bare. He’s just as naked as you are, but you can’t help but feel like he’s seen your whole hand, meanwhile you hardly have any idea what cards he might hold. In the dim light from the lamp beside your head, you notice that you can see the green of his irises again. It seems like the shower sobered the two of you up very quickly.

His gaze locked on yours, Tyler takes himself into his hand, groaning at the pressure of his grip after neglecting his own want for so long, but he suddenly curses, pausing just as he’s about to press inside of you.

“What?”

“I don’t have a condom,” he breathes, sitting back again. He runs one hand through his hair, visibly weighing the options.

“It’s okay, Tyler,” you murmur, leaning up onto your elbows. “It’s okay. I have an IUD, and I got screened after the last time I was with someone. I’m good. I’m good if you’re good.”

Tyler heaves a heavy sigh, running his hands up your thighs. “You’re sure? I’m clean, too, cross my heart. But only if you’re sure.”

You nod. “My head is clear. I think I shook off my drunk an orgasm or two ago.”

A grin crosses his face, and you roll your eyes at him before he even opens his mouth. Two? he mouths, then whistles lowly. You smack his stomach, and he grabs your wrist in his hand, lightning quick, pressing a kiss to the pulse point there. Your jaw falls slack, and you go all soft and pliant, letting him pin your hands above your head. His body comes down over yours, and his mouth presses to your cheek, then your forehead, and when your eyes flutter shut, the ghost of a kiss crosses them, too.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good,” he murmurs, and normally if a man were to say that to you, you would immediately regret letting him into your bed. But for some reason, when Tyler says it, it sends that familiar warmth spiraling down into your gut. You know he means it.

Slowly – too slowly – he guides himself back to your entrance, shifting his hips so they’re resting comfortably against yours, and he presses himself inside of you. You hiss; the girth of him, although a welcome stretch, is also a bit of an uncomfortable one. He leans down to kiss you, working you through it with a thumb pressing circles into your clit, sliding himself in bit by bit until he’s fully seated.

A groan pushes out of him when you clench around him, testing the waters.

“Careful,” he murmurs, easing his hips back. “I’d like it if this lasted longer than ten seconds, please.”

You laugh against the side of his head, pull your hands down from where he’d left them above you and wrap yourself around his shoulders, pulling him flush against you. Tyler grips your thighs and starts to work himself in and out of you, carefully, gently, but you squeeze his waist with your knees. Encouraging him. Asking him to pick it up. You can handle it.

His hips start to pull back and snap against yours quicker and quicker, Tyler panting in your ear, lifting up onto his palms and pushing himself off of you. He sits up onto his knees and tilts your hips up for a different angle, one that sets sparks dancing in front of your eyes. You groan, head tossed back, and dig your nails into his thighs as his pace picks up.

“Fuck, yeah, that it, baby? I can feel you – fuck, feel you squeezin’ me.”

You hardly have a voice with the rate he’s slipping in and out of you, barely enough to squeak out, “Fuck,” before your cunt has him in a vice grip, working through another orgasm.

“Ohhh, that’s it, huh, that’s it.” His mouth is going a mile a minute, neither of you really paying much attention to anything he’s actually saying. You’re both focused on his own mounting orgasm – you don’t feel like your body is capable of much more than that – and you weakly clamp down around him once more. His eyes squeeze shut, his hips stutter, and he grits out, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck fuck,” before he slots against you and you feel him filling you. You run a hand down his back, soothing him as he comes, biting your lip at the feeling, foreign but enjoyable.

Tyler groans and glances down to where his cock is softening inside of you. He eases his hips back, cupping your face and pressing a kiss to your forehead as he does. “Shit, I’m sorry, are you okay?”

You nod meagerly, pressing the back of your hand against your warm cheek. He watches you and, assured that you’re not going to pass out on him or anything, stands and hobbles into the bathroom. The sink turns on out of sight, and you close your eyes, listening to the water run. Tyler returns with a warm, wet towel and wipes the inside of your thighs, swiping gently across your cunt, before folding the towel and letting it fall to the floor at your bedside.

You feel loose, calm. Safe. You hardly notice him turn the light off, but you do feel the bed dip beside you as he rejoins you under the covers and pulls you into his arms. You melt against his sturdy chest, his heartbeat under your face a comfort, the rhythmic tick tick tick of it lulling you to sleep. But there’s still one thing you have to know before you can relax completely.

His breathing has started to even out, but he hasn’t snored yet, so you know he’ll still hear you when you ask, “Are you gonna leave?”

He grunts an acknowledgement of your question, nuzzling down into the top of your head.

“Do you want me to stay?”

You know your answer, but you still bite your lip, considering the question. You hadn’t thought before that maybe he left after every night you spent together because he thought you didn’t want to wake up with him. “Yes.”

“Okay,” he murmurs against your hair, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Then I’ll stay.”

If he’s at all worried about what will happen when you wake up tomorrow, he doesn’t show it, but anxiety courses through you at the thought of anyone finding out. Does he want the others to know? Because that’s what it feels like.

“Stop thinking about it,” he whispers, like he can hear your thoughts racing. “It’ll be fine. Just go to sleep.”

Easy for him to say. He’s out like a light. And you’re left alone with your thoughts until you fall into fitful, dissatisfying sleep sometime around when the world outside starts to turn blue.

A pounding on your door wakes you from deep sleep – the deepest you’d gotten all night, at least – and you try to sit up but find there’s a heavy weight on your chest blocking you. You rub the sleep from your eyes, glancing down at the sleeping body next to you. It takes a second for it to register: Tyler’s here.

Tyler’s here. Sidled up against you, arm thrown over your stomach like this is where he belongs. He didn’t leave. He stayed, like he said he would. His face looks so peaceful – so beautiful – you almost hate to wake him.

“Come on, sleepyhead! Time to get a move on!”

Almost. You scramble to push Tyler off of you, ignoring his noises of protest, jumping out from under the covers and grabbing various articles of clothing off the floor to pull over your naked form. You plop back down on the bed, this time on his side, right next to where he’s starting to wake.

“Dude, get up, they’re gonna know you’re not in your room. They’re gonna know you’re in here.”

“So what,” he grumbles, rolling over as you push him and settling deeper into the bed. “Let ‘em.”

You sit up straight, one hand on his arm. “You mean that?”

He hums and turns his neck to glance at you over his shoulder. “Yeah, ‘course I do. You’re my girl.”

Your face flushes a deep pink and Tyler grins, reaching over to wrap an arm around you and drag you back down into the bed, pinning you under him and peppering an assault of open-mouthed kisses all over your face. You grin, thinking that you could get used to this – just not right now.

“Seriously, Tyler,” you laugh, pushing a hand against the side of his face. He squeezes your hip. “We have to get up. We gotta get back out there.”

Tyler sighs, loosening his grip on your body and kneeling over you. “Yeah, you’re right. Alright, alright.”

He stands and takes the top sheet with him, wrapped around his waist, and heads to the bathroom. To brush his teeth, you hope. God.

“You know,” he says, head popping back out into the room, mouth full of toothpaste. “Yesterday. I wanted them to see us holding hands.”

You watch as he smiles at you and disappears back into the bathroom, then fall back onto the bed, hands pressed over your eyes.

Fifteen minutes later, the two of you are dressed, teeth brushed, hair taken care of, day packs slung over your shoulder, and you’re pulling the door closed behind you when you hear a whistle that pulls your attention to the parking lot.

“Damn, Owens!”

The voice makes you jump, and you groan. You thought you were going to get away with the sneaking around, but the rest of your team is watching from next to the RV as the two of you descend the stairs together.

Lily and Dani turn to Boone with smug looks on both their faces, and he rolls his eyes and pulls his wallet from his back pocket. They hold their hands out for him to slap two twenty dollar bills down into.

“What’s that?” You ask when you get close enough to them.

“We had a bet that you and Owens would come out of that room together. Well, that one or his. Didn’t matter which.”

“A bet I just lost,” Boone groans, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. “I thought for sure…”

The rest of the crew snickers, including Tyler, who won’t look at you. You poke a finger into his chest.

“Did you know about this?”

“No, I swear,” he says, hands up, and you don’t know why, but you believe him. “That doesn’t mean I didn’t drunkenly confess to Lily weeks ago that sometimes we, you know…”

You scoff, almost mad, but then Boone shouts and the scoff turns into a snicker because, hey, you love him, but you can’t help but relish in his defeat.

“So they knew?! That’s cheating!”

He storms off while the rest of you laugh, Dani clutching their side and following him around the side of the building to try to make amends, trailing off, “If it makes you feel any better…”

Lily looks over at you, then at Tyler, a grin swallowing her face. “So, are you guys, like, together now? Or something?”

You look up at Tyler, who’s smiling softly at you, clearly deferring to you to answer that question. You feel a surge of affection for him swell in your chest. Clearing your throat, you turn to Lily.

“Or something.”

#twisters #twisters 2024 #twisters movie #glen powell #tyler owens #tyler owens x reader #tyler owens smut #glen powell x reader #glen powell smut #as a former tyler dater this was soooo triggering for me to write #JFNLKQJBNF

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stealingpotatoes · 2 months ago

Text

POTES SEMI-LIVEBLOGS KOTOR!

ive been writing my thoughts in the notes app but due to popular demand (one person asked for it) i'm posting my liveblogging DO NOT SAY/TAG/COMMENT SPOILERS PLEASE i read tags

warning im a yapper, im 10 hours in and theres a lot already (separated into sessions):

SESSION 1

whos this clown i thought i would be playing as revan

ive been too spoiled by dragon age origins this character creator sucks ass

only human???? ): fr?? ill just imagine her different in my brain or some shit

my life is being mansplained to me. is this bad writing or do i have amnesiacs

hes meta now??? hes talking abt the screen controls?????

omg a jedi and an evil jediii

omg their asses suckedddd they both died immediately

i <3 bringing a sword to a gun fight

WHY R THERE SO MANY SITH WHERE IS TJE RULE OF TWO

i clicked a workbench and it said lightsaber so either i get a lightsaber or i get a jedi friend whose lightsaber i can steal if im careful

I assume u play as revan in kotor2 so im gonna buy that now so i can play it when im done playing w this clown

i got light side points im getting a good grade in game morality which is something both normal to want and possible to achieve

everyone keeps saying revan is dead but thats my friend revan from tumblr hes clearly alive. or they???

my characters ass is distractingly present onscreen

huge fan of the way everyone collapsed drunk what the FUCK was in that wine

ok these sith ppl might be the bad guys but their armour is DRIPPY AS FUCK

ideologically i dont agree w the sith but they kinda went off w the fits

googling how to become a sith without being evil cause they have Drip

SESSION 2

i paid £1.19 to see revan he better show up in this game at some point

all these sith n i still cant find one revan….. stop faking ur death rn come out n talk to me babygirl this isnt like u….

why can i be light/dark side if im not a jedi. give me a laser sword

maybe this jedi gyal will know where revan is faking his death. or give me a fuckin lightsaber PLEASEEE

was just thinking 'does this game have romance' and then carth called me beautiful. i dont think im gonna romance anyone until i get this amnesia sorted

why is carth questioning me so much abt the crash im pretty sure i have amnesia

why tf did the jedi lady have me transferred to this ship are we in lesbians with each other???

carth's not wrong it is suspicious but i lowkey have amnesia so i coulda done that i coulda not

a lot of clone wars voice actors in this. was lucasfilm so broke in the 2000s that they could only afford the same 3 VAs for every project

mission is 14??????? we need to get my girl back in school

SESH 3

tale as old as time i fucking suck at racing games

ok i didnt realise you had to mash click i won

REVAN!!! REVAN!!!!!!!!!

why am i dreaming abt revan tho. real as hell but ?????

lmao cringe revan getting blown up. i thought the jedi beat rev-meister in a fight but no. accident

"such visions are often a sign of force sensitivity" COOL YAY GIVE ME A LIGHTSABER

BASTILLE LOST HER FUCKING LIGHTSABER??

CARTH IS RIGHT THATS LIKE DAY ONE JEDI SHIT. ok i still love her even tho shes a bit of a bitch and also doesnt have a saber

if we find a lightsaber im taking it first tho

whys carth getting weird abt me being weird that he doesnt trust me. i just wanna be friends mate

SESH IV: A NEW HOPE

'i mean no disrespect, but perhaps one of the male slaves could serve you better' i went in here to start a slave revolution and instead got called a lesbo

LMAO THERES A SPICE LAB???? WALTER WHITE WHERE ARE YOU

thats insaneee they blew up BILLIONS of people to get to one jedi?????? these sith arent fucking around theyre scary

UM THIS IS CRAZY GRAPHICS THE LIGHTING IS CLEARER/DARKER WHEN I COVER THE SUN W THE SHIP EDGE?? 2003 IS THE YEAR OF THE FUTURE

someone just called me padawan i kinda assumed i was in my late 20s do i just have baby vibes

all the jedi in the movies are so chill but every kotor jedi i've met so far has been a bit of a bitch

YO THEY HAVE A YODA!!! its not THE yoda but

cool so these guys are just the regional managers at best. your asses are not the council

why can everyone smell my force juju so strong

THATS STRAIGHT UP YODA'S CLONE WARS VA

why does fake yoda not blink both eyes at the same time. im calling him master tortimer he reminds me of the animal crossing mayor

bastila there was no need for such a fancy bow

malak is like evil aang

revan is so much shorter than malak omg

are me and bastila sharing dreams. are we both obsessed w revan

poor mission ):

WHAT WAS MASTER TORTIMER ABT TO SAY????????? EVER SINCE WHEN??? DID WE KNOW EACH OTHER BEFORE MY AMNESIACS????? DID BASTILA TELL U SMTHN MORE WHEN I WASNT IN THE ROOM???

im intrigued i like this whole hidden jedi shtick its very compelling. so is whatever theyre hiding from me

kinda surprising no jedi found me before tho given my force juju is so strong

IM A LEGIT JEDI NOW??? SICK!!!

does revan rlly not have pronouns i thought that was a tumblr thing but they straight up are a nonbinary icon ive never heard a single pronoun used. revan's pronouns are revan/revan's

damn revan seems so cool in these stories (charismatic war hero that convinced their troops to join them as conqueror?? julius caesar) and yet all we've seen them do onscreen is get blown up and die by accident

A YEAR AGO? the way they were talking i assumed revan died like. a week before the game started

master uh i forgot his name he has martin scorcese vibes said revan was a paragon of the jedi so what im getting is that all jedi gifted kids turn evil

even if i didnt know revan as a tumblr darling id KNOW revan has to be alive somewhere they way everyone talks abt them is too cool for a character who exploded and died. i think. i hope. I PAID £1.19 TO MEET REVAN

'only you and bastila can stop malak' seriously????? just us two?? ive been a jedi for like, 6 minutes and you guys keep calling bastila young???? do you guys not wanna help??

omg im getting carth to traumadump! <3

HE WAS ON REVAN'S ARMY>??

i totally knew the jedi code and did not have to google it whatsoever

they rlly said fuck going to illum heres a crystal from the bin

he told me id be a great sentinel and i was like i know but i want blue cause i dont wanna be matchies with bastila

OGH!!! I HAVE A LIGHTSABER!!!! THIS IS GAME OF THE YEAR!!!!

omg i made my lightsaber perfectlyyy which is rare <3 getting a good grade in jedi

maybe i was a travelling lightsaber salesman before my amnesia

seriously though WHO was i everyone's kinda stopped acting like i have amnesia since the first mission BUT IVE PLAYED DRAGON AGE THAT GIVES YOU OPPORTUNITIES TO RP UR PAST. THIS DOESNT. EITHER THIS GAME IS BAD (but i love it so its not) OR I HAVE RETROGRADE AMNESIA

also everyone keeps being like "Oh ur force juju is so strong" AND NOBODY FOUND ME TIL NOW??? suspicious. did getting a really bad concussion activate the force in me

im too confused and amnesiac'd to think abt anything except the fact i have a glowing stick now

FSESH FIVE:

big fan of using aliens to avoid having to get VAs to read every line

oh so carth's boyfriend saul betrayed him and became leader of the sith fleet so he has trust issues

well he needs to calm down. i can't betray him cause i dont know what the fuck is happening

yooo i love the design differences on the mandalorians

oh my god this lady wanted to fuck her droid cause it was her husband's. and then it killed itself. wtf. game of the year tho

wtf they jebaited this juhani person into going dark side but then i talked her out of it. that seems a bit mean of them

i hope she can join my party she looks too unique to be a random npc

ive been thinking and I might be going crazy but there was a loading screen tip ages ago that said jedis could wipe ppl's mind and all i thought at the time was 'fuck the shitshow acolyte didnt make that up'. but what if one of them wiped MY memory and i used to be a jedi or smthn ????????

cause they keep being like ur weirdly good at this??? did bastila steal my memories??????????

I KNOW I HAVE AMNESIA!! EVEN IF EVERYONE DOESN'T BRING IT UP BC THEYRE PROBABLY TRYING TO SAVE MY FEELINGS

if i dont have amnesia and im just deeping the fact the opening had my life being mansplained then im gonna look real stupid

anyway time 2 go to the fuckshit ruins cave where r-dog and malak went to

"it must be referring to revan. the dark lord and malak--" revan's pronouns are revan/thedarklord

bastila said theres no mention of the Builders in the archives. does she just know every text off by heart

THIS DROID IS 20K YEARS OLD ???

omg i can equip 2 lightsabers at once. game of the year

OK I TAKE BACK EVERYTHING I SAID ABOUT THE AMNESIA BASTILA IS ASKING ME QUESTIONS ABOUT MY BACKGROUND THAT I CAN ANSWER. I REPEAT I DO NOT HAVE AMNESIA

ok i didnt get choices and i didnt really uh… say anything that i didnt already get told im still not ruling out amnesia

also booo i didnt get to find out how old i was

master tortimer rlly looks like the ultimate ketamine yoda

LMAO THERE WAS A DIALOGUE OPTION 2 CALL JUHANI A CATGIRL

omg kashyyk from jedi fallen order!!!

I CAN UPGRADE MY LIGHTSABER THIS IS JUST LIKE JFO

omg this ship is fun i wish everyone had personalised bunk spaces like hfw… a game which came out 19 years after this i should probably just take what we have

im gonna start w manaan cause im p sure thats what B-dog said n its the same language the droid was speakin

omg hyperspace from star wars

THE GUY THE BUILDING FELL ON???

am i having dreams abt revan bc bastila killed revan and im connected to her this is so roundabout

maybe i'd sleep better if my ponytail wasnt clipping into the pillow

[kiwi accent] six

carth needs a xanax every time i think we're friends he stops trusting me

also lmao he actually pointed out how wild it was that a day one padawan is being sent on this uber important mission and HES RIGHT IT IS WEIRD!! i thought it was main character logic but he's calling it out

i really really like the sense of unease that's setting in like at first i thought it was just cause im not used to 2003 games but no this is on purpose bc carth my friend carth keeps calling it out

THERE IS A CHILD ON MY SHIP ??????????????????

lmao the representative for menaan is roland wann. its like poetry it rhymes

there are no cameras in the sith hangar <3 rookie error i can commit crimes now

bastila's favourite hobby is getting shot and walking into my grenades

this isnt a combat system this is a missing system

I GOT ARRESTED???? IM JUST A GIRL

nvm i had a datapad that said the sith were evil so theyve let me go free and we're besties

why do i feel like ive just walked into an underwater horror mission

this suit waddles at the speed of a penguin on fentanyl

i tamed the beastie this is like how to train your dragon

MALAK FIRED ON REVAN?????? WERENT THEY BEST FRIENDS???????

but maybe revan escaped when bastila wasnt looking THEYRE FINE THEYRE OUT THERE SOMEWHERE. I BELIEVE

so hopefully when we run into revan they'll be like agh i changed my ways cause of the being shot thing and they'll be my bestie

great news i successfully communicated w the ship child and gave her back to dantooine. my girl has shockingly good linguisitics skills

bastila is so dour "oh watch out for the dark side" GIRL I AM. I NEED TO GET THE BEST GRADE IN GAME MORALITY

ok OFF TO KASHYYK i hope cal kestis is there… thru the force i guess… bc he wont be born for another 4000 years but its whatever

omg you'll never guess what. another vision. wow its one of the thangs. cool this is a tomorrow me problem

#how long to beat says it's abt 29 hours so this is roughly a third (??) of the game???#talk is cheap #kotor #swkotor #knights of the old republic

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changetyre · 5 months ago

Text

Hold this Papa

SUMMARY: While facing symptoms of your most recent pregnancy Max is tasked with looking after your youngest daughter while on a meeting. Part of the Verstappen Family Verse

WARNINGS: Crack, fluffiness, pregnancy sickness

A/N: Happy Halloween! Enjoy.

"Max don't worry I can-" You were cut off by your wave of nausea forced to take deep breaths in order not to throw up right then and there.

"Baby, stop it's fine. I can watch her, they'll understand." Max insisted.

Today Max had an important Zoom meeting with his management team and other team bosses who had been making Max offers which he'd be a fool not to at least listen to. Lea was out with her uncle Lando who'd offered to take her for the day and you were going to stay with Lea and have a girl's day.

That was until you woke up with the worst nausea of your pregnancy so far. You'd woken up immediately throwing up and had failed to keep much food down all morning. Max offered to cancel everything and take you to the hospital but you knew how important this meeting was and told him you could go after if it was still this bad.

Max reluctantly accepted but he still knew you wouldn't be able to look after Ivy properly with the state you were in and he very much preferred if you could focus on trying to hydrate and keep some food down for now.

"Hmm I think it's getting better, I haven't thrown up that apple slice I had 10 minutes ago." You commented as the nausea somewhat passed.

"That's good but I'm still taking Ivy." Max kissed your cheek before walking away needing to hurry for his meeting in 2 minutes.

"Fine. But if she's too much trouble just send me a text and I'll come grab her." You hollered as he walked out.

"Okay," Max yelled back before picking Ivy up from the living room where she had been playing and taking her inside his office which was still big enough for Ivy to remain entertained as he had brought in a few of her toys as well. "Okay, Ivy stay in here okay? Papa's going to be on a phone call so we have to be quiet but if you need something come to whisper to me okay." Max explained to his daughter.

"Okay, papa." Ivy giggled not fully grasping the instructions but already too entertained with a toy she'd picked up from the floor.

Max smiled kissing his daughter's head before walking over to his desk where he quickly connected to his Zoom call.

"Morning Max, how's y/n doing?" Raymond, Max's manager who had been alerted of the possible disruptions asked.

"Morning, uh, still feeling pretty poorly but she's putting a brave face on for me at the moment." Max answered polity.

"Papa." Max heard the hushed voice of his daughter beside him looking down to see her handing him a Barbie doll.

"Thank you, Ivy." Max took it from her quickly muting himself as the meeting began. Ivy ran away happily.

Max locked his focus into the meeting as soon as crucial information began to play out, taking a small notebook out he jotted down important points and questions he might have to discuss at the end so apart from a few glances to check his daughter wasn't in actual danger Max didn't fully process what his daughter was getting up to.

"Papa hold this." Ivy ran back to Max handing him a wooden block which Max took and placed on his lap alongside the barbie he'd been previously given.

"To be fully honest with you I care about the car, I need a good car and right now, dismissing the last few races, RedBull has given me a good consistent car, what are your guarantees?" Max asked.

"Hold this papa." Ivy had once again run over to Max handing him a coloring book. Max took it without question looking down and noticing a variety of toys on his lap he had no recollection of receiving.

Looking back to the meeting he noticed Raymond struggling to keep a straight face as Ivy once again walked into the frame handing Max a tiara. "Put it on papa," Ivy whined when Max simply added it to the array of toys on his lap.

"Shh okay Ivy." Max accepted not wanting to upset his daughter further putting the tiara on his head.

"Looking good Max." Everyone collectively laughed in the meeting.

"Just girl dad things." Max laughed with them.

Luckily Ivy seemed to entertain herself with this for most of the meeting simply filling Max's lap with things as well as handing him things to wear but it also seemed to tire her out. Just as the meeting was wrapping up Ivy walked over to her dad once more.

"Papa up." Ivy whined.

Max happily picked up his daughter letting everything on his lap fall to the floor to set her down on his lap. "I'm almost done, Ivy." Max kissed his daughter's cheek as she wrapped her small arms around his neck resting her head on his chest.

"Papa I miss mommy." Ivy sighed.

"I know baby I miss her too, I'm almost done." Max rubbed his daughter's back soothingly.

It didn't take much longer for the meeting to finally end but once it did Max looked down to see his daughter fast asleep in his arms.

Walking back outside with Ivy in his arms he was relieved to find you in the kitchen having a proper meal which looked to be almost done. "How are you feeling my love?" Max asked you.

"Aww my sweet baby." You first acknowledged your sleeping daughter giving her back a rub before answering Max. "Much better, I had a smoothie before this and managed to keep it all down."

"That's great schatje." Max leaned down to kiss you. "Let me put Ivy in her bed then we can cuddle for a bit."

"Sounds perfect." You smiled happily. "No more vomiting please." You spoke down to your bump jokingly.

Despite the harder pregnancy, everything was perfect.

#f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 one shot #f1fic #formula 1 #verstappen family #lea verstappen #ivy verstappen #max verstappen x reader

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hexhomos · 4 months ago

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Dropping into the Mel convo to add that I don't see how the stans that erase/ignore the Things She Actually Does And Says and claim she was just helping Jayce out of the goodness of her heart can claim that anyone pointing out that she's a billionaire imperialist who manipulated him for her own gain is racist when THEY'RE the ones claiming she spent all of season 1 helping a nonblack man for. idk. reasons. Why is it "better" for her to be a Black woman who supported a man and asked for nothing in return...?

That reading of her makes everything with her mother make no sense. Is she like, just mad her mom is interfering with her ability to Support and Love Jayce? Lmao.

The reading that the text and the inherent set up of the politics of Piltover/Zaun supports is a complex woman with her own personal motivations, wanting to live up to the image of the family she believes shunned her on her own (nonviolent) terms, using the craft of social engineering (manipulation, etc) within the political and economic sphere rather than through weaponry and warfare. She starts to shift due to growing some actual attachment to Jayce, but it's not a perfect switch flip, and then her mother arriving forces Mel to contend with what she had actually been doing by "preparing" the city for her family.

That's infinitely more interesting than "oh she just helped this guy out of the kindness of her pure heart and because he's hot" and also has canonical basis that can be pointed to In The Text. That's a complicated, multifaceted character. The fanon Mel who just helped Jayce because she's a good person is a flat, tired trope.

And personally, I find people who "love" characters but have completely inaccurate readings of them to be far more annoying than people who "hate" characters but understand them perfectly. Love/hate is just a matter of taste. If someone can spend time honestly analyzing a character, that's more important than ten thousand blandly positive comments or tweeted out fanfictions dressed up as appreciation.

Paragraph #2 on this actually blindsided me like I could kiss you on the cheek (consensually) rn I've never been able to properly articulate WHY the take rankled me so much even when I tried to see it from a completely best-possible-intentions perspective. And this gets it. It's like you're not even flattening her into a girlboss caricature, it's worse, you're actually making her a 2D saccharine pastry servant with no will of her own except furthering some man's narrative as his mommy and denying the one massive, defining character conflict Mel has in the entire show: she is her mother's daughter! She IS a wolf in sheepskin!

When you have all this power, all this privilege and resources at your disposal from day 1, and you choose to look the other way - what happens then? Is this really being kinder than her mother? Is this being merciful, or just prolonging a sort of system-wide torture? It's absolutely relevant to how we see kid-Mel in that flashback from s1 too. Her idea of mercy and salvation from her mother's more violent ends is to enslave someone. She puts it in gentle terms and dresses it up fancily as a beneficial thing to both parties, but that is what she is proposing, in the context of the Noxus' hostile invasion of Ionia; they'd chain that princess and mold her in training until she became an useful asset in their service. Is that kindness? Is that good? I don't think Mel is able to answer to this even in her big age during season 1.

She certainly thinks it could be, when compared to death, but it's also a lie she tells herself while she ignores the rest of the world and the place she holds within it. Mel hates getting her hands dirty, because she's never /had/ to do that to enjoy the brilliant spoils of success; her mother loves her enough to make sure she could avoid the bloodshed. She carries the strategist's fallacy of thinking whole wars and countries can be managed from the privileged seats up top, out of touch with the blood and gristle. From up there, when people die you don't see it. You can mark the numbers off as necessary collateral damage in the path to Exponential Growth.

The core assumption that has always bothered me is defining this as 'kindness' without actually examining what it says about her character and the story. She was created that way for a reason. She was clothed in this way for a reason. The first fact we learn about Mel in the first episode she appears in is that she is the richest person in the entire city, and then there is a 10 year timeskip, and she hasn't truly done anything to address or prop up the undercity at all (they are ONE city too, under her own philosophy; Zaun is only a separate entity in the mouths of the zaunites who want freedom.) In that context, when her goal of statecraft clearly is to continue advancing Piltover as much as it can be advanced and do nothing about the screaming bleeding diseased dying hordes below the bowels of her capital - is that goodness? Is that really better than mother? I think Mel's arc is about finding out really quickly and really horrifically that it isn't, and that she played a big part in making a lot of things worse.

It's not that she failed at her job, it's quite the opposite. She succeeded in her mission so incredibly well her mother could swoop into power in a single day and then put another hundred necks to the blade, no sweat, and Mel has to reckon with what that says about her, and what she thought of herself. The power she has obviously always had and never sought to use as it Should have been used.

The idealistic future-path here is that now in full control of her Mother's armies, she's returning to Noxus to challenge the predatory system it perpetuates on a world scale, but only god knows what we'll see come January. And all of this is infinitely more interesting to me than docile fandomized ship accessory n.9999

#meta tag #mel medarda #ambessa medarda #jayce talis #jayce arcane #arcane #league of legends #hexposts

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kkayyerr · 4 months ago

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Ngl I kinda like the idea of mean!rafe pushing puppy!reader further into little space so he can get away with meaner teasing but then she gets all teary-eyed and he feels bad so let’s her cuddle with him xx

Teary eyes.

Summary: Mean!Rafe likes to tease little!puppy!reader, but sometimes he takes it too far.

Warnings: Age regression, none.

Rafe was always very mean to you. Every time you would come to visit Sarah, he would send you those snarky comments, which sometimes was really hurtful. Sarah knew that, so she would just try to hide you in her room, not giving her brother an opportunity to tease you. Everything became even worse when he found out about your regression. For him it was almost funny how vulnerable you were in that state.

When you came over again, he didn’t miss an opportunity to get to you while Sarah was busy with some stupid stuff outside. He approached his sister’s room, smiling when he saw your innocent frame sitting on the bed with the lamb plushie in your hands. You were looking innocent and pure, and so easy for him to toy with. Rafe stood in the doorframe, leaning against it.

„Why are you here all by yourself, little one? Where is your babysitter?”

You flinched when his sharp words broke the silence. You immediately covered yourself with the blanket, hoping that he would go away if you hid good enough, just like a Boogeyman would. Your little action only made him laugh, though.

Rafe slowly approached you, grabbing that blanket with his hands and throwing it aside just so he could see your flustered face.

„Why are you hiding from me? Afraid?”

You nodded, silently answering his questions. He had always scared you with his unpredictable temper and that deathly stare that he had given you every time you would enter their house.

„Go away!”

You murmured, only making Rafe roll his eyes. You kicked your legs, trying to push him away, but he had caught your ankle in his hand, squeezing it with the full force. He leaned down closer, until he was almost pinning you down with his body. His intentions were playful, but you were way too deep in the littlespace right now to understand that.

„Never thought that Pogues were such little crybabies. How are you holding on without sucking on your thumbs right now, huh?”

His words were mean and snarky, and he was overpowering you completely just by his presence and the way he was making you feel so small. Your eyes almost teared up after he mocked you for your regression and the way you behaved, but you still held on, fighting the urge to cry.

„Are you going to cry? Like, for real?”

Rafe asked mockingly, but when he saw an actual tear in your eyes, his demeanor slightly changed. He let go of your ankle you and pulled away, looking you up and down. Your body was shaking, probably from the stress or just from him being that mean to you when you couldn’t do anything about it. He sighed loudly, trying to find words that might suit the situation, but he had no idea how to console you right now.

„Listen, I didn’t mean too!”

You clearly weren’t planning on listening to him. You just rolled over on the bed, hugging your plushie and hiding your face with it. He wasn’t the best at apologizing or taking care of someone, but he clearly knew that he wouldn’t leave you alone until you stopped crying.

„You want a hug or something?”

Rafe asked, hoping that it would actually help you to calm down. You took the plushie away from your face and saw him opening his arms, gesturing you for a hug. You hesitated for a moment before jumping into his arms like a stupid puppy. Your urge to be held won over all the other feelings and thoughts, and you were just happy to be in someone’s embrace.

Rafe chuckled, hugging you a little bit tighter.

„Meanie.”

You whispered, hiding your blushed face in his neck. He only laughed at that comment, adoring your childish mannerism and sweet voice. He knew that you needed that just as much as he. did.

Neither of you would’ve ever admitted that.

„Crybaby.”

Taglist: @tinylilacbun @aew-regression-cove @rafecameronsloverrrrr

#obx #rafe cameron x reader #age regression fic #little!reader #rafe cameron x pogue!reader #daddy!rafe cameron #daddy!rafe x little!reader #mean!rafe #puppy!reader #rafe cameron

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parfaitblogs · 5 months ago

Text

baby it's halloween ❀ s. reid x reader

in which a mutual friendship leads to a run-in with your ex, and it's halloween, which means you can be anything. even normal with him right?

pairing: ex!spencer reid x fem!reader genre: smut (18+ mdni) tags: garcia party in rossi HOUSE 💜. alcohol consumption. reader's dressed as a swan (stunning gorgeous amazing). pre established friends with benefits (don't fuck your exes). s10 bau team is there in spirit i think. crazy spare bedroom hookup. brief nipple play. oral (f receiving). fingering. p in v. he dresses you afterwards. porn with plot. oral fixation. soft dom!spencer. word count: 3.8k a/n: ex spencer reid makes a comeback. this is separate from bad idea right? but same pairing same sitch kind of same everything. LOL. thanks for giving me costume ideas guys. parfaitblogs revival!!! happy birthday spencer reid!!! happy halloween criminal minds tumblr!!!

"Penelope, what the fuck are you wearing?"

It was a very loud exclamation, over the sound of party music that certainly didn't match the overall theme of Halloween. It was only nine o'clock but the fox eared blonde in front of you had lip liner painting her chin, a pink flush on her cheeks barely hidden beneath a layer of makeup, and two cans of some multicoloured premixed vodka drink you weren't sure about trying (despite her holding one out to you).

"Fox costume. I'm Agnes! From Fantastic Mr. Fox!" Penelope says, cheerfully, urging you to take the drink she had in her hand, not relenting until you did.

"We agreed on swans," you huff, feeling awfully stupid now, in your all white costume, a pair of fluffy wings settled on your back.

Penelope looked genuinely apologetic for changing her costume idea on you with no warning, and so as she rambled about how she got excited after seeing fox makeup on her phone, you decided it wasn't actually that big of a deal. She finished her spiel with a comment about still technically matching because you're both animals, and it was enough for you to accept.

She led you further into the house. House, because she had convinced one of her coworkers to let her host a Halloween party at his, claiming her apartment was far too small for such a thing. Apparently he was very easy to convince.

It was a quick tour of where all the most basic of amenities on the first floor were, before she was shoving a shot glass of vodka into your hand, and encouraging you to take it.

So you did.

Perhaps it was a loosening up technique she was using in an attempt to keep you from ripping her head off when she began another conversation with you with the words,

"So, I need to preface before you get too drunk—" a sentence you really had never hoped to hear in your life "—that Spencer's here."

You're not too sure why your world begins to crumble around you at that fact. You figured he would be. In fact, when you were choosing the articles of clothing for your costume a week ago, you had the idea of Spencer Reid seeing you in mind. You had mentally prepared for seeing him. And yet; panic.

However, instead of making a scene about how anxious that thought made you, you force a small smile onto your face and murmur out, "That's fine."

"Are you sure?" Penelope presses. "You can hover around me the entire night to avoid him, if you want. I'll stay away from him. I'm really sorry for inviting him."

You didn't like that. "No. Pen, it's okay. He's your friend."

"So are you."

Your heart stuttered in your chest at her words, a warm feeling spreading throughout it. But, ultimately, you were not the person who wants perfectly good friendships ruined because you're too scared to hold a relationship together.

"I'll get drunk enough and start talking to him anyways. It's fine," you reassure her.

And get drunk enough you did.

You had bumped into him a few times already, making awkward eye contact when you passed him on your way to the kitchen for another drink, or to the bathroom to fix your corset that felt like it was getting tighter every breath you took.

Yet here you were, stuck between the fridge and him, a collection of things you wanted to both beg him for, and cuss him out because of, sitting delicately on the tip of your tongue, waiting for the right trigger word from him.

Unsuccessfully, for he was rocking back on his heels, clasping his hands around the glass of water he was nurturing, keeping the peace between you two and staying silent.

And you couldn't have that.

"Hi. How are you?" you chirp after closing the fridge, a can you were getting for Penelope and not yourself now settled between your hands.

"Hi. I'm good," he says, sending you an all too familiar tight lipped smile. One he always did when he was feeling awkward. "How are you?"

"This is really formal," you say, tilting your head to the side. "I'm good."

He nods his head in agreement, and you find every curse word you had ready to yell at him dissipate in an instant. "I like your costume. Swan?"

"Yes," you nod your own head, forcing the flutter of your heart to stop.

You weren't sure what he was when you had first arrived to the party, but a few short exchanged words between the two of you revealed the fake teeth he had settled in his mouth, confirming Penelope's earlier guess that he was a vampire.

Fitting, you had almost said then.

"I like yours too," you say after a few beats of awkward silence and you realising you hadn't said much after his compliment.

"Thank you."

It was an awkward song and dance around the elephant in the room (your relationship, or lack thereof). An even more awkward interaction of him reaching behind you into the fridge to get out a drink for Morgan, and then a breathless apology when he had gotten a bit too close and you hadn't had a conscious enough mind to step back.

"I don't like this," you blurt out.

"What?"

"This. Us," you clarify. "Being awkward. Not talking. We talk fine when we hook up."

Because yes, there's that secret you were keeping hidden away from Penelope.

"We're preoccupied during that."

"I'd argue seeing each other naked once a week is much more awkward than bumping into each other drunk, at a party."

"I'm not drunk."

Right. You knew that. Spencer Reid didn't drink. It was why the cup in his hand was only water, and the alcoholic beverage in his other wasn't for him.

If you were any less buzzed you probably wouldn't say the unfortunately very embarrassing sentence you let leave your lips, that sounded a little foreign even to you.

"Then do we need to see each other naked tonight to make this not awkward?"

His lips parted and he froze, rightfully so. You weren't sure how you'd react to somebody asking you that either. It seemed awfully blunt for even you, and if you were any sane person, you'd probably be backtracking to take it back. Instead, you were just as frozen as him, fearful for how he would respond.

"No," he says, but there was a strain in his voice that told you otherwise. Thankfully, you had enough self restraint to not call him out on that.

"No?" you tilt your head to the side.

"No, we don't need to. Do you want to?"

Does it make you a horrible person to say yes? To take advantage of one of the many rooms littering the Rossi house, and use a situational run-in to have sex with your ex-boyfriend?

Probably.

"Yes. Do you?"

"I like how you look tonight."

Your heart rate speeds up. "That isn't an answer."

"Yes," he says. "I do."

The kitchen was left empty with a glass of water and two unopened cans on the countertop, that Derek Morgan was no doubt bound to discover when Spencer never returns. Followed closely by — probably — Penelope discovering the same about you. Which would probably lead to the discovery of the friends (were you friends?) with benefits situation the two of you had.

You've barely stepped into the spare room he had located before he's kissing you. Feverishly, devouring you whole, as your back is pressed up against the door. Your wings dug into your shoulder blades, the feathers tickling your arms, and yet you couldn't find it in you to care.

"Spencer."

His response to your plea of his name is to kiss you harder, fingers entangling in your hair, and you think if he pushes against you any more, you'll meld to the atoms of the door.

"You taste like alcohol," he mutters against your lips.

"Funny that."

"Are you drunk?"

"I'll remember this all in five minutes, if that's what you mean."

"Sort of."

His mouth detaches from yours, and there's a desperation in the way he kisses down your neck you don't think you'll ever get used to, no matter how many times he does it.

It was a heartbreaking reality of the difference between how he would have sex with you then, and now.

It's his grumbling that forces you to focus on him again, and not the comparative thoughts you have whirring in your brain. His fingers are fumbling with the lacing on your back, as he says, irritation you find almost hilarious in his tone, "I hate corsets."

"You said you liked it earlier."

"I liked it when I wasn't trying to take it off of you."

You smile. "I'll wear something more convenient for you next time."

"Yes. Thank you," he nods, successfully loosening the lacing enough so he could take the corset off of your body. "T-shirts are good."

"Duly noted."

"Or nothing. Nothing's better," he adds, leaning in to kiss you again, his hands dropping to your chest — completely bare, considering you couldn't justify the wearing of a bra beneath the corset.

"I'll ask the board."

You feel him smile against your lips, his hands cupping your chest, thumbs delicately running over your nipples to elicit a breathless whine from you. Ever so careful, he uses his thumbs to circle them, amused with just how easy it was to fluster you.

His lips trail down from your lips again, his hands dropping to your waist, using his hips to nudge you towards the bed.

The backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed and you wince, although any pain dissipates as he murmurs a gentle apology and lowers the two of you to the bed.

It's quite amusing; the articles of clothing you're removing from your bodies. You didn't think feathered wings and a Dracula-esque cape piling together on the floor would be a sight you ever saw in this context, and yet.

"What do you want, honey?" he asks you, though your brain is a little preoccupied with his pulling of your skirt down your legs, fingers brushing against your skin. He forces your focus back onto him again with the calling of your name, and a kiss to your inner thigh.

"What're you willing to give me?"

"You know I'd do anything."

Your heart soars. Yes, you do know that. He loves to prove that feat to you.

"I don't know," you shake your head. "Whatever you want. You choose. My gift to you this Halloween."

It was a tradition you had started with him three years ago, on your first Halloween together. You knew how important the holiday was to him, and so you had bought him a plethora of decor for his apartment (on top of what he already had). You had helped him set it up, and later that week he had gifted you a charm bracelet with a pumpkin clasp. Every Halloween since, you bought him more decor, and he bought you a Halloween inspired charm for the bracelet.

This was your first Halloween where you weren't together.

"I didn't get you a charm."

"That's okay," you reply, earnestly.

"You're so wet," is voice is breathless, changing the topic of conversation awfully quickly. For his eyes had dropped to the only item of clothing you still had on, and his fingers had trailed far enough up your thighs to brush over it.

"Do something about it then," you retort, bluntly, and he smiles amusedly.

He probably murmurs something about you being a brat, but his hands were pulling your underwear down your legs, and you should not be expected to focus on two maddening things at once.

Thankfully, he does do something about it. And quite quickly, too. Wasting no time teasing like he usually does, instead attaching his lips to your core, tugging a moan from your lips.

His tongue licks a stripe up the centre of your folds, circling your clit, expertly so.

"Oh God," you whine out, breathlessly, head falling backwards and digging into the mattress beneath. Sinful as it was, Spencer's tongue on you did feel like the closest thing you'd ever have to a religious experience, a thought that had crossed your mind the many times he's done this before.

Once he's sure his tongue flicking over your clit had worked you up enough, you're forced into shock as you feel one of his fingers at your entrance. Lack of hand-eye coordination aside, he's well versed in the art of using two different body parts at once to make you come, and yet you're still writhing beneath him like it's the first time.

Sometimes it felt like it was.

"Spencer," you nearly cry out, if not for your hand flying to your mouth to muffle how loud you had anticipated you'd be.

He pulls his lips away at that, instead lifting his head to hover over yours, as he pushes a single finger inside you. Even when your eyes flutter closed and your head tilts back further, you can still feel his gaze on you, as if in awe of the way you looked.

"That was so easy," he murmurs, leaning down to kiss your cheek. "You really did want me to do this tonight, hm?"

Too wrapped up in the feeling of being touched by him again, all you can do is nod your head, and you feel him smile against your cheek.

"Yeah, I know, sweet girl."

He captures your lips again, swallowing a string of moans that leave your lips when he begins to move his finger in and out. Finger that becomes fingers, for he's pushing another one in, and you're arching your back up as you attempt to accomodate to the stretch.

"I know, I know," he repeats when your head jerks back as your lips part in another, this time silent, moan. "I shouldn't have missed last week, hey? I'm sorry I was out of state."

You want to tell him it's okay. That you didn't really mind being celibate for an extra seven days on top of the six the two of you leave between your nights together. Unfortunately, growing accustomed to a once a week cycle meant the interruption of it left you overwhelmingly easy to shatter with the simplest of touches. You did mind, so you kept your thoughts to yourself.

"Please," you ask him, almost pathetically, when he curls his fingers and your entire brain goes fuzzy.

"Please what, honey?"

You're not sure what. More of his fingers? His tongue back on you? You want it all. Yet, time was unfortunately of the essence, and you were acutely aware of the ticking alarm clock in view on the bedside table. You did not have the minutes to receive absolutely everything you wanted from him.

"Want you to fuck me," you murmur.

He breathes out a laugh. "I know. I'm going to, I promise. I just need to get you ready first, okay? How're you feeling?"

"Ready." Your voice is an impatient grumble, one that amuses him greatly, which frustrates you even more.

"I don't think so," he shakes his head, pushing his fingers back inside of you to elicit a sharp whine from your lips. "I want to do this a little longer, anyways."

"Spencer."

Your protest and attempt to bribe him with a kiss is hopeless, for he is continuing to pump his fingers in and out of you, using your arguably selfish kiss to quiet every single sound you make.

It isn't until you're quite literally writhing beneath him and begging him with an incessant repeat of his name, does he pull his fingers out of you. Tapping your lower lip with them, you take his fingers into your mouth, despite your panting and attempts at catching your breath.

You want to close your eyes, but the way he's looking at you as you suck on his fingers is borderline ridiculous, and you should probably be locked up for just how attracted to it you are.

He trails his fingers out of your mouth after a few moments, but any desire to protest that is lost on you when your eyes catch his removal of his boxers.

He disappears from above you for only a minute, though he knows you too well and says, "I'm getting a condom," before you have a chance to start complaining about it. By the time he's returned, he's kissing you again, and you've forgotten all about your irritation.

The head of his cock pushes at your entrance, and you're already a mess. He's slow as he eases into you, and you're eternally grateful for it, because your entire body tenses up, and he's forced to pause, and ease your muscles with his hands kneading your thighs.

"I'm sorry," he says, genuinely, when your eyes squeeze shut, and you're back to remembering why you're not happy about the dreadful thirteen day celibacy he forced upon you. But he's so nice, and so apologetic, that as he bottoms out, your hands are wrapping around his neck to provide him with silent forgiveness.

He stays still for a few more moments, his lips tickling your jawline. His breath fans your skin, warm, and just as desperate as your own, which is comforting.

"Tell me when you're okay," he says, quietly, breathing out a moan when your walls flutter around him.

After a beat, you murmur, "I'm okay," and he pulls his hips back, before rolling them back into you, slowly.

You're a puddle of content and pleasure and love as he repeats the gentle motions of fucking you, moaning and squirming beneath him, despite his hands on your hips in an attempt to keep you still.

"Doing so well for me, honey," he tells you after a few minutes, and heat warms your cheeks at the compliment. He laughs at your bashful smile. "You feel so good."

He moves his hips a little faster, and you're moaning again, hands dropping from his neck to the mattress. At that, he picks up his ministrations once again. All up until all the tender, slow motions are gone, and he's listening to your throat produce broken whines and pleas, his own presenting breathless groans.

"Spencer," you gasp out at one particular thrust, and he's instantly repeating that same deep movement. "Oh fuck."

"Like that?" he asks you, tenderly, and you're frantically nodding your head. "God, look at you. You're so pretty when I do this to you, you know?"

Vulgarity — in any form — coming from Spencer Reid's mouth should sound foreign, and yet it doesn't. Though, perhaps you're too lost in the pleasure of just how good he feels to believe he's anything but perfect.

"I want to come," you tell him, a disguised plea.

"Okay. I can make that happen."

You know he can. He's proven it a thousand times, you're sure.

One of his hands drops to your cunt, fingers finding your clit and timing the circles onto it with his thrusts, until you're pretty sure there is no longer a coherent thought in your brain that isn't simply him.

If his aim was to turn you into a mess with very little time, he was excelling above average. Your hands had grabbed fistfuls of the duvet cover atop of the bed, your mouth producing nothing but a constant repeat of, "Please," and "Spencer," one after the other.

He wasn't surviving very well, either, you found. His breathing heavy and his thrusts growing sloppier by the second, until he was feeling your own walls clench around him with your stomach tying itself into a knot.

He forced his hips to keep moving, albeit much more messy now, as he moaned against your skin, his own orgasm wracking through his body, while still attempting to chase your own.

It didn't take much more than that, to be honest, and your entire body went boneless and shattered beneath him as you came too.

Jelly seemed like an apt description for what you felt as you relaxed in the bed and your nerves began to calm down, Spencer breathing heavily above you. Up until he was sliding out of you, and standing up on legs you could see shaking, perhaps just as much as your own.

He's disposing of his condom as you lay there, attempting to regain your breath, eyes fixated on the ceiling above you. He's shuffling around more than you'd expect for a simple trash trip, but then you feel hands on your ankles, and your head snaps down to find him kneeling at the foot of the bed, gently tugging your underwear back up your legs.

"I know it's not ideal," he says, when your face scrunches up as the piece of fabric lands back on your hips. "But I also know your skirt is too short to not wear these."

"I'll get over it," you reply, letting him redress you with delicate fingers that leave your entire body hot, with goosebumps rising on the skin.

"Yeah," he agrees, though half-heartedly, expert fingers clasping your bra back onto your body.

Once your skirt is back on, he helps you up into a seated position, helping to reapply the feathered head piece you had on.

It's oddly intimate, way he's kneeling in front of you, breath warm against your face as he clips the feathers into your hair. Your breathing hitches as his hands drop back to your thighs upon finishing, and you swallow the lump in your throat.

"Everybody's gonna know what we did," you say, quietly, for it was true. You two had been gone for too long of a time for people to not draw correct conclusions.

"They already know we do." Hook up.

"What? How?"

"You need to stop telling Garcia things."

Your face falls, and he smiles, sympathetically, thumbs drawing gentle circles on the skin of your thighs.

"At least you don't work with them."

"I guess there's that," you confirm with a small nod.

He's silent for a few more moments, simply staring at you and studying your face, before he sighs, and goes to pick up your corset.

"You need to go to the bathroom after this," he instructs you, though gently, motioning for you to stand up and turn around so he could do up the dreaded lacing.

"I know. Don't worry."

"Good," he replies, your skin tingling with every extra bit of pressure he put on your back as he laced up your corset. "You feel okay?"

"Yes," you nod your head. "Do you?"

"I do," he confirms for you, tying off the lacing and tapping your hip so you could turn back around.

You do, and your eyes flicker up to his face. "Do you also promise not to make me wait two weeks again?"

"I'll talk to the board."

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

#lia’s fics ♡#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer x reader #spencer x self insert #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader smut

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azsazz · 6 months ago

Text

Shots & Spins

Hockey!Azriel x Ice Skater!Reader

Summary: Req from @kristijenner19: I saw you were thinking about hockey!AZ because same. How about a fic where she's a figure skater and they're trying to teach each other their respective sports. Imagine poor Az trying to do a spin/jump/twizzle and a reader who can barely ever make a shot into a goal

Bonus points if they switch their skates and have to re-learn how to skate with the new blade

Warnings: Mild panic attack, mentions of readers injury (torn ACL), trauma from coaches (verbal) mentioned.

Word Count: 3088

Other Fics in the Hockey!Az AU: Penance, Shut Out, Out of Order, All's Well That Ends Well, Brr-eakdown

HOCKEY SZN SOON MY LOVES 💙💙

Notes: I swear I meant to make this cuter but of course, I had to give it some angst 😅

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“What is this?” You question. You’re probably being rude, with your nose scrunched in disgust. With the way you’re holding the pair of skates as far away from your body as possible, you’re pretty sure you look like the biggest bitch on all of campus. But for the life of you, you can’t figure out why Azriel has handed you hockey skates.

“They’re skates,” Azriel answers. You rip your glare from the offending skates at his obvious response. Your heart stumbles in your chest at the sight of his pink lips twitching, begging to reveal that grin he spends most of his time expertly hiding.

You don’t even realize you’re leaning closer in anticipation, so eager to see that smile until the hitch of his breath snaps you back to consciousness.

You rock back on your heels so quickly you nearly tumble over. Would tumble over if it weren’t for Azriel’s quick reflexes, his large hands enveloping your waist and steadying you back on your feet.

“Thanks,” you reply flatly, dipping your chin to the ground to hide your flaming cheeks. There’s not an ounce of amusement in your body.

“You’re welcome.” You don’t like the smugness in his tone or the way he’s playing with you. Tilting your face back up, you muster all the annoyance lancing through your veins at his retort, shooting him the nastiest glare.

“That’s not what I meant, Az, and you know it. Why am I holding a pair of hockey skates?”

Azriel sits on the bench beside the empty arena, and you want to pout. Why would you want to spend any more time at the rink than you already do? You’re bone-fucking-tired and your knee is feeling stiff. You overdid it in practice this week, trying to get back into the shape you were in before the time you’d been forced to take off, and it’s hitting you hard. All you really want to do is crawl home, roll out your muscles, and dive into a pint of Ben & Jerry’s.

When you don’t join Azriel, he says, with a humor you don’t feel, “Don’t tell me you forgot about our little bet. Or how you so gracefully lost it.”

Of course you hadn’t forgotten. Who could forget losing at something as simple as a race across the arena? Afterwards, you tried to blame it on the differences in the ice, how it was colder and harder than you were used to, as it was prepared for the hockey team’s game later that weekend.

A rookie mistake, honestly. One that you’ve been kicking yourself over up until this very moment. Well, if you could kick with your injured leg, that is, you’d be doing just that.

You grind your teeth as a memory rises to the forefront of your mind. Your coach’s voice rings in your head, shrill and reprimanding. Why would you take such foolish chances? You need to get your head in your sport or you’re never going to make it on the Olympic team, let alone the University team.

Shame presses down on you, and your eyes prick at the criticism you should be used to by now. Your private coach from your time before Velaris University, Amarantha, had been very creative with her insults, always coming up with comments worse and harsher to cut down any semblance of confidence you had in your sport.

You bet she’s thrilled that you won’t be back in her presence until you’re healed enough. If you heal enough to relearn the very trick that took you out of the running for the Olympic team in the first place.

It must be a thing, coaches insulting their prodigies. You glance at Azriel from the corner of your eye and wonder if his coach is the same way. If Rhys is brutal with his teammates.

And you hate losing. It was Azriel who you wished forgotten about the bet you’d so stupidly agreed to, but here he is, wearing the same look that got you into this position in the first place.

You take your time studying him as you mull over how to get out of this. Azriel’s broad shoulders take up the space of two people, and his deep, dark hair falls over his brow, growing out into the perfect flow all the players seem to be sporting right now. You wonder if it’s superstition or they actually like the look. His thick lashes sweep as he bats them, and your cheeks take on a pink hue as he pretends to preen under your attention.

“Look,” he all but sighs, giving up his act. He leans back, reaching over to grab something out of sight. When Azriel rightens himself, he holds a pair of figure skates, a sheepish smile on his face. The apples of his cheeks mottle with pink. “I got myself figure skates, so we can both look like fools out there. Together.”

Fuck. The sentiment makes your throat tighten. He doesn’t have to be so damn thoughtful, you’re hardly even friends for Mother’s sake.

“Fine,” you manage when you can speak again. You plop onto the bench beside him. Your knee throbs dully in protest, but it’s nothing you haven’t been able to smother before. You’ve worked through worse conditions than hockey prepped ice, have skated in casts and aches so deep you weren’t sure you’d be able to compete at all if it weren’t for your raw love for the sport and your brutal stubbornness, holding yourself to the highest of standards.

And it’s not like you’re going to be doing your usual tricks. No, that’s all Azriel. All you have to manage is a few forward spirals, twizzles, and perhaps an axel just to show off a little, because there’s no way he’ll be able to recreate all of that in one go.

You just hope your knee stays steady for a few more hours.

The both of you lace your shoes in silence. The hockey skates are so different from your figure skates, you note. The blade is much thicker than you’re used to, more curved too. The boots are shorter, and you grimace at the lack of ankle support.

Not to mention you’re not entirely sure how well you’ll be able to stop without your toe pick.

Azriel leads you to the ice. You step on tentatively, giving the new skates a test. They have a lot more give than you’re used to. They’re not as snug, but easy enough to navigate. Muscle memory kicks in and after a few sluggish runs up and down the ice, you think you’ve gotten the hang of it.

The rest of this bet should be a breeze, especially compared to how Azriel is faring.

His face is contorted with a concentrated frown. He looks stiff as a fucking board, which make you giggle and him complain about. “How the hell do you wear these things? I can barely even move my ankles!”

“Practice makes perfect, young Padawon,” you tease, testing how best to shift your weight on the new blades. The pressure on your knee isn’t terrible, thanks to the looseness of the hockey skates.

“Yeah, yeah,” Azriel waves you off. He trails behind you at a slower rate, focused on getting used to the stiffness of the figure skates on his feet. “Just wait until we scrimmage.”

Ugh, no thanks. This is just perfect for you, the both of you out on the open ice, all alone. You don’t want to ruin this peaceful bliss by bringing your competitive personalities into it.

“I knew if we raced under different conditions I’d have won!” You exclaim, zipping past Azriel again, showing off. He glares playfully, but you’re much too busy admiring your skates to notice the way he’s tucked his lip between his teeth, hiding a satisfied grin.

His toe pick digs into the ice, grinding down as he gets a feeling for the foreign piece, but his eyes stay glued on you.

“Ready for a stick and gloves already, sweetheart?”

“I don’t know,” you throw a smirk back in his direction, crossing your arms over your chest and cocking a brow. “You ready for twizzling?”

“Twizzlers?”

You roll your eyes at his lame joke, but your heart still skips at his wry smile. It’s more than cute. You push off your blade, moving closer to him.

Which is fine, until you try to use your toe pick to stop, only for the realization to hit that there isn’t one on these skates.

You go barreling into Azriel, who catches you in his arms. Your motion throws him off balance and before you even have the chance to squeeze your eyes shut and brace yourself, you’re both falling to the ice.

Azriel hits with a grunt that reverberates through your bones. You’d think that Azriel breaking your landing would be less painful than it is, but with the way the muscle is packed on his body, he’s just as hard as the ice that’s no longer beneath your feet.

“Sorry,” you cringe. It comes out breathless and embarrassment flushes your cheeks, but you’re frozen to your spot and all too aware of how his large, warm hands are wrapped firmly around your waist.

“No worries.” Your lashes flutter as his breathy whisper caresses your face. He’s probably just winded, that’s why he sounds like that. Yes, that’s exactly what it is. “Didn’t think to remind you how to stop.”

“I know how to stop,” you argue, but there’s none of your usual fire tainting the words. You can’t even muster one of your famous glares that you reserve for the normally broody hockey player. You break eye contact as the humiliation begins creeping in. You scratch your nail distractedly down the waffled fabric of his olive colored henley. “I just…forgot, I guess.”

The hitching of his breath in his chest shifts your body and you jolt, the situation slamming into you like a truck.

You scramble off Azriel, grimacing at the sound of your blades clinking against his. His grip loosens, hands falling away as you slip to the ice beside him.

You shoot to your knees, then not-so-carefully climb to your feet. Azriel holds his hands out from where he’s still lying on the ground, like he’s more than ready to catch you again should you fall.

You’re positive the heat of your cheeks could melt the entire arena’s ice right now. You need to get the fuck out of here before you embarrass yourself further. You need to never show your face around here again. You’ve already transferred schools once, what’s one more time?

Azriel calls your name, but you hardly hear him over your racing thoughts. If the sheer embarrassment wasn’t enough, Coach Weaver’s voice now fills the rest of your head, screeching about your recklessness and how you could’ve injured yourself—

He’s quicker than you thought, or you’ve been trapped in your mortified headspace for too long because Azriel’s on his feet, towering over you and pulling you into his chest.

“I’m sorry,” your voice trembles and his hands tighten around you. He lets you bury your face into his chest and pretends not to notice the tears dampening the fabric of his shirt. You’re fucking trembling, and his heart is pounding just as hard.

This is all his fault.

“Breathe, sweetheart, breathe,” he tries to console. He looks around frantically, like one of the sports therapist students or coaches might be walking past the rinks this late at night. There’s no soul in the building besides the both of you, everyone resting for their busy weekends of competitions and away hockey games. “Please.”

You focus on his words, how he guides you, three seconds in, three seconds out. You focus on the soothing patterns he’s drawing down your back, focus on the beating of his heart and latch onto his scent: night-chilled mist and cedar.

“Sorry,” you croak when you finally manage to calm yourself and slide a step back. Your gaze sits pointedly on the ice. You don’t want him to see you like this, a woman who’s about to fucking crumble.

“Don’t be,” Azriel says softly. His hand finds your face, and as much as you don’t want him to, he lifts your chin. You don’t fight it, emotionally exhausted. You should have asked for a raincheck, but you can admit to the fact that Azriel’s gentle touch is a comfort that you can’t help but lean into.

Sad, hazel eyes meet yours. They’re more golden brown than green, a forest of hues backlit by a burst of gold. Your breath hitches as he drags a thumb softly across your lips. They part, even though you don’t mean them to, and the whisper of breath that leaves you passes over his hand, crawls up his arm, and sends shivers down his spine.

“You okay there, sweetheart?”

You’re not sure you can hold yourself together enough to answer his question without completely melting into a puddle at his feet.

Your silence must be answer enough. Azriel takes both of your hands in his own and guides you back toward the bench where you left your shoes. His grip is reassuring, and you’re so tired that you don’t even have it in yourself to sling a witty remark his way.

For what might be the first time in your life, you allow yourself to be taken care of.

You can’t even muster a chuckle at the way he stumbles over the toe pick on his way off the ice, or the way you’re waddling in these skates. You feel anything but graceful and strong right now, but with Azriel’s hand in yours, it’s not as off-putting as you feared it might be.

“Sit,” he says, keeping his fingers clasped around yours as you heed his command. It brings you eye-level to his hands, puckered and pink and scarred to hell. They’re beautiful in every way. He embraces his story, and it’s an incredible strength, one you’re much too terrified of attempting to recreate.

“Azriel, no,” you protest, jolting forward when he lowers himself to his knees before you. You plant your hands on his shoulders, ready to force him away because you’re more than capable of taking your own skates off.

He catches your wrists, and you didn’t think his eyes could soften any more, but they do, and you melt. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Let me take care of this for you.”

You try to swallow past the knot in your throat to thank him but are unable to. Instead, you nod and reluctantly sit back.

Azriel’s gentle with his movements, like you’re a wild doe that he’s helping free from a snare. He unties the tight knots, and your heart pinches when he struggles for a moment. You wouldn’t notice if you weren’t watching so intently, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

Like he knows you need to see this.

You carefully keep your mind from wandering into how good he looks like this before you.

He slips the first skate off, and you stretch your toes. It’s a reflex. Azriel smiles, peeking up at you just in time to catch your blush. His gaze ducks away before you become embarrassed, setting your foot down and holding your other ankle, lifting to get to work.

You hiss softly at the ache in your knee.

“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” Concern laces his voice, and you’re quick to reassure him.

“No, no,” you cringe a little at the lingering sting. “It’s nothing.”

“Sweetheart.” Azriel says sternly. Seriously. “That reaction wasn’t nothing. What’s wrong?”

You sigh, defeated in more ways than one. You don’t want to admit that the injury that threw your entire career off-kilter is acting up again. You’d rather not have anyone know.

Perhaps Azriel is different. Or, maybe he’s forcing you, because the gold in his eyes is intense, pinning you to your spot. His mouth is set in a straight, firm line. He looks like he means fucking business.

You avert your gaze. You’ve never admitted defeat like this, but if Azriel can wear his scars so proudly, maybe you can too.

“I tore my ACL a few months ago.” You admit, sniffling. You can feel the shock in Azriel’s gaze, but you refuse to look him in the eye. He’s the first person at this school outside of your coach who’s hearing it. You’ve never been so vulnerable, especially with someone you hardly know. You press on nonetheless. “It’s been fine up until now.” A white lie. “But it’s been a little sore since I started practicing my jumps again.”

“How many months is ‘a few’?” He questions, and he’s not going to like the answer, so you opt for brushing over it.

“I’ll go back to seeing my therapist,” you offer instead, but even you’re not too sure how much truth your words hold.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Azriel says, and you don’t want his sympathy, but you’re too exhausted for your usual anger to stir to life. “You need to take care of yourself, before it gets any worse.”

His sentiment has your nose stinging, eyes prickling once again. What the fuck is wrong with you these days? Get it together, girl. You can cry in your own room, not in front of the hot boy who’s helping you with your godsdamned shoes.

You drag your gaze back to his. “I will.” You think.

He studies you for a moment before nodding, accepting your answer whether he believes it or not. You don’t have it in yourself to care right now. No, you just want to be back in the safety of your dorm.

Azriel is even more careful removing this skate and helping you slip into your shoes. He makes quick work of his own, and while his head is down, you admire his stature. Broad shoulders and chest that tapers into a tight waist, an ass for days.

You’re not done drooling over him when he stands, offering you a hand.

You slip your palm into his, ignoring the electricity that zips down your arm. You’re hyperaware of him by your side, and it’s only when he’s absolutely sure that you’re steady on your feet that he drops your hand.

You try not to feel too disappointed at the loss.

“Let’s get you home, sweetheart,” Azriel offers, and you trail him from the arena, your heart feeling a bit fuller with the nickname.

_________________________________________

Azriel Hockey!AU Tags:

@whyonearthisyourusernamethi-blog @going-through-shit @crazylokonugget @lilah-asteria @girl-who-writes-stuff @moosemahboi @sherayuki @lyinginameadow @acourtofatboydreams @blackthorngirl @shadowsingercassia @evergreenlark @hannzoaks @bloodicka @whyshouldihaveanam3 @elle4404 @cherry-cin @quinzzelx @i-am-infinite @feeriqueivre @blightyblinders @kennedy-brooke @nyxbranwenn @dee-writes-smut @konaanaria13

#acotar #azsazz #acomaf #acowar #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel/reader #hockey!bat boys #hockey!azriel #acotar hockey au #acotar au #azriel au

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towriteloveontheirarms · 7 months ago

Text

Take it slow (Gale Dekarios x Reader)

synopsis: Gale and you share a tent for the night. The forced proximity is the perfect circumstance to explore each other more.

warnings: drinking, smut adjacent, reader is the first person to be with Gale after Mystra, heavy petting, dry humping, afab reader

word count: 1.8k

taglist: @hopelesswritergall

(If you want to be tagged for a specific character/fandom or in general let me know in my asks, comments or DMs)

A/N: Thank you to my darling @legitalicat for beta reading and also for listening to my honestly unhealthy Bg3 obsession. I love you💕

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

The whole party sits around the campfire, drinking, celebrating another small victory. Spirits had been down lately, so this was more than needed and a night of light-heartedness feels only appropriate. You sit around in a big group until well into the night, when the first folks start retiring, leaving only a handful of people. Among them Gale, who after wishing everyone a good night, comes back to join you rather quickly. Garnering a few questioning looks.

“It seems like I am out of a tent for the night.” He explains his sudden return, one hand scratching the back of his neck sheepishly.

You are about to ask what happened, when from the side Karlach loudly gives her own opinion.

“You should share a tent.” She laughs and wiggles her eyebrows suggestively.

The suggestion garners a few drunken snickers around the group, but it also serves well to make your cheeks grow warm at the thought of sharing a space with the wizard for the night. Your nervous demeanour only furthers their giggles.

Gale however quickly lifts his hands in a defensive motion. “It´s quite alright. I don´t mind sleeping with- I mean sharing a tent with you. If you do not mind it either.”

His slip of tongue immediately produces more heat on both of your faces and gives the others a hard time not to burst out into roaring laughter.

“I do not mind it at all.” That secretly you had wished for this moment for a while now goes unsaid, though when he helps you to your feet your eyes linger on each other´s for just a second too long to still be platonic in nature.

Gale leads you away from the amused group by the hand and holds open the tent for you to enter before him.

Now alone with the wizard the tension in the rather confined space grows thick. The two of you lay stiff beside each other on the considerably too small bed roll, desperately trying to find something to say to lighten the mood somehow, to make each other more comfortable. Luckily for you, as you lay there so far away from the campfire, the cold seeps into your bones and makes both of you shiver.

“Would it be alright if I laid closer to you? Just to fight the cold a bit.” you ask in a croaky voice. Your fingertips drumming against the ground with excessive energy.

“Yes, yes naturally.” Gale replies fast, almost all but pulling you into his arms.

Silence settles yet again as you lay your head on his chest, though it feels a bit less stiff than before. The scent of black tea, parchment paper enters your nostrils, accompanied by an undercurrent of sea salt and something citrusy to all mix for a scent that is so uniquely Gale. You can feel his chin rest against the crown of your head and instinctively bury your nose further into his chest. His hand runs up and down your arm with feather light touches, to warm you some more. The laughter from outside subsides to leave only the singing cicadas behind and the tension inside shifts to something much more than not being used to being so close so suddenly. Until you break under the weight of it.

Your lips tingle as they finally brush against his neck. Your heart is beating on your ears at how exciting it is, leaning in to repeat the motion over and over again. Sucking and nibbling at the skin ever so lightly. Gale’s skin warms up under your ministrations and his adam's apple bobs under a heavy gulp. Right as you pull away, he lets out a shaky breath. However, the two of you can't stay away for long, crashing your lips together. Hands grabbing at the other´s cheeks, necks and hips, anywhere they can reach for purchase. Your lips press together hesitantly at first, yet as they grow surer in what they are doing, stay slow, but crushingly passionate.

“Gods you’re such a good kisser.” You rasp against his lips. “I will never get enough of the way you taste.”

There is not a single trace of your initial bashfulness left as the kiss lingers longer and longer. Your hands wander over Gale´s arms to his chest, feeling his heartbeat drum against his chest to match the rhythm of your own. His fingers hook into your pants as your hands claw into the collar of his shirt pulling you into his lap and each other close until there is no air left between you. Nor is any breath in your lungs. The kiss is the only thing keeping the two of you alive in this moment. Savouring the sweet remnants of wine on his stained lips and the feel of their softness.

A guttural moan falls from his lungs, getting swallowed by you immediately. “Keep tasting me then.”

It's something he doesn't have to tell you twice. While you continue to breathe life into each other, you let your hands wander over the fabric separating each other’s bodies. Roaming the length of it repeatedly before they dip underneath. You gently drag your nails down his sides and back. Not enough to leave a sting but for a shiver to follow along with them. Ending with your hands running over the bulge between his thighs.

“Wait…” The wizard suddenly pulls away to stop you by laying his hands over yours.

You pull back as well at the sound of his voice, eyes fluttering open to gauge his reaction and the cause of the sudden stop.

The sight of his tousled hair, the shiny, swollen lips and the flushed skin. The heavily moving chest, in the dim light it's all so intoxicating.

“What is it?” You ask worriedly, taking hold of his hands and guide them to rest against your chest.

It takes a while for him to collect himself. “Yes, quite alright. I am not used to people touching me like this anymore. I…”

The frustration coming from him is palpable in his aura, but you on the other hand are filled with relief that he isn't shutting you out.

“We can take it slow. There is no harm in that.” You cup Gale's cheek in your hand and nudge his nose with yours.

A shaky sigh escapes his lungs in response to it. “I´m sorry. I must be so boring. You are probably used to more adventurous partners. You must think I don't want you now.”

“Hey, hey listen to me. There is no need to apologize. It is so exciting just to be with you. It is true I want you so much, but more than that I want you to be comfortable. So, if you do not feel ready to go all the way just yet, l am fine with that.“ While you coo at him reassuringly, eyes set on his, your fingers run through his beard.

He leans into your touch, practically purring at the soothing motion. He can´t help but nuzzle further into your palm. “Do you truly mean it?”

You don't mean to chuckle at him while he is being vulnerable, but the way he looks at you with those wide, dark brown eyes, you can't fight back the sound.

“Yes. Of course I mean it. I could never live with myself knowing I forced myself on you.” A chaste peck finds its way from your lips to his temple.

Gale seems taken aback by your understanding, though the confusion in his face doesn´t stay for too long.

“I have an idea. How would you feel about being the one to guide my hands over your body until you feel more comfortable with them wandering on their own?” You purr, biting your lower lip in excitement at the prospect of exploring him more.

His eyes glow up at the proposal and he slowly nods his head. “I think I would like that very much.”

Your hands, still holding his, find Gale´s chest, resting against it without moving. That alone has his heart beating faster an embarrassing amount, but so does yours as his own digits carefully begin to guide them. Shaky breaths mingle, your eyes stay on each other securely, meanwhile you feel the soft indigo fabric and the contrasting rough silver accents under your palms. Roaming over his upper body once more, caressing his neck and running through his hair. Every now and again your lips meet his to share a kiss or to press some chaste affection to his jawline or the column of his throat, which draw soft whimpers from both of your lungs. It gets the warmth in your stomach to swirl hotter than ever before and when you least expect it, Gale leads you underneath the shirt again. The feel of his still heated skin is exhilarating, but he still has a surprise left for you.

Gale lightly lifts one of his legs and flexes the muscles to rub against the bundle of nerves at the apex between your thighs, making you draw in a sharp breath.

“Fuck, Gale…” You breathe out, beginning to tremble just as much as he does. “That feels so good.”

The wizard is only able to hum in agreement, too focused on your fingers carding through his chest hair and teasing his nipples under his guidance. In search of more stimulation, your hips begin to move on their own. Rubbing your pleasure centre against his thigh, ready to stop at any moment. Yet as you do so, Gale groans and meets your stagnant motions. Your lips meet once more and just like this kiss your movement against each other´s bodies grow heavier and more passionate fast.

Before you know it, the wizard has left your hands at his hips to lay his own on yours to guide them instead. A tight winded knot builds in the pit in your stomach quickly, prompting your hips to grow more erratic.

“I am so close.” Gale barely manages to part barely far enough to moan into your mouth and is immediately met with the sentiment being very much reciprocated by you.

“I want to reach my peak along with you.” You whimper right back, desperate for the release that is threatening to take over the two of you.

The confession alone makes Gale´s hips falter and the hardened length in his pants twitch before erupting with his climax. A drawn-out moan fills the space that was otherwise only filled with your heavy breathing and pulls you right over the edge with him, your body weakly collapsing against his chest, while you bathe in the glow of your shared pleasure.

“Perhaps this might not be the perfect moment to confess this, but I think I have been in love with you since the moment I pulled you out of that portal.” You whisper weakly, eyes falling close at regular intervals already.

“On the contrary I believe there is no better time for this confession. I have felt similarly for a long time as well now. Though I have never dreamed of speaking my feelings out loud.” Gale answers in just the same quiet, intimate tone.

#gale #gale bg3 #gale dekarios #gale dekarios bg3 #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios x reader #gale x reader #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 fanfiction #baldurs gate 3 fanfiction

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absurdthirst · 5 days ago

Text

Unmasking the Mand'alor {Mando x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 8.6k

Warnings: Drinking, flirting, insults, fighting, caveman-like behavior, helmet stays on, fingering, oral sex (male receiving), rough sex, clothed male/naked female, first kisses, confessions, wedding vows, loving making

Comments: You want a helmet on Mando to fuck to pretend they are the one you really want and think you can never have. Until flirting with one in front of Mando makes him react.

A/N: Canon? Who dat?

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || The Mandalorian MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

Mandalore has changed. You glance around the bar, noting the repairs that have been done,the debris cleared out. It had once been the armory, fitting to be the social center of a society of warriors where their weapons are a part of their religion. Mandos wearing helmets are almost in equal number to those that are showing their faces, the two sects still managing to coexist peacefully - most days. The Bespin Fizz in your hand is smooth, although you really want a Fuzzy Tauntaun next time. The bartender was a Mando that still believes that Creed involves not showing his face, making him almost as attractive as one that had brought you here.

Din strides into the bar, his hand empty of a drink but he notices how everyone looks at him. The leader of Mandalore. His visor scans the crowd until he finds you at the bar. You are the star of his dreams, every holovid porno he watches he imagines you in their place. He can’t have you though. You don’t want his baggage. Dealing with the kid, being the Mand’alore, it’s too much to handle for him and he’d be selfish to make you deal with it alongside him. He sighs and taps his gloved fingers on his thigh, watching you as you watch him walk in.

He feels your eyes on him as he makes his way through the crowd until he is pushing his way into a space beside you at the bar. He orders a drink despite knowing he won’t remove his helmet to drink it. It makes him look more approachable and he wants the others to feel like they can speak to him about their worries and concerns regarding Mandalore. He is reluctant to take up an official role, never wanting to be a leader, but he needs to position himself for covert if he is to establish the Mandalorians as a force to be reckoned with within the galaxy. “And whatever she is having.” He adds, tilting his helmet to the bartender before he looks at you.

“The Fuzzy Tauntaun this time, Josin.” You tell the blue armored bartender. You cock your eyebrow up as you turn to see your own eyes reflected back at you in the darkness of his visor. “You gonna drink with me, Mando?” You ask playfully, taking a long swallow of your Bespin. “Want a straw?”

“You know I won’t drink it. I’m just here to put in an appearance and then go back to my quarters. The kid is with the other foundlings tonight. Sleepover or something.” He says, knowing that the reason he’s come out is so he doesn’t just sit in his room thinking about you and yet here you are. “You can have my drink too.” He promises, glancing around the room again. “Are you having fun?”

“So far.” There’s the dull roar of conversations and the occasional shit talking that gets a little out of hand, but there’s not been any fights in here. “Although….” You turn and smirk at him. “You need some music in here. Liven the place up a bit.” You drain the rest of your drink and shrug. “I had fun at the cantina on Mos Eisley.”

“I’ll be sure to get that sorted. Not like I haven’t got bigger things to do.” Din rolls his eyes behind his visor even though you can’t see it. Your drinks are placed in front of you and Din immediately pulls his credits from the pouch on his belt. “On the house for our fearless leader.” Joisin says and Din can hear the grin in his voice. “Thanks.” He replies even though he knows he will leave a tip.

You smirk and give a small chuckle at his sarcasm. It had thrown you off at first, the dry wit, but now it just makes him even more attractive to you. Even if you’ve never seen his face. It honestly irritates you that Bo Katan has, and not you. Wanting to put some features to the faceless fantasies that you have. You pick up your drink and take a sip. “Oh that’s nice.” You coo, turning back to the bartender and winking at him. “Thanks babe. I’m gonna have to have another of these.”

Din is thankful for the mask as he bristles at the affection you use towards the bartender. He wants to hear you call him that. He taps his fingers on the counter, watching you take a sip of your drink. “Maker, this place has the best drinks.” You moan and Din’s cock twitches in his flight suit, unable to help himself as he wonders what you’d sound like moaning his name.

You are completely unaware of the thoughts going through Mando’s head, sipping your drink and looking around. Surrounded by walls of metal clad men, you are soaking wet because of the one standing beside you, but he doesn’t want you. You need to get laid, badly. “Who is that?” You ask, nodding towards a Mandalorian in the corner that has a green chest plate, but his helmet is pure beskar, like Mando’s.

“Throck Kac.” Din answers, his brow furrowed with a question of why you’re interested in learning that information. Throck is a strong Mandalorian, almost strong enough to challenge Din for leadership but he hasn’t. Not yet. Din is always looking over his shoulder in case anyone decides to challenge him. Not that he cares about the dark saber, he’s more concerned about being killed.

“Throck Kac.” You repeat his name and look over at him in interest. He’s obviously one that doesn’t take his helmet off, but you ask anyway. “And he’s - like you? Doesn’t show his face?” You don’t want him to remove his helmet, the face above you needs to be a visor. Especially if you are going to fuck him and imagine it’s the man beside you.

Din is confused about why you want to know that but he answers the question, “yes. He keeps his helmet on at all times.” He tilts his own helmet to look at you as you have this look in your eye when you stare at Throck.

You hum, taking another sip of your drink and the visor turns towards you. You shiver slightly and look back towards Mando. It’s not the same, but you know he won’t touch you and you want to be touched. “Good to know.” You murmur nonchalantly.

Din notices your shiver and he frowns under his mask, wondering what caused that, and he sees Throck making his way through the crowd towards you. He taps his gloved fingers on the counter as he watches the other Mandalorian make his way to you.

You see Mando bristle, stiffen slightly as he taps those orange gloved fingers on the bar and you turn to head. Seeing that Throck is coming towards you. You turn your body and take another sip of your drink.

Din can’t watch this shit. He turns his visor towards the mirror behind the bar and he watches as Throck puffs his chest under the armor and walks up to you. “What is a beautiful lady like you doing in a shit hole like this?” He asks, tilting his helmet.

The line isn’t that great, but it’s better than no line. You tilt your head coyly and grin. “Waiting for something to happen.” You admit, not noticing that Mando has turned away. You try so hard not to watch him every moment. “Why? What are you doing in a shit hole like this?”

“Waiting for something to happen.” He replies and you can hear the smirk in his voice, “but it looks like I’ve found what I’ve been waiting for.” He nudges a little closer, pushing Din back who huffs under his helmet and watches in the mirror. “Oh really?” You smirk and Throck nods, “been waiting on the most beautiful woman in the galaxy to show up and here she is.”

You roll your eyes and wish that someone else would pay you outrageous compliments like that. “Have you seen every woman in the galaxy?” You tease. “I don’t think so, because there are some women here with their helmets on.” You nod to the female Mandos standing around. “Maybe they are the most beautiful woman in the galaxy.”

Din rolls his eyes under his helmet and he flattens his hand against the counter, resisting the urge to clench his fist. “I have eyes. A visor that can see the smallest details. You - mesh’la - are the most beautiful woman in the galaxy. In my galaxy at least.”

You smirk as you take another sip of your drink. You aren’t drunk, but the alcohol makes you bolder than you would normally be. “If you fuck half as well as you flatter, I might be in for a good night, Mando.” You use the moniker you use for your Mando on purpose, wanting to see how the other man likes it. You don’t want to call his name out in bed, because you won’t be thinking about the man fucking you.

Din clenches his fist on the countertop as he listens to you call Throck “Mando.” He loves when you affectionately call him that. He clenches his jaw when he watches Throck lean closer, “well why don’t we find a quiet room and find out just how good your night can be?” Throck asks, a smirk clear in the tone of his voice.

You bite your lip, hating that he doesn’t have that musky, spicy scent that Mando has. But his voice is modulated and as long as his helmet stays on, you wouldn’t mind him fucking you. “Why don’t we?” You purr. “My quarters are empty.” You offer.

Din hears tour sultry offer and his jaw clenched, his chest tightening at the thought of another Mandalorian touching you…fucking you. He hates it and he shakes his helmet, turning towards you. “That’s not a good idea.” He says and Throck scoffs, “why not? The lady wants me. I want her. Stay out of this Mand’alore.” He spits sarcastically and Din turns towards him, his chest puffing in defense. “Because I’ve heard that the woman who spend the night with you end up with bruises that take weeks to heal. She deserves better than that. Walk away now.” He demands, his voice taking on the authoritative edge.

You are surprised that Mando didn’t mention this sooner, he had to have known your interest. He’s not innocent. You learned that when you found out he used to be involved with that Twi’lek from his old crew. So it’s just that he doesn’t want you, and apparently, he doesn’t want anyone else to want you either. Just a companion for the kid. “I’ll be fine.” You promise. “Besides, I like it a little rough.”

Din hisses through clenched teeth, "not that rough. He chokes them. He - they can hardly walk." Din has watched many holovids on rough sex but the things he has heard about Throck makes his blood boil. He's a sadist. "She said she can handle it. Let the lady decide what she wants to do. Come on, mesh'la. I'll show you a good time." He reaches for your hand and Din sees red. He slaps his hand away and shoves the other Mandalorian backwards. "Don't touch her." He growls, jealousy and protectiveness swelling in his chest.

You jump back, surprised by the sudden defense from Mando. He’s always defended you against enemies, but this feels completely different. “She wants me to touch her.” Throck snorts, bowing up and stepping forward again in challenge. The conversations have died down and you feel every helmet and eyes turned towards you. “Stop.” You huff, not wanting them to fight.

Din growls, shaking his helmet, and he shoves Throck again. "She doesn't know what she wants." Din pushes him back again and the Mandalorian falls back into a table where several Mandos cry out as their drinks are spilled and cups fly onto the floor.

You don’t take offense to his insulting comment because you are too busy gasping in shock. “Mando!” You hiss, watching the scene deteriorate and unable to stop it as several push you out of the way as they crowd in.

Din sees red as Throck swings his arm to punch Din in the side after he stumbles to his feet, finding the vulnerable spots where the Beskar doesn’t cover. Din hisses and fights back, his strength and experience on his side as he battles with the other Mandalorian.

“Stop! Stop this!” You shout, but your voice is drowned out by the cheering of the crowd of Mandalorians. They love fighting, it’s practically a sport to them and the more vicious the better. Even when they are trying to rebuild their religion, they will always cheer on a fight. You shove through the crowd and push through to see Din head butting Throck with his helmet and punching him under the jaw where the just fabric covers his chin.

Din is clouded by jealousy and fury as he fights Throck. "You want her for yourself?" Throck realizes as Din throws him down on the ground and he speaks his winded epiphany. "Shut up." Din growls, lifting him to drop him to the floor again. The Mandalorian wheezes out his concession and Din's chest plate heaves as he turns towards you. "Din." You speak his name and it's like he's in a fog as he strides towards you, grabbing your legs to lift you over his shoulder. The others cheer as he carries you from the bar and he ignores your cries of protest and confusion.

“What- what are you doing!?” You cry out, head hanging down and you curl up your fist to beat against his back. Hitting it and crying out in pain because you forgot he had a backplate. “Put me down!” You yell, kicking your legs but he doesn’t stop. Mandalorians who weren’t in the bar turning towards you as Mando stalks down the hall with you hauled over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “Put me down, dank ferik!” Your hand slaps against his ass, the only unarmored portion of his body that you can reach.

Din ignores your pleas and the ache in his ass as you protest him carrying you away. He strides to his quarters, only setting you down when the door slides shut to his rooms. “What the fuck?” You cry as you stumble when he sets you down on your feet. Din doesn’t really know what to say. He feels like his body is on fire, his blood boiling, and the thought of anyone touching you makes his fists clench. He doesn’t even think when the next word escapes his lips, his mind still hazy with emotion, “strip.”

Your mouth drops open in shock. That single word burning through you and your cunt clenches with need. The mandalorian you have dreamed about is standing like and impenetrable wall in front of you and ordering you to strip. You don’t argue, reaching for your shirt hem and pulling it up over your head.

He watches, frozen on the spot as your skin - the skin he’s dreamed of, fantasised about so many fucking times, is finally exposed to his hungry eyes. He doesn’t say a word as you work on removing your clothes and his cock swells in his flight suit and his fingers twitch with the need to touch you.

The silence lingers between you and if you weren’t seemingly wrapped up in a trance of your fantasies, you would question him. You can't, though, you can’t say a word as you strip down to your bare skin and stand completely naked in front of a man that you have barely caught glimpses of.

Din’s eyes trail along your form and he groans your name, stepping forward to grab your waist and he drags you against him. His gloved hands slide down to your ass, greedy to feel all of the woman he’s dreamed about. “Mesh’la. Tell me what you want.” He demands, squeezing your globes of flesh in his hands.

You moan when he touches you, eyes sliding halfway closed as you burn the feel of his touch into your memory. Half afraid this is a fevered or drunken dream. You feel drunk when you haven't just moments before. “You.” You whimper. “I want you, Din. Always you.”

Din groans when you speak what he’s dreamed of hearing for so long. He walks you back towards his bed, letting your body drop and he keeps his armor on as his gloved hands explore your body. He squeezes your breast, watching your mouth drop open. “I’ve wanted you for so long.” He confesses, “never imagined I’d have you.”

You whine in frustration, hating that he could have had you so long ago. “Anytime you wanted me you could have had me.” You gasp when he pinches your nipples and tugs on them. “Anytime.”

“Fuck.” He curses, his cock now throbbing and pressing against his suit in a way that makes him ache to be free. He focuses on you though, pawing at your tits, burning the sight of them to his memory in case you decide this is a one off. “Can I - can I touch you?” He asks and you giggle, “you already are.” Din shakes his head, “no. I want to touch you.” He says as his hand slips lower to cup your cunt.

“Please.” You beg, reaching out and catching the edge of his pauldron and you try to pull him closer. “You can touch me however you want. As long as you don’t stop.” You want him to strip, but you feel like he won’t. Even if he kept the helmet on.

Your permission makes his stomach twist and he swears he nearly cums then and there. He hisses your name and withdraws his hand. You whimper in protest and he chuckles, removing his glove so his bare fingers can touch your wet flesh. “Cyar’ika. You’re so wet.” He murmurs in awe as he circles your clit.

You close your eyes, not sure if you should stare at the smooth, tanned skin of his fingers. His nails are short, neat and clean. Instead you just feel the way he touches you with certainty. “Always wet around you.” You confess breathlessly. “Imagining- fuck- sitting on your cock while you were flying the Crest.”

Din groans, his gaze flicking between your cunt and your face. His digits already coated in your arousal and he twitches in his flight suit, "you could've had that anytime you wanted." He promises and rubs your clit, wanting to hear you moan his name.

“Fuuuuuuck.” You whine, irritated at yourself for not pushing him to touch you earlier. “Din….Inside.” You beg, wanting his fingers to curl up inside you. Opening your eyes, you stare into the dark visor of his helmet and wish that you knew where his eyes were focused right this second.

He's watching your face as he slides his fingers lower and he starts to push his finger into your cunt. You're clenching around his digit and he hisses, his gaze flicking down to your pussy as he adds another finger to feel how tight you are.

“So thick.” His fingers are thicker than your own and your eyes roll back while your hips grind down onto his hand. “Oh Maker, it’s- so damn good.

He can't believe how tight you are around his fingers and he starts to pump them in and out of your dripping cunt. "You are so fucking beautiful." He murmurs, curling his fingers when he pushes them deeper.

“You are.” You groan, even though you’ve never seen his face. His body, the armor and the way he wears it, his strength and competency all make him sexy. “Touched myself thinking about you. About this.”

Din groans at your revelation and he twists his wrist so he can press his thumb against your clit. “I’ve jerked off so many times thinking about you, cyar’ika. Fuck. So many times. Imagined you in my cot.” He confesses with a modulated tone.

“Didn’t think you wanted me.” You pant, you tone needy as he gives you exactly what you want and still you crave more. “It’s- it’s why I was going to take Throck.” You admit. “His helmet looks the closest to yours.”

Din growls, his fingers pumping faster, “he can’t have you. He doesn’t deserve you. I don’t - I don’t either but I can give you what you need. He can’t.” His blood boils at the thought of it and he reaches down with his free hand to squeeze his bulge, trying to find some relief.

Your eyes have opened again and you watch as he squeezes his cock. Making you moan at the slight. “Fuck.” You bite your lip. “I know you won’t, uh, undress, but can I see it?” You ask hopefully. If you can’t, you will understand but you are greedy for anything that he can give you.

Din knows he should say no but he can't deny you when you ask so sweetly. He nods, fumbling with his belt to undo it and he works on pulling his aching cock out of his pants. He is throbbing and when he can squeeze himself, he groans in relief.

He’s thick. Your mouth waters at the veiny, heavy length that is weeping from the tip. He’s longer than you imagined too, surprising you because you’ve never seen a cock so beautifully proportioned. “I want to suck it.” You moan, tearing your gaze away to look up at his visor. “Would you let me?”

Din swears he sees the Maker and he nods without hesitation. “If that’s what you want. You can have whatever you want, mesh’la.” He promises with a groan as he continues to finger your dripping pussy.

“Come here.” You shift down, twisting your body so you can reach his utility belt. You don’t want to miss the feeling of his fingers curling inside you, but you want to taste him. “Fuck it’s so big.” You coo, hooking your fingers under his belt to tug him over to you. Clenching down around his fingers as your own wrap around the velvety hardness of his cock for the first time.

He twitches in your grip, groaning your name, and he stops moving his fingers for a moment as you pump him in your soft hand. “Fuck.” He pants, “that’s - it’s so good.” He murmurs, eyes fluttering closed.

It’s almost surreal. You could cum from this alone. The scent that is specifically Mando, Din, envelopes you and beckons you. Making you lunge up and wrap your lips around the tip of his cock.

His stomach clenches, his helmet hitting his chest plate as he looks down at you. “Fuck. Imagined this so many times.” He confesses, “mesh’la. You are - fuck - don’t hurt yourself.” He urges when you choke after you take him deeper.

You pull back slightly, taking a deep breath before you take him back into your mouth. You don’t care if you choke, you want to hear him moan. Your cunt clenching as you start to take him deeper.

Din pants, his mouth dropping open beneath the helmet as he watches you eagerly suck his cock. It's beautiful and your walls flutter around his digits, making him remember to continue fingering you while you suck him off.

Humming around his length, you start to lift your head faster, deep throating him as much as you can before you pull off. You want to take all of him down your throat, especially if this ends up being a one time thing.

Din chokes on his own breath as you take him deep down your throat and he can’t believe this is happening. He hisses your name, his free hand cupping your cheek and sliding down to your throat to feel the way it bulges with his length pushing deep.

You moan around his cock when his hand grips your throat. There have been a few times you’ve imagined that gloved hand there, applying pressure while his cock hammers into you. Your eyes are watering and you can barely roll your hips down to his plunging fingers, you are so engrossed in sucking his cock.

He rubs your clit with his thumb, groaning your name when you gargle around his cock. He grips your throat a little harder and he doesn’t want to cum down to your throat. He caresses your cheek and pulls his cock from your throat. “I want you to cum on my fingers, mesh’la.” He demands, working his fingers in your cunt.

Whining, you close your eyes, nodding as he continues to pump his fingers deep into your walls. “Mando - Din, you are so deep inside me. Your fingers-“ you bite your lip when he pushes against a spot that makes you gasp out. “There!”

He groans, focusing on that spot and he watches you with his chest heaving as you cry out. His thumb works your clit and he keeps pressing against that spot, his cock twitching in your grip.

Your walls start to clench down around him, your eyes flying open when the sensations crash through your body. “Din!” His name spills from your lips as you start to shake apart from the skill of his fingers.

He works you through your orgasm, his cock throbbing at the way your jaw drops and your moan of his band. “Fuck. Mesh’la.” He murmurs in awe, loving how you soak his fingers.

He doesn’t pull away immediately, working you through it until you are completely wrung out. Slumping back against his bed in bliss and reaching down to caress the back of his hand, shivering when you feel how warm and soft his hand is.

Din withdraws his hand from your cunt, immediately wrapping his wet fingers around his cock, starting to pump himself as he observes how wrecked you are. "You are everything I dreamed and more." He murmurs, squeezing his cock.

“Then fuck me.” You beg, wanting to feel him inside you as he groans in pleasure. You want to feel the way he pounds into you and let him relieve all the stresses he has in your body. “I want you, Din.”

He can't deny you. He groans, nodding, and you whimper, watching him jerk his cock. "Hands and knees, cyar'ika." He demands, hissing when you follow his order. Your ass on display and he caresses it with his gloved hand, smacks it as he shuffles closer. "Tell me to stop." He orders, wanting to give you one last chance to stop him because once he has you, he's never letting you go. You will be his.

“Don’t you dare stop.” You push your ass back, shaking it slightly as you beg for his cock. “If you do, I’ll go find Throck.” You threaten, although you know that would never happen. You wouldn’t be able to let him touch you after Din has. You are marked by him, even if it’s not visible.

Din growls, "I'll kill him if he touches you." He warns and slides the head of his cock through your folds. "You are mine." He grumbles as he starts to push into your tight, wet cunt.

The claim on you is complete, your back blowing as he drives into you. Not stopping until the armor covering his thighs touches the back of yours. You cry out wordlessly and hang your head down between your shoulders.

It's like something overtakes Din and his hands grip your hips, one gloved one not, and he starts to thrust into you. Jaw clenched beneath his helmet as he starts to fuck you in earnest, needing to claim you as his.

All you can do is hold on. Your hands fisting the sheets of his bed and you lean forward, lifting your ass more as you press your face into the bedding. Inhaling more of his scent in the space where he sleeps while you choke out his name. “Din! Fuck- more.” You moan, wanting him to completely destroy you.

Hearing you say that disappoints Din and he will reflect on that later but right now, he's thrusting harder. "Fuck. Need you - need you to cum first." He groans, his bare hand sliding down to rub your clit.

Your body bucks under the pressure of his fingers at your clit, surprised and pleased by him prioritizing your pleasure. “Din!” You gasp out his name again, looking over your shoulder as he rocks into you, his helmet faceless but you clench downs around him. The sight of him behind you as he hammers into you throws you over the edge.

The way you clamp down on his cock has him gasping out your name and he struggles to rock you through it with how tight you're squeezing him. "Mesh'la." He pants, pulling out of you and your whine echoes in his chambers. "I want this to last." He confesses, his cock throbbing with the need to cum but he takes a deep breath, trying to control himself. "On your back." He orders, wanting to see your face.

You flip over eagerly, not minding having this Mandalorian looming above you. He’s still completely covered except for one glove missing. His cock the only other thing you see. It’s wet with your juices and you moan at the sight of him. “Mando.” You reach up and squeeze both of your tits. “Din. Fuck me.”

He grabs your thighs, pushing them back as he shuffles closer until he is pressing back into your fluttering cunt. Your walls are still fluttering and he groans, eyes focused on where his cock disappears into you.

He’s holding onto your legs with an iron grip, his one hand flexing and showing the rippling muscles on the back of it. It’s intoxicating and you want to know what he’s thinking with his helmet tipped down, obviously watching himself fuck you. “So sexy.” You moan. “So strong.”

Din groans as you take everything he gives you. His hips pressing against your ass as he lifts your lower body so he can sink deeper. “Mesh’la.” He murmurs, lost in the feel of you.

You whine, eyes rolling back and you swear is pushing into your womb. “So good.” You gasp out. “So deep.” All you touch is the fabric of his flight suit when you reach down and you moan his name again.

"Touch yourself. Touch your clit. Show me how you touch yourself thinking of me." He demands with a growl on a particularly deep thrust.

You cry out in pleasure, letting go of your breast to reach down. Using two fingers to start rubbing harsh circles on your clit. “Every night on the Crest.” You confess breathlessly. “Everyday since I met you.”

Din twitches violently inside you at your confession and he watches as you rub your clit. “That’s it, cyar’ika. Fuck. I- I jerked off thinking about you. So many times. You don’t even know how beautiful you are. I watch you all the time.” He groans and feels your walls starting to flutter and clamp down on his cock. “Cum for me, mesh’la.” He orders, wanting to see your face when you cum on his cock.

A few more harsh thrusts of his cock sends you flying. Your back arches as you cry out loud enough for it to be heard through the halls of Mandalore. You don’t care though, you can think of nothing but how perfect he feels. “Cum for me!” You beg. “Fill me up, I want to drip your cum.”

Din pants, getting closer and closer to his orgasm. He pushes into your tight cunt, unable to hold back as he tries to work you through your orgasm but he can't hold back. He chokes out your name as he buries his cock deep, pulsing as he starts to fill you with hot spurts of cum.

You’ve heard him groan in annoyance, in pain, in sorrow, but you’ve never heard him groan like this. He sounds like he’s died and he’s reached the Maker, completely wrecked under his helmet. You bite your lip, knowing that he can’t remove his helmet, even if you begged him to. It would be wrong of you to even ask.

He feels like he's out of his body as he rocks into you, slowly to work himself through his orgasm. His helmet rests on his chest and he looks at his cock, shiny and milky with your combined cum, and he swears he sees all the stars of the galaxy.

You relax into bed, trying to catch your breath bit you feel like you’ve just run for miles through the deserts of Tatooine. A smile on your lips, you close your eyes, cunt still pulsing around his cock. “Maker.” You hum. “So that’s what it’s like.”

Din hums, his voice modulated, and he pulls out of you, groaning at the sight of his cum welling up in your pussy. "That's what it's like." He echoes, his eyes flicking up to your wrecked face.

“Nice.” You giggle slightly, but you can barely move, feeling him set your legs down as he shifts to stand at the foot of his bed. Managing to roll over to your side, you curl into his pillow and sigh. “You smell so good.”

Din desperately wants to feel all of you. He strides into the 'fresher, wetting a rag for you and he comes back with it, gently wiping you clean. "Stay there." He orders, tossing the rag into the sink and he walks over to the lights. "Close your eyes." He orders, watching you spread out on the bed.

You close your eyes, wondering what he is doing and then you sense the room going dark. “Din?” You ask, sitting up but you keep your eyes shut. “I’m here.” He tells you, moving around in the dark and you frown slightly, not understanding what is going on.

He strips his beskar with a familiar efficiency and the last item is his helmet. He's anxious to remove it, knowing you could easily betray his trust and turn on the lights but he pushes aside that fear. He loves you. He knows you wouldn't do that. He swallows harshly and unclips the locks, removing his helmet and after setting it down, he slides into the bed beside you. "You can open your eyes. The lights are off." He informs you, his voice unmodulated.

Inhaling sharply, you hear the change. His voice. It’s….clear. “Din.” You cautiously lean back, aware that he has removed his helmet and still you don’t open your eyes. “Is- is that allowed?” You ask softly, aware that he had gone through such a trial to be able to wear his helmet with honor again. Even if the living waters are in the cavern below you, you know how much his Creed means to him.

He chuckles at your tone, his eyes adjusting to the darkness, and he reaches for you, pulling you against his bare body. "It's allowed. It's a...loophole." He says with a smirk, "I wanted to feel all of you. Let you feel all of me."

“Maker.” You gasp, feeling how hot he is as he presses close. Instantly addicted to the feeling, you let him drag you over to him, practically laying on him. “You can do whatever you want with me, Din.” You admit quietly. “I would let you.”

He slides his hand along your back, "I can't give you everything. If I were any other Mando, we could speak our vows here and now and you could see my face. I can't - I don't want to promise you the galaxy and not fulfill my duties because I am duty bound to the kid...to Mandalore. I want to give you what you want but I can only give you this." He murmurs, wanting you to understand.

You try to understand what he is saying but you frown. “I just want to be with you.” You murmur, settling into his side and slowly sliding your own hand across his skin. “I’ve known I will never see your face, and I still lo- uh, wanted you.” You almost said it, but it would be foolish to confess your feelings when the man is literally saying that you can never be more to him than his partner in bed.

He catches what you nearly said and his heart stops. He cups your cheek, wishing he could see your face but he presses his forehead against yours. “I love you, cyar’ika. To me, you are my riduur. Please don’t misunderstand me. I want you. I love you. I’m trying to protect you.”

“What about me wanting to protect you?” You ask softly, leaning into his touch. “I don’t know what you are protecting me from, but I’ve already survived the Empire with you. The dangers of Mandalore. Everything.”

Din swallows harshly, knowing that he could be selfish, take you as his, but it’s hard to stomach that in case something happens to you. He’d never forgive him. “I’m protecting you from me. From the trouble that follows me.”

You snort, your eyes still closed as you shift to lay your head on his chest. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.” You scoff. “You’ve always kept me safe, even when it meant putting yourself in danger.” You yawn and sigh. “It’s why I love you. You protect others. Me, the kid. Those that need you.” You smile softly to yourself. “You’re a hero.”

"Sleep, mesh'la." Din orders softly, caressing your spine, and he hears your breath even out after a few moments.

****

You blink, your body aching, and you smile as you remember what happened last night. You pat the bed and frown when you feel the cold and empty spot. He left. "To your left." Din says, kneeling by the bed.

Your eyes are naturally open, not registering that the lights are on. Or maybe it’s that you assume that Din would be wearing his armor, his helmet back in place. So when you turn your head to the left like he indicates, you are shocked when you see a warm pair of brown eyes staring back at you. “Dank ferik!” You yell, squeezing your eyes shut. “Shit, I’m so sorry! I’m sorry!”

Din watches your reaction and he reaches for your hand. “It’s okay, mesh’la. It’s okay.” He promises, “you can look at me.” You take a moment and blink as your eyes adjust until you finally look at him. “Hi.” He murmurs, taking in the sight of your beautiful face without his visor. “I want you to be my riduur. If you want that, repeat after me.” He says softly, squeezing your hand. “Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde.”

“What does that mean?” You ask, staring at him as if you are memorizing his face. He smiles and you swear your heart stops at how beautiful he is. "We are one when together, we are one when parted, we will share all, we will raise warriors." He explains softly, squeezing your hand again. “Mandalorian wedding vows.” Your gasp is followed up by his small chuckle. “I told you that you are mine.” He hums and you swallow harshly. “M-mhi solum-no, uh, solus tome….” You see him nod as you struggle through the lines. “Mhi solus dar’tome.” He reminds you and you quickly repeat, “mhi solus dar’tome.” You bite your lip and he supplies you with the last lines again patiently. “Mhi me’dinui an, mhi ba’juri verde.” You finish, your voice steady as you stare into his eyes.

Din offers you a blinding smile, unable to believe you’re his riduur. “We are now one. We share all. Which means you can see my face. See all of me.” He tells you, “I wanted to give you everything. All of me.” He murmurs, squeezing your hand again.

“What changed your mind?” You ask, your free hand slowly reaching out to caress his cheek. He might not want the touch, so you give him time to pull away. “I would have taken whatever you could give me, even if I give you more than everything that I am.”

Din leans into your touch, "I imagined you with someone else and it killed me. I was stupid. I let my fears rule me and Mandalorians are never scared." He snorts, "but I am terrified to lose you. I love you, riduur. I need you." He confesses softly, letting you see all of me, the parts he conceals behind beskar.

“You have me.” You promise, leaning in and pressing your lips to his gently for your first kiss. His eyes widen, but he doesn’t pull back until you do. “And I’m going to stay with you.”

Din can’t help it, he surges forward to press his lips to yours. He’s sloppy, inexperienced, and he shifts to push you back onto the bed, his naked body covering yours in an effort to feel every inch of you against his bare flesh for the first time.

You groan at the feeling of his skin against yours. “Din.” He’s not the Mand’alor or a Mandalorian right now. Just a man, bare and vulnerable with you. The door to his quarters is locked and no one can interrupt you. Your hands sweep over his shoulder and down his sides, mapping scars from where someone has managed to injure him beneath the Beskar. “I love you.” You moan into his mouth.

Din groans, "I love you too." His hand caresses your neck until he's cupping your breast. "You are so beautiful." He murmurs, "so fucking perfect." His cock starts to harden against your thigh but he's in no rush as he kisses along your jaw.

You groan in bliss, feeling him start to get turned on. “We will raise warriors.” You muse. “Does that mean Mandalorians want kids?” You ask playfully, rolling your hips up to push against his cock.

Din chuckles, “yes, but only when we are ready.” He promises but his cock twitches at the thought of you full of his ad. He kisses down your neck until he’s satisfied that he has kissed every inch and then he takes your nipple into his mouth, sucking and biting.

“Din!” You are surprised by his eagerness to use his mouth on you. Reaching down, you start to tangle your fingers into his hair, the strands surprisingly soft and silky. “More, baby, oh maker, that feels so good.”

Your praise has his cock hardening and he loves how you feel under him. His tongue flicks over your nipple before he switches to the other one, taking it into his hot mouth while his hand squeezes the flesh of the one he just abandoned.

You give him complete control, whimpering praises as he pays lavish attention to your body. Worshiping you like you had never imagined he would. You knew he would fuck you good, giving you his cock hard and deep, but this is reverent. “My riduur.” The word is not one you would use, but it must be Mandoa and he groans in response, showing you that he likes it.

Din is eager to please and hearing you address him as your riduur has his heartbeat pounding in his ears. He has time to worship you. The kid is safe with the foundlings and he wants to spend his time tasting every inch of you. He wastes no time kissing down your stomach, eager to hear you moan his name, and he kisses until he is settled between your spread thighs. “Fuck.” He murmurs, eying your cunt and inhaling the heady scent of your arousal before he dives in. His tongue is sloppy and he has no idea what he’s doing except what he’s seen in holovids. He hopes he can please you.

You shiver and jolt in pleasure. Crying out, your fingers twist in his hair and you tug slightly. “Maker!” His tongue is searching and you look down to find his eyes fixed on your face. Watching you as he flicks his tongue and you moan at the sight of him between your thighs. “There.” You praise breathlessly.

Your moan of approval has him lapping at your clit. He loves it. He loves how you taste and he pays attention to your whines and whimpers, wanting to know what feels good to you. His fingers grip your thighs, keeping you steady while he unravels you with his tongue.

His touch starts to become more sure, confident as he licks through your folds. He is smart, almost too smart at times and he is quick to learn what you like most by your moans of approval. “Your tongue is as clever as your fingers.”

He chuckles into your flesh, loving the way you praise him, and he dives back in. He sucks your clit between his lips, closing his eyes as he hums against your flesh.

“Oh fuck.” You gasp, head tilting back as you moan. “Oh fuck, I’m so close.” Your stomach heaves and your thighs start to shake around his ears as he pulls you closer to the edge with every suck of his mouth.

His hands slide down to squeeze your ass, needing to feel you cum on his tongue, and he pushes his tongue deep into your pussy. His nose presses against your clit as he groans into your wet flesh.

That slight change in sensation sends you soaring. Feeling like you are in hyperspace as stars burst behind your eyes, making your vision go white as you cry out his name. “Din!” Your body bucks and twitches as your walls flood with your juices to soak his tongue and chin.

He swears he nearly cums himself then and there when your walls clamp down on his tongue. He groans, working you through it, and he knows he wants to do this over and over again. He’s addicted to how you taste and how you sound.

“You are a quick learner.” You praise breathlessly, giggling as you come down from your high. “That’s better than spice.”

He chuckles, kissing your thigh and he shifts up your body to press his lips to yours. He can’t get enough of kissing you. He loves it. He slides his tongue into your mouth, knowing you can taste yourself, and he loves it.

You hum in approval, slowly kissing him back and reaching down to wrap your hand around his throbbing cock. Starting to stroke him as he rocks into your hand while he keeps kissing you.

“I need to be inside you, riduur. I want to claim you.” He murmurs against your chin and you nod, shifting so you can position his cock at your entrance. He groans and slowly starts to push into you, loving the way you moan his name when he stretches you out again

It feels like he’s pushing so much deeper without the layers of armor and his clothing between you. His skin sliding against yours as he covers your body with his own. “I love you.” You murmur, tilting your head up to kiss his chin.

He groans, pressing his lips to yours as he starts to move inside you. “I love you too, mesh’la.” He murmurs and he starts to move inside you, loving the way you gasp as he stretches you out and he’s addicted. He loves how you feel gripping his cock.

This pace is different from last night. Last night, Mando was claiming your body and right now, Din is claiming your soul. It’s love making, soft and slow as if he has all the time in the galaxy. Lifting your legs, you hook them over his hips and start to move with him, groaning softly in pleasure from the way his cock spears into you.

He pants as you meet his thrust and he kisses every inch of skin he can reach. His hand slides up until it finds yours and he presses your joined hands into the pillow under your head. It’s slow and unhurried, so different to how he lives life. How he has to live life. “Riduur.” He murmurs against your jaw, “I love every part of you.”

“You are so perfect.” You coo, reaching up and caressing his cheek with your free hand. “It is such a shame that you have to hide such perfection behind your beskar.”

Din feels his chest tighten with your words, “I- I don’t know - I never thought I was much to look at.” He confesses, grinding into you and his cock twitching when he pulls back to look into your eyes and he sees the admiration there.

“You are so handsome.” You promise, knowing that you could gaze at him forever. Even if you know that he must put his helmet back on. “I am lucky. I am the only one who gets to see how handsome you are.”

Din offers you a smirk, pleased that you like how he looks, and he leans down to kiss you. “You are beautiful. Always thought it since the moment we met.” He confesses, “in that cantina.” He rocks into you a little faster, wanting to hear and feel you cum for him again.

“I thought I felt you looking at me.” You tease, breathless as he starts to pick up the pace. “Can never tell with that helmet on.”

“Always looking at you.” He promises, “can’t stop.” He squeezes your hand and lets go of it, his grip shifting to your thigh to bring it higher so he can sink deeper into you.

“There.” You whimper softly, eyes rolling back in pleasure. “Right there, Din. Fuck, you have the best cock. I’m gonna cum.”

He grunts, focusing on that spot, and he groans your name as you start to stiffen beneath him. “That’s it, baby. Cum for me.” He murmurs his demand, his dark eyes watching you as he pushes you towards your orgasm.

It doesn’t take long for him to work you up. Pressing inside you against that spot has you seeing stars. Until the last swing of his hips and you scream out his name. “Diiiiiin!”

Your scream of his name has him shaking above you and he hisses at the way you squeeze his cock. He pushes into you, working you through it and the emotions of the day are overwhelming. He can’t hold off like he did last night. It only takes a few more thrusts until Din pushes deep, his cock throbbing as he paints your walls with hot seed and your name is a strangled groan, spilling from his lips.

You caress his sweat sheened face as he collapses on top of you. “I love you, riduur.” You murmur softly. “Until the end of the galaxy .”

Din smiles, nudging your nose with his as he tries to catch his breath. “Until the end of the galaxy.” He promises and sighs, knowing that you will be by his side no matter what. He will protect you with his life. “Let’s get something to eat and then we can get the kid from his sleepover.” Din murmurs and you nod, caressing his back. “That sounds perfect.” Din smiles, rolling over so you are on his chest and he strokes your back, closing his eyes. He has everything he could ever ask for. He just has to fight to keep it now.

#pedro pascal #the mandalorian #mando x reader #mando x f!reader #mando x you #mando smut #mando fanfiction #mando imagine #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you

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little-diable · 8 months ago

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Hillbilly Cowboy - Tyler Owens (smut)

I just love writing for him, I don't know why, but damn I l o v e it! Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader's home gets destroyed by a tornado, but what happens when Tyler Owens and his crew show up to help? Will she accept his offer to find shelter at their house or push him away?

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (m), shower piv, this is filthy, choking, lots of teasing, talks about losing a home, but mainly fluff and smut

Pairing: Tyler Owens x fem!reader (3.6k words)

“No, fuck off, I don’t need a hillbilly cowboy like you messing with my stuff.” (Y/n)’s voice was hoarse, trembling with sadness and anger. She had her calloused, bloody fingers pressed into her waist, eyes set on the man who was standing close with a confused expression tugging on his handsome features.

“We’re just here to help, sweetheart.” He kept his voice quiet, hand stretched out for (y/n) to take. But she no longer could think clearly, distracted by the past hours and the knowledge that all her things were gone, ripped from her by the tornado hitting her and her neighbours homes.

“I know who you are, I’ve seen those videos. I don’t want somebody who makes money off this destruction around.” She tried to turn from him, urged on by her anger. But (y/n) didn’t get far, losing her balance as her vision suddenly grew blurry.

Tyler Owens was instantly by her side, catching her before her exhausted body could force her to the ground. She was torn between her screaming mind and the way her body seemed to search his closeness, enjoying the feeling of his body pressed against hers to protect her from herself.

“C’mon, at least allow me get some food and water for you first.” This time she didn’t protest, letting him guide her away from the mess she was surrounded by, her no longer standing home and the belongings she hadn’t cherished enough until today. Tears kept dripping from her exhausted eyes, tears she didn't manage to wipe away, not as Tyler gently pushed her into a camping chair, not as he fetched some stuff for her, not even as he crouched in front of her with one hand placed on her knee in a comforting manner.

“Thank you.” It was just a whisper, but enough to draw a smile onto his handsome face. Wordlessly (y/n) began to stuff some food down her throat, knowing that she needed as much energy as possible. It didn’t take long for her thoughts to start spiralling again, wondering where she’d go from here, knowing that there was nobody around to support her.

“Fuck, what will I do now? Is there a sleeping shelter? How do I find a new home?” The sadness dripping from her words wiped his smile right off his face while Tyler tightened his grip on her knee. His thumb rubbed gentle shapes into the fabric of her dirty trousers as she got buried by her avalanche of fears and questions.

“Do you have any friends or family you could call?” She only shook her head, unable to speak another word while her throat grew tight. Tyler kept studying her, letting his eyes wander over her tear stained cheeks.

“We have enough space in our home, you can gladly stay with us for a while.” He expected her to protest, expecting her to call him a “hillbilly cowboy” like she had done when he had first stepped onto the property and then again a few moments later. But (y/n) kept quiet, staring down at her food and the bottle of water she clung to.

“Do you really mean that? Are you sure about that?” The slight nod of his head was enough to draw a sigh from (y/n). She let herself ponder over the offer for a few more moments before parting her lips again, knowing that this was her only chance to find shelter without others she didn’t like near.

“Alright, thank you.”

……

“Here, this is the bathroom. I’ll ask Lily for some clothes or you can have one of my shirts.” It had been hours since Tyler had stepped into her life, gently pulling (y/n) out of her darkening state before he had begun helping her. They had tried to save whatever they could, packing up bags with belongings that had been scattered around the property. Exhaustion had followed her around, and (y/n) had crashed the second he had guided her to his truck, instantly falling asleep before Tyler had even started driving.

“Are you sure I’m not intruding?” Her voice was quiet, struggling to fill his room while her eyes were focusing on her dirty fingernails. Tyler stepped closer, and with his fingers finding her chin, he tilted her head up towards him, forcing her to get lost in those piercing eyes she had felt on her frame for the past hours.

“We’re happy to have you around for as long as you want to stay, (y/n). I promise.” She didn’t find any words, could only shoot him a slow nod before he let go of her again. Without speaking another word, Tyler stepped out of the bathroom to give her some privacy, letting (y/n) be alone with her racing thoughts.

She shuffled out of her muddy clothes, letting them drop to the ground before finding shelter in the shower. The second the warm water hit her skin, her tears started falling again, forcing a sob out of her she didn’t manage to hold in. Her body shook with every sob, drowning in the sadness she had felt ever since her eyes had taken in the destruction of her home.

Only the sound of Tyler softly knocking on the door – to tell her he had found some clothes for her to wear – managed to pull (y/n) out of her state. She pushed her face under the water, letting it wash away her tears before stepping out of the shower to dry herself. (Y/n) didn’t dare look at her reflection, not wanting to see the lifeless sensation swimming in her pupils to remind her of the mess she was stuck in.

Slowly, she opened the door to Tyler’s room, finding it empty. Her eyes instantly found the big shirt and a pair of shorts he had laid out for her, next to what seemed to be still wrapped up panties. Even though the shorts and underwear seemed to belong to Lily, (y/n) was sure that the shirt was Tyler’s.

His scent wrapped itself around her as she put on the shirt, reminding (y/n) of the way he had pulled her into his chest a while ago, mumbling to her that everything would be alright. It felt like a sick joke, losing her home the same day she meets a man she had sworn to cuss out only to feel herself drawn to him, a thunderstorm was brewing deep inside of her and Tyler Owens was the cause of it all.

“(Y/n)?” His soft voice reverberated through the room like a summer breeze, gently cozying her along to draw her gaze towards him. He was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed in front of his chest while his eyes took in her frame. Only as she shot him a reassuring smile did he allow himself to step into the room, moving towards her to pull (y/n) in for another hug.

She clung to him as if he were her life vest, supporting her body as if it was the sole purpose of his life. No words were shared as he held her, allowing (y/n) to try and ground herself. Too many sensations clashed through her, and yet she found herself being grateful that Tyler was right there to hold and guide her.

“Food should be ready in a few,” Boone’s voice echoed through the air, ripping the two apart. Tyler kept his hand placed on her waist, studying (y/n) for a few more moments before he stepped away to open the door and guide her downstairs.

……

“(Y/n), c’mon, sweetheart.” She was ripped out of her sleep by his gentle voice, followed by him shaking her. Sweat was pearling on her forehead, heart racing and hands balled into tight fists. It took her a second to let her eyes find his concerned ones, studying how Tyler was kneeling next to her on his bed, staring down at her. “You’re alright, just a nightmare.”

“I’m sorry.” Her voice was small, letting him barely hear it as she sank down on the mattress again. Embarrassment clung to her, filling her system while Tyler was sitting next to her, not daring to leave her side just yet.

“There’s nothing you have to apologise for, sweetheart.” Tyler squeezed her wrist before he slowly peeled himself away from her. (Y/n) let her eyes study his frame for another second before she spoke up again, letting her hand reach out to find his. With both their eyes set on their hands, (y/n) slowly interlaced their fingers – something that made their hearts skip a few beats.

“Would you stay? Please?” Tyler had taken care of her ever since their paths had crossed almost twelve hours ago, he had taken her in, had held her, had listened to her rambling. And even though she barely knew him, her heart ached for his closeness, needing to be held by him again.

“Of course I will.” She pushed herself away from the spot she had been resting on, making room for Tyler who laid down next to her. Within seconds, Tyler had wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling (y/n) flush against his front. Her body instantly relaxed, making her feel as if he was the light guiding her out of her darkness, the one who’d lead her to safety if she let him.

Tyler’s lips pressed a kiss to her hairline, making her breath hitch in her chest. (Y/n) could only try to shuffle even closer while trying to lure herself back into her tired state, suddenly feeling completely awake.

“I’m sorry for being so mean to you.” She mumbled the words, barely able to let them roll off her tongue while embarrassment threatened to drown her. Tyler’s chest shook as a laugh left him, forcing his eyes back down to meet hers. The smile tugging on his lips was all too bright, leaving her chuckling while her hand started to move on its own, cupping his cheek to feel his warm skin pressing against hers.

“It’s alright, sweetheart. You are allowed to call me a hillbilly cowboy anytime you want.” Now it was on (y/n) to laugh, to momentarily close her eyes to shake off the heat crawling up her spine like dark clouds forming a storm so intense she’d have to live through it all once again. Tyler’s hand danced up and down her spine, touching the spots that were buzzing with heat, leaving her breathless.

“Careful, Owens, otherwise I will keep on calling you that.” His hand stopped moving, resting on her lower back to pull her slightly closer. With one of her legs finding its rest between his, Tyler kept her trapped. She felt his breath ghosting her lips, making (y/n) awfully aware of their closeness.

“I would be honoured.” (Y/n) slightly shook her head, letting another soft laugh rumble through her while her hand moved from his cheek to his lips. Softly she traced his cupid’s bow, finding herself wondering how it must feel to kiss him. A thought he seemed to pick up on while tilting his head down further, about to close the gap between them.

“Will you let me kiss you?” His question was met with a widening smile. And then everything stopped spinning and moving, no longer spiralling down the rabbit hole her anxious mind had pushed her into. Suddenly everything was still, nothing could be heard besides their gasps as Tyler kissed her.

It was a careful kiss at first, letting both of them adjust while her hand dropped from his face to his shirt. She fisted the fabric as if she was desperately trying to hold onto him, all while Tyler pushed her even closer with his hand still resting on her lower back.

“Let’s get some sleep in you first before I properly tire you out.” Tyler whispered the words against her lips, unable to bite down his grin while she stared up at him. (Y/n) only rolled her eyes at him, trying to turn from him though without much success, letting go of another laugh as Tyler kept her caged to him.

……

It was still early as she woke again, still pressed against Tyler’s front. Her heart skipped a beat as she remembered the kiss, the way he had held onto her, how he had touched her with more care than she probably deserved. She gave herself another moment to soak up his closeness before she peeled herself out of his hold.

With her eyes set on his sleeping frame, she crawled out of the bed to make her way towards the bathroom. For the first time since stepping foot into this house, (y/n) allowed herself to look at her reflection in the mirror. A smile tugged on the corner of her lips before she turned towards the shower. Tyler’s shirt fell to the floor, her panties following moments later.

She was too distracted by the feeling of the warm water cascading down her back to hear the door being pushed open, allowing Tyler to study her. His eyes danced up and down her frame for a second before he stepped into the room, letting the door fall shut behind him – a sound that told her all about his nearing presence.

(Y/n) didn’t react to it, she didn’t turn towards Tyler – patiently waiting for him to take the next step. Perhaps she was insane, perhaps this was something she should run from, and yet she didn’t feel the need to run, no, all she wanted was to be close to him. Seconds kept fading by, seconds where she wondered if she should turn towards him after all, but then she felt him near, front pressed against her back with one arm finding its way around her waist.

“Morning,” his raspy voice left her shuddering. Goosebumps rose on her skin, growing in number the second his lips found her neck, softly kissing her wet skin.

“Morning,” she repeated the word. With a soft sigh, (y/n) turned in his grasp, letting her arms find their way around his neck to pull him down for a kiss. The kiss grew deeper instantly, forming a mess of tangled limbs and tongues, letting their hearts race in sync. Tyler pushed her back against the shower wall with one leg resting between her thighs, pressing against her heat.

“So, will you tire me out now?” Her teasing words left her without much strength, breathless from the shared kiss. A fire was burning in his pupils, growing stronger with every touch, every shared moment, and neither of them wanted to tame it.

“Only if you know how to ask for it nicely.” A beat passed between them, then another, all while her smirk grew and her hands began to wander down to his chest. His muscles grew tense beneath her touch, leaving her buzzing for more.

“Fuck me, Tyler. Pretty please.” His lips found hers again, silencing her rambling self while his hands explored her body. Every touch of his managed to set another part of her ablaze, a wandering fire that left its mark on her body, never fading to remind her of this moment – of how she gave herself to a man she barely knew.

“I can’t wait to have my way with you, to tie you up and fuck you stupid.” His words left her moaning in need, allowing her mind to paint all these pictures. The feeling of his calloused fingertips finding her pulsing bundle managed to distract (y/n), letting her head roll back to expose her neck to Tyler’s lips. His lips left their own marks on her soft skin while his hands took care of her every need, rubbing her bundle as he pushed two fingers into her.

“Fuck, you’re so tight, feels like you were made for me, sweetheart.” (Y/n) gave herself a few moments, allowing him to push her closer to her high with simple movements that felt better than ever before. But she was hungry for more, desperate to feel him resting on her tongue to make him feel whatever it was she found herself addicted to now. She pushed Tyler away with a soft grin, looking up at him to distract him from her wandering hand, how it found its way to his twitching cock.

With her teeth leaving marks on her lower lip, (y/n) sank to the ground, staring up at Tyler with an all too innocent gaze. His raspy moans filled the bathroom, growing louder the second she parted her lips to give his tip a soft lick. He was throbbing for her, needing more – whatever she was willing to offer.

“Atta girl, let me in.” She slowly took more of him, feeling him resting on her tongue, allowing (y/n) to feel every part of the soft skin. Tyler’s hand was buried in her hair, keeping his strong hold on her as if he was about to prepare himself for another rodeo, set on winning every single prize. And he’d win them all, with grace, with her mewling his name and the silent promise that from today on he was the only one to make her feel this blinding high.

His strong hold encouraged her to move, to bob her head while her hand took care of the parts she couldn’t reach without choking. Tyler looked like a god, towering over her with his muscular body on show, with his lips slightly parted and his eyes glistening with an intensity she’d never forget again, sure that she had just found her new favourite colour.

(Y/n) hummed around him as his hips jerked, forcing his cock further down her throat. The way she looked up at him, eyes filled with encouragement, was enough for Tyler to start fucking her mouth, using her as if they had done this numerous times before. She allowed him a few thrusts, giving him just enough to push him into that drunken head state that would slow his movements, distracting him from the way she was about to pull away.

“What-,” his question was cut short as she rose back to her feet and met his lips for a kiss. All tongues and teeth to perfectly express the need both were set on, guiding them towards the high both were aching for.

“I want you to cum when you fuck me.” She looked all too innocently while speaking words like this, robbing Tyler of his strength to fight back. With a smirk thrown her way, he pushed her against the tiles, keeping her caged between his broad frame and the wall he was about to fuck her against. “I have an IUD, and I’m clean.”

“Me too, but fuck, are you sure? I don’t mind grabbing a condom.” Her soft chuckles were paired with another kiss she pressed against his puffy lips. She clung to Tyler as her hand found its way back to his aching cock, giving it a few more tugs before guiding him closer. Tyler could only push her hand away, replacing it with his own to align himself with her heat and to push into her. Her walls fluttered around him, instantly teasing the man who tried to hold himself back from fucking her too hard, not wanting to leave her bruised after their first time together.

“Behave, sweetheart.” The command was met with a laugh rumbling through her, a laugh that turned into a moan as he bottomed out, leaving her full and stretched. Her fingernails were clawed into his skin, holding onto Tyler while he started fucking her with perfectly calculated thrusts.

“Where’s the fun in that? I thought you’re all about taming wild things.” His hand found her throat, pinning (y/n) back against the tiles while giving her a silent warning. Tyler’s grip wasn’t strong enough to cut off her airstream, and yet just enough to heighten her senses. They struggled to hold eye contact, even as Tyler wrapped one of her legs around his waist to fuck her even deeper, making her feel every inch of him.

“I’ll take my time taming you, you’ll lose your will to fight quickly enough, baby.” The words were rasped into her ear, making her tremble against him. His thrusts met her swollen spot shaking straight through her while his hand kept a tight hold on her throat, not giving (y/n) a chance to pull away.

“Touch yourself, sweetheart, make yourself cum on my cock.” She didn’t dare protest, not when her orgasm was all too close. (Y/n)’s fingers found her heat, rubbing her bundle to make herself cum, while Tyler kept snapping his hips. Moans clawed through the both of them, filling the bathroom while she choked on his name, letting her orgasm wash through her.

“Cum inside of me, please.” It was all he needed to hear to fall over the edge, letting go with another raspy sound. He imprinted himself on her walls, clinging to her as both their bodies shook from the intensity of their orgasms, making them all too aware of how perfect they fit together.

“If you always fuck like this, I will never leave this place willingly again.” (Y/n)’s confession drew a loud laugh out of Tyler. He pulled out of her while keeping a strong grip on her, only to pull her in for another sloppy kiss.

“Would that be so bad, sweetheart?”

#Tyler Owens smut #Tyler Owens x reader #Tyler Owens imagine #twisters #Glen Powell smut #Glen Powell imagine

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lightseoul · 2 months ago

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CHAPTER 7 | ALL OUT OF LUCK

w.c. 5.3k (jesus. this is the longest one yet)

tags. fem!reader, pro-hero!katsuki, aged-up (26), lots of cussing, some minor timeskip manga spoilers, slightly nsfw themes, mentions of food, bakugou katsuki is bad at feelings, feelings—lots of 'em, the true calm before the storm, shit's about to go down!!!

a/n. we're so back, y'all!!! this one took me a while, i have to admit. it even got to a point where i thought i'd just leave this series unfinished for a plethora of reasons. but after clawing through a few sessions of barely being able to write anything, i was struck with the vision of how to get the chapter going in the middle of a massage lol. the rest was history. that said, i'd love to know your thoughts so far, so please don't be a stranger <3 (comments keep me going. btw. not to sound like a slut)

links. masterlist, ao3

You ended up not getting home until past 8 PM that Monday.

After you successfully used your quirk on Kirishima and Hiroto, resulting in the transfer of that fated scrap of paper containing the attack’s details, Kaminari insisted that you hang out after lunch and make the most of your day off until everybody relented. Bakugou was uncharacteristically quiet—you noted—even as the electric hero whisked the six of you away to the nearest mall where you shopped and visited a KTV spot afterward.

You didn’t expect to spend hours watching the four goof off and sing their hearts out while Bakugou sat silently to the side, although time passed by faster than you thought it would anyway. The group eventually parted ways at around 6 PM, after which you and Bakugou decided to eat at a ramen restaurant where you sat yourselves by the counter so you wouldn’t have to force conversation.

Hiroto shadowed the two of you the entire time, up to the instant when you and Bakugou entered a darkened spot in the outdoor parking lot to wait for the twin to message Kouki and have the old man teleport you back to headquarters. You didn’t have to wait for too long—you were gone and right back at the front of your bedroom in a matter of minutes, bug-less and cameras covered another minute after.

And only as you stripped off your going-out clothes for the day in the privacy of the bathroom did it sink in—how you actually did it.

You actually transmitted the message.

And as much as it fucking sucks, the most you can do now—at least until D-Day—is to put your faith in Kirishima and the rest of the pro-heroes who will be tasked with stopping this act of genocide altogether.

Easy enough…

Right.

The next day—Tuesday—starts typically as the others have transpired in the last two weeks-ish of living in the headquarters: violently woken by a twin’s knocking, then scrambling to seem like you were sharing the bed, to promptly getting ready for and having breakfast at the mess hall.

Just like how every day’s been in this supremacist hellhole, everything goes by like clockwork.

That is, up until Omiru walks up to your usual table just as you are about to take your last chug of water after downing your substantial plate of pancakes.

You peer at her from over the rim of your glass, cautious—and rightfully so. Beside you, Bakugou puts down his utensils and straightens up in his seat. Neither of you says anything, opting to let her speak first instead.

And when she finally does, she’s looking straight at no one but Bakugou.

“Follow me.”

At that, you glance at the pro-hero in question, who only shoots the twin a stern look before nodding curtly. You watch him as he gathers his tray and stands up, and you’re about to move and follow suit when Omiru’s voice stops you in your tracks.

“Not you,” she spews pointedly. “Just him.”

From where you are half-sitting with your ass frozen mid-air, you blink at the woman. “What?”

“Masaki-san needs him at the private training facility, pronto,” comes her terse reply, sounding more impatient by the minute. “He’s not to be disturbed.”

Your face contorts in displeasure before you can think better against it. Then, schooling it into a more neutral expression, you shake your head as you finally straighten up, willing your voice to stay firm. “Whatever you have to say to him you can say to me, too.”

Omiru opens her mouth to most likely snap at you for wasting more and more of her time, but she doesn’t get to do that because you’re both silenced by a sudden hand on your forearm. You whip to look at Bakugou, and his lips are pressed into a thin line as he nods again—only this time, at you—as if that was all the explanation you needed.

“It’s okay,” he offers, his voice low. “I’ll come and look for you by the time we’re done.”

You can only stare at him, tamping down the incredulity that’s creeping up your throat.

Since when did he decide to be Mr. Calm and Collected?

As much as you want to, you don’t question him, though, knowing it will cause more harm than good. You’re so close to the day of the operation, and the last thing you need is to blow your cover.

So instead, and with a wary heart, you nod back at him, before leaning in and pressing a quick peck on his cheek.

“Take care, babe,” you say timidly, grateful he took the kiss just now like a champ—with little to no faltering.

“I will,” comes his weirdly soft response, before he steps out of his seat and trails behind Omiru, leaving you and your tray of empty plates.

You move to tuck the stretchy fabric into the rest of the contorted arrangement you’ve got going on—folding your panties was the most you could think of doing to keep your mind off the anxiety that’s been gnawing at you the entire day, after all—and plop it on your pile of fresh undergarments.

Or at least, you were going to do that, when the door to your bedroom suddenly bursts open, and you startle so badly, that the neat stack of underwear crumbles like a poorly built Jenga tower on top of the bed.

You scramble to hide them behind you just as Bakugou emerges from the hallway, and the very first thing that registers when your eyes land on him is that he’s fucking drenched.

In sweat. Drenched in sweat.

And, to your chagrin, he must’ve noticed you gaping at him because his gaze drifts over to meet yours after he closes the door behind him. “What?”

You blink at him, suddenly yanked out of your dumb stupor. “Nothing—it’s just…” you trail off, now trying to ignore the weirdly scandalous way his wet shirt is clinging to his muscled torso. You knew his hero costume accentuated and therefore showcased a built body from the chance encounters about him in the news, but seeing it through an almost translucent cover-up…

“Just what?”

You gulp, bringing your eyes back up to meet his unnervingly scrutinizing ones.

…Why is he looking at you like that?

Instead of dwelling on the thought, though, you manage to voice out the question you and the imaginary mouse in your pocket are wondering. “W-why are you so… sweaty?”

Now, if he’s offended by how that came out just a breadth’s hair away from sounding disgusted, he doesn’t let it show. Instead, he crosses the short distance between him and your small wardrobe and flings it open.

“I thought you were smarter than that, princess,” comes his casual reply, and you find yourself stiffening—not just at the nickname, but at what came before that.

You frown, although he doesn’t see it with his back turned against you. “I don’t get how you’re being so nonchalant today,” you say so honestly you shock yourself, voice lowered out of instinct despite having made sure that there are no extra bugs in the room.

Whatever Bakugou expected for a response—it must’ve been anything but that—because he stops rifling through his clothes and whips to look at you, a mild expression of surprise written across his features.

But before he can say anything to that, you beat him to it. “What did they make you do, Bakugou?”

He opens his mouth to say something, but pauses before he can get a word out. You watch the man as he stands there for a second, the metaphorical gears in his head spinning loud enough that you can practically hear them. You can tell they’re still turning a beat later, even as he closes the wardrobe behind him and turns to fully face you.

“I—” he starts, hesitant, “I thought you would’ve figured.”

“Figured what?” You’re getting impatient now.

“That I was called on to start making the bombs.”

Oh.

The realization dawning on you must be evident in your profile because Bakugou nods as if in confirmation. “I was anticipating they’d call me in sooner or later, so I wasn’t surprised when that twin approached us during breakfast.”

Fuck, you feel stupid.

How you’re feeling is none of Bakugou’s business, though, so you will yourself to dip your head to show you understand. “I totally forgot about the bombs,” you admit.

“Yeah, well, I don’t blame you,” he turns again and resumes busying himself with the cabinets. “They did their research and found out my bombs are more explosive the fresher they are. Explains why they waited ‘til the last minute.”

Huh.

“I guess that also explains why you look like an over-glazed doughnut.”

That makes him bark out a laugh. “More like a wet dog, but I’ll take that.”

You’re about to say that no, he definitely looks more like an over-glazed doughnut, but then you remember you’d rather fail this mission and cause massive destruction before you go off admitting he looks…maybe just a tiny bit delectable in this state.

You’re back to avoiding the sight of…him—altogether—in silence, when Bakugou glances at you over his shoulder. “Can you pass me my towel?”

“Sure,” you say as you fetch it from where it’s hung across the couch’s backrest before padding back toward him.

You hand it over. “Here.”

“Thanks.”

Now it’s your turn to stand somewhat awkwardly behind him as he finishes up gathering his change of clothes for the night. There’s one more thing you need to ask him.

Anytime now.

You take a sharp inhale just as he whirls to face you, expectant. You muster a small smile, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “I was just gonna ask—they didn’t hurt you, did they? You were treated okay?”

Your stomach instantly drops when the expectant look just now morphs into a smirk. “I think you underestimate my ability to protect myself, princess.”

You feel yourself flame. “I—” you stammer, wildly caught off guard, and his grin widens. You then frown, resigned. “Come on, man, not cool.”

“Alright, alright,” he chuckles, sounding far from apologetic, “‘m sorry. Though, you should’ve seen the look on your face.”

“That’s it,” you raise your hands in mock surrender, spinning to gather your folded underwear that are still scattered on the bed. “They can go ahead and snip off your balls, for all I care.”

“Damn, that escalated quickly.”

You only toss him a sarcastic smile as you take up the spot beside him, opening your tiny drawer and dumping the articles into them before he can get a closer glimpse. The last thing you need is for him to see your threadbare, granny panties.

Bakugou chuckles again, the indication of his mirth the last sound that echoes in the room before a quiet envelops the two of you, the atmosphere taking a sudden shift.

“How about you, huh?” he suddenly asks, almost making you jump. You raise an eyebrow at him, still not quite past his earlier teasing.

He doesn’t react with hostility, though, only shrugging in response. “Are you okay?”

“Me?” you parrot lamely, shocked at his query.

To your disbelief, he doesn’t roll his eyes or shoot you a derisive quip, only nodding—an unmistakable, serious glint in his crimson gaze. You gulp despite yourself.

“It was pretty much the same for me, I guess. Except there weren’t as many people around…”

You falter, debating whether or not you should tell him the more incriminating truth. But then you make the mistake of meeting his penetrating stare and then suddenly, it all comes tumbling out.

“I—I was worried about you.”

That takes Bakugou by surprise, his brows shooting up in a profound display of bewilderment. An abrupt pang of embarrassment shoots through you at the sight, and you scurry to save face.

“Looks like there was no need, though, considering how you’re joking around and being an ass and all,” you jest, taking the hoodie you were meaning to get from the rack and closing your side of the wardrobe.

“I—”

“Good night, Bakugou,” you cut him off, plopping yourself on the couch with your back turned against him, effectively shooting the conversation down.

Needless to say, you struggle to sleep that night.

As if she knew you fell into a fitted slumber and needed more goddamn sleep, Omiru was already up and banging at your door five minutes earlier than usual the morning after, ripping you out of your sluggish haze. It didn’t help that it was your turn on the couch that night—which, even after all this time of dozing there, still proved to be quite unforgiving to your neck and lower back, especially. Once you were all ready and had opened the door, though, your usual routine was done but not before a rundown on what was to happen that day. You were to pack your things and prepare to leave the headquarters by the time Bakugou was done producing the last batch of bombs.

She conveniently didn’t say when that was, opting to whisk Bakugou away instead.

So without any idea as to when you were making the move, you tried your best to keep busy—a task that proved to be herculean, seeing as how the number of people present had dwindled significantly, you could count them with just your fingers and toes.

It didn’t take you long to figure out why that was. The people who’ve gone—they were all teleported to their posts to prepare for tomorrow’s attack.

By batches.

Because, as it turns out, you were right. Kouki’s quirk does have a limitation.

He can only muster enough power to teleport a certain number of people—across a certain distance—a handful of times a day. It all depends on three factors: number, distance, and frequency.

And because Bakugou’s got important business as the organization’s very own human-bomb factory, you two will be transported later in the day as part of the last batch.

You mull over this newfound information—again and again, mainly because there really isn’t much else to do other than pack—until, unbeknownst to you, the clock on the wall strikes five. You jump from where you are seated on the sofa when, as if on cue, the door bursts open, revealing a yet again sweaty Bakugou, with Kouki and the twins tailing closely behind him.

“Just let me take a quick shower and finalize my stuff,” Bakugou offhandedly says, eyeing you as he picks up his towel, not wasting even a modicum of a second. “Then we’ll get going to my place.”

His what?

“Sorry?” you manage to ask, acutely aware of the panic that’s rising in your throat—fast.

Bakugou peers at you for a moment, an unreadable expression on his face. But then he’s chuckling—oh so naturally, like your reaction was adorable to him rather than potentially detrimental to your covers—as he walks toward you.

And then he’s leaning down and into your space, a warning look in his eyes. You barely catch a glimpse of it before he leans even further and kisses your cheek, smiling as he pulls away.

“My place, baby,” he coos, “Where we’ll stay the night.”

“Here we are,” Kouki announces just as the floor beneath you rematerializes, light and markedly spotless as compared to the nicked, hardwood floors you’ve grown to be familiar with over the past weeks. You look up, a faint trace of dizziness clouding your mind still, although it’s quickly replaced by awe as you take in the rest of the room.

Dropping your luggage to the side, you make quick work of what can only be Bakugou Katsuki’s living space.

Well, it’s just what you’d expect from the guy. Purposively designed, no-nonsense, and exceptionally pristine.

And closer to the Prime Minister’s Office. At least, as compared to your more modest home, which is why you’re even here in the first place.

Regardless, you were about to compliment the man for being an outlier of the male population when you suddenly remember that you’re supposed to be well-acquainted with his high-rise apartment unit. You know, as his girlfriend?

You slam your mouth shut, just as Kouki steps forward and turns to face the rest of you like a commander in the military. You fight the urge to roll your eyes.

“Big day tomorrow,” he declares, his trademark haughtiness heavy in his tone. “The four of you, review your assignments and be ready by 6 AM sharp. I’ll pick you up here.”

Then, a pointed look toward you and Bakugou. “Don’t be late.”

And just as quickly as you teleported into the pro-hero’s unit, Kouki vanishes, leaving the two of you with the twins.

Silence.

“That man’s got a bug up his old ass, that’s for sure.”

You whip to face Bakugou, surprised and equal parts amused. He only tosses you a smug look, as if daring you to question him.

You don’t, similar to how you don’t dare spare either of the twins a worried glance.

“We should order,” Bakugou says not a minute later, effortlessly picking up your belongings and transferring them to an empty spot beside a door. “I cleared out the ref two weeks ago. ‘m out of groceries.”

“Sure,” you reply, seating yourself comfortably on his sofa like you’ve been here countless times. You sense all three pairs of eyes studying you as you burrow into the plush cushion, willing every neuron in your system to relax. “How ‘bout from that restaurant we went to with the squad? I’m craving some curry.”

“Aha,” Bakugou smirks as he walks over and throws his butt down way too close beside you. “So you did want to switch.”

You bristle, if not at being unceremoniously caught then at how he just slung an arm over the backrest behind you. “T–That’s beside the point,” you argue, before swiftly turning to Hiroto. “Can we have our phones for just a sec, please? We need to order.”

If Bakugou noticed your smooth segue slash redirection just now, he doesn’t point it out, instead letting you take your smartphones from the absurdly tall man without much of a hassle. You quickly place your orders—even asking the twins what they want despite how badly they’ve treated you since your first meeting at that dingy club.

You’re not a monster, after all.

They seem to think you are, though, because they blatantly ignore your kind offer.

Well, then. If they have a hard time falling asleep because of hunger later then that’s not your problem anymore.

Not even thirty minutes after ordering, your food arrives, and the twins end up allowing Bakugou to go down the lobby by himself to fetch the delivery. You almost groan when he walks through the door with the goods in tow, the strong waft of curry sauce filling the air and making your stomach churn in budding anticipation.

“You’re not helping your case, babe,” Bakugou teases as you excitedly pore over the takeout bag, reaching into it to grab your share and then his.

“Sorry, I can’t hear you over this glorious smell,” you quip, which grants you a chuckle.

No more words are exchanged as you get started on your feast, too wiped out from today’s activities—Bakugou and his bomb production and your…well, trying not to go crazy—to even start, let alone maintain, a steady conversation. The room is silent aside from some slurping and quiet chewing here and there, with neither Omiru nor Hiroto saying anything to break the monotony.

And you think it must be that—the quiet—that spurs the abrupt observation mid-spoonfeed of how domestic everything is. You wouldn’t have ever thought you’d be eating a meal with Bakugou in his dining room—high schooler you definitely wouldn’t have—but as it turns out life’s got a funny way of pulling the rug from underneath you and messing with your head.

Just like these muddy ass feelings.

No, you think to yourself. Now’s not the time.

Not when you’re barely able to stomach your food, anyway. You were—are hungry—if the incessant rumbling of your abdomen since late afternoon was any indication—but you forgot you’ve been sickeningly nervous the entire day. Still, you force each bite down. The last thing you need is to be frail tomorrow.

“Here,” Bakugou reaches out from across the table a few moments later, “Give me your plate.”

“No,” you say as you lift the empty ceramic further from him, “Let me help.”

Your plea falls on deaf ears, however, because Bakugou leans closer and snatches the dish from your hands before you can even scream a strangled wait! You must be looking stupefied, because Bakugou only smirks at you as he quickly gathers the dishes, beaming with pride as if having a ridiculously wide wing span is something he earned rather than was unjustly given.

“Unfair…” you mumble as you resort to gathering the trash instead, collecting it in the bag that the delivery came in.

“Just leave it there,” he calls out from the kitchen a few feet away, scraping the scraps off the platters. And when he’s realized you’re not listening: “Babe.”

You lift your hands like you’re a contestant in Master Chef and Gordon Ramsey just called time’s up, a petulant frown on your face. “Jeez, I’m just trying to help.”

“And I’m trying to be a gentleman,” comes his snarky retort. You bite back the urge to snort. “Go unpack in the bedroom while I finish up here,” he orders, “I’ll be quick.”

Please don’t be is your visceral reaction, although you manage not to say it out loud. You need at least ten minutes—give or take—of being alone in his bedroom to come to terms with this precarious situation you’ve been dealt with. You manage to reply with a small ‘okay’ before heading over to grab your things, very much cognizant of the ticking clock.

But then it dawns on you that you don’t have any idea where his fucking bedroom is.

You pause mid-bend, pretending you’re studying the hard case of your luggage for non-existent scratches. You know that there are three doors, not counting the one Bakugou went in and out from to get your food. One has to lead to the common restroom, another to his home office slash gym that you’ve heard him talk about once during your lunches at the headquarters, which leaves the last one as his bedroom’s entryway.

Hurry up, your brain tells you. You’re getting suspicious.

Wait.

You let your mind flash back to a while ago, a few moments after you arrived here. ‘We should order,’ was what Bakugou said, as he conveniently hefted your bags to this spot here, which must be right beside…

The bedroom door.

Bingo.

You repress a sigh of relief when you’re greeted with the sight of a massive mattress upon turning the knob, wasting no time as you squeeze into the threshold with your belongings. You were about to shut the door behind you when a female voice calls out your name out of nowhere, and you startle. Turning to face who must’ve been Omiru, you’re quick to put on a nonchalant facade, as if she didn’t just scare you in your metaphorical boots.

“Your tracker,” she says flatly when you don’t move an inch.

“O–oh. Right.”

You stand in place as she goes over the motions while Hiroto does the same with Bakugou. You’ve gone through this so many times that you don’t even wince when she rips out the device, instead only giving her a quick thanks and a rare good night when she steps away.

She doesn’t say it back.

You take that as your cue to go back into Bakugou’s sleeping quarters, and only when the weighty slab of wood is closed behind you do you let out a heavy exhale, suddenly feeling the fatigue that’s been looming over you since last night in its entirety.

But then that’s immediately booted out with a shot of adrenaline when you see it.

The couch.

Or the lack thereof.

You're still standing there—mortified—by the time Bakugou enters the room with his stuff, shutting the door and consequently granting you your first semblance of privacy for the day.

“What,” he says more than asks a minute later, when you still haven’t said anything.

“There’s no couch,” you croak-whisper.

You were not about to sleep on the floor.

You were not about to share a bed with Bakugou, either.

Not after you’ve spent the last two weeks slaving over your high-maintenance sleeping arrangement.

“Relax, dumbass,” comes his fluid retort. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think the man is finding this shit funny. “I have a futon.”

Turns out, he wasn’t lying—what feels like a huge burden lifted off your shoulders when he opens a cabinet to his right and pulls out a moderately thick cushion. You waste no time in assisting him, taking two corners while the pro-hero handles the other two, coordinating as you place the futon perpendicularly, right at the foot of the bed.

“Thanks,” you tell him when you’re done, dusting off your hands. “Do you have a blanket I can—”

“Too late,” he cuts you off, lightly diving into the mattress.

You gawk at the man. “Wha—”

“It’s your turn on the bed tonight,” he says as a matter of factly, not even bothering to look you in the eye. You splutter, but ultimately relent. As much as you want to argue, you do need some proper rest, especially after last night’s sorry attempt at recharging.

Thankfully, though, Bakugou doesn’t rile you up any further as you each go through your nightly routines and take turns in the built-in bathroom, careful not to invade each other’s spaces. It hasn’t even been fifteen minutes and you’re already both plastered and tucked in your respective beds, the occasional noises from the traffic tens of floors below you the only thing filling the otherwise empty air.

But as it turns out, the getting ready for bed part isn’t the problem.

By the time it’s 10 PM, you’ve already tossed and turned roughly twenty times, agonizingly nowhere near asleep despite the luxurious bedding beneath your limbs. It’s after the 21st time, though, that you finally let your mind wander to the man on the floor and whether or not he’s asleep. He must be—having been tuckered out from producing explosives for two days straight. Still, your mind refuses to let go of the thought—brimming with boredom-fueled curiosity that’s begging for visual confirmation.

Sitting up carefully, you strain to peek at Bakugou. He’s been awfully quiet, you think to yourself.

Just a little bit more—

“Can’t sleep?”

You freeze. Shit.

“Uh, no,” you reply, aborting mission and lying back down as silently as possible. “Not really.”

“No shit. I heard you, the last twenty times.”

“Twenty-one,” you correct him. “But who’s counting?”

That earns you a laugh. “What, you scared?”

Your face reflexively contorts in offense, although it’s quick to fall when you realize you’ve actually no right to be offended. “If I told you I was, would that make me a loser?”

To your surprise, his answer is instant. “Nah.”

At that, your brows furrow. “That’s it? Just nah? No what do you think, princess, or some other equally lame taunt?”

“Oooh.” Jesus, you can practically hear him smirking. “You want me to call you princess?”

“There it is. Welcome back, Bakugou.”

A chuckle. “You’re a little shit, you know that?”

You snort. “So I’ve been told.”

Then, a pause.

“Hey,” you start again a few beats later, gaze fixed—unwavering—on the gray ceiling, “Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

You gulp. “Are you scared?”

This time, the answer is not as instant, but it appears to remain the same. “…No.”

“Really?” you ask, voice inadvertently teeming with incredulity.

You hear some rustling, like he’s shrugging against the bedsheets. “I’ve gone through much worse.”

Oh…

Right.

He did die and came out as one of the most important heroes of the Great War, alongside formidable people—the very people you tapped to help you just a few days ago. Maybe he’s right not to be scared.

“Is it my turn now?” he pipes up suddenly.

Huh? “Your what?”

“My turn to ask a question.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize we were taking turns.”

“Well, we are now.”

You roll your eyes, comfortable in the knowledge that he can’t see you. “Okay, then. Go ahead.”

Now—don’t go ahead, is what you would have said, had you fucking known what he was going to say next.

“That day before winter break—” he begins, and you find yourself instantly tensing.

Fuck, no.

He huffs. “—You were gonna confess to me, weren’t ya?”

Fuck.

A deafening silence falls upon the room.

A silence that goes on for what must be a decade.

Then—

“…Is this some hidden camera prank or something?” you laugh dryly.

“No,” he says so seriously your eyes widen. “I was just…thinking about it.”

Well, fuck. Now he’s done it.

What are you supposed to do? Or say to that? Deny it and say, dude, no, you’re delusional? Or ask him where he got the motherfucking audacity and call it a day?

But then the strangest thing happens and an inexplicable feeling washes over you, one that is too nostalgic it’s almost painful.

Ah, yes.

You remember this one.

It wasn’t the first one to show up in the scene, but it was quick to envelop every other emotion afterward, lingering with you until the soothing balm that is time did its magical work and helped you forget.

The regret of not being able to admit your feelings.

And now, a full ten years later, you’re suddenly thrust with the opportunity to finally do what you failed to do then.

You don’t even have to think about it.

“Yes,” you rasp out, heart thrumming frantically against your chest. “I mean, the answer is yes, I was going to. Luckily you didn’t let me get to the embarrassing part, though, huh?”

“Look, I—”

“If you’re gonna apologize,” you cut him off, “There’s nothing to be sorry for, Bakugou. That thing’s in the past now. I’ve moved on, as fucking cheesy as it sounds.”

You then chuckle, ignoring the way your hands are stubbornly shaking. “That was just a silly high school crush, anyway.”

“Yeah, well—” he clears his throat, “I get it if you don’t want to talk about it. But…I do still want to apologize, though. For that first day, around two weeks ago.”

“What about it?”

“You don’t remember? I was an ass to you.”

First day? You don’t—

But then it all comes rushing to you—the intimidating looks, the backhanded remarks, the outright insulting comments.

He sniggers. “You just remembered now, didn’t you?”

You blanch. “I—”

“Don’t try to be nice,” he preempts. “I know I fucked up. It’s just—it was a lot to take in, and I took it out on you.”

He heaves a heavy sigh. “First it was having my past rehashed, and then when I met you I got reminded of how arrogant I was as a kid and it just felt like—”

“A slap to the face?”

Another huff. “Exactly.”

You smile—genuinely—this time wishing you were face to face so he could get a good view of it. You try to let it show in your voice instead.

“Thank you for telling me, Bakugou. Apology accepted.”

A sigh of relief. You feel your smile grow bigger.

“Now go to sleep, dumbass,” he spits, the vulnerability from just a second ago long gone, now replaced by his signature snark. “You heard the old geezer. Big day tomorrow.”

You can’t help it—you laugh.

˖⁺‧₊ as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated <3 feel free to drop an ask, too—i'd love to chat with you. have a nice day!

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lunar-years · 5 days ago

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SOTR SPOILERS!!!//

I've already seen some complaints about how the plot was bad and the rebellion attempt didn't make sense/was far-fetched, but honestly that was one of the things I liked best about it!

Yes, the rebellion plot was an EXTREME long shot. The end goal really wasn't clear, the plan itself was shoddy at best with about a million things that could go wrong. It's honestly amazing that Haymitch and Ampert managed to carry out any part of it "successfully." And even then, they're really just the pawns of the rebel adults around them (like Katniss and Peeta in that way, except that unlike Katniss and Peeta, Haymitch's problem is being told too much, rather than being kept in the dark.)

I think it's pretty evident that this was a last minute, thrown together rebellion attempt hastily contrived of by immensely desperate people (and almost certainly prompted by Beetee's son unexpectedly being reaped.) Beetee needed his son's death to mean something. His wife was pregnant. He was probably already foreseeing losing them, too. He needed to at least try this. He was desperate enough to try it even if it was ill-thought and highly likely to fail. Wiress (Beetee's most recent mentee) and Mags (who's basically mother teresa like oh my god maggggs <3) would of course be wiling to jump in with him. Plutarch is desperate to get something, anything, stirring in way of rebellion. And finally they pull in Ampert and Haymitch to carry the thing out, the two tributes who have already been marked as direct, personal targets of the Capitol and have seemingly no chance whatsoever of coming out of the arena alive. it's easy to see why they alone were chosen, no other kids involved. After all, Haymitch has been told from President Snow directly that he is going to be killed. He's as good as dead already. He has nothing to lose.

Trouble is, no one expects Haymitch to actually emerge as Victor, lest of all Haymitch himself, but also everyone around him. The others are all adults who know and accept what could happen to them if the plot goes south. They take on the risks willingly. They are banking entirely on Ampert and Haymitch being dead anyway. And isn't it better to go out fighting back against the true enemy? The only thing Snow can do is take it out on them in the arena, which he will be doing regardless. Unfortunately, they're forgetting just how much Snow likes to play with his food before eating it. It's pretty clear with the poisoned milk picnic basket that Snow was indeed intending to kill Haymitch right up until the very end. He was merely waiting for the right time, after the right amount of humiliation, after forcing Haymitch to watch all his closest allies die horrible, targeted deaths. Only this time Snow waits too late. And then he has no choice but to pull Haymitch out alive so that the Capitol can have their victor.

I think the fact that it all fails so colossally is the biggest point of the book. As Plutarch comments at the end, when it does happen, the timing needs to the right. There needs to be an army to rally behind the rebels. Haymitch was given none of that. He was moved around on a chess board by desperate players. The rebels had hardly anyone on the inside. They didn't have the country behind them, no soldiers. They didn't yet understand their enemy well enough. He is set up to fail on all sides, the rebel side included. And they pay for it greatly.

On the other hand Katniss, when she comes, is very significantly not some grand "chosen one." She's pretty inarguably far, far less rebellious than Haymitch is at the start (in part because they have very different motivations in their games). Breaking into the arena to attempt to shut it down, working to destroy the generator, killing gamemakers in the arena, all that is about 10x more explicitly rebellious than the berry trick. The difference is not that Katniss is smarter or stronger. Imperatively, the only difference of any great significance is that Katniss manages to ensure her acts get seen. The berry trick cannot be covered up or cut out. It's the grand finale. And that's what makes it far more of a threat than all of Haymitch's crazy, reckless schemes to tear down the arena.

(interestingly, I think Haymitch would have been way more successful if he'd had the opportunity to carry out his backup plan of bombing the cornucopia during the final confrontation of the Games. The part of the plan that he came up with entirely on his own. it has to be something the Capitol's propaganda can't wash away, something that would have been impossible for them to cut out.)

Which is ultimately to say, the book is effective because it acknowledges just how complicated rebellion is. It takes far more than a few extremely rebellious, reckless people to make it happen. It takes a whole community banding together and rising up for change. On a series level, I think it also fleshes out some of Haymitch's decisions in the original trilogy, because it's easy to see why Haymitch would be so hell bent on keeping Katniss and Peeta entirely in the dark for so long. After all, look at what happened to him when he was in on all of it too soon.

#sotr #sotr spoilers #sunrise on the reaping #haymitch abernathy #thg

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4vanaa · 2 months ago

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WHILE YOU WERE SLEEPING, rafe cameron, 14

summary: y/n left the outer banks years ago, determined to build a life far from the memories of her childhood love, rafe cameron. now a botanist, she's moved on-though a quiet part of her still clings to the past. when an event brings her back to OBX, she's forced to confront the one person she never truly forgot.

cw: none | masterlist | 13 | 15 |

rafeupdates 13h

liked by cameronstan and 54,000 others

rafeupdates rafe talking about going to therapy, working on himself, and fixing his relationship with his dad... idk if i'm crying or what 🥺 i attached the clip transcript from the interview!!

#sunshinepromo #rafeupdates

user men who go to therapy>>

user who could he be talking about?? 👀

user probably the same girl he’s been talking about in all his songs

view all 2,350 comments

You stare at the chalkboard menu, your eyes scanning the options but not really reading them. The familiar hum of The Wreck—the quiet buzz of conversation, the scrape of chairs, the clink of silverware—feels strangely distant, like you’re in a bubble of your own making. You take a deep breath, trying to shake the weight in your chest.

“Still staring at the shrimp basket like it’s some life-changing decision.”

Your stomach drops before you even turn your head. You don’t need to look to know who it is.

“Rafe,” you mutter, a sharp exhale escaping your lips as you glance over your shoulder. “What are you doing?”

He’s standing there, hands shoved into his pockets, his blue eyes trained on you like you’re the only person in the room. His hair is slightly messy, like he’s run his fingers through it one too many times, and he’s wearing that same infuriating half-smirk that used to make you weak in the knees.

“Getting dinner,” he says casually, gesturing around the room. “Same as you, I guess.”

Your jaw tightens. “Then order and leave me alone.”

His smirk falters, his eyes softening. He takes a step closer, ignoring the clear dismissal in your tone. “I saw you sitting here, and… I don’t know. I thought maybe we could talk.”

You turn back to the menu, gripping the edge of the counter like it’s the only thing keeping you steady. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“There’s a lot to talk about,” he counters quietly, his voice threading with a kind of desperation that makes your chest ache.

Your resolve cracks, and you spin around to face him fully, the frustration bubbling to the surface. “God, why do you do that? It’s been years, Rafe. Years. Why can’t you just move on?”

He flinches, his jaw tightening as he looks at you. “You think I haven’t tried?”

“Try harder,” you shoot back, your voice sharp but trembling. “This isn’t fair. Not to you, not to me. I have a life now, Rafe—a good one. Stop showing up like this and pretending like we can just pick up where we left off.”

“I’m not pretending anything,” he says, his voice breaking slightly. “I’m just… I don’t know how to not want you, okay?”

Your breath catches, and for a second, the fight drains out of you. You look away, biting the inside of your cheek to keep the tears at bay. “You’re the one who ended it, Rafe. You made your choice. And I had to live with it. You don’t get to come back now and act like I’m still… like I’m still yours.”

Rafe lets out a humorless laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, you keep saying that. You’ve moved on. You’ve got your perfect little life now, right? But me? I—” He stops himself, shaking his head. “Forget it.”

Your voice softens, but you keep your resolve firm. “Rafe, I’m happy. That’s what matters. You should want that for me.”

He stares at you, his blue eyes searching your face like he’s trying to find something he’s lost. “I do. Of course, I do. I just… I didn’t realize how much I missed you until I saw you again.”

Your heart twists painfully, but you don’t let him see it. “That’s not my problem anymore.”

He stares at you, his eyes searching yours, and for a moment, he looks completely lost. “You’re right. It’s not. I just… I miss you, Sunshine. God, I miss you so much.”

“Rafe,” you sigh, your voice softer now. “You can’t keep doing this to me. You can’t keep doing this to yourself.”

His shoulders sag, and he lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “I don’t know how to stop. Not when it’s you.”

You swallow hard, your fingers trembling as you grip your phone. You force yourself to stand your ground, even as your heart begs you to give in. “You have to. For both of us.”

Rafe nods slowly, like he knows you’re right but can’t bring himself to accept it. “I hope he makes you happy,” he says finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

You blink, your throat tightening. “He does.”

“Good,” he murmurs, his gaze lingering on you one last time before he steps back. “You deserve that.”

He turns and walks away, leaving you standing there with the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air. Your chest feels tight, your heart aching in a way you haven’t felt in years. You blink back tears and force yourself to focus on the menu, even as the world around you blurs.

a/n: going to therapy, so you can get your girl back?!!! i was unfamiliar with your game rafe 😏 also how much angst is too much angst 🫣

🏷️: @xoxo-ada @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @sleepiibunniiii @urbrunettebombshell @sideboobrry11 @acidfeens @marleymarleymarleymarley @hadids-world @ursogorgeous1313 @louxmcl @cyberkitty1 @pogueprincesa

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dark-authorr · 5 months ago

Text

𝗧𝗛𝗥𝗘𝗘 𝗧𝗬𝗣𝗘𝗦 𝗢𝗙 𝗧𝗥𝗢𝗨𝗕𝗟𝗘

pairing: dark!steve harrington x dark!eddie munson x dark!billy hargrove x drunk!reader

request: could you write about Eddie, Steve and Billy having a three some with reader after she gets the jealous? cnc if you’re comfortable - @luckygalaxysuit

warnings: heavy drinking, kiss, trapped, unwanted neck kisses, hair pulling, “kidnapping”, forced oral (male receives), gagging, choking, crying, forced double penetration, ass slapping, forced group sex, etc.

note: send in a bunch of requests for any character of any movie, series, and we will do our best to write about them. ONLY DARK!

like, comment, reblog, and follow us!

———

“You likin’ the party new girl?” Jason asked y/n after walking into his kitchen. “Yes, actually,” Y/n smiled as she poured her drink. “Maybe you should come to them more often,” he smiled back at her as he came up to get his drink.

“Maybe I should,” she couldn’t stop herself from showing teeth. Jason has always been sweet to her. She was surprised when the man invited her, and now he wants to invite her to future parties.

Throughout the night, y/n drank and laughed with Jason. He even took her to the dance floor to dance. She wouldn’t say she loved Jason, but she did love his attention.

“I’ll be right back,” Y/n said, turning to leave until he pulled her back. “Where are you going? The party is just getting started,” Jason smiled down at y/n, making her giggle. She felt like this could all be a dream.

“Just going to use the restroom,” Y/n said with a smile. “Get back soon, babe,” the jock said before placing a soft and slow peck on her lips. Once he pulled away and continued dancing with his group of friends.

Y/n wanted to ask him what that was about, but she decided to stay quiet and take it with her as people watched her walk away.

“How’s your night goin?” Y/n heard a voice as soon as she walked out of the bathroom. Y/n looked to see who it was and saw Steve, her long-time on-and-off friend. Well — Study buddy because his grades were never good.

“Oh, hey, Steve! My nights going well so far, and yours?” She asked as he kicked off the wall he was leaning against. “I bet it is. Didn’t know you and Jason were dating,” Steve couldn’t help but mention.

He and the other two had been watching her all night, each second getting harder to witness as she got closer to Jason by the minute.

“Me and Jason? Oh, no, no, we’re just friends,” y/n said as her heart raised a bit. “Didn’t seem that way, princess,” Steve said, flirting as he always does, but y/n had told him he should stop if nothing was going to happen between the two.

Steve was known for going around and being with any girl he wanted, and she didn’t want to be one of those who were marked by Steve Harrington.

“I swear, we’re just friends, I-I don’t know why he kissed me. Maybe he’s just a little drunk, you know?” Y/n said as Steve got closer, body now pressing her into the bathroom door she had closed.

“Sure you aren’t, babe? Seem a bit out of it, don’t you think?” Steve asked, making her feel a small pain in her chest. The way he talked to her with his tone made her feel uncomfortable.

“So what? I can’t drink?” Y/n asked, getting a bit defensive. “Not when you’re a pretty little thing alone,” one of Steve’s hands gripped y/n’s waist to pull her closer to him.

“What are you talking about- Hey, stop that!” Y/n shouted at Steve who began kissing at her neck. “Harrington, stop!” Y/n tried to sound more serious, but that only made him laugh.

“Oh, shut the fuck up,” Steve grabbed a hand full of y/n’s hair before pulling her to a room. “The boys can come find me. I’ve got some shit to set straight,” Steve said as he threw y/n into the room and locked the door.

“Steve, what the fuck is wrong with you? Like serious, are you-“ Y/n stood up and yelled at the man but was cut off by him forcing her back down to her knees.

“You know what’s wrong with me? What’s wrong is that you rejected me, but got your legs all open for Jason. A jock!” Steve was pissed, and she was soon going to find out how pissed he was.

“I’m sorry, but you and Jason are two different-“ y/n tried speaking but he yelled at her, telling her to shut up before he got angry. “There’s no excuse for it, y/n. Not one, and you’re gonna sit there and fuckin’ apologies to me,”

Y/n hoped Steve would calm down, but she noticed there was no hope for that when he reached into his pants, pulling his cock out in seconds.

“Steve, no!” Y/n slapped at the legs and stomach, but that didn’t phase him. “Stop movin, y/n,” Steve times came off warning, but she continued to fight.

Sadly, she wasn’t a match for Steve. The man forced his cock down her throat instantly, causing her to gag and cry onto his shaft.

“So damn pretty when you’re like this. If only you weren’t giving me a hard time,” Steve said through his teeth as he snapped his hips, fucking her face so hard, she could barely focus on his face.

“Always prayed for you to go down ok me during study time, but you were so fucking clueless. I even stripped and stayed in my boxers. I was fuckin’ hard, but all you thought was that I was trying to get comfortable. Dumb fucking slut,”

Y/n felt bad for the way she led Steve on, but she could’ve sworn he didn’t even want her.

“Then you got me watching Jason down your throat? Are you fucking serious!?” Steve’s free hand grabbed the side of her head so he could use both of his hands to pull her into his hard thrusts.

“Steve, where the fuck are you!?” Billy yelled in the hallway. “Harrington, I think she’s gone, man. C’mon, we gotta leave to find her,” Eddie said, knocking on every door.

The two had thought he might’ve taken another girl to a room after seeing y/n with Jason, but in actuality, that other girl was y/n.

“In here!” Steve shouted, telling them to come and see this view. “And you won’t believe you I’ve got with me,” Steve said as he kept his cock deep in y/n’s mouth.

“God, don’t tell me it’s Nancy. We don’t fucking care,” Billy said, always annoyed as they stood in front of the door, not wanting to meet eyes with some girl they didn’t care for.

“Want me to give you a hint?” Steve asked before he pulled y/n off of his cock. “Steve, please stop this. Please-“ y/n tried speaking quickly before he pushed back into her mouth. The gag noises sent Billy and Eddie to kick open the door.

“No way!” Billy said as Eddie got up front to the ground he fell on. “Are you serious? Before me!?” Eddie said as he closed the door behind him and tried to lock it, but the lock was broken.

“Nor how I’d like it, but it’ll do,” Steve said, making the boys lift their eyebrows u til they realized her makeup streaming down her face.

“Dude-“ Eddie cut himself off, wanting to confront him, but why would he? Y/n looked the best she’s ever had. Having Steve in her mouth as she cried, made him feel a type of way.

Billy on the other hand couldn’t care at all. All he wanted was a bite of her.

“Don’t worry, princess, I’m close,” Steve assured y/n who prayed this was a dream, but if it was, her throat wouldn’t be hurting so much. This was a live nightmare.

“Let’s get this shit off,” Billy dropped to his knees behind the girl before he ripped her dress apart. The man was strong, and that fabric never stood a chance against him.

“Tits looks a-fucking-mazing,” Eddie said as he got himself undressed, every concern being thrown out of the window. She looked too damn good to pass on.

“Mhm, they sure in the hell are,” Steve said as his thrusts stuttered a bit. “Oh shit,” Eddie laughed as Steve’s eyes shut tight. Y/n pushed at the man’s lower stomach, hoping to get away, but she instantly stopped as she held his liquid shoot down her throat.

Steve pushed y/n off of him after he couldn’t give anymore. She was instantly grabbed by Billy and carried to the nearest bed. After she was thrown down, she felt hands all over her. More than two.

“Stop it!” Y/n tried pushing Eddie and Billy away from her, but they listened or reacted. All they did was put themselves in a position they’d feel most comfortable in.

Y/n was now on top of the two, legs spread on both sides of Billy as Eddie stood behind her. “Don’t get drunk again, princess. Shit like this might not happen to you, then,” Eddie said as he gripped her panties off.

“Please, guys, stop this. I-I don’t- I don’t want this,” she begged the two. Billy rubbed his spot on his cock as she spoke, not caring about anything she had to say. She understood that after he forced himself through her cunt without wanting.

Y/n cried out in pain and pleasure. The knot in her stomach had already built in the lower part of her stomach.

“You’re tight for a nappy bitch,” Billy snapped his hips up as Eddie tried his best to coat his cock with as much cum as he could. He knew this wouldn’t be pretty for her, but he’s always wanted to eat or fuck her ass, and tonight, it was right in front of him. She was begging for it.

“Maybe I should’ve fucked her to hear that voice,” Steve said as he walked over to the bed. Y/n looked away from the man, wanting nothing to do with him, and he knew that. That’s why he rubbed the top of her head.

“Maybe if you weren’t so clueless, we could’ve done this a different way, y/n. If you think about it, this is all fault,” y/n hadn’t noticed how shitty Steve really was until tonight.

“Really getting it all out, huh?” Eddie said as he rubbed some spit along her upper hole. “Yeah — There’s no other way to put this situation,” Steve said, making new tears fill y/n’s eyes.

“Don’t worry, baby — Once I get in you, you’ll forget about his rude little words,” Eddie said as he pushed at y/n’s hole, making her pucker instantly. “N-No,” she said low, hoping he wasn’t doing what she was thinking.

“Ah huh, now relax so I can come in,” Eddie said, hand spreading her ass cheek as the other held his cock in place. “Eddie, no!” Y/n tried moving away, but the more she moved, the more Billy’s thrust under her made her closer to cumming, and she didn’t want to.

“Stop fuckin’ moving, y/n. Fuck,” Eddie grew impatient. Y/n went to cuss at the man or yell but she was cut off by a cry. Her head fell forward as Eddie broke through her upper walls.

“There we go,” Eddie continued pushing into the tightest hole he could fuck. “That’s it, just relax, baby. Relax, and I’ll fill you up in no time,” y/n cried at his words, knowing if they weren’t scared to do this to her, they weren’t scared to fill her.

“P-Please,” was all y/n could let out as her body went slack on top of Billy. “Good girls gonna get filled tonight, that right. Maybe more than once if she keeps squeezing me like this,” Billy said, and before she knew it, she released all over the man.

“Fuck, y/n, look at you!” Steve laughed as Eddie’s hand came down on her ass. “Double penetration is your thing, huh?” Eddie asked, earning a weak head shake and whine from her.

“Oh? Pretty girl hasn’t done any of this yet, huh? Guess we’re her first,” Eddie said as he watched his cock slip in and out of her hole that kept sucking him right back in. “And last,” Billy assured.

#free use kink #kintober 2024 #cnc free use #cnc k!nk #rough cnc #cnc kidnapping #cnc brat #stranger things #stranger things smut #dark!steve Harrington #dark!eddie munson #dark!billy hargrove #steve harrington smut #eddie munson smut #billy hargrove smut #smut #minors do not interact #18+ mdni #halloween smut

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