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thirteenducks · 1 year ago

Text

rest for the weary

(neuvillette x fem!reader) [sfw]

༻❁༺ content: fem!reader (reader is referred to as 'girl'), no established relationship

༻❁༺ word count: ~1.9k

༻❁༺ tags: sickfic? sort of?, mild hurt/comfort, gentle and tender Neuvillette, being overworked, fainting, neuvillette is sexy in a paramedic kind of way, crimes against gloves, almost-crimes against pastries, "you will be taken care of So Help Me" neuvillette, very self indulgent, can you tell i'm a college student

༻❁༺ author’s note: blame my mutuals for putting talk about neuvillette being gentlemanly and kind on my twitter feed. this is their fault and also the four glasses of sangria i drank before i wrote this

Neuvillette would like to believe he understands human behavior quite well by now. What he does not understand is their tendency to be self-sacrificial to the point of exhaustion. When your stress reaches a fever pitch, he steps in.

You don’t remember if it was the fatigue or the hunger that you noticed first. Both have been on the fringes of your consciousness since you left your bed early this morning. Right now, they’re kept at bay only by a lingering headache that worsens as you step out into the clear day.

The beautiful azure of the morning sky above. The flocks of pigeons that dapple the steps of the Palais Mermonia like sunlight through leaves. The hum of the Court of Fontaine as coffee sales begin for the morning. All are lost on you as you forge ahead, feet barely clearing the cobblestone below them.

The papers on your desk, stacked high and demanding attention, are all that your bleary eyes register at the moment. Anything else is secondary.

As much as your conscience would contend it, your current predicament isn’t entirely your fault. Sure, you had procrastinated a bit when the pile of records was first assigned to you, and maybe hadn’t chipped away at it the way you could’ve if you planned ahead.

For a gestionnaire, though, it’s also just that time of year when the clouds pour rain daily and the opera house sees a never-ending rotation of cases.

So if that means some sacrifices on your side are required, you’re willing to make them for the good of the Court. You’re certainly not the only one, either. The circles under the Chief Justice’s eyes always grow darker during the rainy season; you hope he’s taking better care of himself than you are.

Once you’ve gotten rid of this batch of paperwork, you’ll be free to rest for a while, you tell yourself. You can take a break. Maybe you could walk to that cafe down the street with the nice cashier and get yourself breakfast, if the rain isn't too bad by midmorning.

Your knees waver under you as you carry the precarious stack of records to the threshold of your office. On second thought, maybe you should ask if they offer delivery.

The low murmur of a familiar voice, a pleasant bass melody, reaches you as you step out into the plush carpet of the hallway. It floats through your dizzy head like syrup.

Good. You won’t have to walk far to give these to Neuvillette, then. You’re not sure your feet would carry you all the way to his office anyway, and you’d rather not field any uncomfortable questions about your health from such an esteemed man.

Assuming what you hope is a pleasant expression, you approach the Iudex and Sedene as he bends at the waist to inspect a bump on her antler.

There’s a very becoming look of concern on his face, you notice. It must be nice to be the focus of such care.

The unfazed voice of a Melusine comes from somewhere below you: “I promise it’s just a mosquito bite, Monsieur. I must’ve stood around the docks for too long this morning.”

“Even so... I would administer some anti-inflammatory soon, Sedene. Please don’t neglect your health,” he chides as he pats her head affectionately.

Neuvillette rises again to his full height, catching your eye as you draw near to him.

A fetching smile upturns the corners of his mouth. He greets you with a stately nod, holding out his right hand for your stack of records. Your gaze flits to his other hand, currently engaged by an apple turnover.

Ah. A gift from a Melusine, no doubt. You hope he enjoys it, even if a part of your brain wants you to snatch it for yourself.

If Neuvillette catches the way your eyes linger on his breakfast, he doesn’t mention it. What he does is quirk his head to the left in a silent question as he continues to stand with his hand outstretched.

Oh, archons. How long have you been standing in front of him with a blank look on your face? Too long to be appropriate, certainly.

Clearing your throat and forcing a smile, you take a step forward to hand off your pile of papers to him. Only, instead of making contact with the floor of the hallway, your shoe falls into thin air as your other knee buckles and your back falls towards the carpet.

As your consciousness slips, you feel a cool hand snake around your waist.

Your head goes limp, bouncing a bit with the impact until the pastry drops to the carpet and Neuvillette’s other gloved hand comes to cradle the back of your neck.

He’s caught you. He wishes you were awake to instruct him what to do next.

He lowers you to the ground softly, brow creased with worry. Sedene stands next to him with a similar expression, holding the turnover she saved as it fell.

“Sedene. Bring me a pillow from the sofa in my office, please. Quickly.”

The Melusine salutes and she darts off. His eyes never leave your face as he kneels, large frame bent over you protectively.

Releasing your waist, he brings a hand up to his teeth and tugs off the glove in a smooth motion before resting his bare fingers against your forehead. A curse in a tongue unknown to all but him breaks the quiet air and his brows knit together. Humans and their damned self-sacrificial nature.

Sedene returns holding a cushion. He eases it under your head with care, ensuring your neck is supported before he retracts the hand underneath.

There in the Palais hallway, the Iudex of Fontaine strips himself of his judge’s coat, uncaring of decorum at the moment. Gentle hands graze your bare skin as he wraps the garment around your shoulders. Were you conscious, you would feel the softness of the silk lining against your cheek and the scent of the ocean it carries with it.

He knows from his extensive observations of human behavior that you’ve probably only collapsed from fatigue, not sickness. And yet… and yet he cannot keep himself from stroking your forehead, cool fingertips resting there as he meditates.

Another moment passes before he makes up his mind. Your body rises from the carpeted hallway floor into strong arms, seldom-seen muscles flexing under his white undershirt.

The change in altitude brings you halfway out of your daze. Through hazy vision, you catch the sight of pale skin moving above you. His slit eyes meet yours and you don't manage more than a small sound of confusion before you’re pulled back under by sleep.

With a brief nod to Sedene, Neuvillette carries you to his office in a few quick strides. The door slides shut behind him.

Your hands unconsciously tug on his lapels and you curl your body closer to the warmth of his chest, making his ears burn.

Every time he thinks he understands your species, something like this happens.

He had certainly noticed your energy waning over the last few days, but he worried about the propriety of mentioning such a thing to you. Would you resent him for asking about something so personal? Should he send someone closer to you to step in before you hurt yourself?

In the end, he had settled for bringing you breakfast from a nearby cafe. He glances at the turnover, now sitting innocently on his coffee table courtesy of Sedene. It taunts him.

The silence in his office is deafening as Neuvillette lays you carefully on the sofa next to his desk. He runs through the list of human vitals in his head.

You’re breathing quite deeply. Your pulse is healthy and strong as his fingers press against the side of your throat. The color in your face is returning to its normal shade. Surely all you lack is a good meal, which he can certainly provide, and some rest.

Then why do his hands shake as he pours tea into a cup on the table before you?

Why can he not keep his eyes from you as you sleep, chest rising and falling in a gentle rhythm?

Why does he find it impossible to return to the paperwork that calls his name just a few feet away?

A clap of thunder shakes the building.

He doesn’t realize how long his eyes have been trained on yours until you’re staring back at him through lowered lids, awakened by the noise.

It takes about a half second for you to remember the circumstances of a few minutes prior and gasp, sitting up with a speed that makes Neuvillette reach towards you in concern. His coat falls from where it was draped across you and you stare at it, unblinking.

Your gaze flits to Neuvillette, bare to the wrist. He watches silently as you register the sofa you’re laid upon and the lavish office around you.

The Chief Justice makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat when you rush to stand up, face burning. Your head spins - whether from fatigue or embarrassment, you’re not sure. A million apologies threaten to spill from your mouth at once.

With your head bowed and your feet unsteady below you, you don’t see the hand rising to your face until a cool sensation spreads over your flushed forehead. The surprise of it shuts you up immediately. When you do dare to raise your eyes, you hardly trust what you see in front of you.

There is no anger in the face of the Iudex, in the downturned curve of his mouth or the crease of his brow. Only tender concern presents itself as he addresses you.

“You appear to be feverish. Please, sit back down. I won’t have you fainting again if I can help it.” He removes his hand from your skin, leaving behind a burning sensation that you can't attribute to a fever.

“Mon- Monsieur?”

He tuts, raising the cup of tea to your hand and folding it into your grasp. “Drink, please,” he murmurs, face etched with care.

You blink a few times, sipping the drink as if compelled by magic. It's sweeter than you’re expecting.

“Good girl.”

You nearly choke on it.

If possible, Neuvillette looks even more distressed by your sudden coughing fit. “You’re far redder than when you awoke. The fever reducer in this blend should help with that, but in the meantime, please take some of this…”

The minutes pass quietly. Periodically, Neuvillette instructs you in a gentle tone to drink your tea or eat a bit of pastry. He absolutely forbids you to stand after the second time you attempt to excuse yourself.

When he's been assured that you're comfortable, he speaks again.

“May I ask why you believe those papers you were attempting to bring me were worth working yourself to exhaustion over?”

His words are authoritative, but his voice carries such softness that you can’t help but be honest with him.

“I’m so very sorry, Monsieur. It won’t happen again. I’ve just had a lot on my plate this week.”

Neuvillette's violet eyes are melancholy as they meet yours. “Of course. It’s a busy time of year for us all,” he says, shifting his gaze to the steady rain outside. “I do hope you know, however, that I would far rather your work be late than your health to fail on my account.”

You duck your head. “...I understand, Monsieur.”

The man’s stately expression fades into something unreadable at that.

“...Please, call me Neuvillette.”

You were unaware that his voice, so commanding in the courtroom, could sound so tender directed at you.

Your gaze darts up from the floor. The Iudex is not meeting your eyes. His are fixed instead on the light drizzle pattering the windowpane. A faint swathe of color decorates his lofty cheekbones.

As you smile and nod your head, pronouncing his name with a few words of thanks, the morning sun streams into the room behind you.

It’s getting to be quite the lovely day outside.

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #neuvillette #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette x fem!reader #fem!reader #:3c #this was fun to write and even more fun to see my beta readers react to #shout out to tender and honey btw love you guys #have i mentioned how much i love gentle men recently #if i haven't here's 2k words to remind you

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aealzx · 2 years ago

Photo

Better Genes pg 6-10 / 38

A short ROTTMNT comic based off of 2003 TMNT Good Genes

(Read right to left)

Note, this comic will contain in either imagery or text: illness, fever, injury, bruises, blood, IV, needles, syringes, drugs, sedatives, body aches, sprained ankle, mild mutation, cracked ribs, injured eye, tranquilizer gun, pharmacy, TV Medicine, TV Science

as well as

familial fluff, hurt/comfort, very minor drama/angst, personal adjustments to canon designs

Featured characters: Donnie, Mikey, Leo, Raph, April, Splinter, Casey

Pg 1-5 . . . . Pg 11-14 Pg 15-18 Pg 19-22 Pg 23-25

Pg 26-29

Written Add on Part 1

Pg 30-33 Pg 34-35 Pg 36-38

___________

omg I actually didn’t think I would have anything to upload for another few weeks or so, but never underestimate the power of positive reinforcement and a free friday night X’DDDDD You guys have been so sooo sweet and great with the first few pages. A lot of the comments made me laugh. Thank you so much ;v;

This chunk was also a bit faster ‘cause I already had pages 9 and 10 drawn when I uploaded the first 5 pages, so there was just 3 more to get through. I’m finding while doing this that I really enjoy drawing April’s mouth. XDD It’s so fun and easy to get to squish around in different positions.

Fun facts:

I had to google that chemistry shet ‘cause I didn’t really have a chemistry class ever and know nothing X’D I skipped straight to AP chem and that was the dumbest thing I’ve done in my school life.

I defaulted to rice and beans for the food because that’s my default food when I don’t want to eat.

#my art #rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #better genes #better genes comic #donnie #april #illness #injury #fever #body aches #sick donnie

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savemeafruitjuice · 1 year ago

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I saw your post and automatically came here, the truth is I would like to know about your TADC tickle headcanons, if it is not a problem of course

ok yes ily (platonically) lemme produce some hc.

THE AMAZING DIGITAL CIRCUS HEADCANNONS!

(hopefully they don't suck, I just had a fever of 104 a couple hours ago 💀)

Caine:

SCREAMS and flies away at the slightest poke

or... he will just power down. Yeah, best bet is to let him escape.

But, on the off chance you actually capture him and he is still conscious, his tickle spots are his thighs, ribs, biceps, and hips.

He laughs very loudly. Prepare your eardrums.

He doesn't really get teases, and therefore doesn't use them. However, he does fall for all of them. ("Don't!" "Don't what, Caine? Use your words!" "Tickle me!")

Doesn't mind being tickled but it flusters him a bit.

Isn't tickled very often, but his most common ler is Bubble (the little rapscallion)

Although, he is a ler a very good lot of the time.

When tickling, he gives lots of compliments to his lee, which fluters them, but he doesn't particularly get why.

Caine also doesn't know when to stop.

Literally, one of the other circus members will have to confront him and tell him to back off.

He is reasonable at aftercare, giving the lee more compliments on how well they took it (even if they didn't) and pats them on the shoulder

Tickles the circus members for swearing!

Thinks tickling is fun

Has definitely made more than one of the adventures of the day rather tickly 👀

Kinger:

You already know. He will scream and thrash and flail.

Ticklish basically everywhere

Will claim he is being murdered when tickled and honestly sounds like he is.

Very screechy laughter

I'm not completely sure if he has a body or not, but let's just say he does.

Isn't a ler very often at all, he doesn't have the confidence.

On the 1% chance he is a ler, it would be if he is asked.

Light tickles

Gets scared when tickling someone and stops immediately at the first protest.

Pomni:

Will swat and squirm when tickled

Will giggle and laugh, but overall has a mild reaction

Unless she is startled by the tickling, then she will shriek and thrash a bit

Ticklish spots are knees, armpits, belly, ribs, neck, sides, hips

Doesn't really know how to tease, so she will just stare at her lee with an intense glare, but this ends up flustering them so it's a win

Is usually a lee, but like Kinger, she will tickle others if asked

A very gentle ler

Will mainly just scribble in the lees tickle spots until they are a giggly heap

Unless she gets pissed.

Then she is sliiiightly more ruthless

Pomni does know when to stop though, but isn't very good at aftercare.

She will thank the lee for letting her tickle them and may sit in silence for a while before exiting the room/area.

Ragatha:

Quite ticklish

Has sweet laughter that's bound to warm the soul (help I'm really cold)

Will fight back a bit, but not much, mainly just grabbing their hands

Her stomach, hips, legs, neck, and feet are ticklish

She thinks tickling is fun and a good way to relax or cheer someone up

Ragatha is more of a ler, and always makes sure the person she's tickling is comfortable

Teases her lee by telling them how cute they look, how sweet their laughter is, etc.

She knows exactly when her lee has had enough

AFTERCARE QUEEN!

She will cuddle her lee, hug them, tell them how amazing they are, get them water, whatever. (she makes sure they're comfortable with hugging/cuddling first ofc)

Gangle:

Veeery ticklish

Can't really fight back that well because well, she's made of ribbons

Has to trust the ler to know when to stop

She will flail and scream when tickled

Has only been a ler on two separate occasions

Even then, it was because another circus member was tickling one of the crew and asked her to join

Very nervous ler

Uses ribbons to glide over tickle spots

Secretly likes tickling

Will draw tickle art when in a lee/ler mood, but is always to shy to ask anyone to tickle her/let her tickle them

Zooble:

Not ticklish.

It was attempted once by someone (It was Jax, shhhhh)

Lets just say no one ever tried again.

Tickled the ever-loving hell out of the certain someone 🐇

Everyone was terrified

No one ever mentioned it again.

Hasn't been involved in tickling since

Doesn't like tickling

Jax:

Silly boy.

After getting bored of his usual shenanigans, he remembered tickling and went feral

Has (tried to) tickle everyone in the circus

TEASY LER TEASY LER

An absolute menace when it comes to tickling people

Will pin his lee down and torture them with teases and tickles

Surprisingly enough, he actually knows when to stop

Sure he may push his lee extremely close to their limit, but he'll stop when he sees the 'victim' has had enough

Kind of funny aftercare

He just kinds looks at the person he almost obliterated into abstraction to make sure they're okay

Then makes a dumb comment on how they look dumb or something and goes to do something else

After the Zooble incident, he got wrecked countless times

Sometimes it was light tickles, other times it was full on torment

Swore he was going to call ASPCA (American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals)

Has a cackly laugh and will squirm quite a bit

"Hates tickling" ( 🧢 )

Very dramatic and will pretend to faint or die or smth

If the option is available, he will curl into a ball

come get your slop

#tadc #headcannons #the amazing digital circus #tadc tickle #the amazing digital circus tickle #tadc hc #come get your slop

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macherkissed · 2 years ago

Note

Hi! I was wondering if I could get some headcanons of Charles & Tiffany (poly), Gomez & Morticia (poly), Alice Liddell, and Nemesis with an S/O who is shy, especially during sex.

Hell yea borther! This is the first time I've written Alice in NSFW, so that may suck, and the first time in a while I've written for Nemmie. I also have a fever and can barely see straight but I got a new keyboard and had to type

How They React to a Shy S/O

Notes/Warnings: GN!Reader, Smut, Polyamory, Shy!Reader, Tiff kind of babies you but she's just like that, mentions of murder and violence, mild-to-moderate dom/sub and sadism, light choking(very brief), mention of virginity loss (Alice), possessive behaviour, Exophilia

Charles Lee Ray and Tiffany Valentine

They certainly are a mixed bag

Chucky will tease you and purposefully try to get you out of your comfort zone, both to get you out of your shell and to get an embarrassed reaction from you. he finds it funny to make you uncomfortable

if you seriously tell him to, however, he will always stop and try to make it up to you.

Tiffany will defend you against Chucky's torment, of course, but she'll verbally tease you about how sweet and cute you are, she'll squish your cheeks and sometimes babytalk you

She'd do that anyway but it makes her giggle to see your reactions

Tiff will also try and guide you into situations you're not comfortable in, but as more of a helping hand and will stick by you

Should anyone else try and tease you or pressure you in any way, they'll both instantly be ready to throw hands. Whoever gets there first is the intimidator, the other only stepping in if they don't get the message.

Charles has been down to kill someone who made you upset and uncomfortable, more than once, and you have to talk him down since Tiff never seems to want to (because she wants to kill them too, but she's internally simmering while Charles is raging)

They have both killed at least three people who were shitty to you, but they'd never tell.

NSFW

Charles likes to be given lap dances and stripteases, regardless of how shy you are. He might even enjoy it more if you're shy; nervously showing yourself off to him, being unsure of your movements, looking to him for guidance. It's exciting to him, part of his sadistic streak

Tiff, meanwhile, thinks it's adorably sexy when you're nervous during sex and will coo at you to make you flush even more, and encourage you to be louder or show off more

If you keep your eyes closed or your face hidden during sex, both of them are the type to try and coax you out of it: Chucky by pinning your hands down and stopping until you look him in the eye, and Tiff by softly asking to see your pretty face until she gets impatient and puts her hand around your throat, growling at you to listen to her

When the two of them get together to tease you? Oof. Tiff may not outwardly seem it but, as seen before, she's just as sadistic as Charles and he only encourages her when they team up

If you get out of your shell even slightly and take any form of control in the bedroom, Charles lets out a low chuckle and will either sit back and enjoy it or try and egg you on to do more (brat taming Chucky???????). Tiffany, meanwhile, is instantly all for it and will play into anything you want with hearts in her eyes.

Sometimes, Charles will prefer to watch you and Tiff together, throwing comments to encourage and fluster you.

Gomez and Morticia Addams

It's easy to be overshadowed as the third in this relationship, with Gomez's full eccentric personality and Morticia's magnetic aura drawing all attention to them, but being shy makes fading into the background easier.

At any point, especially during parties, you can be swept up into a dance by either or both of them to catch people's eyes, both showering you in compliments; "How beautiful you look in the moonlight, my budding thorn." "Cara, nobody can take their eyes from you and Gomez. You move like an enchantment together."

Gomez will see you looking uncomfortable in the crowd so will slide up beside you, take and kiss your hand, and twirl you into a dance until you forget everyone around you, especially when he spins you into Morticia

With Gomez's intense affection, constant kissing and flirting, you can easily get flustered. He will stop if it gets too much, but he says you look so gorgeous when you get shy on him. Morticia is less frantic with her affection, but her words are just as poetic and teasing

They encourage you out of your comfort zone, as does the rest of the family, saying the fear helps you grow and will disappear eventually, but nobody will push you too far

When you start talking passionately about something, they'll both watch you with unfettered joy and love, only chiming in to encourage you to carry on even if it's not something they like

NSFW

They are obviously not the most vanilla couple ever, and one of their newfound pleasures if trying to make you express yourself sexually.

If you're shy about a specific part of sex or even intimacy, they are both very open to conversation and have an extensive library

They'll set the mood and try as much as possible to make you comfortable, with slow flirting through the day and gradual foreplay, and will be fine to pause or stop at any point

They love any noise you let out so will encourage you to be louder and 'sing' for them, using every trick and pleasure point of yours to bring out the most of you

If you feel uncomfortable with anything, they'll understand and either stop or adapt; if you prefer to keep your eyes closed or don't want them to see you, they will turn the lights off and they have blindfolds aplenty; if you want to keep covered up, they'll delight in seeing how much they can do while keeping you dressed up for them; any places you'd rather they not touch are avoided as such

To try and boost your confidence, you know that Gomez will worship your body with his words and hands and mouth until you're trembling, literally waxing lyrical about everything he loves about you (which is everything). Tish, meanwhile, will slowly dress you up and point out everything dark and delicious about you while teasing touches over your body

If you decide to try out any form of taking control, vanilla or otherwise, they are both very eager. Tish is her usual form of almost stoically appreciative, purring at you that you're doing amazing and she loves seeing this side of you. Gomez is more openly excited, complimenting you at every turn and repeating how he's yours to do with as you please, tesoro

Alice Liddell

Alice is quite blunt post-asylum, post-Bumby, which is both a blessing and a curse for you

She'll stick up for you and encourage you to stand up for yourself, but tends to say it in a way that can make you feel back for being shy

It's not that she doesn't understand how you feel, she was a shy child and rarely spoke up even in the asylum, but she also keeps a few of those old words to heart

"Fight or Flight implies a permanent choice. Flight often means putting a fight off to another day." -It seems to be the one piece of advice Radcliffe gave that actually has served her well

Not to say that she's cold and unfeeling to your struggles. She's more than happy to lead you through situations you feel uncomfortable in, praising you with a smile and a kiss when you push yourself

If you push yourself too far and become drained or too nervous, she'll take you out of it and will tell you how proud she is of you

Even the slightest crack in your shell will make her smile and she'll encourage you to open up more, to talk about anything no matter how ridiculous it may seem

She is very much a "They asked for No Pickles' GF

NSFW

At first, she was just as shy as you were at the mere prospect of sex; you were her first after all. Unlike you, however, she soon became comfortable

She understands that you won't tend to initiate sex, even if you+'re needy, but she's also learned your tells

If she's feeling nice, she'll take pity on you and take you to bed, but if she isn't feeling nice then she'll give you the briefest and most teasing of touches, riling you up more and more until you use your word or, even better, act on it

If you take any control in the bedroom, even just by kissing her or touching her without being told to, she'll encourage that spark and hope that you gain more confidence to do more

She's just as blunt during sex as she is in general, and she's picked up a lot of dirty ideas and words that never fail to make you squirm

One of the ways she tries to get you to express yourself is by asking you to repeat words she's saying and refusing to do anything until you do

"Ask me to use my mouth on you, bunny. Ask nicely." "Don't cover your mouth, I want to hear you. You sound so pretty." "If you want something, you have to tell me, love."

Nemesis

You're one of the research scientists working on him, making sure the virus is stable and that he understands his missions before they give him the Big S.T.A.R.S mission.

You've always been shy, even around your coworkers, so they choose you to be the one to go face-to-face with him; they think you won't be seen as much of a threat so less likely to trigger a violent reaction from him

They're right. Where other attempts have ended in death, Nemesis doesn't even raise a fist to you (he growls, but he always growls so he might have just been saying hello)

He's used to people being cautious and quiet around him so he thinks it's just that until he sees how you are around the other scientists. By that time, he sees you almost as a friend, as something small to protect, and thinks the shyness is fear.

He starts to step between you and the other researchers when he can tell you're getting nervous, and even starts pulling you away and over to him eventually.

People worry then that he's getting too attached to you so try to move you away, but he is having none of that

He isn't a conversationalist in the slightest. but he liked hearing you talk so he'll make literally no noise when you start talking so he can hear you better

He doesn't care how quiet you are or how awkward you think you are, he does not judge or stop you and that might even make you become more confident.

NSFW

It doesn't matter how hesitant you are about approaching sex, Nemmie can tell when you want him. He's very observant and has enhanced senses, so he will pull you close and touch you in ways that make you melt

It's easy for him to draw noises out of you. He uses every trick you've taught him, learns from every experience, exploits everything he can to make you tremble and squirm and whine until he's satisfied

When he notices you getting obviously shy or self-concious or anything during sex, he'll become single-minded to get your thoughts away from wherever they're taking you and make you focus on how he's making you feel.

If you'd prefer to do things for him, like go down on him or focus solely on his pleasure, then you have to say it because otherwise he'll easily turn the tables

If you decide to take control, you'll find he's quite malleable, almost submissive. He was made to take orders, after all, and you are one of the few people who has the ability to tell him what to do

No matter what, he loves having your attention on him, even if it is hesitant

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calzone-d · 2 years ago

Text

Reconnected (Ted Lasso x Fem!Reader)

pairing: Ted Lasso x Fem!reader, Mom!reader

word count: 2.4k

warnings: mild sickness

summary: After Ted and your daughter recover from being sick, they’re both ecstatic to see you again.

a/n: some fluff for you guys! school starts back next week for me, and for some reason I tend to write a bit more during school, it helps me relax and unwind a bit lol. send in any requests you have! love you guys!

Masterlist

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

When you and Henry entered the house, it was eerily quiet. You can't say it was unexpected, though. Ted and your eleven month-old baby girl had sort of confined themselves to your master bedroom since they both fell ill a couple days ago.

Since then, you had taken over dropping off and picking up Henry from school, and the two of you would cook dinner together before watching your favorite movies on the couch. While Ted had set up your baby’s pack-and-play beside your bed, you slept in the guest bedroom to avoid the unnecessary spread of germs. Both Ted and Charlotte had developed fevers, so you’d both decided it would be best to keep your distance until their fevers broke and they were no longer contagious. They weren’t extremely sick, but just enough to feel pretty uncomfortable. It was Charlotte’s first time being sick, so she wasn’t handling it well, but Ted was enjoying the extra time he got to spend with you daughter.

For most of the day, they had the house to themselves while you were at work and Henry was at school. You couldn’t deny loving all of the cute videos and pictures Ted was sending you, either. He was truly such a wonderful father, and you were both over the moon when Charlotte made her arrival almost a year ago. Ted made sure to follow a strict schedule for her medication to ensure she didn’t have to feel uncomfortable for too long. The pair would eat lunch together, Ted being sure to cook meals that could be easily mashed or pureed for baby girl to enjoy with him. He’d spend hours talking to her, and they’d alternate between watching one of his favorite movies and a couple episodes of her current favorite show. While Ted wasn’t napping with her, and the fatigue from his cold wasn’t too bad, he’d pick up around the house and help prep an easy dinner you and Henry could cook when you came home.

Each night, he would facetime you and Henry from across the house because Henry refused to go to bed without telling his little sister goodnight. Their shared laughter and babbles made your heart soar. Sleeping in a Ted-less bed felt foreign, and you were glad that tonight you could finally sleep together again without having to worry about getting sick yourself. It had also been way too long since you’d held your baby girl, and it was beginning to make you both grow antsy. Throughout the day, Ted had slowly moved her things back into her room, and had picked up the clutter that had accumulated in your bedroom over the past few days.

Henry only had a half-day at school today, so he had asked to spend the afternoon with Phoebe at Roy and Keeley’s. On the drive over, he insisted on calling Ted so he could tell you both about his day at school.

“Dad, Mrs. Adams let us draw on her whiteboard in class today!”

“Wow, buddy! Did’ya draw somethin’ cool?”

“I drew a picture of a soccer field! It looked so cool dad, just like the one at your work!”

Before Ted could reply, Charlotte began loudly babbling over the phone.

“Is that Charlie? Mom, can I turn it to facetime? I want to say hi!”

You affectionately giggled at Henry before telling him how to swap the call over, “You’ve got about five minutes, Hen, we’re almost there.”

Charlotte grew fussy at the sound of your voice over the phone, clearly the time spent apart from you had begun to take its toll on her. She was a major daddy’s girl, and absolutely adored Ted, but it had been too long since she’d gotten to snuggle up to you. The sound of Henry’s voice quickly re-directed her attention, and within seconds she was laughing at her older brother. Her gummy smile had swept you all off your feet.

The four of you exchanged a quick goodbye as you pulled up to Roy and Keeley’s. Henry gave you a quick hug before sprinting inside, likely looking to play on Roy’s new playstation.

“Have any new pictures of little miss Charlotte?”, Keeley always went crazy for new pictures of her goddaughter. The two of you stood over your phone, cooing while you swiped through the pictures Ted had sent during their mini quarantine together.

“Fuck’s sake, he really is such a good dad, isn’t he?”

A proud smile easily found its way to your lips, “The absolute best. We’re all lucky to have Ted. I love him so much.”

Roy let out a light grunt as you and Keeley got sappy, but you could see the ghost of a smile on his lips.

“Okay, okay. It’s been almost a week since I’ve seen those two, so I’m going to head back home. Henry mentioned spending the night yesterday?”

Roy gave you a single nod, “Yeah, the two knuckleheads want to go see some movie in the morning, so we figured we’d take them.”

“Yeah, babes. We can drop Hen off after the movie, go home to your man!”, Keeley encouraged with a wink. Her wink made you blush as you laughed.

“All right guys, thanks again. Call if you need anything, love you both!”

—------

When you walked through the door, you heard the familiar sounds of Bluey on the TV. Ted must have not heard you, because he continued speaking in his very over-exaggerated australian voice to Charlotte.

To her, this was the funniest thing ever. She let out the cutest laughs and squeals at Ted’s antics. Where she sat on the floor, she had discovered smacking her hands on the carpet would encourage Ted to entertain her more, and the two had a very cute system going.

“Hello, my loves!”, your voice echoed through the house as you sat your purse down. Charlotte had turned in your direction and was babbling baby nonsense as she began crawling towards you. She could stand when holding herself against a sturdy object but wasn’t quite taking steps yet. Nonetheless, she was a quick crawler, and continued her babbling until you crouched down to pick her up.

Ted watched in awe as you picked up your daughter and sat her on your hip. The vision of you both looking at each other, facial features mirroring each other’s, was enough to make him want to cry. You’d given him a lifetime of love, and the family you’d built together only heightened that feeling. As if the feeling of you loving him for all of his feats wasn’t enough, the way you mothered his children felt like it was the only thing he’d been searching for his entire life.

Charlotte’s hands reached up to palm at your cheeks as you brought your nose down to brush against hers. Sure, you shared some facial features, but her button nose was a replica of Ted’s.

“Hi baby girl,” you giggled at her eagerness to see you.

“Mama, mamama”, she babbled.

“Good job, baby!”, you bounced her against your hip as you walked over to join Ted on the couch.

“Can you say dada? Dada?”, you spoke slowly and clearly, an approach that seemed to be working as she slowly built her vocabulary.

She looked over at Ted with curious eyes, “Da?”

Ted’s eyes lit up at the recognition from his daughter and shuffled close to you both when you sat down on the couch.

“That’s me, sweet pea!”, he leaned forward to press a kiss against her chubby cheek, before pressing one to yours.

“Hi darlin’, we sure missed you an awful lot.”

Before he completely pulled away, you leaned in and planted a warm kiss on his lips. Even though it was only a few days, it felt like it had been years since you felt his lips against yours. As you shared a kiss, Charlotte bounced with her legs in your arms and squealed. You shared a laugh as you pulled away.

“Da!”, she continued to bounce her legs.

Ted smoothed a hand over her wispy curls. His hand looked like a giant’s against Charlotte’s small head.

“Good job, honey!-”

“Da! Dadadada!”

Ted leaned down to be eye level with her where she sat in your arms, “You gonna keep sayin’ it, huh? S’that your new word?”

She babbled some more at him, and he pressed quick kisses against her cheeks in a way that made her laugh before pulling away and resting his head on your shoulder. Charlotte settled down in your lap and rested her head on your chest while her hands grabbed tiny fistfuls of your shirt. You held her to you as she nuzzled into your embrace, something you’d both missed during their time in quarantine.

Your head tilted sideways to rest against the top of Ted’s. “Missed you so much, honey. I’m so glad you’re both feeling better.”

Ted had let Charlotte grab onto one of his fingers, a soothing touch as her eyelids grew heavy.

“Yeah, don’t think either of us could’ve gone much longer without seeing you and Hen. I needed my beautiful wife, baby girl here needed her mama. And we both just miss Henry’s energy and enthusiasm like crazy.”

Even after being married for a while, Ted still took every opportunity to compliment you and remind you of his love. It still made your cheeks blush and your belly do backflips.

You turned your head to press a kiss to his thick hair, “We missed you guys too. You know, Henry Bug’s becoming so much like you.”

“How so?”

“He’s just such a bright light in every room he’s in. Always wants to help others, has a heart so full of love for everyone, and funny as hell, too.”

Although you couldn’t see it, Ted couldn't hide his proud smile at the mention of your son.

“You think he’ll be okay? I mean, turnin’ out like me, n’all?”

You sat up a bit to meet Ted’s eyes, “Ted, I think him turning out like you is one of the most delightful things I’ve ever seen. Anyone would be lucky to even be the slightest bit like you, my love.”

Still not used to being doted on, your words turned Ted’s cheeks a dark, crimson red. “Well, he’s had a pretty amazing woman helpin’ raise him too.”. His soft smile made his eyes crinkle, and if it weren't for your now sleeping daughter in your arms, you would’ve leaned over to kiss one of his graying temples.

“I mean, sure, but we’re talking about you right now, Teddy. You’re an amazing role-model and father to him. Makes me love you even more, seeing the way you’re teaching him to be such a lovely person.”

He brought a warm hand up to softly rub against Charlotte’s back, “We are doin’ a pretty good job, I reckon.”

Your eyes cast downward to admire the features of your daughter, “We’re doing a hell of a good job, Teddy.”

He flashed you a loving smile before leaning in, and planting a longer, softer kiss to your puckered lips.

In his past marriage, Ted practically lived in fear of being “too much”. Qualities that made you fall in love with him were ones that he used to feel like he had to hide and growing used to letting go of his fears was a slow process. You’d doted on him as soon as you admitted your feelings for each other. He was such a wonderful human, that even a short time of hiding your affection felt like the most difficult task. Whenever you had a moment, you reminded him of your love for him, if not going even further by expressing your admiration towards him as a person, partner, and father. The progress he’d made was something you were both proud of.

Even when you did try complimenting him, he would always be so quick to turn it on you. He loved you too, and wanted you to know that, but you were helping him learn that sometimes things could just be about him. Nights where you focused on him and his pleasure, compliments directed explicitly towards him, little gestures to brighten his day without expecting something back. You loved him without any conditions, or hesitations. You loved every part of him, too, and at first that was a tough act for him to swallow.

It was almost as if he’d become comfortable with the idea of being “too much”, because it was easier to predict how things would end, and at first, he thought it would help save him from some sort of heartbreak. You’d been very stern when explaining to him that he would never be “too much”, but your unwavering determination was comforting to him. He had learned that you loved his optimism and radiated similar energy when you two were together. Falling in love with you felt so easy, it felt like coming home. Ted never would've imagined that when he took a job offer across the world to try and save his failing marriage, that he would eventually feel as if he had come home.

He’d come home to the woman who loved him for him and couldn’t wipe the smile from her face when she was around him. The woman who laughed at his jokes and fired back with some of her own. The woman who became a mother to Henry and gave him a daughter that fit perfectly into the family they’d built.

His eyes got misty as he watched you rock your daughter into her afternoon nap. With the time you spent apart, you had no plans to put her in her room, you fully intended on her napping against your chest where you could press the occasional kiss to her soft hair. Ted turned to lean his side into the couch, where he could more comfortably rest his head closer to yours.

“Thank you, Y/N.”

“For what, honey?”

“Just- for everything. For lovin’ me, for our family, for lovin’ Henry and Charlotte. You’re the love of my life, darlin’. You have every piece of me.”

“Ted. I just try to give you the love that you absolutely deserve. Have always deserved.”, he nodded along with you.

A comfortable silence fell across you both as you watched your daughter sleep.

“Henry’s gonna be so excited to see her when he gets home tomorrow. Seriously, Ted, he has missed Charlie bug so damn much. I definitely didn’t think they’d like each other this much right now, but oh my god I love it.”

“He’s the best big brother. Never gonna have to worry about protectin’ this one when she gets older, huh?”, he smoothed a hand over her head again.

“Nope”, you chuckled softly, “Hen’s got that covered.”

Ted swapped Bluey out for a comedy while you relaxed together on the couch. He’d nodded off against your shoulder as well, and you felt at ease surrounded by your family. Minus Henry, but you knew he was having a blast at Roy and Keeley’s. As your husband and daughter slept, she kept one of his fingers in her hand, holding onto it tightly, even in her sleep.

Thanks for reading!

#ted lasso x reader #ted lasso #ted lasso imagine #ted lasso fluff #mom!reader #mom!reader x henry lasso #dad!ted superiority #dad!ted #my writing

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nerdieforpedro · 11 months ago

Text

Weddings 101 with Dieter

Chapter Two: Proper Accommodations

Dieter Bravo x plus size OFC (Maya)

Fanfiction 18+

Masterlist / Dieter Bravo Masterlist / Weddings 101 with Dieter Series / AO3 Link

Word Count: approx 4.7k

Summary: Maya arrives to Hawaii in Dieter's private jet. Turns out, the man's got a villa and would like her there with him and his goat. A car ride and some ridiculous banter ensue. Things are great until the OJ.

Warnings: Bad jokes, candy, even worse nicknames, Dieter being himself, self-doubt, self-esteem issues, cursing, mild body worship, food (it's a Nerdie expectation at this point), jealousy, brief mention of drug use, the nicknames worsen and include food, slander against Oscar Issac, accidental drug use, we got fluff people!

Notes: I started this series awhile ago and wrote this chapter last month. Then I fell face first into Frankie and hadn't looked back until the king trash panda himself took up residence in my brain. So we're back and I'm working on future chapters. The jokes continue to be bad, I'm not a comedian - I'd be very broke. I just enjoy two people being idiots with each other. It's a joy.

After disembarking and gathering her belongings, Maya thanked Dieter immensely for basically giving her a ride to Hawaii and if he wanted to hang out later that would be great. She needed to be away from him, the dancing was too much, he was drawing her in. Dinner could be later this week, it didn’t need to be tonight, she still needed to check in at the hotel.

Bravo leaned in for a hug and Maya returned the squeeze, pressing their bodies together. He was simultaneously firmer than she thought and also softer around the belly. His hands started roaming a little too low down her back towards butt and they gave a little squeeze. Maya should have swatted him away or told him no, but she decided to run her hands down his back as well and give him a little grab too. Turns out that Sugar lips was also quite firm as well, he jumped a little bit giggling.

“I gotta say Kit Kat. This has been a lot of fun and I only drank while we did this whole thing, This is new.” Dieter stated triumphantly like he just got first place at something.

Maya shrugged her shoulders and grinned, “Well Sugar lips, it turns out there's a lot of ways to have fun that maybe don't always include drugs sometimes.”

“Hey, your brother's wedding is on which island?” Dieter asked. His assistant who had been back trying to chat up the flight attendants a little bit got an inkling that there was something a little suspect going on, so he went over and gently reminded Dieter about his schedule including popping in for press at a golf tournament. Bravo wasn’t really feeling it, but he had already agreed as part of a contract.

Maya shook her head and told him, “You don’t have to feel pressured to do dinner right now. It’s an open invitation. You have very important stuff to handle, Dieter.” Her smile was weak, as much as she wanted to stay with him, she needed to leave this fever dream of an evening here. On to wedding business. She took a step back and he released her, Dieter disliked this greatly and his assistant for bringing up work shit. That can wait later.

“Oh no Kit Kat you're not getting out of this one.” Dieter beamed and threw an arm around her shoulder, pressing his hip to hers, so soft and warm. “You’re definitely telling me where you're staying and I'm definitely coming there and if I don't like where you stay, we're gonna stay somewhere else.” He decided. His assistant’s face went pale as Brave shot him a stern look, ‘say something I dare you.’

Maya chuckled and poked Bravo’s cheek, “What do you mean we? I'm booked into the same place with all the family. I don’t even know where you’re staying.” His assistant was furiously texting, he knew he had more work to do and how Dieter was fully capable of making his job a living hell if he didn’t get his way. She had mentioned that the wedding was taking place on Oahu but Dieter had been too busy watching her eat to listen.

“Well, I gotta see this place, see if it's good enough for more Uno games and whatever else we come up with. It also needs to be pet friendly because Daisy is coming with me to visit.” The goat sauntered over to the pair and let out a ‘baah’ They both chuckled in unison. Maya went to protest again but he stopped her, “Nah you lost the game Toblerone. You call me sugar lips first of all, and second, show me the address.” He held his hand out, presumably for her phone. Maya gave him her palm and he used his middle finger to stroke her palm, making her draw her hand back with a squeal. She sighed and pulled out her phone, showing Dieter her accommodations which she felt were pretty nice it was like on the 6th floor of one of the Hilton hotels right off the beach on Waikiki island Dieter took one look scoffed and grabbed his nonexistent pearls and said, “No dice, this place is bullshit. Maya you’re not staying there. I'm not staying there. Toblerone, you’re gonna come with me to my villa.”

To this Maya put her hands on her hips which got Dieter a little a little hot under the robe which he was more than fine with. Maya was disturbed at what he was saying, she thought it was a pretty nice hotel but more than that who does he think he is trying to tell her where to stay.

“Now Dieter-”

“It’s sugar lips, “ He interrupted, she clicked her tongue and leaned forward where he leaned back.

“Now I know, you are not trying to tell me where I should go, and where I should stay are you?” The robe-clad man shook his head and then put his hands up. “I am a grown woman.”

Dieter tried to explain himself, “I'm not saying that it’s not a decent hotel. I'm just saying you could stay in a better place with me. We discussed decadence earlier, right?”

She crossed her arms against her chest, “And what makes you think that I want to stay in a hotel with you Dieter Bravo?” He was making this a lot harder than it needed to be. Just let me go. He doesn’t want me, he just wants the feeling I give him, the fun. I’m not just for anyone’s use.

“Again, it's sugar lips and we were not having so much fun on the plane. Like you're just gonna give this fun up just cause it's your brother's wedding. I mean because you know destination weddings already suck why not have why not have a little fun you know?”

“And what type of fun are you talking about Dieter because I just met you and Uno was fun and I am extremely grateful for the free ride but whatever villa you stay in, if I thought I couldn't afford the jet ride I am damn sure not going to be able to afford a villa.” Maya now threw her hands up. This man was impossible.

“Look, I didn't say you had to pay for it. I just said you had to stay with me and we need to get you some better wedding clothes anyway.” Bravo told her, he was re-thinking the jab about her wedding clothes. He was sure she probably looked pretty in them, but she deserved a lot more luggage than what she had.

“I'm not trying to hear about fashion choices from a man who walks around in pajamas and a robe sir. You haven't even looked at my suitcase, so how do you know that my clothes are not appropriate for a wedding?” Dieter’s assistant looked up from his phone. Usually, his boss was much smoother than this. What about this woman made him so rattled? No matter, the assistant now had to inform the personal chef to stock and cook for two people instead of just Dieter.

“Yeah, I got a sixth sense about these things Kit Kat just trust me on this. Now you will like the villa. It's got like 6 rooms, so we don't even have to stay in the same room. We'll just play Uno, drink, maybe I can get you to try some other stuff and we'll just have fun. Plus, we have to eat dinner.” Bravo slowly approached Maya, placing his hands on her hips and leaving her a kiss on her forehead. Kit Kat closed her eyes. So many red flags, she should leave, thank him and leave, maybe get his number. He’ll forget to call. It would be fine. And yet…

“We'll go to and from your brother's wedding, maybe you'll even let me come along to the wedding?” She shook her head, knowing that this was a horrible idea. But you only live once, right?

“I haven't been to a wedding before, apparently I was told by my friends I couldn't come to their weddings.” He finally finished. She opened her eyes and looked at his sad brown ones. At some point Dieter had removed his sunglasses. His eyes were longing for her to answer him.

“Now why did your friends tell you not to come to their weddings?” Maya asked, her hand reached up and ruffled his hair, he leaned in the direction of her hand.

Dieter beamed, “I'm just so much fun you know, and I just try bring joy to wherever I go.” He couldn't keep a straight face while talking. Maya threw her head back and howled.

“I bet you do bring joy, don't you? Oh Lord Dieter,” Toblerone giggled and kissed his cheek. “Fine, I will stay with you at your villa. I am staying in a separate room. We just have to make sure I'm on time for the different dress rehearsals and family events. Ok?” Her hand fell to his cheek, her thumb traced his nose, she felt his dimples form as he smiled. Dieter put both of his considerable hands over her hips and squeezed, he would never get tired of doing that.

“I promise Kit Kat you won't regret it. I promise it'll be the best week ever. We'll have so much fun, so much joy. Maybe you won’t wanna leave.” Dieter dipped his chin to maximize his mischievous eye effect. It gave her a tingle up her spine.

Maya leaned her forehead on his shoulder, “I don't know if I should trust you when you say fun and joy like that because your voice keeps cracking.”

The pair headed over to a car that was scheduled to take Dieter to his beachside villa that thankfully was only about 15 minutes away from the wedding venue where most of the events they’d be going to be taking place. It was much further from the hotel but outside of mandated events with the wedding, she didn’t plan on being at the hotel much now. She went ahead and texted her mom and her brother that she had a few hiccups with her flight, but she still was coming to the weddings and events. She also let them know that she had some different accommodations that she was going to stay at for the week. Her family was a bit concerned but they knew that Maya knew how to take care of herself.

On the car ride over, Dieter had slumped over on her shoulder, nuzzling into her. His hand laid on her thigh. Maya was petting little Daisy that sat in her lap.

“You're a cute little goat aren't you like your daddy? This is going to be a wild ass week. What have I agreed to? I’ve lost all my good sense Daisy.” She laid her head back on the seat, closing her eyes. Today certainly was something.

Dieter’s fingers pressed into the flesh of her thigh, he wasn’t quite asleep. He was plotting what to do once he got her to his villa. He was sure that his assistant had picked up to adjust things for her as far as the chef and food storage was concerned. Though playful, Bravo knew that Maya was still weary of him. That was fine, Dieter was a master at getting into people’s personal space and between boundaries they had set up for themselves. He was careful not to move his head, he wanted to savor the movement. She had been set to leave ten minutes ago. He had a small victory in that already. He would need to keep the momentum going. His hand relaxed and circled down to her knee, a grin formed on his face.

The driver hit a pothole making the car bounce roughly and apologized. The actor had no issue with this, Maya slid against the car door, diagonal with one leg extended that Daisy slid down onto, not hard as she shook off the impact. Dieter’s head landed on Maya’s thigh where his hand had been, he snaked an arm under her leg pretending that he was more shaken then he was. The driver slowed down and only sped back up when he didn’t see anymore.

“Kit Kat! You alright? I got you.” He couldn’t help but smile as Maya rubbed the back of her head.

“I’m okay, I think. Bumped my head.” It took a moment to look down, she saw Daisy on the car floor and Dieter using her thigh as a pillow, feeling something under her leg that she identified as his arm. “Why would you grab…? Does anything you do make sense De-” She paused, remembering their bet. “Never mind.”

“You could just say it, you know. It’s just two words, Toblerone. Come on…” The dimpled man grinned rolling on his side, he was face to face with her stomach. It appeared very soft and jiggly. “I’ll poke you if you don’t.” It wasn’t a threat, he’d likely poke her belly even if she did call him his nickname. It was calling him.

“You’re infuriating. I get why you’re not at weddings, Sugar Lips” Maya lowered her voice at his nickname and straightened herself up in the seat as much as she could, Dieter’s arm under her leg was making that a bit difficult. “Seriously Dieter, move your arm. It’s going to go numb under there.” Her hand went to move his arm but he gripped her leg tighter.

“Nuh uh. My arm’s fine but if you want me to move I will.” His dimples were still on full display until his face went into her stomach, shaking his head from side to side. She’s so soft and warm. I think it’s okay not to breathe for a bit. Maya yelped and grabbed Bravo’s shoulders, she pushed him away slightly but she he proved too strong as he held his face in her soft stomach. She ended up just holding him, her palms running across his back.

“Dieter you’re fucking insane.” He didn’t let go. She felt his nose poking her deeply. No one had ever dove into her belly, laid on it sure, but not dove in and held on like this. She wasn’t sure what exactly he needed from her, but until they reached the villa, the only sounds were from Daisy and her occasional ‘baah’s’ and the wheels on the dirt road. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence, the opposite actually, which made Maya even more unsure of what was going on.

The villa in question was at the top of a hill behind a gate. The driver entered a code that was provided to him via text from Dieter’s assistant and pulled up the long driveway to the front door. The door itself was made from a beautiful dark oak and the shingles on the roof were a red clay color. The house itself was two levels with glass walls facing the side of the house toward the beach. The sun was almost finished setting by the time they reached it. The back of the house away from the beach was an eggshell white. It was beautiful and modern, not that Maya knew what she was expecting. The driver took all her and Dieter’s bags out of the car and placed them in the foyer of the house.

“Dieter, you have to get off now. We’re here.” Maya stated softly, her hand ran through his curls. She cursed herself for doing it, but they were so silky dancing across her fingers. Bravo groaned and pulled his head back and laid on her thigh once again.

“Promise you’ll let me lay on you again and then I’ll move.” He peered up at her, she sighed.

“Let’s see how dinner goes.”

“You drive a hard bargain Kit Kat. Fine, but!” He lifted a finger and placed it on her chin. “If you let me, you can play with my hair again.” Scoffing, Maya used the distraction to slide out of the car. Brave puffed out his cheeks laying across the backseat of the limo. Daisy licked his cheek before hopping out of the car, following the woman. “Daisy! You’ve turned on me! What is wrong with everyone?!” He fussed, his assistant snorted and helped the driver move the bags from the foyer to the bedrooms. Maya asked which room she would be staying, the assistant mentioned there were six rooms plus Dieter’s study. She snickered at the word study, she couldn’t picture him being able to focus on anything that didn’t involve his own fun for longer than five minutes.

Maya picked the room that was two rooms down from the master bedroom which she assumed to be Dieter’s. It was still much bigger than the hotel room she would have been trapped in for the week. Complete with a king size bed, walk in closet, 80-inch flat screen TV, numerous outlets for devices to be plugged in, a small desk area was present, the bathroom was huge with two sinks, a walk in shower that had a bench, removable shower head and a tub for a nice even soak; it was perfect.

Bravo had finished his rant and entered the villa, he checked with the chef in the kitchen and told him to make pizza. Ham and mushrooms but no pineapple. His assistant checked in with him before heading out for the night, informed Dieter which room his guest was in and that he would come to pick him up at noon tomorrow to get him ready for the first part of the golf event later that afternoon. Rolling his eyes, the actor agreed and asked if Maya had the driver’s number so he could take her to any wedding events she would need to go to. The assistant nodded and informed him that he also gave her the back up driver’s number in case Dieter was using his primary driver. Bravo was pleased with this and threw his robe on one of the stools in front of the kitchen island.

Maya came down the winding stairs and waved to Dieter and his assistant. She smelled the pizza that was baking in the oven and beamed, “Pizza! I actually haven’t had any for a while.” She had on a pair of dusty rose pink ballet slippers, she had changed into a plain light blue t-shirt with gray shorts. She saw that Bravo’s assistant was heading toward the door, and she tapped him on the shoulder.

“Thanks Zack for helping me get set up. I’ll try and keep out of the way.”

Zack the assistant blinked, he actually had not heard his name for a bit. His body had tensed but he calmed. “It’s no problem Ms. Maya, let me know if you need anything. He does need to be at least up and showered by noon though.” The woman nodded and his assistant left, she made sure to set an alarm on her phone for 11 in the morning just in case. Bravo was deeply disturbed. First of all, that was his name? He was sure it was Peter, or Lou, or Aspen or something. Secondly, Why did she need to touch him? Third and most important, when did they have time to talk? He wasn’t in the car that long. Shit maybe I was, because I hit a little snow on the part of the seat Kit Kat had been sitting on. I remember mellowing out for a bit, but only a bit. Maybe. His arms snaked around Maya’s wide waist as his chin rested on her shoulder, he shot the young man the same look he did when they were outside the car at the airport, one of pure annoyance. Maya shook her head as Zack left and the chef signaled that the pizza was finished.

“Sugar lips, we were going to have dinner right?” She gently pulled Dieter’s hands off her waist and turned around to face him. “Come on, let’s eat. Don’t pout.” Her smile remained just as wide, sniffing the pizza that the chef was cutting up. He warned that it was still hot of course and not to eat it quite yet. Nodding, Maya reached in the cabinet and grabbed a glass, pouring herself some orange juice. Dieter watched her reach while leaning on the counter but looked away as the chef let him know that there was more food in the fridge and he was leaving for the night. Dieter told him goodbye and missed what container the orange juice came out of.

“Yeah we are. What did you talk with…Zack about?” He was in fact still pouting. Maya smirked, setting her glass on the counter.

“Just making sure that you’re at your event on time tomorrow. Despite me being here, you have obligations Cupcake.” His left eyebrow shot up as his arm snaked around her waist again. She didn’t shirk away from his touch this time, putting her head on his shoulder and leaned into him.

“I like the sound of Cupcake. Why’d you change it?”

“Trying out some different ones.”

“Alright, show me what you’ve got.” Dieter moved from her side to in front of her, just sliding his hand to her hip instead of across her waist. Maya was noticing a pattern, that he always seemed to need to touch her. She thought that she should think it’s weird, but she enjoys it. There’s always a hand, shoulder, his chin, lips, cheek finding its way to her.

“Jellybean, Marshmallow, Fluffy Boy, Pooh Bear, Tater Tot.” Dieter turned up his nose. He might let her guess which one he actually liked out of those, but he could throw out some new nicknames too.

“I raise you Maya: Sweet cheeks, Good & Plenty, Love muffin, hot buns or-”

“Wookie!” The actor’s eyes narrowed and he let go of her. His hands were in the air instead, tightening around nothing. That clearly struck a nerve. Maya bit her bottom lip and sniffed the pizza. Maybe Dieter Bravo wasn’t a Star Wars fan.

“Absolutely not! I auditioned for that movie and they gave it to that guy with the black curly hair! Him and his stupid forearms and that massive five o’ clock shadow and…”

“Are you talking about Oscar Issac? You auditioned for Poe Dameron?! I can’t see it, Dieter.” Picking up a slice, she put it to her mouth and bit off a large piece of the slice. The handmade dough seemed to have garlic in it and the sauce had sauteed onions. Cheese topped with ham and mushrooms with a medium brown crust rounded out the delicious flavors together in the pizza.

“I could have acted like I knew how to fly an x-wing! They’re the ones that missed out!” Now pacing, Dieter started explaining that Issac wasn’t as good an actor as he was, didn’t get as many roles or money and he clearly was better looking than him too. Maya just watched him, continuing to take more bites of the slice and picking up another one. Her low rumbles from her throat were making Dieter slow down. “And he got to work with Mark Hamil and Carrie Fisher….Maya are you…What did the chef put in that pizza?” He finally stopped and watched as she had sauce around the corners of her mouth and a touch on her nose.

“I was really hungry. I figured you were going to talk about He who shall not be named for a while. The pizza’s warm now and not hot. Shit it’s so good!” She licked her fingers and Dieter thought it was strange. He picked up a slice and took a few bites. Yummy but nothing unusual. Her behavior is odd. He didn’t plan to give her any molly. That was going to be after a movie or two and he wouldn’t force her…Ah. His juice. He was gonna take that tomorrow to get through that golf thing. This is not good. Maya reached for her orange juice glass that was half empty and Dieter snatched it away. “No Kit Kat! You need water only. Trust me on this.” She shook her head at him and started on her third slice of pizza humming a song he didn’t recognize. Dieter got her a bottle of water out of the fridge along with the bottle of orange juice he had planned on taking tomorrow. It was half empty, he instructed her to drink instead of just giggling and poured the rest of her glass back in his bottle. No one’s wasting premium drugs though.

“If you’re mad I drink your juice, sorry. I like orange juice and this pizza. You gotta eat this pizza too. Stop thinking about that man. He’s not in a villa in Hawaii. I feel a little warm…” Sweat beads were forming on her forehead. He handed her the water bottle and she popped the bottle and started gulping it down. Bravo had to pause, what else did he need to do, normally his assistant or someone his team hired made sure he was safe during his drug escapades. He had agreed to scale back so they were giving him a bit of leeway letting him stay without one of his team there and just a guest. Now he had gotten his guest unintentionally high.

“Fuck me…I don’t want to have to call them. They’ll never let me stay by myself again after this.” He muttered to himself as he got a wet paper towel to wipe Maya’s face. Her giggle at the cool water was cute though. He never really had to take care of himself, let alone someone else. He then wiped off her hands and held them after.

“You don’t have to call anyone Sugar Lips. I’m open to fucking you sometime this week. Not sure when. I have to let the idea marinate in my brain. We can start with touching though.” Her eyes were glassy and her smile was warm. Dieter almost took her up on the offer as she closed the distance between them and continued to look up at him.

“Maya you truly don’t know how much I want to take you up on that. We can’t tonight though. We have to get settled in and you need to drink so much more water. Hydration is important.” Truly, if she wasn’t high, able to truly say yes to him and he didn’t think she would be pissed about finding out she got high from his OJ, he would take her up to his room right now, but he isn’t that kind of man. Sure he’s not an angel, but not an asshole. “I think we’ll leave the pizza and go upstairs to get some sleep. We can check the rest of the house tomorrow.” Taking a step back, he held one of her hands and led her up the stairs. Entering Maya’s room seemed odd to him, but he was going to have to figure this out. Hopefully.

Undressing her was a bad idea, in fact, Dieter had to keep Maya from undressing in front of him. Unheard of this situation, keeping a woman he wanted fully clothed. Dieter was able to wrangle her in the bed and lay beside her, as soon Maya’s head hit the pillow she was out, snoring loudly. He chuckled, content to watch her face.

“So weird. I never thought I would wanna watch someone else sleep. Not sure what it is about you Toblerone. Maybe because you’re not pretentious? Mmm, no I don’t think that’s it. Doesn’t matter for now. I’ll think about tomorrow. Don’t dream about my snobby assistant or Oscar Issac, no matter how great of an ass he has. I bet you that’s how he got the Star Wars gig.” Bravo’s hand traced her round cheek, poking it softly. “I should ask you what skincare you use, you could be twenty-five or sixty-five Maya…” His voice trailed off and his hand landed on her neck, she curled closer to Dieter and groaned lightly, an unknown warmth next to her but she didn’t feel afraid. Maya felt safe next to someone in bed for the first time in a long time.

Previous: Chapter One

Next: Chapter Three

Tag list: @fhatbhabie @morallyinept @pedritapascal @pascalsanctuary @nissaimmortal @grogusmum @theywhowriteandknowthings @beefrobeefcal @goodwithcheese @iamasaddie @psychedelic-ink @megamindsecretlair @pamasaur @marcus-is-my-muse @clawdee @trulybetty @perotovar @joelslegalwhre @josephquinnswhore @mandoisapunk @secretelephanttattoo @for-a-longlongtime @legendary-pink-dot @sin-djarin @sp00kymulderr @linzels-blog @joelmillers-whore @guelyury @laurfilijames @missladym1981 @alltheglitterandtheroar @din-djarins-riduur @daddy-dins-girl @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @rhoorl @yorksgirl @maggiemayhemnj @saturn-rings-writes @gwendibleywrites @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @undercoverpena @musings-of-a-rose @soft-persephone @katw474 @javierpena-inatacvest @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @pedritapascal @magpiepills @handspunyarns @i-own-loki

#pedro pascal characters #fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal #dieter bravo #dieter bravo fanfic #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo x plus size reader #dieter bravo x reader #dieter x reader #Weddings 101 with Dieter

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menagerie-of-monsters · 20 days ago

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I'm not Joy, obviously, but... this is my life. It wasn't pernicious anemia (it was a stroke) and it wasn't 2019 (it was 2021), but this is my lived experience, too.

I was brilliant. A rising star in my field; someone who consistently tested in the 99th percentile of everything I was tested on. My recall was incredible. My writing was precise and clean.

And then I almost died. I got the Delta strain of COVID-19, and I had a mild fever and some body aches, and then two weeks later I was being taken to the hospital in an ambulance because my heart rate while horizontal was 110 and I couldn't follow instructions or understand what anyone was saying to me. The overwhelmed, overworked ER doc ran some tests. He didn't take a brain scan (32-year-olds don't have strokes, you see). He told my family that I might never get better. He sent me home.

I lived.

By the skin of my teeth, but still: I lived. I clawed my way out of a world where I couldn't read and where I could understand three of every five spoken words and where I couldn't watch TV shows because I didn't remember what happened at the beginning by the time we got to the end. I got very, very lucky, and somehow I made it to a place where most of the time I understand things, and most of the time I can communicate, and most of the time I can remember.

I'm not brilliant anymore. I'm not a rising star in my field. I'm still above average; very smart, even. I'm good at things. But I'm not who I was.

I remember going to a neuropsych and almost breaking down when I couldn't do rapid recall. I could feel my brain failing, the record scratch where once I'd had speed and accuracy, and I wanted to sob from frustration. She told me that I was below average on a few things, but that, hey, I had a PhD. I had a few IQ points I could stand to lose.

I'd never been below average on anything. When I tried to impress upon her how devastating this was for me, and ask for ways to improve, she frowned and tutted and told me that I was ascribing too much to my illness. I wasn't a hypochondriac, was I?

So I smiled and played the good patient, because she had the ability to ruin any chance I ever had of being taken seriously by a doctor again, and then I went home and I tore the papers she'd given me to shreds and I sobbed on my bed, where I had to lie for hours to recover from the physical effort of going to her office.

There's a lot of trauma associated with almost dying. I definitely have my share of it. But the trauma doesn't overwrite the actual, physical damage to my brain - damage that you can still see on an MRI, years later. I came within inches of death, or, if not death, within inches of living my life in a permanent care facility, drawing the same things over and over, presenting them to my family with pride, and not understanding why they looked like they wanted to cry.

I think I'm allowed to be freaked out by that, and angry at the medical system that failed me, and to sometimes be so cratered with mourning for the person that I was that the whole world seems to be overshadowed. And I also think I'm allowed to flip the bird at anyone and everything who tries to stop me from doing whatever the hell I want with the brain and time I have left.

I don't feel like a ghostwriter, exactly. I try to think of myself as a phoenix, when I let myself think about it at all. Almost everything I had burned down with me when I got sick. I had to rebuild, and I had to rebuild without really remembering or understanding the person who'd come before.

I don't have a good conclusion. It's awful to have to sit in the ashes of who you were and try to move forward. I have enormous respect for Joy for continuing to write Hunger Pangs after what she went through. I don't know that I could have done it. I survived this by dropping everything the old me had done and starting over.

I hope tomorrow's better - for you, for me, for all the people like us who sometimes look in the mirror and think, who are you? I hope one day we find peace.

I was thinking about this a lot yesterday, but one of the things I really struggle with post almost dying in 2019, was how almost every medical provider focused on the effects of the trauma and not the actual physical fallout.

Like, yes. It was immensely traumatic and trauma profoundly affects the brain, but with hindsight (and by hindsight I mean I’ve been grinding my gears over this for the last four years) I can’t help but feel the ball got lobbed over the “mental health” fence a little too quickly.

I had fucking hypoxia, for God’s sake.

Why was no one more concerned that I can’t remember things or that my skill level as a writer and editor dropped substantially in the aftermath. (I’ve gradually regained most of it, but there are still things I have to pause and look up that were once second nature to me. I hate it. It’s traumatic every time it happens because there’s just a blank hole where Knowledge used to be and God dammit I worked hard for that and now it’s tumbleweed.)

And I know the answer is Covid. I know the world shut down just as I started getting answers and I’m one of the lucky ones because I’m still here. But fuck me. I don’t know how they expected me to CBT and mindfulness my way out of that one.

#cw death #cw mental health #cw illness #chronically ill #personal post

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therubberotter · 2 years ago

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The circus is in town! I'm not too into that kind of show, but they don't use animals, and I find this particular one quite cute :)

This week has been too much.

Last weekend I started feeling a bit off, and by Monday I had already developed a full-blown cold. It wouldn't be that bad, but I'm a teacher and I need to use my voice. Also, due to my thyroid operations, one of my main nerved surrounding it became damaged, and one of my vocal chords paralysed.

Now, I'm at severy risk of choking everytime something like this affects my throat. It triggers the damaged nerve and closes my throat almost entirely. And it's happened several times over the week. Some of them in front of my coworkers :/

Also, this was PET scan week, so I had appointments every day of the week. But I managed! Thyrogen really kicked my ass this time, though. By Friday, the combo of thyrogen+cold+mild toothache+waking up very early each and every day+low grade fever got the best of me. I just wanted to curl up and cry.

However, thanks to my dad and mum and their help I pushed through it all. Had the last blood draw, took my tablets, and I felt much better! Then, my dad took me to my old faculty for breakfast. I had a blast exploring the building and calling back old memories. I love that place! Being able to spend some quality time with dad was also lovely. We ate, talked, and listened to some music together in his car. And then he took me to my mental health appointment.

That also went well. The antidepressants are helping a lot, so unless I feel poorly again, I just need to do follow ups with my GP.

BTW, thyrogen was awful, but the nurses were some amazing people. The second day, I just sat there waiting for my shot and nobody called me. When they realised I had been sitting there for a while, we started laughing because they had thought I was a student! I felt flattered, to be honest xD

The PET scan was A experience. Had to be there an hour early so they could give me a special medicine because apparently I'm too small :/ and I spent the whole scan holding back my cough...damn cold again!

But I have survived!! My students have finished all their exams now (though I got MAD at one of the other teachers for messing up my answer sheets and at my students for nor telling me). I gave it all during storytelling on Friday. I'm surprised at myself for finding it so enjoyable! I even kept making funny voice despite my sore throat!

Also, I made some delicious pan pizza on Tuesday, and I've been enjoying the winter sun and looking after our garden. Look at those flowers on our nut tree!

Long and eventful week, indeed! I'll be resting a lot this weekend, see if I can get rid of this cold at once. 🔮

#my ramblings #studyblr #crohn’s disease #health diary #thyroid cancer #thyca #thyrogen #chronically ill

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imagine--if · 2 years ago

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I think Eddie would be ridiculously smothering in the most mother hen way possible. He notices the reader is cold? They now have 10 blankets wrapped around them and he's making them hot tea. They forgot to eat breakfast that morning? Expect concerned gentle scolding and a large sandwich to be made for them immediately or he'll pull in to the nearest fast food restaurant. The reader has a mild cold? He acts as though it's pneumonia and refuses to let them lift a finger. They have a papercut? He goes through a five step process of cleaning it and bandaging it up. If the reader enjoys cooking he's perpetually paranoid they will either burn or cut themself he can't stand it. He refuses to let any harm come to his precious angel

A/N: Okay first of all, @ghostdoodlen, I love you for drawing this for me 😍 one of many people that made my day, thank you!!

•❤ Edward sees you as an angel that has no place in such a city as Gotham City. It's hell to him, and you're his piece of heaven, so he treats you like royalty, which includes looking after you as well as he can. You can't be unhappy when you're staying with your soulmate! So don't worry, angel, he'll provide!

•❤ He hates the cold, because it reminds him of the dark, lonely nights of the orphanage, where it was always cold and harsh. If you ever felt that, he'd drive himself mad, so there are thick, fluffy blankets just for you to huddle under while you're working on your laptop or something. Another option is for him to scoop you up and put you in his lap, and Eddie will happily warm you up himself. It also gives him an excuse to hug you close, his nose buried in your hair, pressing small kisses to your head every so often.

•❤ Edward buys whatever foods you prefer, and they instantly become his favourite too. He'll always get pumpkin pie though, cus that's his thing, and makes sure you're fed well. If you like cooking, he'll watch you adoringly, or join in and get you to tell him what to do. Seeing the stability of his idea of the perfect small family that he never had but always heard of makes him want to cry. Ed will always be lurking around to make sure you don't burn yourself or anything by accident though, since he's paranoid that the smallest thing could hurt you. He won't let it happen.

•❤ But if there was the tiniest injury like a papercut, he'll sit on the floor opposite you and treat it as tenderly as you'll ever see, or dote on you with loving concern if you get a cold or hay fever. Eddie hates to see you feeling down or hurt, because you're Gotham's undeserved purity! You're his life! You're not supposed to or allowed to feel bad.

•❤ Anyone in Gotham would think that someone who terrorises and kills with confusing, complex riddles and extreme methods would be horrible to be trapped with, but when you're staying safely up in his apartment with his attentive, hopeful eyes and clingy, affection nature, it's pretty much a luxury life 🥰️

.・ Taglist: ・.

@simestandswithtaylorswift-blog @carley-carley-carley @lostbunn @dencchan @dragovegogrimborn @i-wished-upon-a-star-one-night @edwardspumpkinpie @murderbimbo00 @sweetums0kitty @beel-mcburger @cml-san @jervis-tetch-my-beloved @r4iner @bimboanime @phoenixgurl030 @vaylordd @dangerouslittlefairy @katjourno @yoyoanaria @yaeyuuki @vinxlsketches @beenz-beenz @ghoulsgraveyard @birds-have-teeth @repostingmyfavs @r3ptiliaaa @for3v3rda1sy @glitterycheesecakegladiator @moonwritesblog @lilyevans1 @httpsunflowers @hxney-lemcn @confusedchildsstuff @callsigncrash @sugahbabieexo @bokksieu @skateb0red @wilburrrsworld @philiasoul @darthcringe @felicityofbakerstreet @bloodypantomime @deadlights-darling @tianotfound @mortem-muse @ireadandream @tinyryder @kpopgirlbtssvt @truecobblepot @jessicainhell

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bonny-kookoo · 4 years ago

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Rabbit Boy | JJK x Reader | 🔞

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Wordcount: 10.3k (Long)

Genre: Romance, Friends/strangers to lovers, Smut, BDSM because I'm making that a genre now

Tags/Warnings: BDSM themes (please I'm begging you stop reading my shit if it makes you uncumfortable), mentions of restrainment, light shibari, edging, orgasm denial (very mild), Subspace, Domspace because yes thats a thing, Dom/sub dynamics, Biting, Oral (m and f receiving), riding, and not the horseback kind if you know what I mean, protected sex yes, we love an organized household, there's just so much sweet filth istg

Summary: Jungkook is wild, untamed, and doesn't really commit to anyone for long. But maybe, you're his only exception in this world. Maybe, you're really that perfect partner he's been looking for.

Jungkook likes to think of himself as an artist.

Sure, if people knew exactly what the young man does in his freetime (or as a side job, don't judge, we all want to make money out of our hobbies stop lying to yourself), they would surely look at him differently.

But he's an artist, nonetheless.

Technically, Jungkook also doesn't need to do what he does simply for the money. No, his main job pays very well- considering that he's one of the top elite in his genre of games. He doesn't just merely play and win a game; Jungkook, just like most things he touches, claims complete ownership of the match he's fighting. It's a well known fact that he's someone who likes things for himself. He loves control, craves to lead, and hates to be belittled.

Oh and yeah- financially, investing in an indie-game three years back had also done his bank account some good.

Now, at an age where he can be fully considered a man, and not a boy anymore, he craves control in different aspects of life- and love.

Jungkook has a problem however.

He's wild.

Not in the way one might think he is (although several people could argue that yes, that's also the case in bed..) but generally. He loves to control- but he hates to be tied down.

And a mindset like that doesn't work well with relationships.

He's had them before, don't get him wrong. He's had numerous in the past, but they all either broke apart because he would hold that particular desire back, making him antsy and moody, or he would welcome his partners into his world, and become uncomfortable with the way things would progress.

No, he doesn't want to experiment. He knows exactly what he wants, and if that means he's 'close-minded' and a bad person, then so be it for him.

He never liked the constant company in his apartment anyways.

"Ah, I've seen her before. She's usually a regular for Yoongi though." Taehyung says, checking a name for Jungkook, who's doodling on a napkin while he waits for his new appointment to show up. "I see. I forgot that Yoongi took some days off recently- that's probably why she's now under your hand." He explains, and Jungkook huffs, his blonde hair tickling his cheek.

"So I'll have to adjust? I mean, Yoongi's style is pretty different from mine." The young man says, not looking up. He simply continues his little sketch of braided hair, while the lanky guy behind the counter clicks away on his laptop.

"Probably? I can't check the logs since they're private, but from what I know Yoongi only did the usual with her." he explains, shrugging as he looks at his friend and colleague. "I can re-schedule her to Hoseok if you want?" He asks, and Jungkook, after finishing his drawing, lets the pen fall and stretches.

"Yeah, that would probably be best. Wouldn't know what to do if she drops- rather not have him rip my head off, thanks." He says, before he gets up.

"Ah- you're still coming over tonight right? Y/N said she's gonna cook for us." He says, and Jungkooks body shivers a little.

Your name is nothing new to him, but the reaction to it most certainly was. You're a friend of Yoongi and Hoseok, having joined in on their gaming nights a few months ago after Yoongi had insisted you couldn't stay alone on a christmas day. Jungkook had never really asked why you were alone in the first place, but he had never really cared much for it either. Sure, you were an absolute gem to look at; technically absolutely his type, but he had early on decided not to pursue anything at all with you. He knew friendship wouldn't stay friendship with you, his own hunger way too large to simply be satiated by platonic gestures-

and he was also sure you wouldn't be able to handle him, truly. The conversation with Jimin, one of your best friends, had changed nothing about that. Because he didn't know you well enough to quite know if you were only bark and no bite- or if you were genuinely craving the same things he did.

But most recently, there had been a change in his opinion on you. Because he had seen you, come out of this place, out of Yoongis studio.

You knew about all of this- and you were still around.

Nothing had changed.

Now, of course he had instantly poked holes into the poor guy about if he had ever played with you before- and the answer he had gotten, had made him even more interested and antsy to get closer to you.

Because while you trusted Yoongi with everything you had, he had never done anything with you. You had simply been interested in watching a scene unfold- and had told him that you were definitely interested in participating. The reason Jungkook couldn't ask you directly was a clear one-

You were majorly intimidated by him, to the point of, he had never really had a proper conversation with you. Partially, he had to admit, because he himself didn't want to involve himself too much with you.

He’d always asked himself; wouldn’t you be even more distant and reserved with him if you knew this side of him? Sure, you always joked around that he probably tied his girls up and edged them until they cried- but did you know that he genuinely enjoyed these things?

Relationships for him were mere covers to call the arrangements he had with the girls that came and went in his life in a constant changing matter. Deep down, no one night stand could satisfy his most carnal desires, and he was very well aware of that. But he rather took what he could get and lived a fever dream for a few moments than stay on his own simply because his idea of pleasure and sex was not the norm.

No, he refused to deny himself that.

Maybe it was because he’d always lived a rather lavish life- with his parents well off and his own career skyrocketing he never really had any worries like you have had in the past. For some odd reason, while looking at the soft red rope in his hands, his thoughts suddenly went astray; he knew he could give you the stability you oh so craved, in every way shape and form. You were a diamond simply waiting to be perfected- you had so much potential, knowing that you were secretly wandering around the same paths as he did made him even more frustrated.

The hints were there, they were obvious; from the way you had sighed out in bliss when he’d teasingly pulled your hair just hours ago, to the sinful confessions he’d heard that night when he overheard you and jimin by accident. Of course he’d maybe wasted a thought or two of you underneath him to humor him once or twice- but now with the rope in his hands, his mind immediately began painting pictures of it against your skin. Would you enjoy it? And what if he took your sight, or only bound your hands? What if he denied you to cum, or if he took you from behind, grabbing your hair and pushing down your spine to make it arch so prettily- never with the intend to hurt, of course. He knew he’d have to tame you first, make you submit, but then again, he loved the challenge.

You made even the idea of touching fun.

He wouldn't even have to undress you to fully get himself worked up, he was sure of that. Only seeing you bow to his very command would be enough to satisfy him. Of course, over the course of time he would lead you deeper and deeper into his rabbit hole, but he would take it slow for you.

So, with a smile, and a wave of his hand, he walked past the girl he knew had been his appointment- grinning at Taehyung. "Of course I'll be there."

He wouldn't dare miss a night with you.

You were stressing. A little.

Maybe.

Maybe a lot.

Everything would've been fine if they guys would've all come over. But due to the bad weather, and Taehyungs bad habit of never properly fixing his god-forsaken dumpster of a car, only one of them would be able to make it. And of course the one had to be Jeon Jungkook.

Just great.

Now, it wasn't like you didn't like the guy, no way. The problem was more, that he was on the exact opposite of that spectrum. You had a major crush on him, which felt like the plot to a really bad drama show you would watch drunk at night- and in a way, it really felt like one too. Because you were pretty sure, he didn't even know your name.

But oh well- apparently he knew more than that. More specifically, your phone number. And it had scared the shit out of you at first to receive a message from him because how the hell did he get your number, but then again you remembered that one of your connections was Kim Taehyung- and everyone knew what he knew.

It was the doorbell that ripped you out of your skin almost.

You didn't even change, deciding any effort would be too late anyways; and you were still heavily confused in the first place why the fuck he would come over alone, even though you two had never exchanged much more than a friendly hello and goodbye. But there he was, as you opened the door- soft, white hoodie and ripped jeans, a bit damp from the rain outside as you let him inside.

He didn't move.

"Uh-" You started, but he just looked at you, friendly as ever, although a teasing glint in his eye made you frown a bit.

He thought it was cute.

"You didn't tell me to come in." He said, and you blinked once, twice, before your brain had properly restarted.

"Oh uh- come in?" You said, again, moving a bit to the side so he could walk in- which he still didn't. "Jungkook come on now its fucking cold-!" You whined, and he laughed, finally stepping inside. Had he always been like that? Could very well be the case, after all, you had never truly paid much attention to his behavior before.

"Thanks for letting me come over." He said, and you watched him as he untied his boots. "I had nothing else to do- and also, I didn't want you to waste any food, considering Tae said you cooked for us." He explained, before he got up again from his half kneeling position, boots now standing next to your significantly smaller shoes.

"Ah, it would've been fine, you guys don't have to feel bad." You waved off, smiling. "I was about to stop cooking anyways when Jimin had texted me, but well, then you did and uhm.." You drifted off, noticing how you were suddenly waiting for him to lead the way.

In your own apartment.

What the hell?

If he noticed however, he didn't show it. He simply smiled, and moved his hands inside the front pocket of his hoodie. "Ah, thanks. I appreciate it, really." He said, and you smiled at him as well, walking towards the main area of your apartment. It was small, very small compared to his own, but he enjoyed the feeling of it. Everything around him reminded him of you, in a way; from the pictures taped to the walls, to the stickers on your fridge. It all held a piece of you in it. "Your apartment is really nice, by the way." He commented, and you turned around, before getting plates and cutlery to bring inside the living room.

"Ah, right, it's your first time here." You said. "Thanks- the living room is right around the corner there, you can just sit down and I'll bring everything there." You explained, and he smiled, nodding without arguing.

You liked that.

Typically, there would've been this awkward 'oh no let me help you', but Jungkook didn't seem to dwell on it much, letting you do your thing instead of butting in and making things weird. He simply walked where you had directed him, sitting down on the couch as he went to place a blanket to the side. His fingers moved over the fabric for a moment, noticing how everything on the couch, including the pillows, were made of that same, soft material.

Interesting.

"Oh- you can just put that to the side, sorry I forgot to clean that up." You said, putting the food onto the table as he just smiles again. He waits for you to sit down as well before you turn up the TV volume a little, nerves finally setting in as you notice there's almost nothing you can talk to him about. "This is awkward." You comment, and he chuckles at that swallowing his bite as he looks at you.

"Doesn't have to be." He states, before he turns his body a bit more into your direction; a visible sign that he wants a conversation. "Tae has never mentioned what you do for a living." He states, an unasked question of his. He lets you decide if you want to take it as one or leave it as a statement- it makes you feel nice, in a way.

"Ah uh.. it's really boring, so I guess I never really talk about it either.." You say, and he tilts his head a little, a silent urging for you to continue. You feel insignificant next o him and his job however. He's superior to you in any way, and you don't want him to feel pity or laugh at you for your job. "I uh.. I'm a programmer for a.. pretty unknown game studio." You say, body almost shrinking in on itself as you wait for his reaction. Much to your surprise however, he makes a sound that's purely surprise, as he swallows his bite with a bit of urgency.

"Fuck really?! That's so cool though!" He argues, brows furrowed a bit as he playfully accuses you with his next words. "Indie or not, a programmer is the main force of any game. Did you work on any games I might know of?" He asks, eyes sparkling as he realizes he had finally found something to bond with you over.

"Uh.. 'Rabbit Boy' was our best hit until now.." You say, still a bit shy, but you're also a tad more confident now. His reaction is either well-staged, or he's genuinely interested in what you do.

"I played it I think. It was a bit short, but I loved the mechanics." He says, and before he can quite stop himself, his hand has already reached out to you, running over your hair as he praises you like second nature. "Wuah, so smart!" He says, before he gets a reaction he wouldn't have thought he'd get from shy-you.

Because you playfully shove him, your socked feet pushed against the side of his thigh as you giggle at him.

Interesting, again.

Now, Jimin has actually told him about this before. How you were anything but the shy girl when you were around people you knew and trusted. He had believed it- to an extend- because he had also thought that maybe you were like that to prove your spot between those guys. As the only girl, you easily got thrown under the bus, so you had to somehow own your spot in the midst of your circle of friends.

However, it seemed like you were truly just a brat, hiding behind that innocent facade of yours. A barking dog, with every intent to bite if needed.

And Jungkook knew, he'd love to tame you, show you your spot, and make you his prey.

The trashy movie your watching bores you, in a way. Jungkook has noticed this already, having taken note of your feet wiggling around, your teeth nibbling on the inside of your cheek, as you rest your cheek on your hand, elbow resting on the side of the couch.

“I don’t know why she’s so hesitant.” You mutter, pouting as you slump into the couch- uncaring that the side of your body now leans against his own. He feels your warmth- and for some reason it brings him comfort to notice that you’re seemingly growing more at ease. “I mean, it’s what she’s into, right?” You say, brows furrowed as you watch the screen.

“It’s not that simple.” Jungkook explains, trying to not make it obvious that he’s not necessarily talking about the movie. “Some men like to you know.. fight for a partner. Impress them. Win them over.” He explains, and he can feel you shift a little- until your head raises a bit, watching him as he watches you; gazes locked, and you can’t look away. You’re shy, you’re growing restless, but his eyes are like magnets; there’s no way you can avert your gaze.

“And.. you?” You ask, voice not loud at all, as if you don’t even notice you’re saying it. He loves that- loves the fact that you’re slowly letting him closer- not only physically.

“I like to earn my spot in their lives.” He states, and your mind suddenly begins to spin. You’ve always seen him as someone who doesn’t care much about emotions or feelings, or relationships for that matter. And maybe he doesn’t- maybe he just says this because he knows your weak spots. But the way his words fall into your ears makes you believe him. “I like to see my partner thrive; I love to see them grow. And..” he says, boldly deciding to slowly reach out his hand that was placed on the back of the couch- his fingers running through your hair, only brushing through, never pulling (no matter how much you’re craving it secretly). “I love to see them let go.” He humms out, and there’s a sudden shiver down your back, one that he definitely notices.

This is it. This is where you’ll let him touch you, let him wreck you, let him ruin you. You lean in closer, and so does he, but just when your lips are about to touch, he smiles gently- a warm affectionate gesture that you’ve never seen from him. And with it being directed at you, it’s even more meaningful- but it’s all about his next move, the way his inked fingers trace your cheek, before he speaks.

“You’re not ready yet.”

And with that, he turns back to the TV.

You huff, and it's the first time you know exactly what you're doing. You knew from Yoongi what Jungkook did in his freetime- you knew that this stuff was his expertise. Defeated, you looked down towards your knees, as your thoughts start to grow more and more frustrated. He probably didn't even see you like that, having only visited you out of pity, and not because he wanted to see you.

You were probably already friendzoned, and he was too nice to outright say it into your face. It made your emotions turn sour as the situation grew more and more awkward for you.

"What're you thinking about?" He asks, and you don't answer. What was there to say anyways? You really didn't want to have this weird conversation where he would tell you that oh yeah you're a nice girl, but he's not the right guy, the usual stuff you've already heard time and time again. "Y/N." He says, his voice dropping a little, but you only chew on the inside of your cheek again, eyes moving towards the TV screen. You didn't want to talk- you just hoped he would now sigh and get up, leaving so you could forget about all of this. You could maybe fake being sick for the next week or so to avoid him, yeah, that would be enough time to gloss over this entire situation. But he only clicks his tongue, hands suddenly moving your legs as he moves your body to face him.

Looking at his face is your first mistake.

His eyes are dark and almost angry, irritated as he looks as you. His jaw is clenched, and his hands stay on your knees for a moment, before he's sure enough that he has your attention. Only then does he speak, his voice nowhere near as soft and light as it had been before. "I know what you're thinking, and I don't like it." He says, and that's when you make your second mistake.

"Can we not right now? You don't know shit." You say, and he stares you down for a moment, until his head tilts a slight bit, eyes growing predatory as the corners of his lips tilt upwards. It resembles a small smile, yes, but it's not meant to be one. No, the first thing you have to think about is a wolf snarling at you, ready to put his packmate into their place for acting out.

It makes your spine tingle.

"Hm, maybe, but we can be classy about it, no?" He asks, and you scoff, trying to move your legs away from him, as he scans you.

At this point, he can see clearly that you're testing him.

So he gets up promptly, moving you around so you're standing in front of him. His inked hand finds your hair, gripping without mercy as he pulls your head back, your gaze now forced to stay on his as he calmly speaks. "You think I'm not into you like that- and you're as wrong as you could ever get." He says, biting his tongue as to not let a petname slip. He'd love to use them, but he knows that it's not yet time. That would be foul play, in a way; he doesn't want to seduce you.

He wants to make you understand.

"Trust me when I say I'd love to just throw you over my legs to spank that attitude out of you right now." He explains, and you whine- not in pain, but simply as a reaction to his confession. "But you don't know what you're getting yourself into." He continues, and pulls a bit to interrupt your next words. You know that you can get free any second you want to- but for some reason, there's no urge to do so. "You think of this as some game to play, you think of yourself as someone who can take all of it at once, but you don't even get the simplest and most important things about this entire thing." You swallow, as you stay still, finally giving up your fight as he relaxes the grip he still has on you. "Even now, it's not me controlling this situation. Its you." He says, letting go of you as his hands rest on your cheeks, eyes searching for any clues of discomfort. Only when he finds none, does he continue. "I will only ever have as much control over you as you're willing to give to me." He smiles again, this time, warm and comforting. "If you're really willing to do this, we will do this right. You'll have to trust me first, and I'll have to get to know you fully first, before anything else happens. Understood?" He asks.

And you nod.

"Do you know what you just agreed to?" He chuckles, and, shyly, you shake your head.

"See?" He grins, breaking skincontact with you. "You're not ready yet."

His brows furrow when he sees you sitting on the counter, Taehyung talking to you. "What're you doing here?" He asks, and you pout, as Taehyung moves away, not wanting to get involved into anything this time. "Stop that face. We talked about this last week, why're you here now?" He asks, and you tilt your head innocently.

"Maybe I'm here for Yoongi?" You say, and his eyes grow darker for a second, before he composes himself.

"Good try, but he's still off work." He states, and you deflate a bit.

"I just.. wanted to see, I guess." You say, and he smiles a bit impishly.

"Oh? I mean, I have a scene in twenty minutes.." He asks, and internally, you cringe. No, you don't want to see him screw or even touch another woman in the ways you secretly want him to touch you instead. No, you're technically here to maybe talk him into show you at least a little bit. But it doesn't seem like he'll cave in anytime soon, so you sigh out.

"Okay, okay, I'll see you around, I guess." You say, hopping down from the counter before you take a step towards the exit.

"Ah well, I'll drive you home then." He states, and you grow confused as he leans against the counter. "Seeing as my scheduled appointment wants to leave, I have time off." He states, and you skin tingles. "Come on now, before I change my mind." He states, as he walks you outside again, leading you towards his car.

"I didn't mean to turn up so.. I don't know. Sorry." You said, and he gets into the drivers seat, shaking his head.

"I can understand you, trust me." He says, as he starts the engine and drives off. "If you're okay with it, I'd like to get something from my apartment, and then drive to yours." He says, and you tilt your head.

"Why not to the studio, or your place?" You ask, and he nods.

"While those are places I feel comfortable, they're unfamiliar to you. It's best if we start in a place that's comforting and gives you a sense of security." He states, and you nod.

Jungkook, in your eyes, never really seemed as mature as he's acting in those moments. It's as if he switches every time you two change topics; any time this particular one comes up, his mood changing into a serious one. Now, you're not stupid, you know the risks- and of course you had somewhat done your research online about the damages that could occur during all of this. And there's also the not too little chance it really isn't something for you after all- and in a way, that scares you. Because you want jungkook, but what if you don't want.. this?

Instead of voicing that out, you simply keep quiet as he gets out the car, and inside again after fetching what looks like an overnight bag. "You're staying over?" You ask, and he simply throws it on to the backseat.

"Maybe. We'll see." He says, and you don't question him as he drives. "Let's get something to eat. What're you craving?" He asks, as he keeps his attention on the road. He notices how you seem to think, already able to practically see the gears turning inside your head. "Don't think about what I could want. I asked what you want." He says, calmly, and so soft, that you simply let your words out.

"Tae usually get's me food.." You start, and Jungkook nods, as if understanding. You watch him smile a little.

"Let's get some junk food and eat it in the car." He simply states, and you nod, happy that he seemingly really did get what you were trying to say. For you, things like these were almost like rituals- like you and tae getting random icecream just to hurry home every time to not have it melt.

Maybe this would become a memory only for you and Jungkook.

"You're nervous." Jungkook says, speaking out what's obvious. You don't know what he'll do, you're confused whats in his bag- you're nervous, just like he said. "Why is that?" He asks, casually sitting on your bed with you. He had earlier told you not to panic-clean it; he was not there to be impressed. He was simply a visitor for now, nothing more, nothing less. You shrugged. There were a lot of reasons you were nervous. "If you want this to work, I need to have proper communication with you. Guessing will get me nowhere." He says, but his voice is not upset. He's simply informing you.

"I.. don't know what you'll do?" You say, and He smiles, sitting more comfortably, as he shows you his open hands.

"I'm not gonna do anything for the moment." He tells you, and you shrug.

"But wasn't that the plan?" You ask him.

"What would you want me to do then?" He asks instead, not answering your question. He's testing you, he want's to know if you really are aware of everything. He's also not only asking you about what you want him to do to you- but with you, as well. He was unsure if you wanted to romantically involve yourself with him, or simply explore something new at his side.

He's afraid he'd be okay with either, just because its you.

"Are you going to tie me up?" You ask, and Jungkook grins, before he laughs. You're growing shy, unsure, and he instantly makes sure you know he's simply laughing about what you said, not about you. His hand holds yours- and it's weirdly reassuring.

"No, although I can imagine you looking very pretty in that position." He says. "No, come here." He says, lays down on the bed, and you stay where you are, with reasonable distance between you two. "I want you to come as close to me as you feel comfortable. Don't force it- take your time. I'm not expecting anything, please remember that." He tells you calmly, not looking at you to give you mental distance from him as well. His eyes are actually closed, his body relaxed.

You don't move for a moment. You want to test how long he can really play this patient role- but after around five or ten minutes, he's still not moving. He's not even saying anything, and you're unsure if he's asleep or not.

There's only one way to find out.

You carefully lay down a little away from him, on your side, simply looking at him. It's weird to see him like that; you've always imagined him to be a very dominant and demanding person, from what you've heard and seen of him. But Jungkook doesn't feel like any of the guys you've been with; he also doesn't feel like Taehyung, or Yoongi, or Hoseok.. Jungkook, weirdly enough, feels comfortable. He's relaxed, and laid back, and still has that slight glint of power over you.

You move closer, your curiosity getting the best of you as scenes and pictures of him holding you fill your head. Is he even a cuddler? You can't imagine him being all soft and sweet for gestures like that, but then again, you didn't really think you'd ever be in a situation like this either. Maybe you were judging a book by its cover.

He smells nice- that's one of the first things you notice once you get closer. One of his arms is stretched out to the side- his tattooes visible, but partially hidden by his sweater sleeve. You want to look at them, so you test the waters- by touching his arm, just a small poke with your finger. You can see the corners of his lips twitch; he's definitely awake. You move his arm a little, inside facing you as you get a detailed look at his artworks. They're detailed, they fit him, the dark Ink a stark contrast to his skin.

His sweater seems soft.

You slowly lay down again, your head resting on his biceps as you simply lay for a moment.

This is nice.

You feel more and more bold with every minute that passes, not even minding the way he sometimes moves around. You're growing at ease, so much so, that you simply throw all hesitation out of the window, and cuddle up to him. one of your hands is on his chest, while your head rests ontop of the inside of his shoulder.

This is really nice.

"Are you falling asleep?" He asks, voice not loud at all, as his arm moves, palm resting on your forearm as he holds you. You don't mind it- you feel relaxed enough to really actually do fall asleep- so you nod. "That's good." He tells you.

"But didn't you bring stuff to try?" you ask, and Jungkook nods.

"We got time. A small nap is always a good idea." He tells you, and you simply nod- making him smile.

He's glad.

Because by falling asleep on him like that, you don't even know how much you've complimented him at all. You're relaxed enough around him, comfortable enough to let him close to you in a vulnerable state such as sleep. It makes him wonder how far you'd let him go- would you let anyone get so close so quickly? A sudden rush of protectiveness curses through his body, fills him up, as he swears he can't let you go now. No, what if someone else gets you like this? What if someone takes advantage of your open mind like that? He doesn't even want to imagine.

Jungkook really has it bad.

You slowly wake up to a bit of weight on your face. "jungkook what're you doing?" you giggle, and he chuckles as well as he takes the hand away from over your eyes. He looks well rested, with his eyes still not fully open.

"Nothing." He says. "Just teasing." He says, but of course, nothing he does is just random teasing. Everything he does is calculated- it's to test you, to study you, to make sure he gets to know you. "Are you hungry?" He asks instead.

"Not for food."

He has to let that process for a moment, until he laughs. He's really got it with you, he thinks, as he suddenly moves, eyes dark, while he's now ontop of you, his hands holding your wrists. Expecting you to look surprised, he finds none of that however. It intrigues him, the way you don't seem to be nervous or fearful at all. It makes him wonder what you'd really do to him if he was to advance in ways he wanted to. "Careful, sweetheart." He says, and your eyes sparkle with a silent challenge.

"Or what?"

His grip gets a bit tighter at that, eyes a bit darker. "Someone's eager." He says lowly. "Don't you think you're biting off more than you can chew right now?" He asks, before he clicks his tongue, slowly falling into his own headspace. He knows however not to let himself slip. "Give me a random word." He asks, demands, and you say whatever finds your mind in that moment.

"Bunny." You say.

He raises his eyebrow for a second, but doesn't question it. "I want you to say that, loud and clear, as soon as you feel uncomfortable." He lectures you seriously. "It doesn't matter what it is. Physically, or mentally, or if you simply don't want me to continue because. I need you to tell me that you will say it." His gaze is intense, and you nod. "I promise you; I'll never get mad, or upset, or angry, or disappointed with you. My ego isn't worth your safety." He humms out at the end, and your eyes soften.

He notices it instantly, and it affects him more than he'd like to admit.

"I promise I'll say it if I need to." You tell him, and he grows comfortable again.

"Can I touch you?" He asks, softly, and you nod, before verbally answering him with a yes. "Remember; I'll only ever have as much power and control over you as you will give me." He mumbles, head now dipped down to ghost his lips over the skin of your neck. "But once you give it to me-" He says, his knee situating itself in between your legs to spread them in a silent command. "-I won't give it back." He growls, before he bites down, releasing the skin after hearing your delicate mewl, kissing the spot as if to apologize.

He's not sorry.

"Let me ask you.." He says, feeling you rut against his leg that's pressed against your center. "what do you really want from me?" He asks, and you open your eyes, movements slowly coming to a halt as you notice the way he looks at you.

He almost looks uncertain.

"I.." You want him. You know that- you want all of his bad habits and weird quirks. You want to get to know him and everything that comes with it. Hell, he was the main reason you even got into the entire scene in the first place. "You." You say, deciding its best to practice honesty.

"Me?" He asks, genuinely a little confused.

You nod. "Yeah. You." You say. It's a little weird, the whole situation, but you don't mind it. Your hands slowly slip out of his grasp, before they instead intertwine their fingers with his. He feels weirdly caught off guard by the gesture- his past encounters and relationships never having included things like these. So much so, that Jungkook genuinely believed those things to be simple movie-gestures. Overdone, and not realistic. "Like uhm.. if you want to. If you just want to, you know, I.. guess I'd be okay with that too-" You say, looking away, as Jungkook answers.

"I want you too." He answers, eyes searching yours for any glimmer of dishonesty. But he doesn't find it- there is none. There's just you. "I really want you too." He murmurs out, getting closer, before he lets himself loose, his lips finding yours.

He's never been a fan of kissing, but he can very much already imagine kissing you for hours.

Its not just you letting go in that moment, its him too.

Because unbeknownst to you, he's not just opening you a door to his world of unspoken fantasies-

He's also opening his heart as well.

Your first time together is slow and comfortable.

It happens just a day after you had both decided to pursue an actual relationship with one another. He's gentle, careful, but not hesitant. He's exploring.

Inside of his head, he notes down every noise and every twitch of muscle. You sigh as he eats you out, the small ponytail of his unable to hold onto all of his hair as his eyes are partially hidden behind the blonde strands. He's watching you, his fingers having already stretched you out, but then he sits up. You whine, with him having stolen your release for a second time. "Let's play a little, yeah?" He says with an amused yet calm tone. You're already unable to do much about your position; your wrists bound to your bed over your head, carefully tied knots comfortable against your skin, as long as you don't pull. "Legs open." He calls out as you try and close them, and you whine again; testing his patience as you still go ahead and disobey his command. He watches, moves forward, before he pulls them apart again. "You want to cum, no?" He asks, and you nod, frustratedly so. "I wonder what made you think you've earned that reward from me." He tells you, eyes scanning your form as you pull on your restraints a little. He's not fully into his own headspace yet- he's still very much on high alert to notice any signs of discomfort coming from you.

He has to learn just as much as you do.

"You're lucky you're so sweet." He says, before he crawls closer again, his hand on your center, as he enters you with two fingers. Its not enough, but then his thumb draws circles on your clit- and you're approaching, quickly. "Hm? Won't you cum?" And then you say it.

"Can I?"

It's so desperate, so needy, so submissive, that it sends a chill down his spine. He moves closer, kisses your neck, as he can't help but let the rush of it get to him. He is, after all, just as desperate for release. No matter if its his, or yours.

"Such a good girl, of course you can." He tells you. "What a sweet one, such good manners.." He teases playfully, and you tug at your restraints as you come undone under his hands. He unties your wrists and you're holding onto him as soon as you're free, and he lets you hold onto him in your post orgasmic bliss.

Its after a moment that you realize it.

"Wait-" You say, sitting up to look at him. "You- I mean, you didn't get to-" You start, but Jungkook waves it off.

"Its fine, really." He tells you, and you know he's serious. "I'll just wait until it goes down, or take care of it in your bathroom if thats okay with you." He says, patting the side next to him to lay down on. "Come here." He asks, and you comply, before you speak again.

"You.." You start, not looking at him. "Could just take care of it here." You say. "Or I could.." you start, and he looks at you.

"Do you want that, or do you only feel like you have to?" He asks, and you shrug. You take some time, before you answer.

You've seen most of Jungkook until now. From his strong arms, his back, his inked skin, to his thighs and legs. You have seen all- but that. And you've never really considered giving anything back in that way to anyone because of one single embarrassing moment- but with Jungkook, for some reason, you wanted to try.

"I want to." You say, and he nods. "But I don't know how.." You say, and he smiles reassuringly.

"I'll guide you." He tells you, before he scans your face. He's never really felt that desired- at least not in the way he does in that moment with you. "You can take it out for starters." He says, and you nod, before you hesitate a little.

Jungkook is nice, when it comes to that. He's patient, always lets you do the pacing for now, until you trust him enough. This is only the start, after all. You stay cuddled up to his side, but your hand ventures towards his sweats, where you can see his prominent erection still waiting. Slowly, you push the fabric down, both his sweats and boxers underneath- his hips lifting a bit to make it easier for you, until he's freed from his clothes.

You've never really thought much about looks when it came to that department, but Jungkook was, in each and every way, highly attractive. Now you knew, that there was literally nothing about him you didn't desire.

Your first touches are a little hesitant, testing the waters, and Jungkook tries not to react too much to it to give you time. Its when you start to move your hand however, that he closes his eyes, head now completely resting on the pillows beneath as he just decides to enjoy what you might give him. His hips twitch upwards a little after you'd run your thumb over the head, precum glistening while your hand uses it as lubricant to move more smoothly.

He sighs out.

And you grow bold at that, moving to sit up and escape out of his embrace, before you dip down to feed your curiosity. As your tongue touches his skin, his muscles contract, the action not expected since he didn't look what you were doing. You've been told once before that you're not.. the best at this- but Jungkook made you want to try. If you would've looked, you would've spotted the intense stare that Jungkook had been sending your way; mesmerized by the way you tucked your hair behind your ear oh so sweetly, before you let a drop of saliva escape from between your lips, taking him in soon after it had dropped onto his awaiting length.

You really were something else.

He'd gotten head time and time before, and it was never something he didn't like- but he'd also rarely ever cared that much emotionally about the person giving it to him. It's weird, how an emotional connection can make you so much more sensitive to things- such as in that moment, as your tongue moved over his skin while inside your warm mouth, lips heavenly on his cock.

He couldn't imagine what it would be like to be inside you.

There's nothing he could teach you, nothing he could tell you to do, as you moved, sucked and licked. He was breathing heavily already, his hand finding yours as you hold onto it. He sits up, can't help it, has to somehow touch you while you're not letting go of your task. His palm escapes your hand, rests on your head instead, runs through your hair before it grips a little. You moan, vibrations making him throw his head back as he groans out, feeling his end coming closer. "If you don't want to swallow, let go." He grits out, but you suck harder instead, and its when your hand finds his balls that he lets himself fall back onto the mattress beneath, shooting his load into your mouth as you swallow it down.

He's on cloud nine.

You're thoughtful enough to pull his underwear and pants back up, laying on your stomach next to him, waiting, watching, with impish eyes. He looks so radiant, so relaxed, so at ease. It fills you with a weird sense of pride; since in a way, its your doing. "Why did you tell me you don't know how to do that." He comments, rather than asks, slowly calming his breathing back down. His eyes open, hand pushing some hair out of your face. "Thank you. That was amazing." He says, and you shrug.

"Thanks for the compliment." You say, looking at him.

"I have a request." He says, and you nod. "Not like that." He teases, making you blush. "No, but seriously." Jungkook knows that you've been with other people before. It scares him to know that some of your experiences might not have been good- he knows some absolute horror stories Taehyung had told him. "I want you to take all that you've experienced with your former partners.. all those moments, emotions, bad memories, all of it." He tells you, hand now resting on your cheek- a gesture in which you lean into. "And throw them away. Forget them." He tells you.

"This is a new start, for both of us."

"How many clients have you been with?" You ask, casually sitting on the kitchen counter as Jungkook washes the dishes. Its your first night in his apartment, and you're more comfortable than you thought you'd be.

"None." He tells you, and you're ready to snort out a laugh, but he doesn't look at all like he's joking. Seeing your confusion, he continues while scrubbing a plate. "None of us actually have sex with our clients. Some only come to talk, really- others come to let go." He explains, and you nod. "I've never touched, nor been with someone intimately during a scene." He tells you.

"So you had scenes with your partners then?" You ask, and he shrugs.

"In the beginning, yeah." He admits, shrugging. "But I eventually gave up on it. It's not something a lot of people find very appealing. It all looks great in theory, but when practiced, most find its not for them." Draining the sink, he dries his hands on the dish towel, before putting it in its proper place.

"Could you.. imagine a relationship without it?" You ask, and he sighs, shaking his head.

"Not really." He looks at you after a moment. "Its who I am, and its how I love. I can't change that." He tells you, and you nod. Its understandable really, and you like that he has clear lines he likes to follow. It's weirdly comforting to know that he has his life so under control- its all you've ever wanted really.

It's something Jungkook might be able to give you.

It was weird, the feeling of the rope against your skin. He’d been right about it earlier; it wasn’t rough or itchy at all. But maybe that was just because it was him doing it. Maybe he was simply fogging up your senses.

It would make sense.

“Okay?” He humms out, voice gentle and calm while he stops his hands for a moment, palm on your shoulder where it warms up your skin. You’re unsure what okay really means- okay like, he’s finished? Or is he asking if you’re okay? Or is he asking for permission? “Speak to me- don’t just think.” He says, eyes watching you in such a manner that made your slightly trembling body calm down.

“I’m not sure what- what you mean by, okay.” You say, and he smiles, eyes roaming over your body for a moment, but surprisingly not in a way that would make you feel exposed. You’re almost naked, after all- only your most private parts hidden from his sight. You can see the very evident tent in his pants; but he doesn’t seem like he’s frustrated or fazed about it.

“Good Job telling me.” He says first and foremost, and you start to feel warm inside. “I was asking if you were okay. Do you remember your colors?” He asks, and you nod, before verbally answering him with a ‘yes’. He nods again, a hand running over your head, fingers running through your hair affectionately. “Good. I’ll finish the last knots now- remember you can stop at any time. Don’t hesitate.” He says, and you nod.

He grabs the rope again; the tiny fact that he’d chosen one in your favorite color making you feel.. well, you didn’t know. You could feel your nose sting, before it shot into your eyes, making them water; something that Jungkook immediately noticed. “Color?” He asks, and you shake your head.

“Green, Green, I’m okay-“ you say, but you can’t stop the tears. He’s quick to sit down in front of you after tying the last knot- and it’s the first time you quietly look at them. They’re so delicate, so well done, but there’s no time to dwell on it as he lifts you chin gently.

“Talk to me.” He says, hands on your shoulders to give you some sense of stability. You’re safe, you don’t feel bad, but just..

“I don’t know. There’s so much-“ you begin, and he softly smiles, as if you’re not currently completely bound with no chance of proper movement. You take a deep breath, holding it before you release again, silently following the advices he’d given you prior. “Why do I feel so.. comfortable? I feel safe even though I’m in such a dangerous situation- I’m.. this is weird isn’t it, I should be.. I don’t know. Why’re you not doing anything? Wasn’t this supposed to be like, a sex session or something I don’t get it-“ you babble, and he lets you, before he speaks.

“You still don’t quite get it, do you?” He asks, and your glistening eyes stare up at him. “I don’t need something as simple as sex to feel satisfied.” He explains, and you nod, even though you don't quite understand. "I feel euphoric right now, even though you probably won't quite believe me." He says, his smile evident as his fingers trace the knots on your skin. It's there that you see it; the glimmer in his eyes, something you've never seen before with someone else. "The fact that you let me do this, it's all I need." He humms out. He looks at you, a silent question, and you take a deep breath.

You don't quite know what you're doing. Its weird- but seeing him like that makes you feel weightless. It happens slowly, you don't quite grasp what it is, but the feeling is nice. It's like letting go- like standing on the highest platform of the universe and just jumping down. And when you open your eyes, all you see is him.

He can't take his eyes off of you.

He's seen it often enough to spot it, knows what it looks like, but it still holds such a deep meaning to him to see you fall into your subspace for the very first time. You're so beautiful like that, so ethereal and enchanting as you lean forward to get closer to him. He's careful you dont accidentally hurt yourself with the big scissors on the bed close by- emergency equipment to release you asap if needed.

He knows escape is the furthest thing on your mind right now.

Able to do anything he'd want with you, he's not like that however. He's responsible enough to let you float for a moment, before he speaks to you again. "Baby?" He asks, and you nod, nuzzling his shoulder as he holds you close. "You're doing so good. Can you do something for me baby?" He questions again, and you nod, not parting from him however before he talks again. "Can you sit straight for a moment? Just like that, good girl." He praises as you instantly follow his command. "I got you, okay? I got you, you're safe." He repeats, as he slowly unties your body. It's careful reassuring and slow movements that make it possible to untie you- too quickly could make you drop; a state of sudden shift in mental state, that could send you straight into distress. Jungkook doesn't ever want to be the cause of that for you.

You're underneath him, and he's careful, as he undresses after placing the scissors onto the bedside table where it cant lead to any accidents. He also reaches inside the table, pulling out a condom from a box safely stored, before he gets himself ready.

Not even for a second is his attention not on you however.

"Hands up baby." He commands, and you do as he wants, already squirming as he advances towards you, fingers stretching you out as you grow huffy at the prospect of being edged again. He's quick to catch on though. "Hm, I'm not gonna be mean baby." He tells your fuzzy mind. "But I gotta get you ready, no?" Fingers steadily helping you relax, he waits until he deems you ready.

You struggle to keep your hands up as he enters you, but your mind is adamant on keeping his command. He groans out, kisses your neck, as he slowly begins to move lazily. It's enough for pleasure- but not enough to make you cum. "Good fucking girl. Look at you. My baby." He chants, and something inside you stirs at the last words.

His Baby.

You're his.

He wants you.

It makes you whine as he chuckles, nipping at your skin. "You can touch me baby, good job." He says, and your hands are instantly around his neck. You're mumbling something, but its not words. It's not coming out the way you think it does, and Jungkook doesn't mind, doesn't care. Its another one of those things fueling him up, urging him on.

You're his perfect puzzle piece.

He lets go.

"Turn around princess." He says breathless, and you follow his instructions eagerly. His hand rests on the back of your neck for a moment, leaves its place for a second to move your hair away from your face, before he gently pushes down. He's inside in a heartbeat, this time thrusting with more strength.

Something overcomes him that hasn't happened before.

Usually, this position is what he loves most- and yet, it's not what he wants. He wants you, he wants you close, he cant touch you enough. His arms snake around your torso, just underneath the bottom of your breasts, as he pulls you towards him. Your back arches so prettily, and he gasps out, breathing heavy as he continues his attack on your neck. "You're mine." He growls out, can't keep it inside anymore, his grip on you tightening. "Mine." His thrusts stutter, his hand reaches for your center, desperate fingers helping you find your release. It coats your thighs, stains the bed, and he pushes himself as deep as he can once he finishes himself.

He's breathing heavily, he's out of his mind, running on autopilot as his hands still hold you. He pulls out after a moment, a whine from you getting reassured by his own voice, before he leaves the bed, getting a warm damp washcloth ready for you. He's careful, gentle, seems to caress your skin more than clean it, places kisses every now and then and sends praises your way.

"How do you feel?" He asks, voice low and caring as he continues his aftercare.

"Like you love me a lot." You sleepily say, eyes still foggy, and he smiles.

"Good." He tells you, reaching out to kiss your lips, still high on his own afterglow. "That's how you're always supposed to feel like."

"I've quit." He tells you one night on the couch, as you sit close to him. You'd asked him about his sidejob at Yoongi's- and this was his answer. Instantly, you sit up straight, fearing that he might've felt obligated because of you. "Before you start, yes, it was because of you." He says, and you already have the whine in your throat- but it doesn't make it out, as his fingers lazily trace your collarbone peaking out from his shirt you're wearing. "But it was also my decision. I just didn't enjoy it anymore- and you're more I could ever want really." He says, shrugging as you stare at him.

It was still new to you.

Although you knew that he was probably more than just a wild loverboy collecting partners and gaming all day, you never would've thought of him like this. He's a kid at heart still, teasing and playfighting every now and then- but he's mostly a strong shoulder to lean on for you. He really is the security and safety you'd always searched for. "What're you thinking about?" He asks, pulling you closer as he continues watching the TV show.

"You." You say, and he chuckles.

"Cute." He answers. He looks at you for a moment, TV long forgotten, before you crawl over his lap, shirt rising enough to give him free view of your thighs and panties. You've skipped the pants tonight- a habit of yours he enjoys a lot. His palms instantly find the soft skin, running along the outside of your thighs before they find your behind, squeezing, before he slaps it playfully. He grins as you squeal, admiring the way the very tips of your ears turn red. "You're really precious, you know that?" He tells you, and you shrug. "You are." He confirms, and you smile shyly.

"May I kiss you?" You ask, and he smiles warmly.

"We're not in a scene baby, do as you wish." He tells you, and you nod, leaning forward to capture his lips with yours. Its a feeling you can't quite get enough of, and it seems like he enjoys it equally as much. His inked hands find their way underneath your shirt, running over your back and spine as you shudder. He doesn't find what he seeks, your underwear long gone and left in the bedroom, and he loves it, instantly moves to your chest where he finds the soft flesh, his thumb running over one of your nipples teasingly. You're arching your back already, moving around as if you can't sit still. "My baby." He mumbles out, "If you can be so kind and get me a condom, you can ride me if you want to." He tells you, and you nod.

By now you easily know your way around his apartment.

So its no wonder you quickly return from your now shared bedroom, condom in hand as you approach him again, settling onto his lap. You're not shy with him nor his body anymore, eagerly taking the condom out of the package for him to roll it down onto his length. "You good?" He asks, and you nod, pulling your panties aside as you slowly sink down on him.

He lets his head rest back on the couch, and you lean into him, for a change returning the favor of kissing his neck. He's grinning, throughoutly enjoying things, and you love watching him. It's a visual reminder to yourself that this is your doing. You're making him feel that way, and no one else. It makes you confident, and it makes you feel cherished in ways you haven't felt before.

Once you start to move, Jungkooks hands help you along. Its slow and lazy, not at all hurried. There's no real goal; you probably wouldn't even mind not cumming at all. This was just being close- a way of feeling connected in the most intimate of ways. Connected like only lovers could be.

You love him.

And it slips out as a tiny 'I love you' in between your sighs and gasps, and he hears it so clearly, he can't help himself but speed up the pace.

"I love you too." He chants out, kissing the side of your head as you rest against his chest, head on his shoulder. "I love you so much." He says, almost inaudible, his arms holding you as close as he can.

Jeon Jungkook doesn't need sex to feel satisfied.

But he will most certainly need you for now and forever.

And he's totally fine with that.

(c)Bonny-Kookoo. You know the drill. I know where you live. I don't. But still. Be scared. Boo.

#bts imagine #bts #bts fanfic #jungkook imagine #bts fic #bts smut #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts reactions #Rabbit Boy AU

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hansoulo · 4 years ago

Text

whisper scarcely breathing

part four of “Pillar of Salt”

Pairing: Boba Fett/Princess!Reader (she/her pronouns, no Y/N)

Warnings: NC-17, NSFW, explicit language, mentions of canon-typical violence, fluff, hurt/comfort but without the hurt, bathing and/or being bathed, choking, female-receiving oral, loss of virginity, unprotected M/F intercourse

Word Count: 6.1k

Image Credit: (x) by @/365filmsbyauroranocte, not meant to be a representation of the reader

A/N: this one is for the boys with the boomin’ system 😩💦

༓ series masterlist ༓

The datapad that you’d left in the garden was thrust back into your possession one morning by the hurried hands of a maid. Truthfully, you had forgotten all about it. The mind, when faced with matters as pressing as the press of a mouth, tends to forget about inconsequential objects.

You’d never met the girl standing in front of you before, and she avoided your eyes while passing over the small screen. She seemed eager to be rid of it. You couldn’t say you blamed her. “‘S yours, miss. The bounty hunter said you’d lost it.”

Did he, now?

“Thank you,” you replied sincerely, careful not to let the datapad drop to the floor as you tucked it back into the deep brocade of your gown pockets. You didn’t have the wherewithal at first to ask her when he’d found it or found the time to return it. But you also didn’t have the common sense to keep your mouth shut. “Could I ask when he gave it to you?”

The servant ducked her head. “This morning, your Highness. I- I was in the loading bay when they left, think he was tryin’ to get a hold of you but didn’t have the time, told me- told me to keep quiet ‘bout it.” A bob of her throat signalled a nervous swallow. “Princess.”

Poor girl, you thought to yourself absentmindedly. Boba probably scared her half out of her wits.

“Really, I can’t thank you enough.” You touched a soft hand to the servant’s shoulder in an misguided attempt to soothe. She returned the action with a nervous smile, eyes still downcast and trying not to shy away.

You never realized how afraid they all were. Of you.

The realization made your tongue tangle in your throat, tripping over some lie about a fever and champagne-induced amnesia as explanation for your exchanges with a man so ill-acquainted.

Hopefully, the maid didn’t make a habit of gossip.

Hopefully, you stopped making a habit of Boba Fett.

⫸———————————————— ⫷

A chaincode, a datapad tracking number, and the rest of your life flashed in backlit neon. You silently cursed yourself for not putting an opening passcode on anything, including the datapad that you now held with slightly tremoring hands.

In your defense, it’s not like it held anything of interest. Mostly just holonovels and some pictures of things you found intriguing enough to want to paint or draw.

But now there was a thing of veritable interest stuffed into a new folder titled “Your Highness” and glowing in galactic basic.

BF-18378-3263827

You stared at the numbers until they morphed into a strong, stern-featured face, muddy in your imagination against the ink night invading your bedroom. Boba left his tracking number there for you. If you wanted to, you could use them to message him or comm him or leave a holoprojection message. Whenever you wanted. Right now, even.

When did he even find your datapad? Why he found it (and why he returned it with the aforementioned numerical contraband) was probably a more apt question.

There was quite a lot to think about. Best to take stock of the present moment, lest you lose your head and go completely mad. As if you hadn’t already.

The facts repeated themselves in a half-conscious mantra, screen slipping out of your hands and onto the pillow beside your head. Facts. Facts were good. What were the facts, again?

Boba Fett was arguably the most dangerous bounty hunter in the galaxy.

Boba Fett was not much of a talker.

Boba Fett was a piss-poor dancer.

And Boba Fett was an unfairly good kisser.

The beginning three points held little negative sway, with the first adding much more appeal than it should, the second a welcome relief, and the third being… sort of endearing.

It was on the last point that your mind lingered the longest.

You didn’t even realize you’d copied numbers into the screen’s communications system until its microphone crackled to life.

One breath, two breaths, stuck in your sleep-thick throat. No words from either side yet. Did you get the tracking code wrong? Maybe. Maybe.

Maybe you were dreaming already, imagining the wind outside to be the quiet, husky inhale that sounded from the other end of the receiver.

“Not falling asleep are we, princess?”

Your eyes shot open. “No. No, I’m…” the words croaked themselves out as you fought down a yawn, “I’m awake.” His low chuckle. “I called you didn’t I?”

“That you did,” Boba assented. Quiet amusement colored his accent. “And you called because…”

“I wanted to,” you said simply, without room for teasing. You were too sleepy to be ashamed of admitting you sought out his company, as foolish as doing so was. No use in hiding what both parties knew to be true.

He let out a noise of soft approval and it rumbled a pleasant sunburst between your ears. “You seem to want a lot of things, don’t you?”

Makes me want… want…

Want what, Princess?

Want you.

You can have me.

The memory snaked a fever flush down your neck, over the still-tender skin and lightly mottled marks. Boba was remembering it just as well as you were. You knew he was.

It gave you a rush, a weird sort of power trip. Because as stupid as you felt doing this, wanting this, he wanted it too. Enough to let your hands thread through his hair and around his arms, then to the scar above his left brow and across his mouth. Enough to let you do it again at the risk of being caught. Enough to leave you his tracking number, like you were two teenagers trading love letters and not legal adults with judgement better enough to do otherwise.

You stayed on the comm for two hours, and only went to sleep because Boba threatened to cut your link off if you didn’t.

⫸———————————————— ⫷

It had been almost five standard months since the first time you’d spoken. Typed words continued to be exchanged under your covers, day after day, night after night. Sometimes you’d fall asleep talking, peppering him with questions about his ship and his job until your throat ached with the effort of keeping yourself awake. Sometimes you did more than talk.

He never fell asleep. Never seemed to sleep, period.

What a strange man. Strange, dangerous, interesting man.

You often missed each other by a hair’s breadth. Courtly flurry and galactic bounty hunting didn’t make much space for private conversation. Boba was still taciturn. You were still naive.

And yet…

You liked him. He listened when you talked about botany and painting, neither of which you imagined interested him. He was arrogant and cocky and insufferable sometimes, but he listened. He told you about his job and regaled your sheltered curiosity with lurid, gory details. He told you about his father.

And one day he somehow, miraculously, had a set of Nabooan watercolors left for you in the garden.

Biting down a juvenile grin with every new message, you watched the quiet ping! of the datapad.

Hello

are you busy?

In a way

how so

Had a brush with Hutt’s rancor

poor thing

Don’t get soft on me now

wasn’t talking about you

Very funny

I’m very, very sorry

Should be. The bastard nearly tore up my flight suit

… show me?

⫸———————————————— ⫷

BF-18378-3263827 HAS ATTACHED 3 FILES

⫸———————————————— ⫷

HOLOCALL DURATION: 02:45:35 HOURS

SAVE CALL RECORDING? PRESS YES/NO TO CONFIRM

Your damp hands tremored.

YES

⫸———————————————— ⫷

Six months, four days, and 20 hours. That’s how long it took for you to see Boba Fett again.

You’d started to think the entire ordeal was a mirage, an illusionary experience your brain conjured up for you as a one-time brush with what your life could have been. Who it could’ve been with.

But you did see him again. Foolhardy, reckless, and unplanned.

You didn’t listen to his explanation about having to leave in the morning, taking some third-rate bounty as an excuse to come back to Quas Killam for the first time in what seemed like ages—practically eons since his mouth had last been at your neck. He appeared on your bedroom balcony near midnight like an apparition, mounted by a still-burning jetpack that shut off with an arc of smoke.

You’d been sleeping, albeit fitfully, and woke the minute his knuckles rapped against the glass. You didn’t remember ever telling him where your bedchambers were, but given… everything… you couldn’t say you were surprised he knew. When he crouched down to shed the helmet, it made a soft thump on the plush carpet.

And then you kissed. And kissed. And kissed.

Boba’s fingertips dragged fire across your prickled skin with every pass. Whose breathing was whose didn’t matter. It was hard, heaving, and shared. Eyes closed, lips raw, every part of you dizzy. Dizzy.

The sneeze that left you was loud enough to knock his forehead against yours. Hard.

Feet stumbling until your legs hit the bedspread, you let your weakened knees carry you down into a sitting position atop the covers and tried to catch your breath. Boba only chuckled, seemingly unperturbed by the mild injury.

Of course your body had picked today to come down with a cold. And of course you’d forgotten to tell him.

In your defense (you seemed to do a lot of self-defending these days) you didn’t know Boba would be coming tonight. When you asked him a week ago—the last time you’d spoken—he’d said “soon.” Whatever “soon” meant, you hadn’t anticipated it being now. Your rumpled nightgown and deteriorating personal hygiene was evidence enough of that.

The day had passed in fitful naps, with you waving away all attempts at help until the servants who usually tittered about decided to give you a wide berth until tomorrow. They’d left the door locked and your curtains drawn, thank the gods.

“A hello would’ve been nice,” you mumbled. The lingering taste of him in your mouth mixed with the bitter medicine that you’d forced down a few hours ago.

Boba didn’t answer at first, only stalking forward with his silhouette glowing in light of the full moon. You brought your knees up to your chest to make room for him to stand in front of you. Every movement was bathed in slowness, in the reverence of caution and night-time silence.

His gloved hand brushed against your chin and tilted it upwards, thumb rubbing a small circle into your jawbone as he moved your face in one large grip. Left, inspecting a swollen mouth and puffy eyes, then right. Up to see the column of your exposed neck. Down to meet his bare, dark face.

He kissed you again, more gentle this time. “Hello.”

A soft whimper left your throat.

Oh, you hated it. Hated the way you sounded when he touched you, small and pathetic. Needy.

The balustrade doors were still open, and this fact was made known by a particularly biting gust of silver wind.

“You’re cold,” the man standing close to you noted with a deep downquirk of his mouth. Boba never had to conceal anything; his helmet did that for him. But when it was off, every thought flickered past his face in evening technicolor.

Your hands paused in their run up your arms to hold petulantly at your elbows, covered only by the thin fabric of your shift. Goosebumps rose against your neck with a new breeze and you fought down the urge to shiver. “M’not.”

“And stubborn.”

You glared at him, but it held no real venom.

“I appreciate the concern,” you sniffled again and your body trembled slightly. “But I’m the picture of health. I really have never been—” here you sneezed rather violently, crumbling any remaining sense of composure and making the final words thick with congestion, “—any better.” Boba hooked two strong arms underneath your knees and around your shoulders. “Wh- what are you doing?”

“C’mon,” Boba grunted and lifted you to his chest in one swift, easy motion. “Up.”

“I’m already up,” you grumbled, a headache you’d thought was all but gone now throbbing from the quick movement. Armor pressed to your cheek and you let yourself go pliant, curling up into Boba’s broad chest. He smelled nice. Like the outdoors. The real outdoors—not manufactured gardens or stone courtyards. No, dangerous things. Like deserts and leather and guns.

You queried him as he walked in long strides across the room. “Where are you taking me? Should have you—” another sneeze burned your airways, “—have you arrested for treason. A high crime or misdemeanor of some sort, kidnapping royalty...”

He only scoffed, shifting your slack body into his one-armed grip when he arrived at the entrance of your adjunct refresher. The door opened with a soft click. “You talk too much.”

Your head rolled back to face him, pressed so close already that the attempt made you cross-eyed. “And you,” a polished finger jabbed lightly at his chest plate, “are up to no good.”

You were only joking, but Boba didn’t deny it.

Green was your favorite color, even before you met him. It was the color of gardens. Of mint leaves. Of insects and jewels. Of him.

Gods, he was beautiful. Did he know that? Would he ever believe you if you told him? He was achingly, painfully, humanly beautiful. It hurt like needles.

The man set you down to your immediate protests. Funny how quick you seemed to change your mind. “Don’t whine,” he chided when you did just that, pushing you forward by the small of your back.

You walked into the refresher confused, that same confusion compounding when Boba strode over to the marble bathtub in room’s center with a surety that belayed the fact he’d never once stepped foot inside here. Were all bounty hunters this self-assured? Or was he just so full of bathroom bravado that your sprawling floor-plan didn’t faze him?

Whatever the case was, said bounty hunter was now crouched down on the tile floor and twisting the tub faucets until they sprayed out a gush of hot water, quickly filling the room with heady steam.

“Hot water helps.” A still-gloved hand dipped an inch into the filling tub and deemed it acceptable. “The steam’ll clear up those sneezes of yours. And the headache.”

“How did you know I-” your mouth opened and closed before you realized you didn’t do a great job of hiding your symptoms. Maker knows you looked a sight, all mussed and tired and sticky with cold sweat. He should make a run for it now, you half-joked to yourself. He’s only ever seen me stuffed into a corset and done up half to death.

He got up with a grunt and turned back towards you. Beskar and durasteel and tactical fabric suddenly made you feel, for the first time in your life, underdressed. “‘S not hard to tell, princess.”

“Oh,” was your only response as you pushed off the sink counter, fisting the fabric of your nightgown in an unconscious display of hesitancy.

Boba’s heavy boots made for the door.

It was probably just to leave you some semblance of privacy, but you panicked, not wanting to be left alone now that he was finally here. “Wait!” you burst out, reaching a palm onto his shoulder before he could exit. “Wait. Can— can you stay?” Of course he won’t stay, you dolt. He probably came to sleep with you, not babysit you. “Please?”

Both of his hands curled into themselves when he turned back to you, their leather squeaking in the tight flex. Then, they released limp by his sides. Each word was carefully measured, slow-simmering like a pot about to boil over. Like a trigger finger twitchy on a blaster. “If you want me to.”

You answered with a bobbing nod and a swallow. “I do.”

⫸————————————————⫷

Boba Fett had long since forgotten he was a man. Instead, he was armor. He was a code, a set of strict (albeit grey) morals, the steadfast honor he’d been imbibed with from the years with his father and then the years of tearing emptiness after.

Bounty hunters had no time for attachments. They couldn’t afford to humor every batting eyelash with more than a self-serving flirtation, and he’d had his fill of those already. He’d overflowed his cup ten times over with shallow pleasantries and quick release.

But those days were long-gone. Had been for years now. Now he was practically puritanical.

Had been, anyway.

He didn’t like thinking of himself as impulsive, wanting to leave the trait behind in his younger years but not being old enough to shake it off completely. But he wasn’t impulsive anymore. He wasn’t.

You were going to destroy him.

Low-ranking royalty on some Imperial-occupied factory planet; sheltered and pretty. You had the brightest eyes he had ever seen and a temperament that took no prisoners, and you were going to destroy him.

Boba thought you’d make him leave, but you didn’t. You wanted him to stay and told him so.

So he stayed. His armor was peeled off in your presence for the first time— carefully placed on a chair in your bedroom—and he walked back into the refresher to see you untying your flimsy nightdress like it’d done you a personal wrong.

When it dropped beside your feet, it took every ounce of self-control Boba possessed to stop himself from eating you whole.

He heard you kick it to the floor (his eyes had since been very determinedly fixed on a fascinating piece of groutwork near his left foot) before you stepped into the bath, sighing in a way that made breathing a work harder than it should’ve been.

His looking away wasn’t a request on your part, you didn’t seem to mind either way, but he didn’t trust himself to do otherwise. Not until the sounds of splashing had subsided somewhat, signalling your stilled motion. “Boba?”

Now there was permission to walk. Look down. Right foot, left foot. Right foot, left foot. Right foot, the clawfoot of the bathtub. He had reached his destination.

A wet hand tugged at his belt loops and he finally allowed himself to look, meeting the sight of you sitting bare in the clear-blue water with legs pulled up to your chest. The arm not touching him was roped around your calves. Your chin rested on the wide, curved lip of the tub.

If Boba had any self-respect, it had been snuffed out the first moment you opened your mouth, six months ago in that cavernous palace hallway with your failed attempt at bravado. It was haughty, short-lived, and adorable.

Maker, you were beautiful. Did you know that? Would you ever believe him if you told you? You were blindingly, effervescently, humanly beautiful. It hurt like needles.

The position of your chin forced your lips into a slight pout. As if you needed another weapon in your arsenal of ways to make him question his judgement. “Could you bring me the tray on the counter?”

Of course he could. He could bring you anything you liked. He would bring you a rancor, a dozen rancors, a fucking sarlaac if it meant you would smile all soft-like the way you just did when he answered yes.

Boba Fett, mercenary feared farther than he would ever live to travel and hunter too expensive for the Imperial payroll, was now a bath attendant. It was torturous in its sensual irony.

The tray was brought over in short order, cluttered with tiny vials of Maker-knows-what and bars of who-knows-how. Individually they probably all smelled nice, but crowded together the heavy scents only made his head spin. He set the tray down on the floor with a rattle and held up each mystery soap for your inspection. No. No. No. No, not that one. Gods, you were picky. No. No. Yes, please.

You were Miss Manners tonight apparently.

“It’s floating archidia,” you told him, mind running through an endless backlog of plant indexes as he handed over the soap. You sounded clearer now, less congested and more alert. Needed to drink water, though. “The flower that this is made with, I mean. Native to the planet Nubia, rumored to have euphoric properties.” You snorted and ran a thumbnail along the bar’s waxy edge, bringing up a curled pink piece. “Whatever that means.”

“Do you think it does?”

“Have euphoric properties?” you hummed, considering it for a moment. “Maybe. But maybe it’s just wishful thinking.”

“Wishful thinking,” Boba parroted.

The meaning of words can change when they’re repeated. Neither of your minds were on flowers.

His jaw tensed when you reached your other hand to his forearm, baring the rest of your body to the dim orange of the refresher lights’ night settings. The water rippled, warm now instead of steaming, and your fingers curled around the scarred skin of his wrist. “Take off the gloves,” you echoed, your voice suddenly desperate and distant as you traced over pale leather seams. “Please.”

He had refused the first time simply to toy with you. You weren’t used to being told no, and it showed. But he let you take off his helmet in a moment of thoughtless self-indulgence, scratching the part of his subconscious that itched to be touched, stroked, held. Shedding the helmet in front of someone else didn’t really mean anything in an honorable sense—at least not to Boba. Nothing tied him to the habit except a desire to keep himself and his motivations unknown. It was easier that way. Less messy.

He acquiesced. "Since you asked so nicely."

Wrinkling your nose, you guided newly-bare palms to knead gently at your shoulder blades. The skin there was soft and warm, pliant under his sandpaper touch. "Keep mentioning it and I'll go back to being difficult."

The soap made foamy bubbles across your back, over your arms and the velvet slope of your hips. Fingertips ghosted through the space between your jaw and ear, where he remembered sucking in a soft bruise.

He liked being known by you.

⫸————————————————⫷

You clambered out the tub with all the grace of a baby krugga deer and about as much shame. Which is to say, none at all. The subsiding cold had left you tired, bones like jelly and mind sloshing its thoughts around with no real order. Boba was here. Had stayed. Was standing in front of you now, watching tiny water droplets trail down your feet and letting you balance on his arm to keep you from stumbling.

A towel was wrapped around your shoulders. The press of his hot mouth against your forehead followed close behind. “Go sit on the bed.”

For some reason, you didn’t mind listening to him this time. Chalk it up to moldable exhaustion, you thought. Definitely not the fact that his voice sounded especially nice tonight, or any number of other questionable reasons.

He was going to ruin you. Or you would ruin yourself. Any way it was construed, Boba would play a part.

Still only in a towel, you drank the stale tea that sat on your bedside table and watched in mild interest as the mercenary’s shadow emptied out tepid bathwater with the thick glugluglug of the drain. It washed down soap and all your shared secrets.

Was it wrong that you still wanted him? More, now that he’d done this for you? Now that it wasn’t just cruel kisses and groping hands? What sort of a person did that make you?

Your mind whispered it when Boba walked back towards you. Someone lonely.

He helped you slide a new chemise on when you asked him to, quick and steady over the thin linen ties. I bet you do that with all the girls, you’d teased. No, he answered simply. Just you.

He was going to ruin you.

“Do you have to go yet?” you asked quietly and climbed under the covers. They were green today. Life enjoyed coincidences like that.

Boba crouched down on the floor beside your lying figure and shook his head. A wide fingertip smoothed away the crease between your brows. He was doing lots of touching. You were not complaining. “Not ‘til morning.”

“You might as well then,” you mumbled and lifted up the embroidered blankets with a sleep-slack hand. “No one’ll bother us, I promise.” you answered the empty air, too heartsick to comprehend any possible insinuations and too tired to realize the fingers tracing your brow bone had paused. “I told them all not to come back until tomorrow.”

His shirt and pants were shed in an unceremonious pile. You were already half-asleep when he climbed into the other side of the bed, slotting his legs against yours like puzzle pieces. Two question marks curled into each other, his chest to your back and his lips brushing your head.

“Goodnight, princess.”

⫸————————————————⫷

You were dreaming about him.

He was the burning sun that every single one of your thoughts had orbited around for the last six months and now he was invading your subconscious, dream-talons taking the form of dark hands rubbing soft circles against you and then invading your open mouth.

In your dream, Boba touched you softly and not at all, a tease even in your self-serving imagination.

Then you woke up, and it wasn’t a dream anymore.

Two thick arms encircled your waist with a grip unyielding in their strength. They’d pulled you impossibly close, pressed up against his sleeping body until every ridge of his muscled stomach could be felt against your back. Something else was against your back.

Your head reeled in its effort to sludge through the fog of sleep and reach the reality of masculine hips. They shifted in an unintentional grind against your legs until you couldn’t bite back the gasp that bubbled out from your voicebox, the sound quiet, keening, and lost in the shuffled sounds of fabric. It was still dark out. The water-clock in the corner of your room read 01:25:02.

You hadn’t put on anything underneath the new chemise. Why bother, when he’d already seen everything? Your body had grown to be a thing for display, a clothes-hanger and object to be prodded by strangers, and you’d long since rid yourself of any precocious modesty.

But this was different.

When Boba touched you, it wasn’t to sew flowers in your hair or drape a sash over your chest. It was simply to touch. The thought made you light-headed with newfound embarrassment, wiggling in his grip until you turned to face his sleeping form.

All the heavy things he carried on his shoulders during the day were gone now. His bottom lip pillowed out when he slept and he looked younger, the perpetual downturn of his lips now settled below the black hair at his temples. You felt a sticky sort of fondness settle in your chest.

“Boba,” you whispered, two hands placing themselves on his tanned cheeks. They traced the divots of scars and premature lines with all the reverence of worshipfulness.

“Mmm,” his voice rumbled with eyes still closed. A warm mouth kissed the side of your palm.

“Boba,” you repeated, more desperate this time but not knowing what you were desperate for. The space between your legs already knew what it wanted, hot and pulsing with a familiar dampness. Traitor.

“What do you need?” The question wasn’t accusatory, nor annoyed at your waking him. It was known that he would give you whatever you liked. Eventually.

You. Just you.

“I don’t,” you huffed, the fabric sticking uncomfortably to your now overheated body as you squirmed, “I don’t know.” Lie.

“Think about it and tell me,” he whispered, eyes opening in their dark, heavy-lidded expectation. The moon and stars suspended outside offered light enough to see the smirk on his face. His skin was the color of burnt earth and of gods. Somewhere, far away in the canopy of carefully pruned trees, a single lark let out its warbled cry.

There was an old adage about being like a lamb to the slaughter. You’d never touched a lamb. Never seen a slaughter. But somehow, you knew it was true.

This lamb, dumb and tender-hearted, was willingly sacrificied.

"I...'' the word left you in the arc of your exhale, one whoosh of air that rattled your chest already wracked with fevered tremors. "I- want you to-"

"You want me to what, pretty thing?" His voice was low, dangerous. It made every part of you want him more. "Say it."

You weren't used to cursing. It was never tolerated and you barely ever heard it, but you'd learned enough to know what he wanted you to say. Which word he wanted to hear, and what it'd mean he would do.

"F-fuck. Me." you choked out, biting your lip to muffle the embarrassment of having to speak it out loud. The word was filthy and raw between your teeth. "Please?"

⫸————————————————⫷

You were dying. Possibly had already died. Were ascending up or barrelling down, you didn’t care as long as his wet mouth stayed between your legs and never, ever stopped.

Wide hands cupped at your skin and kneaded wherever they could reach, simultaneously rough and supplicating. Every pass of his tongue was enough to make you feel possessed. He was killing you.

“Good. Good girl.” he said against your swollen skin when your hips arced off the bed, your spine and toes stiffening for what seemed like an eternity during the damp lightning finish. It sounded like a growl, animalistic and vibrating. A burning, sweet hurt.

Some people call it “little death,” a lady’s maid once whispered underneath her hand in a giggle. “Little death?” you repeated incredulously. That seems a bit dramatic, don’t you think?

You understood now.

Boba didn’t let up, never once letting his touch waver even as you buckled and swayed, all sense lost and all sensation compacting. “Another,” he ordered. Your body listened, bending to his touch without complaint with eyes rolled back into your head.

You were dying.

⫸————————————————⫷

Boba let you lay against him in the downturn, rubbing mindless shapes into the bone of your wrists as you struggled to breathe. Your neck was cradled in one of his broad, bronze palms. It gave one tiny, imperceptible squeeze. An accident. A test.

You pawed at the hand resting heavy on your nape until it moved to leave completely, but was caught instead by your fingers and guided—slow and curious—to cup at your bared throat.

“Dirty,” the man noted in a dark rasp and rolled over to face you. There was a slight smirk in his voice, but that could’ve just been your imagination.

“I don’t see you...” your voice trailed off into a wheeze as Boba’s thick fingers pressed into the sides of your neck, “—see you complaining.”

He kissed you. And kissed you. And kissed you. An eternity was spent opening the seam of your mouth while he choked you softly, baring your pulsating soul with only your bedroom walls as witness to the present depravity. The air was filled with begging and grunting—simple noises that stuttered and left your sheets ruined.

You wanted more. You couldn’t help it.

His chuckle morphed into a groan when you reached down to touch him with widening eyes, squeezing him curiously after pulling down his boxers. “You’re a brave little thing,” Boba noted with a hint of greedy pride. “Never done this before, have you?”

Your own hands served as poor substitutes all these years. You shook your head no.

“D’you want to?”

Of course you did. This was the only thing you wanted. The only thing you would ever want, over and over until your body turned to dust under him. A million grains of fizzy, burning blaster powder. A million comets passing by a supernova.

You nodded and tucked your face into the space between Boba’s shoulder and neck, rolling onto your side and hooking a leg over his hip. Your chests met, damp with sweat as cool air flowed over bare skin. The covers had long since been pushed aside. “Safe,” you said in a heady moan over the shell of his ear. “Implant.”

Thank goodness for modern medicine.

⫸————————————————⫷

It hurt a little at first, but most of the discomfort melted away as he whispered to you, sweet and cloying praises alongside filthy things that you’d be hard-pressed to repeat in public. They wove together in an endless stream of baritone vowels, lapping over each other like ocean waves until everything was a gyrating, syrupy playback.

He let you move against him, mouth open and sloppy against your temple when you whined at the stretch. The hands at your back didn’t push. Only placated. “I know, I know,” Boba assured you with fingers rubbing sympathetic desire into your flesh. It would bruise, but you’d come to like the marks. Your hips bucked at their own accord when he pressed up against something tight, the friction burning a bright, numb spark. “Slow down,” he mumbled into your hair, “You’re gonna hurt yourself.”

Never in your life did you think this was how it would be. Your first kiss, more of a battle than it was a kiss, served as fuel for the expectations of your first time. Never in your life did you think he would be the one telling you to go slow.

It was for your sake, you knew that. But it was still surprising.

You huffed and bit the shell of his ear in childish revenge, blowing a puff of air where you knew it would tickle. Boba only growled and tightened his arms around your waist, rocking into you slow and deep. “Don’t tease,” he warned.

The new movements robbed you of the ability to speak until all you could do in response was lift your head from where it had rested on his shoulder, meeting impossibly dark eyes in lust-addled vision as a building pressure colored the entire world in shades of black, red, and green.

In a moment of complete and utter lack of propriety, you leaned forward, smiling like a woman deranged, and pressed a kiss to his nose.

Boba came undone the same minute you did. It was a rush of wet, rocking pleasure, spreading like thick webs of lighted fire from inside your blood and out to fill the room with quiet devotion. Panting, bursting, close, messy. You’d never felt so whole.

Your foreheads met and you went cross-eyed trying to look at him again. That’s all you wanted to do. Look at him. Uttered underneath his jaw, where the skin was smooth, was your finishing admission. “I love you.”

You didn’t say it to hear it repeated. It was just to give it a shape. Make it concrete. Said more to yourself than him, really.

But Boba did repeat it. Over and over and over. In the tangle of your arms. I love you. In the kiss to your breasts. I love you. In the towel brought between your legs. I love you. In the settled silence of new sleep. I love you, I love you, I love you.

⫸————————————————⫷

The watery light of dawn melted through heavy curtains and you awoke, body weighed down with lead and gold. Sweet soreness had made its home in your muscles and you were loath to get up, but the man you’d been using as a pillow had very rudely left his post.

“I have to go,” he said, already awake and standing sentry by your bed. You raised your head up from the pillows in groggy protest to meet his blurry figure. If you squinted, there were three of him standing there at once.

A shake of your head rid your vision of the doubles, leaving the lone man. He kissed you—quick and dirty, with tongue—and squeezed your exposed breast, prompting a low moan to tumble from your mouth before he slipped his blaster into the holster at his hip. It wasn’t even 6 in the morning and you were thoroughly debauched. What a scandal, you thought (not for the first time) with passing amusement. A bounty hunter and a princess.

Watching in a dim haze as Boba finished strapping on his amor, you tracked the reflection of the sun in the metal’s lazy movement.

He leaned over you. “I’ll be back soon.” Soon. What did soon mean? Another kiss, slow and careful on the bow of your mouth. One more on the slope of your forehead. For luck, you supposed. Whether it was for you or him didn’t matter much. “Promise.”

Slowly, as he climbed out onto your balcony and was gone with a flash of jetpack light, you wondered if it was a mirage; a dream, maybe. The entire night a hallucinatory haze, a figment of your overactive imagination and reckless romanticism.

But the towel left discarded on the floor and the pulsing ache between your legs was very, very real.

#boba fett x reader #boba fett/reader #boba fett fanfiction #boba fett x you #boba fett fic #boba fett oneshot #boba fett imagine

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alwaysbethewest · 4 years ago

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Triple Frontier fic: Keep My Visions to Myself

As before, half the credit for this needs to go to @fleetwoodmactshirt, who invented the whole concept of francisco morales falls in love with a ghost and since then has indulged me in talking about it for hours with her. Even though I keep trying to derail it into a Frankie/Benny AU (whoops). Also, sincere apologies, but the baby doesn’t make an appearance in this one.

Title: Keep My Visions to Myself Pairing: Francisco Morales/ghost!f!Reader Rating: Explicit Word Count: 1.4k Content/warnings: mildly dubious consent (but everybody’s having a good time), mild voyeurism, sex dreams, oral sex, vaginal sex, reader is a ghost. This fic is a direct follow-up to Apparition. Unbetaed, but thank you to @mourningbirds1 for reading through this and kindly reassuring me when I wasn’t sure if it was ready to post.

It’s been a long time since you’ve had the opportunity to develop a good bad habit, but you fall into a new one the week that Francisco is sick. There’s something so pitiful about him, nursing himself alone as he is through his fever and a sore throat that turns into a rough, rasping cough. You watch while he tries to keep a routine for the baby and makes sure she’s kept clean and fed and entertained, albeit with more cartoons than he usually sits her in front of. You find yourself hovering around him, keeping an eye on him, just in case—

Just. You know what can happen to a person, in an old house all alone.

And just like that, drifting and hovering close behind him, you end up back in his bedroom for the first time since shortly after they’d moved in. And then you find yourself there again and again, night after night. Watching him settle into sleep, and the rise and fall of his chest. You idly contemplate going back to another room—lounging in the bottom half of the house, maybe, all yours in the quiet of nighttime—and instead, you continue to indulge in the pull of his space, silently meditating on the rhythm of his breath and the profile of his features against the pillow.

Still, you don’t intend for it to happen when it does. You don’t realize, at first, what it means when you feel the energy in the room start to shift one night. It’s nothing like the painful jolt of bloody violence from sharing a glimpse of his nightmare before. This is more gradual, something thickening in the air and starting to ease into your mind, tantalizing and heated. You lean forward, curious, and for a second it feels like you’re falling and then suddenly you feel the resistance of the mattress below you and the slip of the sheets against your skin, this shock of corporeal sensation so old and familiar and so long lost it is almost frightening to have it again. Everything beyond the edge of the bed is hazy and undetailed, not quite all there, but he’s right next to you, awake and dreaming and drawing you in.

He looks directly into your eyes and he sees you and gives you a languid smile and he rests his hand firmly on your hip and leans into you. The warmth of his hand through the thin layer of your nightgown and the gentle heat of his mouth kissing your neck is pleasant and calming and you shiver at the sudden chill that hits your skin when he pulls his mouth away. He shifts lower on the bed but he’s looking up at your face and he sounds amused when he asks, “You like that?”

He is a dream and you are his.

“Yes,” you tell him truthfully. You like the way he’s making you feel, with the heat of his body and the brush of his fingers against your wrist and over your side. You feel breathless at the way he is looking at you and seeing you and the way he smiles at the sound of your voice. He rests his head on your chest, nuzzling against you and seeking out your nipple with his mouth; he closes his lips around it, through the fabric, and teases his tongue over you, and you gasp and then can’t hold in a whimper when he gently bites down. He does it again, and again, almost absentmindedly, and his hand is already reaching for the hem of your gown, pulling it up to your waist.

“I wanna taste you,” he mumbles, and in a flash, he’s between your legs and pressing his face forward against you.

“Oh,” you gasp, and then, “Ohhh—” your voice breaks on it, helpless to him when his nose digs against you and his mouth closes around your clit, bright hot sensation flying through your nerves so you feel like you must be all lit up and glowing from this.

Tentatively, you reach your fingers to brush through his hair, finding it soft and feeling how he responds to your touch, angling his head to lean into your hand. He shifts his eyes up to look at you, watching your face, and his tongue goes slow and deliberate.

You feel caught under his gaze, overwhelmed with the knowledge that this is the first time he’s seeing you. Maybe will be the only time. You wonder if he’ll remember this dream after he wakes up.

“Hi,” you whisper.

He smiles and you slip your hand down to touch at the corner of his eye, running your thumb lightly over the lines crinkling there. He turns his head and catches your hand, pressing a kiss to the inside of your wrist, and then he surges up over your body and settles over you, leaning down to kiss your lips.

You taste—

You taste. For the first time in a long time.

You taste what he tasted of you on his tongue, the traces of you on his mouth, a hint of the toothpaste you watched him brush his teeth with earlier this evening. He tastes of life.

His cock is hard and he teases it over you, grinding his hips against you. You feel hot and aching with arousal, and it is so much, his body and his mouth against yours and the brush of his facial hair on your skin, the feel of his breath landing warm on your jaw when he breaks the kiss for a moment to bite lightly at your chin.

And then because this is his dream and it is exactly as he wants it, suddenly he’s inside of you, already thrusting deep, making you keen and arch up against him. He fucks you steadily and you feel the unfamiliar-familiar ache of it, the stretch of your cunt and the muscles in your hips, legs spread to accommodate his body nestled close to yours. This sex is heat and pleasure and panting breath, and the deep groan in his chest harmonizing with your higher pitch when he surprises you by picking up his pace. He is murmuring words to you, simple and unthinking and broken off, talking in his sleep—yes, yes, like that, feels… good—and he kisses you again, cupping his hand behind your head to hold you close.

It’s been so long since you’ve felt this that it’s almost like it’s the first time again, and the peak is exhilarating, breathtaking as you approach it, that swooping pressure in your gut and building all through your body as he continues on. At the next thrust, you crest and clench and cry out, and his heavy eyes fly open wide, his movements turning a little desperate chasing his own orgasm after yours. You can feel his muscles going tight, his hips driving him deeper, and you can see the tension on his face as he comes—

Abruptly, you find yourself back in your usual perch by the bed, watching him gasp awake. He moans quietly and grinds his hand against his cock, drawing out the waning pulses of orgasm. You can feel a shadow of it coming off of him, little waves of pleasure echoing out and through to you. Your body feels languid, like you might not be able to move for a while, and he looks it, too. He lies there catching his breath for a minute and finally shifts his hips to work his boxers off, using them to clean himself off before tossing them onto the floor by the bed.

“Shit,” he whispers. He rests one hand on his belly, still rising and falling with his heavy breaths, and slings the other arm over his eyes. Eventually he huffs an amused-sounding breath and turns onto his stomach, pressing his face into the pillow with one last satisfied sigh, and he drifts back off to sleep.

You sigh quietly too, and trace your eyes over the shadowed breadth of his naked shoulders, and examine this new memory of touch you have gained, all fresh and unfaded in your mind, still nearly tingling on your skin. And you wonder, again, if he’ll remember it too.

(tagging the folks who liked the first ghost fic in case they want to read this one too: @rav3n-pascal22, @winter-fox-queen, @helloannbananalove, @stylelovechild, @echopsyche, @need-a-fugue, @medinaquirin, @princess-dragon-rider, @nekodemon73, @a-disaster-bisexual, @better-luck-buttercup, @heythere-mel, @ennuiandthebourgeoisie, @starryeyedstories, @penajavier, @oceanablue, @chrisbostonevans, @pedropascallion, @justanotherblonde23, @we-can-be-himbos, @danniburgh, @juno-eclipsee, @amneris21, @freeshavocadoooo, @310ra, @sheresh0y, @knittingqueen13, @heatherbel, @seawhisperer, @viirgotrash, @beesting77, @thirstworldproblemss, @slater-baby, @kesskirata, @themusingofagothicsoul, @phoenixhalliwell, @neganwifey25-blog, @forthesakeofwandering, @reluctantlyresponsibleadult, @pedropascalito, @strangelittlenobody, @maryscarlett2u, @notsosimpleblr, @novicepearl, @mudhorn-djarin19, @marya-komar, @songsformonkeys, @littleferal, @its-mochi-boba-tea-blr, @greengrassandcyansea, @keeper0fthestars, @jitterbugs927, @red-mando, @missstef23, @smutreaderonlyforpedro, @bonnieonhisside, @fictitious-little-stitious, @pettyprocrastination, @hermionesnicket)

#fanfiction #my fic #pedro pascal #frankie morales #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #francisco morales x reader #frankie morales x reader

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tickly-trashcan · 3 years ago

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Surprise! {XiaoVen}

A/N: SHEESH i like speedwrote this during school and a bit afterwards LMAO uhh i completely spaced on his birthday until yesterday but i was swamped (last week of school homework lmao) so I had to write it today so it’s kinda cruddy but oh well it’s my kins birthday so i had to do SOMETHING. Hope y’all enjoy! :D

Summary: Venti and Xiao are hanging out at Windrise during Venti’s birthday, and when Venti figures out that Xiao has a surprise for him, how will he get it out of him?

Word Count: 1.2k (under the cut)

“Hey, Xiao~! You know what today is right?”

“Wednesday.”

Venti pouted, but he knew that Xiao actually knew what today was. It was Venti’s birthday, and they were currently spending some time together just outside of Mondstadt at Windrise, where Xiao was collecting crystalflies.

As he collected them he handed them to Venti, and soon his hands were full of little crystal cores. He chuckled, looking at Xiao who was still chasing after one more as Venti sat down at the tree's roots.

Xiao came back over, last crystalfly in hand as he sat down next to Venti, placing it in the pile that Venti currently held.

“I always knew you liked crystalflies, but isn’t this a bit excessive?”

Xiao turned his head, biting his lip in mild embarrassment as he folded his arms across his chest.

“I think they’re pretty,” He said softly, and Venti chuckled, setting the crystal cores down and curling up next to Xiao.

“Not nearly as pretty as you, Xiao~”

Xiao playfully shoved Venti off of him with a whine as Venti laughed, immediately clinging back onto Xiao as he whined, cooing at Xiao.

“Xiaooo you can’t be mean to me today! It’s my birthday!”

Xiao pouted and Venti laughed again, wrapping his arms around Xiao’s waist and looking up at him expectantly, making Xiao raise his eyebrow.

“So… what did you get me?”

Xiao immediately looked away from Venti, who grinned deviously as Xiao spoke.

“I… got you some crystalflies. Surely you enjoyed them?”

Venti clicked his tongue, glancing back at the pile of crystal cores that Xiao had collected for him earlier, knowing it wasn’t his birthday gift. Venti yawned, pressing his head into Xiao’s chest as he hummed.

“Xiao~ Are you suuure you don’t have something else~?”

Xiao opened his mouth to speak, but shut it shortly after. Venti chuckled and Xiao started again, speaking this time.

“If you want we can always go to Mondstadt and get something from the tavern… but I don’t have anything planned,” Xiao lied, and Venti hummed, pulling his hand away from Xiao’s waist and placing it on his hip to support himself as he sat up. Xiao flinched, and Venti stopped for a moment before an idea popped into his head and a grin crept up his face.

“Xiao…”

Xiao looked at Venti with wide eyes, knowing immediately what he was up to. He shook his head, and Venti only held Xiao tighter, making sure he wouldn’t be able to wiggle away.

“What do you have planned, dear?”

“I already told you, it’s just the crystalflies, Venti-”

A sharp inhale came from Xiao when Venti squeezed his hip, grinning as Xiao squirmed, giggling softly in anticipation as Venti pinched up his sides to his lower ribs.

“Well if you won’t tell me,” Venti cooed, lightly poking Xiao’s lower ribs as he snickered, trying to control himself as Venti grinned. “I’ll just have to tickle it out of you!”

“Venti, no-!”

Xiao could barely protest when Venti threw himself on him, immediately wiggling his fingers on his ribs, digging in and prodding in a way that he knew would easily draw laughter out from Xiao.

Xiao’s peals of laughter were immediate as he collapsed against the tree’s roots, flailing his arms in an attempt to shove Venti off of him, squirming as he giggled frantically.

“Vehehenti! Wahahahait, not thahahat!”

“Not what? What’s wrong, can you tell me?”

“It t-tihihickles!” Xiao whined and Venti rolled his eyes fondly.

“That’s the point, Xiao,” He chuckled, climbing up his ribs until he nestled his hands under Xiao’s arms, curling his fingers in a way that made Xiao positively squeal as he threw his head back, clamping his arms down in an attempt to nullify the sensations, only trapping Venti’s hands as he clicked his tongue.

“Xiao-Xiao, now I’m stuck!”

“Dohohohon’t call me thahat!” Xiao laughed, squirming frantically as Venti puffed his cheeks, digging his fingers deeper into the hollow of Xiao’s underarm, making him shriek.

“It’s my birthday, I can do what I want! And I want to know what kind of present you have for me!”

“I dohohohon’t!” Xiao wailed, giggling hysterically as Venti sighed, pulling his hands out of Xiao’s underarms and began to lightly trace circles on his tummy, making Xiao jerk before grabbing onto Venti’s wrists, who grinned.

“Venti, dohon’t you dare-”

“Tell me and I might not. But I’m sure you wouldn’t like if I stopped, now would you?”

Xiao flushed red and shoved Venti, making the bard laugh as he clung to Xiao, pinching up the sides of his tummy as Xiao shrieked, dissolving into frantic laughter as he squirmed, kicking his legs behind Venti. Venti chuckled along with Xiao, scratching his lower tummy as Xiao threw his head back, whining.

“Vehehehentiii!”

“Yes, Xiao?”

“Stahahap!”

Venti hummed and shook his head, grinning as he dug into Xiao’s tummy, ditching the light tickles as Xiao squealed, squeezing his eyes shut as he cackled, trying to wiggle away from the evil birthday boy, but to no avail.

“Alrihihight! Vehehenti, no mohohore!”

“Are you gonna tell me what my gift is?!” Venti exclaimed excitedly, and Xiao nodded quickly, overwhelmed by the tickly sensations that were shooting on his every nerve as Venti danced his fingers across his tummy.

The sensations stopped after a few moments, Venti clearly wanting to get in a few extra tickles before halting. Xiao caught his breath for a few minutes, a few stray giggles still escaping his lips as Venti sat on his lap, fidgeting impatiently.

“I-It’s in Mondstadt,” Xiao said, still catching his breath a little bit as Venti jumped up excitedly, much like a little kid as Xiao followed him, heading through the gates of Mondstadt, Xiao staying close to Venti in hopes of avoiding stares from the locals.

They walked into Angel’s Share when Xiao pointed it out, and Venti was greeted with a sudden toss of confetti and a cheer.

“Happy Birthday Venti!”

Venti looked around excitedly as he was greeted by Aether, Lumine, Jean, and Diluc, all standing around Lumine, who held out an apple pie, just for Venti.

Venti turned to Xiao and pointed at him.

“You planned all this for me??”

“I-I had a bit of help from Aether and Lumine…” Xiao said sheepishly, not being familiar with all of Venti’s friends, that it was helpful when Aether and Lumine had offered to help. Venti smiled, throwing his arms around Xiao.

“I’ll get you again later for keeping this from me for so long, my dear Xiao~” He whispered, making Xiao go red and sputter.

“I needed to keep you busy while they set up though,” He protested, but Venti only chuckled as Xiao grumbled, Aether walking over and asking if he had a fever because of how red he was, only further embarrassing him.

“Make a wish, Venti!” Lumine said happily, holding the apple pie up to Venti, a single candle burning in the center of it. Venti blew it out and his friends clapped, Jean cutting into the pie and putting servings out for everyone, giving an extra big slice to Venti, who cheered.

Venti looked back at Xiao, who sat in the corner, silently eating his pie. Venti pulled him to the center of the room happily (also slightly drunk) and made Xiao sing with him as he strummed his lyre, Xiao more mumbling as Venti hollered. Lumine and Aether rolled their eyes as Jean and Diluc clapped supportively despite the performance being far from good. It didn’t matter though, because Venti was having fun, and he was happy to have spent his birthday with all the people that he loved.

#xiaoven #xiao #venti #genshin impact #tickle fic

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bosspigeon · 3 years ago

Text

not if it's you

Prompt: Day One: Cooking, Day Two: Cuddling💕 Pairing: Mason/Male Detective Words: 3293 Summary: Mason is sick. Mason's not supposed to get sick, but magic tends to not give a shit if you're a big, tough vampire man with a reputation to maintain. A prompt fill for @wayhavensummer that I wasn't sure I'd finish, but I'm glad I decided to. I combined two prompts into one, along with the inclusion of the bonus challenge, "love languages!" Juni's love language is Acts of Service~ CW for emetophobia. Nothing actually happens, but it is discussed!

“I’m not a vampire, Mason,” Juni said to him when he clicked on the lamp on his dresser and Mason growled loudly in protest. “I’m sorry, but I can’t see in the dark.”

Mason's growl became a long, low groaning noise as he dragged a pillow over his face. It helped more than he cared to admit, being immediately plunged into soothing darkness and smothered in the warm, sweet scent of the detective buried in his pillow.

Still, he feels like absolute shit.

The illness should run its course in just a few days, from what Juni’s relayed to him about Nate’s research—since he won’t leave Juni’s apartment (he’s not going to say can’t, because that implies weakness, implies that he couldn’t even if he wanted to, and he could, he just won’t, and that’s all there is to it) until he’s well, and refuses to go crawling to the Agency when he just needs to wait things out.

If he went to the Agency, he’d just be “waiting things out” the same as he is there, only he’d be doing it alone in a stiflingly empty observation room, bored out of his fucking skull until someone decided to come poke at him for science. At least here, he’s got Juni fussing over him.

It’s sort of… nice, being fussed over.

And Juni would be fussing whether Mason was here or not. He’d probably be driving himself crazy with worry, making himself sick with it, if Mason were stuck at headquarters without him, and the thought of that makes Mason feel even worse than he already does. It’s really best for the both of them that the vampire is here, buried in a metric fuckton of blankets (because even if he feels like he’s going to burn alive, the second he leaves them the sweat cools on his skin and leaves him trembling) looking into the blank, beady eyes of a patchwork plush cat.

His entire body aches, throbbing dully from the top down, but he reaches out with a heavy arm and turns it around so it’s not fucking staring at him anymore.

Juni’s been gone for a while, but Mason can hear him over the low ringing in his ears, puttering around in the kitchen. His senses are weakened by the bizarre magical illness Juni’s likened to the flu after hearing the symptoms, but he hears the detective humming quietly to himself, smells some spices and herbs he’s too exhausted to bother identifying over the low thrum of something metallic and familiar.

Mason's stomach growls at the same moment it churns. Hungry, but the very thought of consuming anything, blood included, makes him feel nauseous.

He doesn't know how Juni managed to sweet-talk Adam into handing over Mason's blood rations for the few days it would take this sickness to work its way through his body, but it makes him faintly irked he'll have to disappoint the detective when he tells him he doesn't even think his traitorous stomach can handle it, no matter how hungry he is. Juni always looks so pitiful when he can't help, soft doe eyes and pouty mouth and genuine, heartfelt distress rolling off him in waves. Mason groans into the pillow and comforts himself by drawing another detective-scented breath deep into his lungs.

And then Juni knocks on the doorframe (of his own fucking bedroom, because he's ridiculous, and Mason's chest squeezes) and calls, "Still alive in here?" softly teasing, his voice carefully lowered in deference to Mason's throbbing skull.

He makes a rough noise and tosses aside the pillow, because the only thing better than being buried in Juni-perfumed sheets is taking in the scent of him right from the source.

Juni always looks so different when he's at home. He relaxes, softens, like a bird coming to roost. His shoulders aren't so tense, his eyes stop darting like he's waiting for an attack (something Mason noticed even before Juni was actually under attack every other week) and he just, he looks settled and safe. After the shit he’s been through, he deserves to feel safe.

He opens his mouth to say something, but Mason just awkwardly squirms his way out of the blankets to free his arms enough to reach out.

"C'mere," he grunts.

Juni laughs, and the way his cheeks curve, the way they make his eyes crinkle at the corners, makes Mason hate whatever magic bullshit allowed him to get sick in the first place with a burning fury that feels like it's immolating him from the inside.

Or maybe that's the fever.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," Juni teases when Mason growls. It's not as fierce as he hoped it would be, which is more than obvious when Juni only smiles indulgently at him.

He perches on the edge of the bed and smooths a hand over Mason's clammy forehead, making a soft, commiserating cooing noise. Mason wants to be annoyed, wants to growl again, complain about being coddled, but the sound that comes out of him is not a growl, or a curse, but a soft moan. He pushes up into Juni’s hand and closes his eyes.

“You’re still burning up,” Juni sighs, sinking his fingers into the vampire’s hair and scratching at his scalp. He moans again, lower and rougher. A little awkwardly, he adds, “Nate said you should, y’know, drink something.”

Mason’s stomach turns, and he grits his teeth and shakes his head.

“Mason.”

He shakes his head again, turning his face into the pillow again when it starts to make him dizzy. He wants to break something. He feels so pitiful.

“Mason, you’re not gonna get better if you don’t—”

“You ever seen someone puke blood, detective?” he snaps. Juni’s hand retracts sharply, and Mason keeps his eyes closed. He doesn’t want to see the hurt streaking across that soft, expressive face. “It’s not pretty,” he adds gruffly, and it takes all the strength in his flagging body to roll over and turn his back.

Juni’s quiet for a long moment, before soft fingers are sliding into his hair again,rubbing at the nape of his neck. “I had kind of a weird idea that might help, if you think you can stop pouting long enough to hear me out,” he says.

“You sure know how to sweet-talk a guy, huh?” Mason grumbles, but his body, an aching knot of sweaty tension, starts to slowly loosen up under the gentle petting.

Juni goes quiet again, and then, with a little laugh, he says, “Would it make you feel better if I told you you’re really cute when you’re all whiny?”

“How fucking dare you,” he snarls impotently into the pillow.

Juni laughs, and when Mason rolls over again to glower at him, he snorts trying to stifle it. “Do you want to hear my idea or not?”

“Not exactly in any position to stop you, am I?” Mason scoffs.

The detective pokes his nose. “Nope!” Mason nips at his finger, but his reflexes aren’t exactly great at the moment, and Juni just pulls it back with a smile. “I wanted to ask before I, like, ruined one of your blood rations for a weird experiment, but I’ve been doing research on different recipes that use blood—” “Why?” Mason interjects.

Juni flounders a bit, shoulders drawing up to his ears. “I… Well, I know you don’t like to eat human food, for good reasons, but sometimes I can convince Felix and Adam to try stuff I make, and Nate likes to eat sometimes, and I like… I like cooking for people? And I can’t really do that for you, because I know how overwhelming your senses can be, but you’ve said they’re kind of dull right now, so I thought maybe I could make, well… sort of a blood soup?"

Mason blinks at the detective.

Juni nervously babbles on to fill his befuddled silence. "If I thinned it out with a mild broth, I figured it would go down easier. And I know ginger is really strong on its own, but it also settles the stomach, and with the blood and the broth, it might help? I thought about adding some other things, but I tried to be picky with it, because even if your senses are dulled, I don't want to overwhelm you."

Mason chews it over, and even though he can tell his silence is making Juni nervous with every second that ticks by (fidgety, fussy, open and honest to a goddamned fault, a ball of nerves Mason wants to drag into bed and shield from the world) he can't really think of much to say, except, "Sure. Why the fuck not?"

"That's okay! I figured it was a long shot anyway, and—" Juni freezes, his knee-jerk anxious capitulation cutting off like he’s run into a brick wall. "What?"

"I'm already overwhelmed, sweetheart," Mason groans, and honestly, even talking is getting exhausting, his aching throat protesting every word he can manage to eke out. He wants Juni closer, wants to bury his face in his neck and hide like a wounded animal crawling its way home. "It honestly can't get worse at this point. If you think it'll help, I'll try it."

Juni still looks stunned, but is also clearly jangling with nervous excitement. Nate's used the term "puppyish enthusiasm" before when describing the way Juni lights up when he's actually able to help, and it's almost comically accurate.

Juni's bolted from the room before Mason's sluggish brain has a chance to even process the humor at the observation into a snort.

He's alone again, and if Juni were still here, he'd call what Mason's doing pouting, but he's scowling, damn it. Not that anyone's around to see it save for Juni's stuffed animals. He pulls the pillow to his chest, half-burying himself underneath the blankets again. He keeps his foggy focus stretched far enough to hear Juni in the kitchen again, making a game effort not to clatter around noisily and failing spectacularly. It's the thought that counts, Mason supposes.

It doesn't actually take all that long for him to come back, but it still feels like ages with how shitty Mason feels. He's painfully aware of every single ache in his body, radiating down to his bones, of the fever burning him up, the mutinous turning of his stomach even as it gnaws itself apart with hunger. He’s becoming so bogged down in the prison his ailing body has become, he almost doesn’t notice Juni pattering his way back into the room. Almost.

The second he crosses the threshold, Mason senses are honing in on everything they can about him, his smell, his warmth, the way his cozy sweater (it’s midsummer, for fuck’s sake, and sure the AC is cranked due to Mason’s fever, but it always is, because Juni’s body regulates temperature like a goddamned lizard and he hates the heat almost more than Mason does) makes him look soft and touchable. It takes him a long while to even notice the detective is carrying a tea tray with a bowl on it, as well as a glass of water, and when he does, he’s honestly not sure what to make of the smell.

Human food is overwhelming, usually. But usually, Mason’s sinuses aren’t swollen and borderline useless. Juni is walking as carefully as he can, and there is a palpable relief when he sets the tray down on his bedside table without incident. “I made the broth already, because I didn’t want it to take too long if you said yes. It actually smells, like, really good? Is that gross of me to say?”

Mason tries to push himself upright, and his muscles protest loudly enough that he can’t quite bite back a grunt of pain. Juni makes a sound like he’s been shot, and his hands are on Mason with an urgency that vibrates through his skin. Still, his touch is an instant balm to the vampire’s overwrought senses, his hands gentle as they ease him upright and fussily pile pillows behind him to support him. It fucking sucks to be so weak, but at least it’s only Juni seeing him like this. He can’t quite express why, when it feels like his head’s stuffed full of cotton, but he thinks it would suck a lot more if he were riding this out alone, or in a sterile room at HQ. He lolls his head towards Juni, his cheek smashing against one of a half-dozen goddamned pillows piled around him, and laughs weakly. “Gonna feed me too, Nurse Fenn?”

Juni blushes, and the usual rush of his blood doesn’t smack Mason in the face like usual, but it washes over him in a gentle wave of warmth, that tempting smell tickling the back of his tongue. “Do you need me to?” he asks, and it’s pretty clear he’s trying to make it sound teasing, but it comes out much more earnest than anything else.

Mason almost wants to say yes, but he also doesn’t want Juni to be in the splash zone if his stomach decides it can’t handle the detective’s little experiment. “Nah, I got it,” he grunts, reaching for the tray. It trembles dangerously when his shaking hands lift it, but Juni’s quick to steady it and guide it to his lap. He mutters a quiet thanks, and Juni mercifully doesn’t rib him for his uncharacteristic politeness. “You’d make a cute nurse, detective,” he says to cover the strangely loaded silence.

Juni laughs and sits on the edge of the bed, close but not quite touching. “I’m too squeamish,” he offers with a shrug that rubs their shoulders together.

“You just made me soup out of blood,” Mason says dully.

“I also have a borderline breakdown giving myself the same shot I’ve been giving myself every week for the last decade,” Juni retorts. “Do you really think I could do it for someone else?”

Mason snorts. “Probably not. Would kill to see you in one of those little dresses, though.”

The only thing protecting Mason from getting a hilariously ineffectual swat on the shoulder is the bowl of soup in his lap. He’s not even sure his current feeble condition would be enough to stop Juni otherwise. “Eat your soup, asshole,” Juni groans, covering his burning face with his hands. He peeks through his fingers after a moment’s hesitation, “And maybe I’ll show you the Halloween costume Tina got me as a joke a couple years ago when you’re feeling better.”

Mason’s whole body reacts to that, and he can’t be sure if the chill that rolls down his spine is due to the illness, or something else entirely. If nothing else, choking down some soup will be worth it, just for that promise.

The first spoonful goes down surprisingly easy. He doesn’t really taste much, at first, not even the coppery tang of blood. It’s thin, as Juni promised, so it doesn’t quite coat his mouth the same way fresh, raw blood would. Juni’s watching him with obvious concern, eyebrows scrunched together and plush bottom lip caught between his teeth. Either concern that Mason’s body is going to reject it fully, or he just won’t fucking like it. Probably both.

“It’s not too hot, is it?” Juni asks, touching Mason’s knee lightly through the blanket. He swallows his mouthful hard and bites down the urge to ask the human not to stop touching him.

“S’fine,” he grunts, trying to parse what exactly he makes of it at all. The warmth feels nice, soothing his raw throat. He takes another bite. He thinks he can sort of make out the individual spices underneath the taste of the blood and the broth (slightly watered down bone broth, he;d guess) but he can’t really smell them either. The ginger, at least, is obvious. He knows the smell enough to guess the taste, even with the complete lack of culinary experience. It’s, strangely enough, not horrible. It does taste mostly like thinned-out blood, which is weird, and gives him a sense of dissonance from the texture he expects blood to have. “Weird.”

Juni doesn’t seem to take offense to that. “Well, you’re not spewing it across the room like you’re possessed, at least, so weird is better than bad?” he laughs, squeezing Mason’s knee. “How’s your stomach?”

Mason takes a second to consider. “Not great, but not terrible.”

Juni almost deflates with relief. “And the taste? It’s not too much, is it? I can be kind of heavy-handed with my seasoning, so I tried to be really careful. It’s really only a pinch of salt, sage, and ginger, with a little bit of licorice root, which I know is kind of weird, but it’s good for sore throats?”

“Tastes like…” Mason screws up his face, realizing he has absolutely no context to work with. “I don’t know. I think I like it?”

Juni smiles like the goddamned sun, and it somehow makes his snarky little pet name for Mason that much funnier. “Really?”

Mason’s not sure he’d be saying the same thing if his senses weren’t dulled to near-uselessness by his traitorous body, but the way Juni looks, like he couldn’t be happier to be dealing with a sick, cranky vampire hogging his bed and sweating in his sheets, makes him bite his tongue. There’s always a brightness to the human when he brings food to the warehouse for Nate and Felix, he smiles so wide his face almost cracks when Adam crumples under the weight of those puppy eyes and takes the smallest portion of whatever concoction Juni’s brought to nibble on, and offers the most awkward compliment he can manage. Juni just likes doing things for people, providing for them any way he can. Food is his usual go-to, but if he can help at all, he’s happy.

I can’t really do that for you.

It almost makes Mason wish he could enjoy whatever the detective whips up in his cramped little kitchen, just to make him smile.

Christ, his brain must be more addled than he thought.

He manages a few more spoonfuls of soup before his stomach starts to feel uncomfortably full, but the gnawing hunger of going too long without drinking has gone away, and he doesn’t feel so much like he’s going to puke like he did earlier. He feels heavy, and tired, and honestly that’s one hell of an improvement. Juni’s quick to take the tray and spirit it off back to the kitchen, bending to press a quick kiss to Mason’s cheek before he goes, and when he returns, the vampire is slumped in his pillow nest and half-asleep, eyes shuttered to thin slits.

He feels more than he sees Juni approach, and when a gentle hand smooths over his clammy forehead, he pushes up into it with a raw, weak noise he has zero energy to be embarrassed by anymore. He reaches out blindly, tangles his fingers in the knit of his detective’s sweater, and tugs. He can’t be sure how it happens, a jumble of movement and complaining muscles, but Juni winds up in bed with him, slouched comfortably against the pillows so Mason can rest his head on the soft curve of his belly. The human plays idly, sweetly with his hair, twirling damp curls around his fingers.

“I’m sweaty,” Mason halfheartedly protests. Juni’s stomach rises and falls beneath his head. It feels like being on the ocean, like being rocked to sleep on quiet waves.

“I don’t mind,” Juni murmurs, thumb stroking the shell of his ear.

Before he can think of anything to say to that, he’s being pulled under, dozing off between one breath and the next.

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