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tommyspeakycap · 4 years ago

Note

I love your work! I was wondering if you’d be willing to write something about (toddler) baby Shelby having Alfie help her bake a cake for Tommy

omggggg that’s so so cute!!

A Bakers Help

The burly Camden Town ‘baker’ was nothing short of completely shocked when he heard a soft banging on his office door in the mid afternoon. His eyebrows had furrowed and he had kept his hand readily on his weapon so he was prepared in the event of an enemy being on the other side of the door. He was surprised to say the least when he tugged open the door and had to look down multiple inches to spot she who knocked on the door.

There stood a little girl. One he knew fairly well but who’s appearance outside his office was still a shock. That little girl was notorious around most of England, especially in heavily gang populated territories where the “Shelby” was a household name and everybody who knew that name knew the littlest member of the family was something akin to a jewel in Tommy Shelby’s crown. Alfie had been curious as to whether or not she was actually attached to Thomas Shelby’s hip in consideration to how much time she spent right by his side, teetering along on little legs so he knew she was safe right by his side. It wasn’t often that Tommy entrusted others to watch over his youngest sister, so it would be safe to say that Alfie was incredibly confused.

“Good morning.” The little girl greets, her lips plastered with a bright smile as she lifts a hand to wave at him. Alfie braces himself on either side of his doorway with strong hands so as to lean out of his office to look out into the ‘bakery’ to both the left and right before stepping back in. “Mhm yes it was actually. Where’s your brothers?” He asks, turning his eyes back to the girl in the doorway who fights to pull her wool coat back up from falling off her arms due to the fact it hadn’t been buttoned up. The girl shrugs, “Dunno...Can I come in?” She asks politely, “It’s very cold.”

Alfie Solomons squints his eyes and forms a crease between his brows, but even he can’t deny the chill in the winter breeze through the unheated factory and the shivering of the child, and so he steps to the side and gestures her in the door. Alfie hums, or maybe something more akin to a grumble, in thought as the five year old wanders around his office to take in the whole surroundings. “And where are your pikey brothers then yeah?” His voice rumbles deep and gravelly the same way it always does, not missing the chance or thinking twice about dropping an insult to the Shelby men as he speaks. The youngest of the clan shrugs her little shoulders. “Dunno,” she says again, “I’m with Ada. Told her i was going out to play.”

The words most definitely do worry Alfie Solomons after the girl with Tommy Shelby’s striking blue eyes and his heart in the palm of her tiny hand finishes speaking flippantly. It occurs to him that she’s simply too young to understand both risk and consequence. She knows that Tommy Shelby dotes on her like the little princess he believes her to be. She knows he loves her, he tells her every day. However, Alfie knows the far darker side to that love. He’s heard of people brutally murdered with remains unidentifiable after coming close to her, and although Alfie has no desire to harm a child who probably doesn’t even understand what it is the rest of her family do when she’s not around, that doesn’t reassure him even in the slightest that Tommy, Arthur, Ada and John Shelby along with Polly Gray wouldn’t rip him to shreds if they knew their little princess was stood in his office for whatever reason.

“Right,” Alfie states, “Better get you home then,” He strides easily towards the door to hold it open, but the little girl simply quirks one eyebrow and remains where she stands. “It’s Tommy’s birthday soon.” She declares, looking up at the hardened London gangster as if he poses no threat nor fear to her in the slightest bit. She smiles at him, big and bright. She didn’t know him. She didn’t know if he was violent, didn’t know if he was supposed to be scary. She just knew she had met him before, he was relatively funny as the 5 year old obviously did not pick up on the thinly veiled threats hiding beneath the verbal back and forth between her favourite brother and the man she stood with now, and more importantly than anything; she knew he was a ‘baker’. “You need a cake on your birthday, you know.” She adds very matter of factly, and Alfie Solomons doesn’t fight the little grin he gives. “And you’re a baker, so you can make good cakes. I need you to help me make Tommy’s cake for birthday cake time on Saturday.”

There’s virtually no way this little girl had just come up with this by herself. The way she acts, her generosity, her sweetness and her absolute insistence of cake for her brothers birthday was not something she had adapted by herself. Children don’t just come up with these things. That thought, for Alfie, means that those who have raised her have drilled a certain kindness into her. Thomas Shelby has raised his little sister to be the kind of kid who will find a man she thinks is a baker just because her brother told her he was, so that he can help her make a cake. That makes Alfie want to laugh. Tommy Shelby acts the part, but Solomons now knows he’s the type who taught a little girl about the importance of cake and birthday fun.

“Fine.” Alfie responds, out stretching his arm to gesture the little girl out into the factory. He did actually have a designated area for the ‘bakery’ just in the event that someone came looking or investigating and he needed to show there was actually a bakery there. He was thankful for that now, because he got the feeling that there was little to no chance he would have gotten away from the very very persistent little Shelby trailing behind him. It becomes apparent very quickly that little (y/n) will have no luck when it comes to seeing what was going on up on the counter, considering she wasn’t even nearly the same height as it, never mind tall enough see over it. Alfie has to get creative in that respect, eyes flicking around until they lands on a a stack of crates that he grabs a couple of to pile them next to the counter so that the youngest Shelby can contribute as she pleased to the cake making.

All things considered, Alfie was actually a fairly good baker. He didn’t come up with the idea of a bakery to cover his illegal business work for no reason. He knew he could bake if it was necessary (which it sometimes was to smuggle alcohol), so this ask from the little girl who had a list of ingredients and an exact image of how she wanted this cake to look, wasn’t a huge task for him.

In the process of the bake, Alfie learned a lot. He learned that little Shelby couldn’t quite pronounce her L’s (which Tommy was apparently working on with her), so she called him Afie. He learned that Tommy’s favourite cake was vanilla sponge, which was why it was a four tier vanilla sponge with extra strawberry jam that his sweet little sister had chosen. He learned that the little girl got here by very discretely tripping up her cousin, Karl, so that Ada was preoccupied giving him a plaster for his knee and stopping his tears and (y/n) snuck off from Ada’s London home in the direction she felt like she remembered Tommy going when he had taken her to Alfie’s bakery once, albeit leaving her in the car with Arthur and John. She had to ask for directions from confused strangers a few times, but ultimately she found the place on her own. Alfie learned that little Shelby talks a lot. She’s very clever, can follow instructions a lot better than most children of a similar age. It had become increasingly clear she didn’t see any problem with talking about the fun things she did with her brothers. The way Arthur and John like to throw her about to hear her giggles, how Tommy tucks her in every single night that he can. How he tickles her, how he still carries her around even though her aunt Polly protests it. How good her aunt Polly’s cooking is. How much she loves her family. She sees no problem with divulging these soft family moments, although Tommy would probably be absolutely appalled that people knew these things about him and his brothers. It made the head of the Peaky Blinders seem so incredibly mundane.

Alfie could see now why that sweet girl was so loved and held so dear by the family. He also had to wonder if she truly was one of them. She was funny and bright, she giggled with him and babbled on about sorts of rubbish. Alas, she was bossy as Thomas himself. She was loud like Arthur, sarcastic as John, self assured as Polly, as independent as Finn and opinionated as Ada. She made sure to tell Alfie exactly how to stack the first layer while she mixed ingredients for the next layer and he was kept on a very short leash, reminded every so often that he was not to dip his fingers in any of the mixtures and leaning over as he worked to tell him Tommy liked more jam than what Alfie had put on.

“Wait!” She yelps out, leaping off the makeshift kitchen stool made from those bottle crates to chase after Alfie until she reaches the man who was carrying the cake towards a box. “Finishing touches,” she insists, ever so slightly dusting the cake with powdered icing sugar to give a final decorational appearance. Alfie smiles subconsciously as the small girl stands back with a proud grin, turning her eyes to man holding the cake, “Thank you Afie,” she beams, her cute little way of saying his name never lost on him as his heart flutters. “Welcome, baby Shelby.” He responds as he slips it into the cake box he’d ordered one of his men to go and get without question.

Alfie was certain he would step outside his bakery and London would be burning. He expected to have Shelby’s killing people on the streets searching for their baby, their sweet little princess. He assumed (and rightly so) that Ada hadn’t told Tommy that she had absolutely no idea where his most precious little love was for genuine fear of his reaction and so she had mobilised some friends and acquaintances she had made while in London to try finding her little sister. Albeit they were evidently unsuccessful and absolutely no one expected little (y/n) to be baking with Alfie Solomons for her gangster brothers birthday because she just loves him so.

Ada literally burst out the front door frantically when she saw the car headlights pull up outside her house, wrapping herself tightly in her coat as Alfie Solomons lifts her little sister down out of the car. The 5 year old stands innocent as ever next to the man who Tommy never truly knows if he can trust or not as he reaches back into the car to lift out a white cake box with two strong hands. “Better keep a closer eye on this one yeah?” He gestured his head to (y/n) who runs towards Ada and jumps into her open arms to be squeezed incredibly, almost painfully tightly. “Never run off like that again!” She hisses, her concern and anxiety clear behind her words as she speaks into her sisters soft hair, stroking it with her hand for some form of reassurance.

“Sorry Ada,” she hums cutely in response, “We made Tommy a cake though, for his birthday!” Ada let’s go of (y/n) and turns to the little girl. “Go inside and find Aunt Pol, i’ll be in shortly.” She says as she eyes Alfie Solomons with the stoney faced glare he assumes she learned from Polly Gray and her often stoney resolve. “Bye bye Afie!” The 5 year old chimes, scuttling up to him to wrap her arms around his legs for a moment before turning and running off with a wave at the doorstep with Alfie a little bit to stunned by how kind she was to him despite the bad man he was to do much else than wave after her. “You,” Ada snipped, cutting him out of his thoughts and crossing her arms firmly over her chest, “Baked a cake with my little sister?” Her words leak with confusion, eyebrows furrowed with her head tilted in question as she continues to be unable to think of any reason why Alfie Solomons hadn’t turned the little girl away or even used her as a bargaining chip with threats of harm to the child if Tommy didn’t do as Alfie wanted. Instead he baked with her a cake for Thomas and she was returned without a bump, not even a hair on her head harmed. He had returned the little Shelby who was uncharacteristically clumsy for a Shelby without her falling off of anything, burning herself on any ovens or accidentally eating something she was supposed to.

“Yeah.” Alfie responds, shrugging his shoulders at the same time. Ada steps closer to him to try in some way to read what he’s not saying, her heels clicking with each step. “And you want nothing for it?” She presses, her eyes narrowed as he shrugs. “Birthday gift innit yeah?” He grumbles, handing the cake to Ada. “She’s the best of you lot,” he states firmly as he turns his back to climb back into his car, “Keep her that way yeah?”

Ada’s frown turns to a soft smile as she nods, watching as Alfie Solomons pulls his door shut firmly and turns on his ignition.

“Mr Solomons, Oi!” She calls after him, forcing him to roll down his window to hear what she has to say. “Thank you.” She breathes, “For looking after her and bringing her home. And for the cake.” Alfie nods his head in acknowledgment. Ada isn’t sure what else to say. She still feels fairly nauseous at the fact her little sister was missing for virtually the whole day and littered with further nerves at the fact Tommy would be around to pick her up in a half hour and it wasn’t like little Shelby to keep quiet about anything, especially not when it came to Tommy and especially when it came to her adventures that her favourite brother hadn’t been part of, so assuredly she would let him know all about her baking day with Alfie after the cake was revealed tomorrow afternoon for his birthday. Alfie knew this too and he imagined he’d get a visit from the head of the Peaky Blinders relatively soon after he found out.

Tommy would probably be as confused as Ada as to why Alfie looked after little (y/n) the way he did. Alfie couldn’t even really explain it himself, she just warmed up his heart and the sweet little girl showed Alfie truly why Tommy loves that little girl so much. She brings laughter and happiness and fun. She brings light into a very, very dark life and Alfie appreciates that dedication Tommy had to keeping her safe a lot more now. He himself now had a soft spot for the kid and there was a part of him that knew for a fact he too would be making sure no one in his circle was breathing words of harming that little girl who had promised she would bake with him again, and had his birthday written on her hand so she could bake for his birthday.

Maybe the Shelby’s weren’t so bad after all.

#tommy shelby x sister!reader #tommy shelby x sister reader #shelby sister #shelby sister reader #shelby!sister #shelby!sister reader #shelby!reader #peaky blinders #peaky blinders blurb #(y/n) shelby #little shelby

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metalbuckaroo · 3 years ago

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Hey, lovely! For your sleepover. How about...

“I desperately want to take you out for dinner and slow dance with you until the sun comes up, but I also want to grip your hair as I watch you writhing underneath me.”

Please feel free to ignore if you received this. 💖

Checking In

Summary// A hotel getaway with Bucky's favorite receptionist

Warnings// Lil angsty, some fluff, some smut, cursing, tiny mention of drinking, 18 plus only, minors dni

Note// I kinda love this request. I didn't use the quote, but its based off of the quote, this also got LONG and took sooo long.

My new masterlist and taglist will hopefully be done tomorrow night.

Im really hoping it doesn't flop bc I'm lowkey proud of it and also spent a lot of time on it

MASTERLIST

Moodboard by @commonintrest

This was the slowest Bucky had went with someone in a very long time. Three dates in and he hadn't even had the chance to see you naked. It was driving him crazy to say the least.

Anyone else wouldn't have gotten a call back, but for you; it made him want it even more. So, he came up with an idea to take that extra step.

Walking into the hotel you worked at, he gave a nod to the security guard and flashed you a charming smile; his hair much shorter than when you saw him last. "Like the haircut." You said, turning in the chair to look at him. "Feels more... professional."

"Checking in again?" You asked, leaning your chin on the base of your palm, reaching your other hand to card your fingers through the short hair.

Bucky shook his head and leaned his forearms on the desktop. "No. We are checking in somewhere else. Tonight, when you're off."

His eyes trailed down to the top of your blouse, looking at the few buttons that where open. "Buck, I'm not staying in a hotel with you." You smiled, shaking your head. "Come on, I'll sleep on the couch if you're too uncomfortable." He smirked.

You thought it over for a moment before sighing and nodding your head. "Yeah, ok." You agreed, letting him pull you in for a brief kiss by the back of your neck. "Fantastic. I'll be here at five to get you."

"I'll have to go get cl-" Bucky shook his head at you. "Won't need 'em." He said, turning to walk out. "Bucky, don't you dare."

"See ya tonight, pretty girl."

As promised, five o'clock hit and Bucky was pulling in front of the doors in his sleek black car; quickly getting out.

His usual suit was traded in for a more casual button up tee and dark jeans, the prosthetic that matched the shape of his right arm perfectly on display.

He rounded the desk and picked up your bag. "You can't be back here." You teased, making him roll his eyes. "Come along, babydoll. We have plans." He said, hand between your shoulder blades to guide you with him.

Bucky's plan would surely get that extra step at least jumpstarted. The heated make out sessions in his car when he dropped you off were starting to get to him.

He refused to call anyone else to handle the tightening of his jeans, the wait made him yearn for you even more.

So, he patiently waited as you changed into the lavender sundress he'd sent for, listened and talked over dinner on the patio of the motel, and just basked in your enjoyable presence.

"Dance with me." You said, hand laying on his bicep. He chuckled lightly and shook his head. "I don't dance, sugar."

You raised your eyebrows and cocked your head to the side, fingers tracing down the vein that ran the length of his arm and to his hand. "Well, you're going to, or you'll be sleeping in that room alone." You laced your fingers in his and he looked at you with an amused expression. "Oh, really now?"

"Mhm, c'mon. It's a slow one, so you won't embarass yourself." You teased, feeling his hands on your hips as soon as you turned your back to him. "I never said I couldn't dance. Just that I don't, babydoll." His gruff voice said in your ear, moving to stand in front of you once in the midst of the other couples enjoying their night.

"Couldn't say no to you if I tried anyways." He said softly as your hands rested on the back of his neck, his on the dip of your waist.

The Bucky who took you on dates was different than the Bucky who strolled in your lobby at least once every two weeks. He wasn't glowering when he looked at you; instead he had a smile that made the corner of his eyes crinkle and your heart flutter.

He hadn't smiled so hard and so much in years. He was addicted. To your voice, fiery attitude, and gleaming smile; and he couldn't even imagine how much more he'd crave once he finally got a taste of you.

"Gonna let me sleep in the bed, pretty girl?" He cooed, hands roaming over the swell of your ass. "Of course, Mr Barnes." You grinned, pecking a kiss to his dimpled chin. "Could dance with you all night if you wanted me to." He said, squeezing gently. "I wouldn't complain."

His lips slotted over yours, your eyes fluttering shut at the softness of them.

He suddenly lifted his head, bottom lip brushing the tip of your nose as you opened your eyes again.

Bucky's cold demeanor he usually had while walking through the lobby of the hotel returned, smile fading into a deep scowl as he looked at something behind you.

"Is something wrong?" You asked, worry lacing your voice as you cupped his stubbled jaw in your hands, feeling the muscle of it flex. "Just stay close." He murmured, pulling you closer to his front.

You furrowed your eyebrows at him, lips parting to say something, but the stern look in his eyes stopping you as they stayed glued on whatever was behind you.

"Barnes, didn't expect to see you here- like this." A voice that was slightly higher in pitch than Bucky's sounded from behind you.

Bucky tucked you into his side, hand on the small of your back as he stared at the shorter man. "Just enjoying my night. That a problem?"

You swallowed thickly and gripped onto the back of Bucky's shirt, crumbling the perfectly ironed fabric in your fist as your heart pounded. "Needa talk." The man said.

Bucky's eyes flicked to a group of men sitting at the corner of the patio before looking back to the man in from of him. "Go sit down. Order us some more drinks." Bucky said sternly. "Bucky-"

He finally looked down at you with an icy stare, making you shrink back slightly. "Now isn't the time to argue with me. Go sit down." The tone of his voice was one you hadn't heard before.

You nodded and turned to walk back to the table, picking at your nails as you took your seat again.

Looking to where Bucky was sat at the table with the group, you chewed your bottom lip. You knew what you were getting into when accepting that first date, you just didn't think it'd follow you everywhere.

He tried to stay patient, he was in rival territory and knew it was a terrible idea; but this was one of the nice hotels and he wanted the weekend spent right. Keeping his cool was the only way he was going to be able to do that.

He was barely even listening to half of what the men were saying, glancing over at your nervous posture as you picked the nails he had just paid to get manicured; even though you protested against taking his money.

Until one statement had his head snapping back towards one of them. "The girl seems... sweet. Make you happy?" It wasn't meant in a way a friend would ask when checking up on another friend. Bucky felt it burn through him like a threat.

"Yeah, well, she's got a mouth on her and I'm losing my patience. So, you men have a good night, you owe my girl an apology for ruining her night." He stood, teeth gritting together.

You noticed Bucky's tense stance and straightened in your seat as he got closer. "Rude bastards." Bucky grumbled, taking your hand in his and tugging for you to stand. "What did they want?"

Bucky thought about lying, but he promised you he wouldn't. "Talk business. Can't believe they'd interrupt me over stupid bullshit." He sneered, pulling you along with him back into the hotel. "Where are we going? They're going to bill you for those drinks." You huffed, picking up your pace to walk next to him. "Don't care."

By the time the two of you reached the door to your room, Bucky had you pressed against it; fumbling to swipe the key card as his lips attacked yours.

Your hands fisted into the front of his shirt to keep your balance as shoes were kicked off, Bucky backing you towards the bed with his large hands holding the sides of your face.

You fell back onto the bed when the backs of your knees met the edge of the mattress, taking him with you; Bucky's body parting your legs.

The kiss was hungry and desperate, sharing breaths as his hands gripped at your outer thighs and pawed their way under the skirt of your dress.

You pulled away from the kiss, breathless as he dipped his head to latch his lips on the underside of your jaw. "Bucky, wait-" You panted, pressing his shoulders lightly. "What?" He breathed, stopping all movements as he looked at you; eyes dark and lips kiss swollen. "I-"

"You're a virgin. We can wait, if so." He cut you off, face dropping slightly. "No, no. It's not that. I just haven't had sex in awhile." You said, gnawing at your tongue. "Want me to go slower?"

"I just don't want to take things too fast." You whispered, tracing the collar of his shirt with your fingertips.

Bucky took a deep inhale, warm hand moving to hold your chin. "Babygirl, listen. I'm not going to kick you out of my bed when we're done. You got me attached with this damn chase you gave me. Wanna take care of you. Okay?"

You nodded and pulled him back down to you, his tongue slipping between your lips as his fingers worked at the buttons of his shirt.

Gently pushing them away, you replaced his hands with yours to pop the buttons open as his tongue glided across every inch of your mouth he could reach.

You lifted your back off of the mattress for his hand to feel for the zipper of your dress, grazing your fingers down the tensing muscles of his chest and abdomen; stopping at the button of his jeans.

"Don't get shy now, take 'em off." Bucky mumbled against your lips, sliding the straps of your dress off of your shoulders.

The wetness between your legs grew as your tugged at his belt, whimpering into his mouth when he pressed his hips against you to show how hard he was.

Pulling away, Bucky sat up to tug your dress down your torso and legs; eyes drinking in the beautiful sight in front of him as he shoved his jeans off and palmed himself through his boxers.

"Take the shirt off." You panted, backing up the bed. A smirk grew on his face, metal thumb sliding back and forth in the waistband of his boxers as he looked at your glistening folds. "Ask nicely and I just might." He taunted. "Please."

You watched the way his muscles flexed with each movement, the shirt sliding off of his arms and to the floor; revealing the mess of scars Bucky hoped you'd ignore and a large tattoo on his ribcage.

Next were his boxer briefs, pooling at his feet as his cock twitched in the air; swollen tip red and leaking precum. "You're staring, babydoll." He said, voice low as he moved his body back over yours.

"Can't help it." You swallowed, the weight of his cock against your thigh as you felt the firmness of his back. His hand slipped between your bodies to guide himself to your heat, spreading your slick with his tip.

"So wet, barely even touched you yet." You whined at his words and gripped his shoulders. "Buck, please. Stop the teasing."

The smirk on his face grew before he brushed his lips against yours. "Hm, I don't know. Kept me waitin' so long, might just tease you a little more." He hummed. You bucked your hips against him, his tip barely pressing into you. "Fuck..." Bucky said in a low groan, a shudder passing through his body.

He made sure you felt every ridge and vein, pulling breathy sounds from you when he pushed deeper. Your walls so tight and warm around him, he already had to hold off his release.

"Look at me, sweet girl." He breathed, nipping at your bottom lip and rolling his hips into yours.

When you opened your eyes, the adoring look in Bucky's made your breath hitch. Hands wedging under your back as he sat up, holding you to him so you were sitting on his thick thighs.

"So beautiful." He groaned as his hands glided over the curve of your back to your ass, metal and flesh fingers digging into the skin.

Guiding your hips in a faster pace, he could feel you clenching around him, swallowing the blissed out sounds you made with a breath taking kiss as his grip on you tightened.

The soft ow that passed your lips made Bucky loosen his grip and move you in a slower pace. "Need me to slow down?" He panted, pulling away from you slightly.

You frantically shook your head, hands clinging to his shoulders; needing to feel his skin against yours. "No-no. Don't stop, please, keep going." You whined, bucking your hips along with him.

In a swift movement, your back was pressed back into the mattress. Your fingers laced with Bucky's as he pinned your hands at the sides of your head, his hips meeting yours in a faster, rougher pace that knocked the breath from your lungs and made your head spin; his cock sliding against every sweet spot, some that you didn't even know existed.

Salacious sounds from both of you echoed around the room, your eyes fluttering shut again and body arching into him so your front was flush to his as the coil snapped.

"There you go, baby. Feel so good, so worth the wait." Bucky moaned out, chasing his own release with shorter thrusts.

A whimper of his name falling from your sweet lips sent him over the edge, his hips flush to yours as he spilled into you with a guttural moan.

He slowly rocked his hips into yours, riding the blissful feeling for all that it was as he looked over your blissed out face.

It was the moment your eyes peaked out, staring back into his lust darkened ones that Bucky knew. You were the one thing he needed to protect. To hold close and never let go.

A tender kiss was placed on your lips, a satisfied hum leaving Bucky as he slipped from between your legs to lay beside you.

You slowly moved off of the bed to grab a shirt and go to clean up, legs feeling wobbly with each step to and from the bathroom.

Bucky sat on the edge of the bed when you walked back into the adjoined room, legs still a little jelly feeling as you made you way back to him.

He laughed, an actual belly laugh that made your heart swell as he pulled you between his parted thighs. "I have some... unexpected business to take care of in the morning."

You nodded lightly and sat your hands on his shoulders. "I want you to stay in this room and keep the door locked. When I come back, we'll do something." He promised, gently massaging your sides. "Something, huh?"

A squeak escaped your throat when you were pinned back underneath Bucky, his hips pressing into you. "Oh, don't you get me started. I'll keep you up all night."

#bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky fic #bucky x reader #bucky imagine #bucky barnes smut #mafia!au #mafia!bucky smut #mafia!bucky #mob!bucky #mob!bucky smut

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sweater-daddiesdumbdork · 3 years ago

Text

Appointment Scheduled

Summary- 2.7k Ransom Drysdale x Reader. Since that night at your parents, you haven't been to see Ransom. Not that he wasn't always on your mind. But you continue to defend your 'FWB' term that is all he is. Ransom gets tired of receiving physical silence from you.

So he made himself an appointment.

Warnings- somewhat mad mean Ransom, reader in denial of her feelings, some in the office over the desk sex. This is a cheater fic, the reader is cheating on her boyfriend and Ransom is encouraging this. Please if this bothers you, do not read it.

A/N- another self-indulgent fic featuring these two? Yes please, it's what I wanted, so it's what I wrote. As always, thank you for reading, comments and reblogging. You all have to thank @sagechanoafterdark for Ellie showing up in the story. We were talking that the reader needs a best friend who is like "Duh, you two are meant to be, it is so obvious." to our reader.

Masterlist

“Ellie no I haven't seen him since my dad's birthday party. I mean a few messages here and there, but nothing more about meeting up.”

You hear your best friend scoff on the other line. She was your confidante, your tried and true, better or worse, the bitch who will help you bury the body friend.

She also lacked sugar coating anything.

“Well, you two are just dumb. One of you has to open that line of conversation, might as well be you.”

You hit the button to the lift, sighing into the phone as you watched the numbers ding. “I don’t know what conversation you are talking about El.”

“Uh, the one where you two have been in love with each other since basically middle school? The one where whenever you feel lonely, that's the man you call? Or how about the one how he runs to you whenever you even put out a HINT that you might need him? That one Y/N.”

“We are just fuck buddies-”

“Really good, rock your world, the best sex and head you’ve ever gotten, buddy. Right?” Ellie’s tone is dripping with sarcasm now and you pinch your nose in aggravation while stepping onto the elevator.

“Exactly like that.” You go a bit quiet. “Listen, I’m at work, so talk later, okay?”

“Sure, I miss you. I wish you would move back to the city.” Ellie softened her tone a bit. “Girls weekend soon? I love you.”

“I love you too and of course!” You hit the end button and stuff it in your bag, staying quiet the rest of the ride up.

Working as a lawyer's assistant wasn’t too bad. Although it's often said couples shouldn't work together, you hardly saw Neil while you were there. He was usually in some kind of pissing match with another DA in the building, which made for some interesting rants from him when he got home.

You dutifully listened, but with little interest. They got old and boring, which was how you were feeling in this ‘safe relationship.’

Really you felt something must be fucked up with you. Neil was a good guy, supportive, he didn't have much of a jealous streak, although you wished once in a while he would get a bit riled up about when someone was checking you out when the two of you went out for a date night. Everything was stable in your relationship, aside from the fact you basically were away to Ransom's bed any chance you could.

Then there was Ransom. The man you were able to actually swear yourself off from two years straight and got your life in order.

So you thought. It took one drink and conversation to fall back to where you two were two years ago. Only this time you found him missing him while you were away, thinking about him more.

You opened your office door and propped it open for your boss's clients to come inside and wait, your boss's door opened on the other side. Shaking off your over-the-top feelings going on, you went to pour Johanna's coffee and grab the files for today's cases. She was on the phone, so you just set them down with a small wave of your hand and settled behind the desk to get started transferring her notes into the system.

Ransom though was never far from your mind when you gave your cell the occasional glance.

Lunchtime approached which meant you would meet up with Neil and head to the small cafe on the corner. He would ask you about your work, you would ask him about his. There would be pleasantries shared. You sighed once more to yourself at the thought of it.

Johanna closed her door with a sudden click. You jumped a bit in surprise as she shouldered her handbag. “You okay Dear?” The woman asked kindly and you smiled, brushing it off.

“Caught up in these files.”

“Ah, yes there is a lot with this case. Sorry about all the extra notes. I know it's a tad boring. But take your break, stay out with Neil a little extra. It's a nice day and you've earned it.” She smiled kindly.

“I will be sure to, maybe Neil and I can breeze around the park before returning.” Fat chance… you thought as you smiled kindly at your boss as she took her leave. You picked at your cell phone, working your lip about to message Neil that you would meet him when a rather loud distinctive tone filled the entryway to your and Johanna's office.

“I have a meeting lined up with Johanna Klein, if you could let her assistant know that Ransom Drysdale is here to see her.”

Dropping your cell phone, forgetting about Neil, you rise out of your seat and go to your door, peering out. Ransom is leaning against the desk to the receptionists of the lawyer's offices explaining how it was your lunchtime and you were out of the building.

Ransom’s voice was about to release, you could see him drawing in the air to make himself a bit more imposing at the idea that he wasn’t allowed to see you when his icy orbs lifted from the receptionist to you, a perfect smirk crossing those pale pink lips that could be so soft at the moment while dropping venom just as easily. “She looks like she is available to me.”

The receptionist spun her chair to see you in the doorway. “It’s okay, Johanna booked him as the last one this morning.” You lied while Ransom made his way around the desk to enter your office. The receptionist looked like she was about to say something more when you quickly clicked the door closed and pulled the shade over the frosted glass to keep from anyone seeing the two of you in there.

“What are you doing here Ransom?” You ask yet again, while he was leaning against the desk with his arms folded over his chest.

“I have an appointment. Seems it's the only way to properly see you again.” He pushed up the sleeves of his long sleeves over muscled forearms. You being you, was absolutely unable to take your eyes off that action.

“Well, I’ve been busy and you never made mention of it again.”

“Kitten…” His tone lowered with a warning. “I didn't think I had to imply that you could come over whenever. But if I'm going to have to do it this way from now on.” He pushed off the desk to stalk the small space to you. “Guess that's what I will do. Book my appointments between-” a slight snarl darkened his face, the crease between his eyes deepening as his hand rested in your lower back and pushed you closer to him.

Overwhelmingly closer. His muscles through the shirt flexed under your hands coming to rest on his pecs and his cologne made your mouth water with the familiarity. The scent of bergamot and cedar gave an almost smoky scent, a touch of sweetness with vanilla had you inching closer to Ransom. “- your time with Neil.”

Your eyes flashed angrily at him then, pulling back a bit in his hold. “What does it matter to you, Ransom?”

“It doesn't. Like I told you before Kitten, you and I will never be over.”

“Feels a lot like jealousy to me then.” You spat a bit. “Since we're just this.” You shrugged a bit, now your temper is getting the best of you. “What was it that Ellie said to me this morning. Fuck buddies.”

“Your term, not mine Kitten.” Ransom yanked you in close again, this time his kiss was a lot different than that night in your bedroom. It was harsh and demanding, forcing you to open your mouth to him and swallow his passion. “You know fucking Neil is skating on thin ice, keeping you all the time.” He shoved you roughly against your desk, your hands flying to the paperwork you were working on before and it went flying for the most part. Some of it fisted in your hand as your ass arched out and pressed against Ransom's groin, making you hiss when he jerked your hips further back.

“Neil is technically my-” You started when a hand slapped over your mouth, fingers digging into your cheeks roughly.

All of it was turning you on, making your thighs squeeze together and you breathe harshly through your nose the more excited you got. “Don’t say it Kitten. Not right now, this is my time. Remember. I made an appointment.”

You felt your skirt get rucked up around your hips and Ransom leaned over, his chest pressing into your back as he flushed hot kisses on your neck, a yank to your shirt dragged your shirt over your shoulder. It wasn't gentle kisses, it was deep leave his mark there that was making you tilt your head and push back into him once more while he fumbled with his own pants to yank them open.

“Yes, yes your appointment. Did you miss this pussy?” You purred, mimicking the nickname you had earned. His fingers pushed aside the bit of cotton that was now sticky clinging to your folds and he stroked you with precision, spreading your slick all around till he swirled a finger against your clit.

“Enough to come searching your ass out.” He remarked when you felt his cock take over where his fingers were, thicker, velvet hardness in your soft folds make you mewl while gripping your desk's edge.

It was the right call, as soon as Ransom felt you start to take him, he pressed harder. Making you both hiss, your head falling against your desk as he stretched you open, his cock filling you quickly. His teeth sunk into your shoulder, registering the sting of it when he rutted into you, slamming your hips into the desk suddenly. “Fuck Ransom,” You hissed out and bit your lip to stifle a moan.

“This perfect round ass that is so fuckable.” His hand came against a cheek while his hips slammed into you steadily. Jerking you on the desk. But it all felt so good, the stink of the slap making you tighten around his cock while you gave a yelp in protest.

Again his hand came around your mouth, stuffing fingers in your mouth which you wrapped your lips around and sucked on them, making your eyes roll when you tasted yourself on them. “Shut it Kitten, suck yourself off me like a good girl while I fill this perfect cunt.” Ransom snapped his teeth near your ear. You moaned, trying to confirm that you would, you would do just as he said while he fucked you harshly from behind.

It clouded your mind, forgetting everything you had been stressed about all morning. Ransom's cock pounded into your wanting body like it was all you ever needed. Your smooth walls flexed around him, tightening till you felt the throbbing ridges that dragged and pulled through you.

It wasn't just his cock driving you mindless. It was the grunted words in your ear. “Perfect little clock slut, Kitten you love getting fucked on your desk don’t you?” He hissed in your ear as another drive made you moan incoherent at him. “Just so cock drunk slut, who is too stupid to answer me.” A tongue was dragged on your tongue, kisses right at the hinge of your jaw made you whine and press back against him. He knew that it drove you crazy to feel the flush of his lips along your neck, driving you mindless. “Just my sweet little Kitten taking it so well.”

All you could do was mewl around his fingers stuffed in your mouth, drool escaping from the corners of your stretched lips and dribbling on the paperwork you had crumpled in your fists. Your chest pressed harshly against the desk, making you wheeze under Ransom’s weight. It was smothering, him all over caging you against the furniture, pumping his cock harshly into your core and your mouth stuffed with his fingers keeping you quiet.

It was too much and not enough, cause you still weren't quite there. The heat burned in your belly, wanting to implode you into oblivion. Ransom gritted his teeth as he wedged a hand under you, fingers feeling for your throbbing clit that ached for his touch.

The roll of his fingers made you moan at the tension. The rush made your spine snap and fight against Ransom, which he felt as you squealed in protest, his teeth snapping near you while he sputtered.

“Just fucking cum Kitten, then you can relax. Your boss will be back any time now.” Nearby you glanced at your phone that somehow was still on the table, the time wavering in your sight, as well as some ‘Where are you?’ texts from Neil.

Ransom wanted you to relax and cum, which is what you wanted as well. The numbing release was right there with his help and you let go. The wave was mind blanking. You sagged under Ransom, and he tightened his hold on you as he used you. But you were in bliss as he grunted over you, hot shots of cum filling you while he sagged in relief against you.

Jerks of his cock still quivered your sensitive walls as he took a few last slow pumps into you before he plated his hands against your messy desk and pulled himself up, pulling out of your messy cunt.

“Gonna have to go the rest of the day like that Kitten.” He chuckled as he straightened your panties back in place and pulled your skirt down over your ass. His hand went around your waist and he helped guide you back to a stand to face him. Brushes of his thumbs over your face was an attempt to fix your makeup which made you wince while you rubbed the drool from your chin.

“How bad is it?”

Ransom winced when you asked. “Pretty bad… looks like you've been crying… or got properly fucked. Take your pick.” He said as his hands dropped to pull his pants back in place and zip them back up, the button going back through the loop.

It was unfair that Ransom didn't get completely ruined like you did when this sort of thing happened. You rushed around your desk to grab some wet wipes to wipe the smudged lipstick and mascara off.

‘You know… I never have this problem with Neil.” You muttered and Ransom snapped back as he watched you, leaning down to pick up some of the papers that fell and shuffle them together while you did a quick reapplication so no one would question it.

“Kitten, obviously the man isn't fucking you right then.” A smirk flashed up at you as he handed you your papers and you were quick to tuck them away.

You broke into a small dirty smile, a roll of your eyes playing with him. “Well… you are correct in that Ransom. Now split, Johanna will be back soon.”

“Nope." A pop of the p that made you huff at him. "I have an appointment Y/N.” He swept down into a seat just as Johanna clicked open the door and stepped back in.

“Y/N, did you have a good lunch? I didn’t expect to see you back so soon. But I was told my next client is here.” She glanced towards the corner of the room where Ransom was picking at his sweater. “Mr. Drysdale, come on in with me, please? We will get started.” She smiled warmly as she went around your desk to let herself into her office, Ransom moving to a stand with a chipper.

“Absolutely, thrilled to get started. Y/N here has been a perfect host in the meantime.” He winked at you with a light brush of his fingers along your arm before disappearing into Johanna’s office, the door shutting behind them.

You could only begin to guess what Ransom was up to coming all the way here. Which you would find out later, either from Ransom or Johanna.

Right now you had to deal with standing up Neil, which when you picked up your phone, chewing your lip that you still could taste yourself on from Ransom’s fingers, you read the message.

Y/N, where are you? I have been waiting for an hour for you.

You started to text out your lie of an excuse hoping that this wouldn't be the day it would all blow up in your face.

#ransom drysdale au #ransom drysdale and reader #ransom drysdale x kitten #ransom drysdale fan fiction #knives out au #knives out fanfiction #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale x y/n #amber writes #sweater writes #chris evans characters #chris evans characters fanfiction #tw cheating fic

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nationalharryleague · 4 years ago

Text

Saturday Morning

Summary: Y/N and Harry spend a lovely Saturday in bed.

Genre: FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF and a “Two for the Show” extra!!

Word Count: 2.5K!

A/N: Two for the Show is by far my favorite and the most popular fic I’ve ever written and I just missed my babies so much I had to write an extra for them!! I owe my heart to my loves S @tobesolonely and Nat @harrystylescherry for reading this for me and reassuring me when I needed it!! I am very rusty so please be nice! You can find more of my writing in my masterlist and I really want to hear what you have to say about this one!!! Also hi soph <3 @theharriediaries

**Read Two for the Show first**

***

Saturday mornings had always been Y/N’s favorite.

When she was little, she always woke up to the smell of eggs and bacon coming from the kitchen up the hall (courtesy of her father being an early riser who always got a bit bored in the mornings). As she got older, she spent them sleeping in and trying to recharge from long days at school, basking in whatever peace she could get before exiting her room into the chaos of her loving--but crowded--household. When she got to college, Saturday mornings were reserved for dealing with hangovers, and once she moved to LA and her career began to take off, it was the only time she had for herself in her busy schedule.

Her love for Saturdays had only grown since she had moved in with Harry.

They always woke up slowly, basking in the quiet of their bedroom and the soft glow created by the light that streamed through the small crack in their blackout curtains. The pair were often a tangle of limbs by the morning, pressed together as close as they possibly could get, both of them feeling at their most relaxed when they could feel their partner’s heartbeat against their own. Sometimes someone woke up with an elbow to the ribs, but most of the time Y/N’s cheek was pressed up against Harry’s shoulder, her face buried into his neck, with his arm draped around her waist and tightly holding her to him like she might roll away in the middle of the night.

That morning she woke up to Harry’s curls tickling her nose. He had been growing them out slightly, letting them fall to a middle part that gently flicked out at the bottom. It reminded her of when he had hosted SNL a few years prior and she adored it. It was just the right length to sink her fingers into and hold on to him. But she did not appreciate it pulling her out of her beauty sleep.

She had wiggled away from the wispy hairs, trying to get her face away from the tickling strands when she felt Harry’s hands clamp down on her waist, refusing to let his girl slip away from his grasp.

“Stay,” he rasped, clearly still half asleep and mumbling in a way she knew no one else could have understood. “You’re warm.”

“I’m not leaving,” she murmured, maneuvering her way onto her other side and pressing her back against his chest. “Just adjusting.”

“But I like holding you that way.”

“Hold me this way.”

“Yes, sir,” he smirked against the back of her neck, delicately placing a few kisses to her skin while he was there. “You just wanted to be the little spoon.”

A sleepy but mischievous smile crawled onto her lips as she snuggled further into her pillow, eyes still closed in hopes of keeping the day away just a little bit longer. “Maybe I did. What are you going to do about it?”

The second his hands moved to her waist she knew what was about to happen. A squeal left her lips as his fingers began to move rapidly at her sides, pulling loud and boisterous laughter from her chest. Sleep was a dream of the past now, but she was sure she wouldn’t trade this moment for the world.

When Harry was gone--either on tour, work trips, or the occasional solo visit to see his family--she missed him like crazy. She still remembers the empty heartache she felt when he had gone on the next leg of the tour without her when they were still brand new. She had to be in LA for her now exploding career (thanks Harry), but daily phone calls and incessant texting could only do so much when the person she was quickly falling in love with--for real this time--was on another continent. By some miracle, she had made him feel the same way about her as she did him through a screen.

She always felt like he had taken a piece of her with him when he was gone. He did if you counted the small hidden tattoo of her first initial that had found its way onto his ribs after their (actual) two year anniversary.

The feeling of missing him never left when he was gone. She imagined he felt the same whenever she was on tours or work trips of her own.

While her body fought against his tickling touch, her heart melted into it. These moments, on (usually) quiet saturday mornings, meant the world to her. This was a time that was just theirs, belonging to no one else but them. Their joy and love took place in private, as privacy became something the couple had been increasingly possessive of as of late.

Harry’s loud and giddy laughter behind her sounded like a perfect melody and she could feel his chest heaving against her back as he rolled onto his back and brought her with him. Their comforter was now tangled around them, wrapping the pair together in a way neither of them could move with Y/N’s thrashing. He finally ended his torture when she whezed out between giggles that she was going to pee herself.

“Okay, I’ll stop,” he relented, letting his hands leave her sides to reach them across his stomach and hold her body tightly on top of his. “We both know how you pee your pants.”

“Harry Edward Styles, it happened one time three years ago after nearly an entire bottle of tequila! How long are you going to hold onto that and bring it up?”

“Until it’s not funny anymore,” he snickered.

“You know what’s also funny? When you got so sloshed you were crawling under tables at the BRITs. Or that time that you got so drunk that you sent Jeff a dick pic by accident because you thought you were sending it to me. Or that other time-”

“That’s enough!” he announced, playfully clamping a hand down over her mouth, and releasing her mouth and a disgusted ‘blegh’ when she ran her tongue up his palm.

“Behave Styles,” she teased as she inched her way up his body, resting her head on his shoulder and snaking her fingers up into his hair, giving it a gentle tug as a warning.

“You know I like it when you pull my hair like that, so how about you behave, Styles?”

“That’s Y/L/N-Styles to you,” she teased, but she couldn’t fend off the giant grin that found its way to her lips at the mention of their still very recent nuptials.

The wedding had been small, very small, with only their immediate families and best friends in attendance. While their relationship had started in (and for) the focus of the public eye, they both decided their wedding was going to be just between them and those that mattered most. They didn’t wear their rings in public and no magazines had leaked or published that they were married yet. The day that it became public information was inevitable, but at the moment, the two relished in their little secret.

She felt a swell of love within her as she thought about her husband, sliding out of his grip and onto the bed beside him so she could finally see his face. His eyes were always a little puffy in the morning, a sight shadow of stubble decorating his cheeks if he had shaved the morning prior, but his tired smile was always the same. His pink lips lazily perked up to the left, his deep dimple appearing as if to say ‘good morning,’ and his two front teeth that always reminded her of an adorable bunny made their first appearance of the day. His smile usually disappeared quickly though, morphing into a pout and asking for a kiss.

How could she ever say no?

She settled a hand onto his bare chest and propped herself up to reach her lips to his. Their mouths moved with a well practiced gentle love and passion for each other, Harry’s hands coming to rest on her heating cheeks. She moved herself over him, settling her knees on either side of hips, never breaking their lips apart.

Kissing him was her favorite activity and with five years of practice, they were really good at it by now, but the swirling electricity that always appeared never failed to bring a flush to her cheeks. She could never get used to him. He was intoxicating and she never wanted to sober up.

Their moment was interrupted by a loud grumble coming from Harry’s stomach and Y/N pulled her lips from his and threw her head back with a loud belly laugh she just couldn’t contain.

“You good?” she teased down at him, lightly poking at his bare stomach right below her favorite butterfly.

His cheeks flushed slightly as he dramatically hung his head and flashed his best puppy-dog eyes at her with a silent plea to feed him. “I think I’m hungry.”

“You can be hungry but I’m not getting out of bed to make you breakfast.”

“Well, I’m not getting out of bed either,” his eyebrow quirked. “Aren’t you hungry? Don’t you want your morning coffee that you say I don’t make right?”

She pretended to think about it for a moment. “I’m willing to risk shitty coffee if I get to stay in this bed.”

“I will do anything you want other than getting out of this bed right now.”

“Anything?” she questioned with a raised eyebrow and a curious lilt in her voice. She was quickly answered with an eager knod. He obviously thought this was some sort of sexual request by the smirk that rose to his face. “You have to clean the litter box until I decide I’ve been properly paid back for your veggie omelet and tea.” His face fell.

“That’s your job!”

“Exactly why I don’t want to do it.”

“I’ll do literally anything else.”

“My one offer. Take it or leave it?”

“Leave it,” he said with a theatrical pout and crossed his arms over his chest. She was momentarily distracted by the way his tattoos moved over his muscular and tan arms for a moment, but shook herself from the thought and steeled herself in her stubbornness.

The two shared an intense look for a moment, both of them deciding whether or not they would press the issue further. With a sigh and slight roll of her eyes, she stuck out her hand towards him.

“We go on ‘shoot’ and none of your ‘best two out of three’ bullshit.”

As childish as it felt, Rock, Paper, Scissors had become their way of negotiating most of their disagreements over the years. It was a lighthearted game of chance, and while it sometimes led to a few minutes of frustration for the losing party, it worked for them and stopped arguments before they could happen. Interviewers often thought it was a joke when they answered the usual “secrets to a happy relationship” question, but it couldn’t be more truthful.

“Fine, we play by your rules.”

Their fists dropped down to their opposite palms three times, before both called “shoot.” She had gone for rock. Harry had gone for paper.

A loud combination of a whine and a groan left her lips and she dramatically let her body fall off of his and back onto her side of the bed.

“Fair is fair, my love,” he playfully taunted. “I would like my veggie omelette and I’m thinking I could go for some green tea this morning.”

“I will be getting you back for this,” she grumbled as she began to drag herself off the bed and away from it’s cozy warmth. She slipped his go to Columbia black hoodie over her head and took a pouty deep breath. It would have been more dramatic but she was distracted by how good the sweatshirt smelled. It smelled like home.

“I love you so so much,” he defended, opening his arms wide to grab her for one last kiss before she ventured down to the kitchen.

“Yeah, yeah,” she mumbled against his lips. “I love you too.”

She sulked out of their bedroom towards their kitchen (not before Harry swatted at her butt that was barely covered by the sweatshirt) and began to hold up her end of their deal. The cold tile nipped at her toes as she made them both omelettes and bopped along to the music she had instructed their Alexa to play. She fixed herself a morning coffee (that Harry really did always screw up somehow) and rummaged through their cabinet until she found her husband’s special order of green tea.

“Come get your breakfast, princess,” she shouted up the stairs when she was finished and after pausing her music.

“No breakfast in bed?”

“You are not getting eggs on our new--very expensive--sheets. Come down here and give me another kiss.”

She heard a whine of “fine” come from their bedroom followed by the padding of feet. Harry appeared at the top of the stairs moments later, rubbing at his eyes like a sleepy child and she just wanted to pull him into her arms and run her fingers through his hair until he fell back asleep. He pecked her lips softly when he reached the bottom of the stairs, but killed it when he called her a “breakfast tyrant.”

Y/N followed him back into the kitchen and watched him plop his still sleepy body into one of the high chairs at their kitchen island in front of his plate and his favorite mug that read “Coffee has a rough time in our house. It gets mugged every single morning!” She hooked an arm around his shoulders and slid herself onto his lap, sipping on her coffee as she waited for his opinion on his breakfast.

“It’s always better when you make it,” he smiled at her and pressed an eggy kiss to her cheek.

“You always say that,” she smirked back at him, only causing his smile to grow. “Oh, I almost forgot. Alexa, resume music.” He gave her a faux frustrated stare as he recognized what song she had been playing.

“And when we go crashing down, we come back every time, 'cause we never go out of style, we never go out of style!” rang out from the small speaker on their counter and she laughed so hard she would have slipped off his lap if his arm wasn’t wrapped firmly around her waist.

“How long are you going to hold onto that and bring it up?”

“Until it’s not funny anymore,” she used his own words from this morning against him with a cheeky smile.

“You are so lucky I love you so much.”

“And I love you more,” she mumbled against his lips, bringing her smirk with her into their kiss.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!! REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK MEAN THE WORLD!!!! If you enjoyed this you can support a broke college kid here :)

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles blurb #harry styles drabble #harry styles concept #harry styles fanfic #nationalharryleague #mine #one direction #one direction fanfic

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kkusuka · 4 years ago

Text

Haikyuu kinks setter eddition <33

here is the ace eddition

here is the Middle blocker version

Includes: Kageyama Tobio, Oikawa Tooru, Sugawara Koshi, Atsumu Miya, Semi Eita, Shirabu Kenjiro, Kanji Koganegawa, Akaashi Keji, Kenma Kozume, Yahaba Shigeru and Keishin Ukai

Cw: pet play, degradation, humiliation, cock warming, cuckolding, bare baking, public sex, photography, (those are the more serious one, every thing else should be fine <3)

and here we go!

oh he is so pretty

Kageyama Tobio

Oral

It goes both ways too

He could append the rest of his life in between your thighs and that’s that

But that would mean missing the slice of heaven you give him when you go down on him

And he doesn't think he could live without that, you're just that good

Little secret for you : he will literally be putty in your hands if you suck his balls, it will literally send him into outer space

Vanilla sex

NOT IN THE BAD WAY

HE LIKES IT FOR A GOOD REASON

DON’T KILL ME

He just likes to be in love with you

It's his awkward version of love making, but he’ll burn up if you call it that

Just looking you in the eyes and softly thrusting in you

Holding your hand

Soft kisses and whispers of love

AWWW he’s so soft for you.

Cockwarming

This is really only foe when he wants to have sex

But also wants to watch old tapes of volleyball games

Normally tricks you into it, he’ll say he wants to fuck on the couch, y’all start to do it and he just stops gets you on his lap and watches

You don't like that too much

But when he harshly thrusts up everytime you whine telling you he won't let you cu for a week

Then you start to behave

But no worries he’ll eventually let you grind on him like whore, and he’ll play with your nipples until you've came

Your still not moving tho

Sensory deprivation

This is a control tactic

He goes all you for this

When he wants control he gets it

The most common thing when this side of Kags comes out is having you kneel on the floor

Well kneeling with your legs tied in the position, your arms tied behind your back

with earmuffs and a blindfold

With a vibrator torturing your poor hole.

Oh! And either a spider gag or a ball gag!

It's just you and never ending pleasure until he wants to indulge <3

(look at him walking, he does it so well)

Oikawa Tooru

Public sex & Humiliation

Specifically riding

Sitting you on his lap and pretending nothing is going on, while he’s really 8 inches deep

He’ll make you reach down and folder his ball to help HIM get off, for you? Well i guess you’ll just have to bounce a bit now wont you!

Knowing that to everyone else you two just look like a regular couple enjoying a bowl of ramen makes him love defiling you in public even more.

Aw. Are you embarrassed? You can’t be that ashamed if your fucking yourself on me

You never know how far he will take it either

One time when you were at dinner with Tooru and some of his friends, he had sat you in his lap and spread your legs for them to see

You were so embarrassed, even more when he started cooing in your ear about how much of a show whore you were

You couldn't look his friends in theirs eyes for a few hours

Gangbangs/ Cuckolding

You already know he believes in sharing is caring!

And he sure knows how to share!

You're just too perfect to not share with Makki, Mattsun, and Iwa!

And have you seen his friends, you’d like to give it a try

And he practically begged you to do it, and you can't deny a pretty boys puppy dog eyes

No one can deny the puppy dog eyes

He never thought anything could beat the feeling of being on the court, but seeing you trying to fit Mattun in your weeping hole and deepthroating iwa may just do the trick

Watching his friends fuck you may just be his favorite pass time

Cum eating

H e i s a w h o r e

He tries to tell you it's to make you “clean”

Yup, he sucks all of his friends cum out of you to make sure you're all his.

Oh! Sometimes Iwa will cum in your mouth and make Tooru make out with you until all the cum is gone between the two of you!

Praise

This is practically in all aspects of life

But when hes fucking you he wants to hear how amazing he’s making you feel

Yeah, his dick hits that perfect spot doesn't it?

He wants to hear it

He wants to hear EVERYTHING

His hips feel good against your thighs? Say it and loudly too!

Sugawara Koshi

Slight pet play

He really just wants someone to take care of

And what better way to do that then have his puppy by his side.

And it keeps him grounded

He’ll be all frustrated then he just looks at you

On your knees looking back up at him

And all of a sudden everything is ok again.

Body worship

Mostly from him to you

He just thinks you are so perfect

Sometimes he just wants you to stirp so he can spend hours just exploring your body

He’ll lay you down and just tell you how beautiful you are over and over

When he’s in a caring mood everything he does will be accompanied with a sweet compliment

Just let him do his thing <3

Caregiver

We saw this coming

Suga-momma will do anything for you

Had a bad day, ok he’ll let you use his cock to get off

You’ll feel better.

But, this is everyday life too

He sometimes helps dress you up.

He packs your lunch for work, always with a little note expressing his love for you

He just loves to know that you are comfortable and that you feel loved by him all the time.

Slight medical / doctor

I just feel like he wants you to be “healthy”

He’ll have a whole set up too

He’ll strap your legs up and “examine” his baby

And once he is sure all is well,

He’ll just fuck you then and there

if only he were real

Atsumu Miya

Dirty talk / Degradation

This is literally cannon-

He calls you all the names in to book

The favorite? He can't bring himself to choose

They all have different tones!

He does like to use “Cocksleve” more than often!

If you didnt know any better you would truly believe that he only thinks of you as a hole to fuck.

“ yes, clench just like that Cum-rag, you're too good at this”

“God, you’re hole loves my cock, i should just keep you here and fuck you or the rest of your life, leave you dripping in my cum all day and night”

He just LOVES doing this act

"Are you my slut?"

"Yes"

"Tell me you're my slut"

"I'm your slut"

"Say it again"

"I'm your slut"

He could live just hearing that everyday (not really but he says it to show how happy he is-)

Overstimulation

A built in ego boost

He loves seeing you messy and begging

He doesn't even listen to what you're begging. More? Stop?

Yeah well he doesn't listen anyway, he’ll do it until he wants to stop

Just hold your legs up, let him see your slutty hole and let him work

He’ll make you feel good, he always does :)

Dacryphilia

You just look so goddamn pretty

He literally makes you cry to get to comfort you

As in comfort i mean fuck you to sleep

He doesn't do it that often but he always makes it worth it when he does

Is it bad that he likes to have you sob on his dick?

He’s not a monster tho!

Your consent is key!

(we stan a king)

Pet play

Puppy

He has a full leash for you

But when he feel especially cold he makes you eat on the floor

And out of a bowl :(

But only when he’s in a seriously bad mood, but just having you listen to him so weak makes him feel so much better!

Just let him indulge in this, it makes him feel better that he’s in control

Extra little thing for tsumu

He records you two

He doesn't even bother to put them in a hidden folder either

They are just in between all the regular pictures

AND he screenshots your your nudes, prints some of them out and tapes them to his wall

Samu thinks you look very nice :)

he his the meaning of pretty

Akaashi Keji

Toys

He loves to have you rides dildo in front of him

Or he’ll have a bullet vibrator in you while grocery shopping.

He plugs you up anytime he’s not in you.

You can bet that if he’s not fucking you you're either fucking yourself, or being fucked by a little machine

And there is a method to his madness

But he will never tell you

He does all of this to see you, he likes to watch you and all your faces

You just look so adorable clenching your eyes shut and blabbering about nothing

He just like basking in your beauty

Oh he is so precious (and so are you)

Light bondage

He really only does this to show control

He can't let you get too full of yourself now

You’re still all his.

And he’ll put you in your place any second

He gives you control, and you need to play by the rules

If not. He’ll just tie you up and not look at you for as long as he see fits

You should’ve just listened to him

Cockwarming

Akaashi is constantly working!

Sometimes he just wants you near him when he gets his work done

You’re also a calming factor to him

Sometimes he get so stressed and can only respond to it by thrusting into you a few times and kissing hickeys into your neck

But after the first time, he fell in love with it!

Watching a movie?

He wants to be in you

But he’ll hug you close and press you against him, and he’ll cuddle into you

You guys have even fallen asleep while doing it

(oh to fall asleep while cockwarming Akaashi)

Cuckolding

Again, he works so much

And sometimes he just doesn’t have the energy to fuck you :(

Well thankfully, he has a best friend who is always very pent up and ready to fuck!

He could tell you weren't sure at first but after him reassuring it was fine and being non-stop fucked for 3 hours by a professional volleyball player

He could tell you liked it.

So, when he feels like he won't make you feel as good as he can, Bokuto is already on the phone walking out of his apartment!

like a little potted plant

Kenma Kozume

Cockwarming

Gamer boy wants you as close to you for as long as possible.

Sometimes he resents that he streams because he can't have you on his dick

You also help to manage his game ginger

When you're there he doesn't yell as much or throw is controller

Instead he places the remote down, he takes a deep breath and hugs you

He’s like a cat when he gets like this

He’ll be nestled in your neck- practically purring

Before continuing his game..

Cuckolding

In simple terms

He likes watching Kuroo fuck you

Like he REALLY likes seeing Kuroo dick you down

We all know he’s not the confrontational type, so when you’re being bad, his only opinion is to call his best friend

He cat tell you like it too because you take any chance you can to act up

But he always makes sure they you know your all his before the end of the night.

Photography

Being someone whose life revolves around social media

It is absolutely no surprise that he likes to have visal pieces of you to take with him wherever he goes.

He specifically likes mirror nudes, with those cat ear thigh highs that he got you.

You remember one time he went on a trip to another city and asked you to send him some stuff

And in return he sent a little video of him jacking off, and thus it became a tradition every time you were away from the other.

Slight Pet play

Mostly leashes collars and pet names.

he does not take it that far,but he likes to know his kitten listens to him.

The worst it got was when he put a dog leash on you and walked you around the apartment when Kuroo was over

You did receive the teasing of your life but good kittens don't speak

And you oh so desperately wanted to be a good Kitten for Kenma.

tounge

Semi Eita

Under the influence

You and I both know this man smokes-

And smoking just happens to make him horny

Like really horny

And if you're there next to him he’s not gonna jack off??

You guys have sex almost every time he smoke

And when you smoke?

Oh he just cant help himself, you look so pretty eyes glazed over

He’ll make you say so so much better.

Recording

He has a folder on his computer

And another on his phone

And all saved to his cloud

Of what?

Videos of you fucking

And a select few of sucking his dick

And what does he do with all of these?

He watches them, sometimes with you in the room

Like you too are hanging out and suddenly he’s on his computer watching you bounce on his dick.

Nudes

Clearly he likes to have you naked on a screen somewhere

And when he’s in public he can't exactly start watching homemade porn

so , he has a solution!

Make you send as many nudes as you can before he has to go out!

He has no shame for it either

One of your more “artistic” photos became his lockscreen

Which you begged him to remove considering his bandmates had begun to make comments about it.

Hair pulling

He does it all the time

And he does it so hard too

Every time he hits from behind

His hand is on your head and already pulling

Or when you suck him off

I'll pull your hair up, then push your whole head back down

And repeat.

oh my god i am in love with him

Shirabu Kenjiro

Degradation

This man has a mouth

And a mean one

AND a killer attitude

And he spares you none of that.

He ridicules and demands, dehumanizes, and you love it

“Admit you’re just a whore, getting off on being a hole. Disgusting”

Over the weekends, why you have nothing to do, he makes you stay around the house completely naked

“You're flaunting all you have like a prostitute, that's what you want right? O be used like a street whore?”

He’s just a mean guy :p

Humiliation

It just makes sense at this point

He really likes to makes you take off your panties when you wear skirts in public

Then he likes to have you bend down and grab things for him

He’ll have you sit, man spreading, but the catch is there is a huge hole in your pants, so anyone at the right angle can see everything.

Of course none of this goes without witty comments and insults from bang boy.

Bondage

He loves having you weak in front of him

It’s a total power trip for him

Like everything the two of you do, it consist of you being a good whore and him being a big ole meanie

He’ll leave you tied up for hours with a fuck machine pounding your poor hole

Or hell have you with a spider gag in and he’ll make you grind into the floor

He’ll laugh at you

Record you and he’s even sent videos of youtube some of his old teammates

This one time, he had you tied up to your bedpost and just left, he walked out of the room and you didn't even know how long it was until he came back.

Pet play

You were mouthing off to him? Oh no they won't do

He pretty much uses it as leverage against you

Good pets so mouth off do they?

No? What I thought.

Its a form of punishment mostly

Keeping you kneeling on the floor below him for hours while he studies

He makes you eat down there

And he’ll pet your head, but if you even think about leaning into it, he’ll stop

He’s so mean :(

bird boiiiii

Kanji Koganegawa

Pegging

He’s a baby

A pretty baby, that anyone would like a chance to ruin.

He probably didn't even know what is was and still agreed, but no he begs for it

And who are you to deny your baby?

It was kinda hard at first considering he was so big, but you managed, and are very good at making him cum, like really really good.

Hand kink

He really just likes to see how much bigger his hands are

He’ll grab your handd and thread your fingers together, your hands are just so soft, opposite of his

He also likes to stick his fingers in your mouth and likes when he gets to suck on yours.

Ddlb / Dmlb

There is no explanation other then he’s baby

And he needs to be taken care of, before he dose something stupid

And you love taking care of your overgrown baby :)

He’s all smiley and cute when you do!

How could you resist?

his grandpa is hotter but whatever

you didnt see that.

Keishin Ukai

Public sex

In his store

On the counter

Five Minutes before closing time

It cannon

It's the risk factor for him, anyone can just walk in and see you fall apart on his cock

It's actually happened before, Shin wanted to do it and you agreed but didn't expect Takeda to waltz in and look directly at you.

Yeah he immediately came then shoved you onto the floor to hide you from Ittetsu’s prying eyes

Daichi has also heard the two of you fucking in the gym storage closet, but chose not to say anything.

Barebacking

It's like a primal urge to him

Condoms are annoying ang time consuming, you guys are gonna be together anyways might as well let him fill you like a good fuck toy

When he cums in you he also doesn't let you clean it out

He makes you stand there, face three inches away from your core, and watches his cum drip from you

Condoms won't let him do that, will they?

Humiliation

I mean he’s into fucking you in public, so this is pretty much a must at this point

He puts you in these positions so you have no choice but to be embarrassed

I mean what kind of slut like getting fucked in plain sight?

When you go out with him he makes you wear all these ridiculous outfits that practically show everything

And he makes fun of you when they look!

Pornography

Yes as in homemade porn

Why would he keep you all to himself?

Everyone deserves to experience that

And people love you!

If the thousands of comments and requests say anything about it!

oh to do that to Maddog

Yahaba Shigeru

Choking

We all saw the scene with Maddog

Come on, he’ll do that to anyone

I feel like he just likes seeing his hands around your neck.

He likes how fail you are and how is ands just wrap around your neck

He knows where to squeeze too

He’ll hold your pressure point to the pint you think your gonna pass out

Light BDSM

Nothing to crazy, he likes having you tied up and ready that's all

Maybe eagle spread on the bed?

Or hell have you kneeling next to him, arms tied behind your back mouth ready and opened

The possibilities are endless

Fingering

He likes his hands-

But it's mostly about you

Seeing your hole up close

It sucking his fingers, like a good hole should

Plus he has better control with his fingers, so he hits all the good spots over and over until yout crying <3

2K notes · View notes

nari-nim · 4 years ago

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hongjoong as your boyfriend

nari note: ah yes, my bias wrecker :’) got requests for mingi and jongho, so they’re coming soon...but who else after them for this series? gif creds go to @hongjooong

Listen, his time is so precious so when he’s spending it with you? You’re precious. He doesn’t bother wasting his time with people who do not add value to his life, so when he’s paying extra attention to you and offering to buy you coffee on the way to work? Someone likes youuuu ;)

Likes to be friends first before dating

You definitely catch him staring at you a lot

He just thinks you’re so beautiful doing the most mundane tasks :((

Will make sure the relationship will work out before asking you out

Or ask him out and he’ll move mountains to make it work

Oh god he takes intimacy and closeness so seriously, so he will be careful about skinship when y’all first date

But he loves the feeling of you in his arms

Or when you back hug him at work

Speaking of work, absolutely the type to produce and sing love songs for you

Like a whole fucking album

But he won’t publish all of the songs for the public, some are simply just for your ears

Not in the way where all the lyrics are all R-rated, although he will make some of those songs for sure

But like very much likes to pour his heart out into the lyrics and beats, so those songs especially are just for you

He’s so loyal. Will work anything and everything out.

Love language is quality time (receiving) and acts of service (giving). This combination leads to a lot of romantic and sensual nights in! Think: making dinner together, eating candle lit dinner, warm baths, stuff that leads to more (expanded on later ;)), all those good cliches.

If it’s in the daytime, scenic drives while blasting music, taking photos on film cameras, chilling by the ocean, all of this fits so well with Hongjoong.

Date where he teaches you how to reform clothes and you end up creating a matching set together. Couple outfit. Couple goals.

Also nap dates!!

Cuddle him while he gets this well deserved and much needed rest!

Remembers literally everything you tell him

Very attentive listener, most likely won’t accidentally fall asleep

This means he gives really thoughtful and sentimental gifts, remembers all the important dates, and absolutely will remember that random person in college that hit on you from one singular conversation about them

all or nothing. Just super devoted and loyal.

Will want to help you learn, grow, and pursue your goals. Not exactly a hype man, but will help you slowly and steadily in the background

For example, uses his connections to help point you to the right direction for this risky career choice but won’t take credit for it unless you press him about it

Hmm.. the type to mentally fixate on a problem or try to solve it on his own because he just wants to see you happy, so make sure you try to coax whatever might bother him out so y’all can face the issues together!

But, he’s extremely good at communicating and conflict resolution

After the first few months, arguments are super rare because y’all worked out the biggest issues by then

And if anything comes up, he is so good at actively listening to you, finding compromises, and voicing his needs in a super understanding way

Ugh someone cuff this mans

Speaking of communication, he’s the type to only talk about his deepest worries or insecurities with the closest loved ones in his life so get ready to see a whole new side of him when dating

Will be so vulnerable and open with you so treat him gently and with kindness!

Deep conversations until the late am

A great ear when it comes to listening to you

Always has great, heartfelt advice

He’s someone you can always lean on! He has your back, always

But also make sure to be there for him because we all know he goes through so much and the strongest people need the strongest support

He’s okay with PDA, but not too much in front of people in KQ

Sticks to hand holding and little else

But he is such a cuddle bug in private! He actually lay on top of you or trap you on his lap, not letting you leave unless it’s an emergency

His hugs feel so safe

When y’all cuddle, you always feel so secure, warm, and loved

Dating him is the equivalent of understanding what a deep sense of belonging feels like

Haha y’all should dare each other to try spicy foods

Because if you like spice/take it well, watch him look at you in amazement and slight horror

And then proceed to sneak the spicy foods in his dish onto your plate whenever y’all eat out together

Even better, you eat the spicy looking food first as his personal taste tester and after a solemn nod, you just quietly take it off his plate for him/move the dish closer to you. You are his superhero.

Or if you can’t take it well like him, at least you both have fun chugging milk together

A true bonding experience either way

NSFW after this

Switch but with an extremely heavy dom lean

Eager to please. More than anything, likes to make sure you’re both pleasuring each other.

Loves to hear details of your sexual experience and what you like in bed. Simply as a way of getting to know you more. So y’all could literally be talking about choking on his dick casually over lunch. Seonghwa almost spat his drink out while passing by

He is consent king wbk

When y’all first started dating, there were times he forced you to stop kissing him just so he could pressed his forehead against yours and take some ragged breaths, hands gripping at your shoulders tightly, as he pulled himself together and tried to calm down

Because intense makeout sessions really turn him on

But once you experimentally rock your hips against his, watch his eyes shoot open and look at you with bated anticipation

The first time y’all get down and dirty he’s literally checking in with you before he does anything

Which is so cute, but you’re literally like “just fuck me” at one point

Once he knows your limits though, likes testing them little by little, but always checking in to see how you are doing

Definitely has hard dom potential, especially after both of you get super comfortable

But he still checks in, whether it be gruffly demand your color or pausing to look at you with a questioning look. Just depends on how fucked out you are.

Always coming up with ways to maximize your pleasure, will give everything you suggest a shot

He appreciates visuals. Likes seeing you in his clothes or in lingerie he bought you

Really into orgasm control

He loves loves loves hearing you whine for him

But also

He’s into breath he’s into breath play he’s into breath play he’s into breath play

Hm shamelessly bringing in astrology: so his scorpio ass can actually be quite freaky. But more than anything, he’s very intense during sex.

But would fuck you as stress relief after a long day

That… that gets really intense

You’ve used your safe word against him a few times before on those particular days

Also y’all have needy, desperate sex a lot

Because he’s so busy and you have your own life so when you get to have your time together, it can be a little animalistic the first few rounds

Then it transitions to like love making…very sweet, slow, and sensual :)

OH he is so romantic on anniversaries! He absolutely loves making it special and will spend the night making you shake from pleasure

But on other days where he’s tired as fuck, this is your chance to take care of him! Not necessarily doming him, but being a service top and cuddling him so well afterwards? He honestly loves it so much more than he lets on

Honestly though, I do see him as someone who will let you dom him if you are both feeling it

Not always, but again, he wants to maximize your pleasure

One time he let you top and you started licking his nipples #hongtiddies and it felt so good for him, you can tell from the way he starts squirming, rutting his hips up at you, and whimpering for you

Got shy before he hit subspace and you used it to mock him a little

Peg him. He'll take it. Like a mess.

Cums so hard

Was so red after

Pillow talk hits so different

Y’all are both bathing in that post-sex glow, faces inches apart, him kissing your knuckles tenderly, looking deep into your eyes while you both talk about your future, dreams, and aspirations

Whispers his “I love you”s at this time with such sincerity

You can just see the love in his eyes and gentle smile

</3

668 notes · View notes

1kook · 4 years ago

Text

imax & climax

summary; The occasional dark horse candidate among Barbie movie binges— Jungkook gets weirdly horny and fucks you to the tune of a classic Barbie movie soundtrack. warnings; fingering, blowjobs, tit play, praise kink, standing sex, unprotected sex, reverse cowgirl kinda idk lol, daddy kink that morphs into i love u kink tags; jk is an avid history channel viewer, jk hates Barbie movies ik we took an L today girls 😔, jk goes thru like 4 personality changes (commanding > soft > mean > in love), honestly idk what to tag it’s a mess, he’s still cheesy and romantic but also 👀 just read word count; 9.8k

notes; there is no rest for the wicked, aka miss 1kook writes another part for this fic i swore wasn't gonna be a series except this time we ditch the gentlemen persona and go into maximum overdrive. its not proofread bc i wrote this entire thing at 4 am last night after inhaled a whole bucket of spicy popcorn

[ part 1 ; netflix & chill ] [ part 2 ; hulu & wohoo ]

Jungkook sees it on display during your weekly Target trip. You know he won’t say anything because despite how long you’ve dated he still likes to pretend he’s the epitome of adult maturity. Yet the way his eyes linger over the electronics section, cart rolling to a stop in front of the massive screen, tells you all you need to know.

“Baby, the toilet paper is this way,” you sing, giving the front of the cart a gentle tug that pulls it and his thoughts away from the television that seems to hold reign over his interest.

“Ah,” he mumbles as he shakes himself out of whatever trance he was in. “Right.”

The Target trip ends rather uneventfully; you grab all the items you came for and make the executive decision of swapping Jungkook’s tangerine bathroom soap with strawberry instead. Normally he’d put up a good fight, argue about the comfort that came with consistency, but today he says nothing. You chalk it up to that flatscreen that hypnotized him earlier.

“You wanted it,” you announce rather pointedly in the car. He’s backing out of the parking space now, one hand on the wheel the other pressed to the side of your seat. His jaw twitches as he tries to maneuver around a stray shopping cart someone didn’t return to the retrieval area. He’s wearing that dark jumper you like, with the high collar that covers all of last night’s bruises up wonderfully.

Jungkook scoffs as he finally gets the two of you back onto the main road, Target and the flat screen left behind. “I didn’t,” he defends. “Just thought it was neat.”

You snort. “Neat. Okay, grandpa, did it tickle your pickle?” you tease, obnoxiously leaning over the center console to get all in his face. Jungkook greets your proximity with a palm against your forehead.

“Please don’t ever say that again,” he laughs, pulling to a stop at the next red light. He turns to level you with an easygoing grin, sparkly anime girl eyes extra shiny under the red glow. “Only want you to tickle my pickle.”

You gag. “That’s actually disgusting.”

——

You graduate on a Saturday and your dorm stay expires on the Tuesday that follows. You spend the entire day shoving all your belongings into a variety of trash bags, from your weighted blanket to the collection candles you and Doyeon swore to light every night and never did. Speaking of Doyeon, she cries through the entire process. From the moment you take down the first wall decoration she’s in tears, and not even her mom, who’s come to help out, can quell her emotions. The girl cries and cries. She cries throughout the clean up, like she hadn’t spent the week before cursing the funky aircon system to hell and back. It’s probably the nostalgia that comes with leaving college, you assume. When Jungkook picks you up around noon, even your eyes are glassy.

Jungkook’s mom, who you only just met a few months ago, is over at his place when you arrive. You get along fairly well, in fact, you would even go as far as to claim you got along really well. You had first met her over this past spring break when Jungkook invited you along to his family trip to some tropical island. The Jeons were lovely people. In fact, had Jungkook not explicitly introduced them as his parents, you would’ve thought they were some sitcom actors carrying out the role of most in love, sophisticated lovers to ever exist. Yeah, they were super into each other, and you suppose it’s why Jungkook is the way he is, loves as hard as he does. The only thing that broke their attention away from each other was the sight of their precious Jungkookie bringing you to a family event.

It was hard to keep them entertained. Every second was spent worrying about your appearance, your demeanor, whether or not you looked like a devil beside their (your) angelic boy. It certainly didn’t help that Jungkook was wearing that obnoxiously floral shirt at the restaurant you went to, the first three buttons undone almost lazily. It was a look your boyfriend rarely showed, always so meticulously dressed. Of course, he had that cute boyish style of his that consisted almost exclusively of baggy pants and designer tee’s a little too plain to cost as much as they did. But even those outfits had a specific Jungkook rhythm to them— the darker tones always went with the pants that had twelve buckles on them; the long sleeves always went with the jeans. He was awfully particular about those kinds of self-set rules, and this jarring floral print did not fit any of them. It was too provocative, the black skinny jeans he’d paired with it too devious.

Maybe he knew what he was doing to you dressed so hot like this, but knowing Jungkook, you doubt he did. His parents hadn’t batted a single lash his way, eyes laser focused on your every word as you stumbled through three plates and dessert. It was a battle you fought alone, and one you barely survived.

So despite you impressing his parents, she still gives you an odd look when you enter Jungkook’s swanky townhouse with all your garbage bags of items. You promise her it’s just for the weekend, until your parents clean out your old room that they’ve filled to the brim with holiday decorations and miscellaneous objects. You’re not trying to take her baby chick out of the nest. (Yet.)

You watch TV for a couple hours, mostly her favorite soap operas on his 67 in. screen. It takes up a huge spot on the wall where it’s mounted, glossy black screen glaring back at you. Even his mom scolds him for such a huge screen, and you wonder how she’d feel about the absolute giant he ogled at the Target last week. Super angry, you think, and the image of her raging in flames while Jungkook apologizes like the momma’s boy he is makes you giggle.

She leaves a little after sunset, kissing and hugging the both of you on the doorstep like she’s going off to war and will never return. She’ll be back by the weekend, desperate to check on her baby boy, but you let her have her moment. It’s weird seeing how dramatic the Jeons are compared to how reserved Jungkook is.

You pounce on him the second she’s gone. He goes down with a muffled yelp against the sofa, hands grasping at your waist until you straddle him and begin going to town. Your fun lasts all of two minutes before the old lady novella Jungkook’s mom had been watching cuts to commercials and a loud advertisement for irritable bowel syndrome medication begins playing.

“Oh, that is so not sexy,” you whine childishly, trying to roll your hips over him again. Jungkook laughs, all low and sweet as he sits back up again.

“Give it a rest,” he says, shifting you until he’s got you hugged between those stupidly strong arms of his. His pecs feel strong and comforting beneath your cheek, and the feeling makes your tiny pouting session end earlier than usual. “Come on,” he mumbles as he manhandles you around, until your back is pressed against his chest and you’re sitting between his legs. “Let’s watch this film on Mesopotamian folklore and its overall significance to the nations it birthed after its downfall.”

——

You rarely use the key Jungkook gifted you a few months back. The majority of your visits to Jungkook’s house were either the result of Jungkook picking you up from somewhere and bringing you back, or Jungkook inviting you over after dinner. In short, he was always with you when you arrived at his stoop.

Today you’re alone, juggling two boxes of takeout and some cheap wine in one hand as you fight to unlock his door. He hadn’t answered his phone, which leads you to believe he’s holed himself up again in that damn study. He likes to do that sometimes, lock himself away like some modern day Rapunzel until he finishes whatever project he has this time around. When he gets like this, it’s like all other body functions are forgotten, his brain zeroed in on the lines of code you barely understand.

Just as you suspect, the house is too dark when you finally break in. The hall light is off, which isn’t out of the norm, but so are the kitchen and living room lights. You pad down the hall, flicking on the light to the living room to set down your offerings onto the edge of the coffee table. There’s a scrambled pile of notes on top that seem too disorderly to disregard. You whirl around, making to head back out into the hall and down to the study, when you see it.

A good 90 inches mounted on his wall. It’s a monstrosity of a screen, devouring nearly the entire surface of the wall, from stainless end to stainless end. It’s ridiculously thin in the way all modern TVs are, but this one is even more so given the fact you hadn’t registered it in your peripheral when you walked in. It’s just barely short of a Jumbotron, the kind they have at baseball games to make sure you can see every nose hair on the pitcher.

His mom was going to kill him.

“Jungkook?” you call out slowly, inching back out into the hall with your gaze glued to the screen. Like maybe you’ve imagined this all and that isn’t the stupidly gigantic television screen Jungkook had gawked at just a few weeks ago.

There’s a soft hum down the hall, the sound slipping beneath the bottom gap in the door frame. You make a beeline for the room, oddly unsettled with the huge screen. The door gives way, exposing your boyfriend’s hunched back and the blue light from his monitors that highlights his frame. “Hi, sweetie,” you begin, inching over to him.

“Hi,” he sighs, leaning back into your touch when you step behind him. His dark eyes are weary from staring at his tablet for too long, his usual tender expression melted into one of mild irritation. “Can’t figure this out,” he says, tapping his stylus against one line of absolute nerd gibberish you don’t bother trying to decipher. Maybe another day you would have entertained him, but today you cherish this moment with him knowing it might be his last before his mom comes over and kills him.

“Sounds like break time to me!” Your proclamation makes him frown, a frustrated groan pulling itself from his lips. His head droops forward again, chin touching his chest. But there’s a hint of relief in his groan that tells you all you need to know. “Baby needs a break,” you smile, pressing a peck against the back of his head.

“You’re baby,” he tries to fight, but his limbs are so pliant under your touch that it practically means nothing. “I’m the head honcho around here.”

“Uh huh,” you appease him, finally managing to tug all that muscled body out of his seat. “And apparently that means making dumb purchases.”

“What dumb purchases? Are you talking about the cactus again?” he asks, letting you guide him back down the hall.

“Yes, Kook, the cactus you haven’t watered in three months,” you drawl sarcastically, the sad plant sitting in the kitchen a reminder of both your incompetence. “Namjoon would hate you for that.”

Not amused by the insinuation of his favorite senpai being disappointed in him, Jungkook goes to fight you on that. By then you’ve stopped at the entrance of the living room, glaring at the straight up theater screen that sits on the wall. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” you mimic, flopping down on the ground beside the coffee table. Jungkook doesn’t follow, choosing to sprawl himself over the couch instead. “What’s with the Jumbotron?”

He stretches his arms out, moaning something sinful at the way his bones pop. “It adds to the experience,” he says. “Movies are more enjoyable when the pictures are bigger; a tall aspect ratio and stadium seating really add to the experience.” He was such a nerd.

You snort. “The experience— Oh, I’m sorry. Didn’t know I was speaking to Mr. IMAX here.”

His cheeks flush a soft pink at your jab. “Don’t be mean,” he mumbles, tugging on your arm as he sits back up. You find your way onto his lap, neatly seated over one thigh like he’s the Santa Claus at the mall; not a single gray hair in sight but you’d still let him call you his hoe, hoe, hoe. Realizing there’s more important matters to attend to than Jungkook’s Christmas ham, you shake those images away.

“Good thing I brought a movie,” you beam, gesturing to the pretty pink case resting over top the takeout bag.

Jungkook doesn’t even spare it a single glance as he burrows into your neck. “What? No, we’re finishing the docuseries on—“

You groan loudly to muffle the rest of his sentence. “Kook, I don’t wanna watch another episode on Stonehenge being done by aliens,” you whine, picking up the movie case to brandish in his face.

It’s admittedly the wrong move when Jungkook’s eyes roll themselves into another dimension. “Absolutely not,” he says. The case is quickly discarded off to the side as he attempts to distract you with a kiss against your cheek.

Too bad you’re evil and determined. “No! We are watching the Princess and the Pauper and that’s final,” you exclaim, scrambling for the movie before he can hurl it out the window. He catches you by the waist, your fingers just an inch away from the pink case. “Babe!” you cry, but his fingerprints are bruising their way into your skin.

“No more Barbie movies,” he begs, yanking you back onto his lap. He does so with so much force that it makes the two of you tumble to the side, your head bouncing on the cushions as he catches himself over you. “Please.”

“I hate you,” you fuss, pointedly ignoring the tiny mole beneath his lip that drove you crazy. “We’ve seen every single thing on the History Channel this week, but we can’t watch one Barbie movie?”

Jungkook sighs, dropping his head down against your shoulder. He smells good and feels even better over you, but you’re not going to stop until the Princess and the Pauper is breaking in the new Jumbotron. “It’s weird,” he huffs, voice muffled against the fabric of your shirt. “Especially when we start getting… experimental, and I have to listen to Barbie sing in the background.”

“First of all, her name is Annaleise in this movie,” you correct, squirming beneath him to no avail. “Secondly, how do you think I feel when you’re eating me out while some old British dude narrates the creation of the Hanging Gardens of Babylon?”

Jungkook scoffs, finally letting himself snuggle completely into you. “You don’t even realize it because you’re screaming the whole way through.” That earns him a sharp tug at his ear that has him sputtering apology after apology.

“It’s boring!” you feel the need to emphasize.

Jungkook sits up with an uppity look on his face. “It’s not my fault you don’t appreciate the cinematography that comes from educational pieces,” he points out, rather presumptuously.

You shove him off of you. “I don’t care about cinnamon topography, just play the damn Barbie movie,” you hiss, swiping the movie case from the other end of the couch and pressing it to his chest. If words could hurt, yours definitely do. Jungkook crumbles against the couch, childishly stomping one sock-clad foot against the ground as you gesture toward the movie player.

He doesn’t move, and you’re about to begin another tirade against his snobby movie critiquing habits when he procures a sleek, tiny remote that you would honestly mistake for an iPhone from a distance. It has, no joke, about seven buttons max, four of which are just the up and down, left and right arrows. You let out a low whistle at that. Wow. Technology sure was advancing.

The TV turns on to some minimalistic home page, tiny widgets showing every app it has; the bottom row is dedicated almost entirely to Jungkook’s massive streaming service provider collection. After a moment of brewing in his feels, Jungkook quietly announces, “it’s on Amazon Prime.” This is news to you, being able to watch a Barbie film on a streaming service and not the old disk you scratched when you were ten. Something distinctly carnal flashes in your chest when Jungkook clicks through all the payment options without a care in the world. Oh, that was definitely going into your horny 3 am dreams.

Despite his earlier protests, you know Jungkook will soon fall into his usual movie watching habits. He settles into the couch beside you. You cuddle up next to him, enveloping him with the grip of a killer octopus choking out its prey, except Jungkook is usually the one doing the choking in this relationship. Still, it’s not close enough, and you throw your legs over his thigh. You’re practically sitting on him at this point.

You have no doubt the speakers on this thing are average; it was too thin to really pack any punch. However, that was the TV sans the Bluetooth speakers Jungkook has installed all around his house.

(You swear when the android uprising finally begins, your boyfriend will be the first one out.)

The speakers really amplify the sound. The opening sequence has your bones rattling inside your body, the loud music of the selection screen reverberating through the entire living room. It reminds you of that pounding COMING SOON clip that used to play at the beginning of DVD’s back in the day. Jungkook scrambles to lower the volume. “Sweetheart, you’re cutting off my circulation,” he wheezes afterwards.

“What? This is how we always watch movies,” you say with a frown.

“Yes, and I always end up with less oxygen than before.”

He doesn’t let you argue, which is good, because you could make a thirty five slide PowerPoint presentation on the advantages of watching movies like this. One, your boyfriend was warm. Two, your boyfriend smelt good. Three, your boyfriend’s ripped body awoke some ancient being inside of you that would not rest until his cock was halfway down your thro—

He hauls you into his lap. The angle forces you to let him go, instead met with the jarring nothingness of having his hot body ripped away. Meanwhile he gets to wrap you up in his arms, hold you like a teddy bear to his chest. “I hate this,” you huff, but the movie is already starting, the beautiful blonde Anneliese appearing on screen. You lean back against his chest, pout still evident. “This is ridiculous,” you snort, her face blown up on this jumbo screen.

“Shut up,” he says, settling in behind you. “Movie’s starting.”

Most Barbie movies you watch end up in one of two ways: either Jungkook falls asleep twenty minutes in or he stays up until the end to critique every aspect of it. With the way he’d gone soft from your early battle, you’re guessing he was going to knock out before the Princess can even meet the Pauper.

As much as you hate to admit it, the huge screen does incite quite a thrill in you. There’s something so nostalgic about watching one of your favorite childhood movies on a screen this huge. The size showcases the sheer perfection that is every single Barbie movie. You lose yourself in the movie, singing along to the opening song and growing agitated when the antagonist appears.

Jungkook says nothing, and you’re half convinced he’s taken his first preferred route and snoozed off, when his fingers twitch around your waist.

There it was.

The occasional dark horse candidate among Barbie movie binges— Jungkook gets weirdly horny and fucks you to the tune of a classic Barbie movie soundtrack.

“Absolutely not,” you say, slapping a hand down over his before he can slip beneath the fabric of your shorts.

He lets out an indignant noise, a puff of air running along the side of your face. You ease his hands back over your stomach, taking extra care to knot your fingers with his. “We’re supposed to be breaking in your new screen,” you remind him, glancing up to catch his unimpressed expression.

He complains quietly, but he settles.

For all of twenty seconds.

“Oh my god,” you sigh, trying to act like the subtle rutting of his cock on your behind was a nuisance and not the luxury it is. “Babe, the jumbo screen… look at it.”

“Not even jumbo,” he murmurs against your ear, hot breath sending a shiver down your spine that has your toes curling. You fight to keep his hands still, but the muscles in his forearm tense, inked skin contracting as he slips them between your thighs. You suck in a sharp inhale, trying to maintain your immovable front. Jungkook sees the fortress you’ve built around yourself in the name of watching The Princess and the Pauper, and spares you no mercy with his attack. His hands massage the skin of your thighs, tiny shorts doing absolutely nothing to save you from him. “Jumbo didn’t fit.”

The back of your mind registers the fact he was apparently trying to get a TV even bigger than this. You tuck it away for later to snitch to his mom. For now, you’d very much appreciate it if he could make you cum before the two girls perform the iconic “I Am a Girl Like You” song.

His hands are so smooth, soft skin tracing over your body like you were nothing but a slab of clay ready to be molded under his touch. He abandons your thighs to creep them under your shirt, where he wastes no time tugging the cups of your bra down to fondle your breasts.

Belatedly, your stupid tongue remembers to move. “I know something jumbo that fits,” you babble, rolling your head back against his shoulder. Jungkook laughs at the utter stupidity of your sentence, and the aforementioned jumbo thing fattens against your ass, before brushing his lips against yours. The airy laughter, one of your favorite sounds in the world, is swallowed up by your greedy mouth. “Can fit in two places, actually,” you murmur when he pulls away. His fingers massage the doughy skin of your boobs causing your back to arch slightly. “Wherever he wants it to.”

“Really,” Jungkook teases, obviously entertained by your silly dirty talk. He’s grown used to your outlandish remarks in the past few months of your relationship.

You like to believe Jungkook has fully accepted your occasional bouts of weirdness. He’s had the last few months to grow familiar with the inner workings of your mind, and even absorbed some of it into his own personality. Which is why he doesn’t seem the least bit bothered by you referring to his cock as jumbo, when there were admittedly more fitting words to describe it as.

(Thick, juicy, angry, demon cock, if he really wanted to know.)

“Where do you think it should go?” he asks, the low hum of his voice snapping you out or your thoughts. There was no need to daydream about a cock that was right in front of you. His hands slow their gentle caress over you, fingers closing in on your nipples.

A sharp hiss pulls itself from your throat, chest arching as he tugs and toys with your hardened nipples. “Wh-Wherever,” you pant, reaching your own hands down back between your thighs. The phantom of his palms linger, making your hands feel sorely inadequate. “Wherever Daddy wants,” you purr, swallowing harshly when he twists a nipple.

Jungkook groans, resting his forehead against your shoulder. “Don’t,” he sighs, hands faltering over your breasts. Eventually they drift away, settling around your waist as you slip your fingers under the front of your bottoms.

“Why?” you laugh, pointer finger brushing along your clit. “Don’t like it when I call you that, Daddy?”

He lifts his head to watch you play with yourself. His hands grow tight around your waist, labored breath filling the air to harmonize with your breathy moans. You’re absolutely soaking your panties, sticky arousal making the fabric stick to your folds. “You know I do,” he murmurs, watching the outline of your knuckles through the fabric of your shorts. “Thought you wanted to play nice today.” He takes in a sharp inhale when you ease your finger into yourself, a breathy moan escaping from your lips.

You were already so wet, and you’re really not surprised this is how the two of you would break in his new IMAX, high definition flatscreen. Your pussy tightens around your finger, thigh muscles jumping at the intrusion. Fuck, you needed him so bad.

You smirk, drawing your hands out from their hiding spot. The television is the only thing lighting the room, the two of you shrouded in relative darkness. At first, your hand is shadowed by the glow of the screen, nothing more than an outline. But when you turn it just right, the light catches, highlighting the glistening skin of your fingers. It makes Jungkook shudder.

Ever so slowly, you bring your fingers up to his face. The tip of your middle finger runs teasingly against his plump lower lip, his shaky exhales sending a cool breath over your knuckles. “Open, Daddy,” you encourage, watching with rapt attention as he envelopes your fingers between his lips. He sucks, tongue dancing between each digit to slurp off your juices. “Do I taste good? Do you like it?”

You know he loves it, but it never hurts to ask.

Between the two of you, you each had your own share of distinctive interests when it came to sex. Kinks, if you will. You adored the softer, vanilla aspects of sex— the languid makeouts, the slow rutting against his thigh, the whispered praise, the cute pet names. Meanwhile, despite his initially reserved exterior, Jungkook preferred the other end of the spectrum. (You should’ve known from the get go!) He loved it fast and hard, so hard it would make you cry. He liked watching you squirm and beg for his cock while he pushed you to new heights. He liked the sticky, sweaty sex that left you feeling like a used rag beneath him, something you would have never expected given his neat and kind nature.

However, as with all things Jungkook, you always came first. Jungkook’s dream sex style was often pushed to the side in favor of pleasuring you. So quick and rough sex was more of a rare, once in a blue moon, type of luxury. Up until recently, sex had been mostly what you wanted. Either way you did things, Jungkook was fine as long as he got to hold you close.

It was only a few weeks ago that you discovered your shared daddy kink, him obsessed with the idea of shoving you around, something he would otherwise never do. You, on the other hand, found a pleasant satisfaction from being good for him, a stark contrast from your usual sharp tongue and nonexistent filter.

You pull your fingers from his mouth, the sleek drip of your arousal replaced with his saliva. Jungkook grunts as he hauls you further onto his lap, swollen cock nudging itself between your cheeks. “You know I love it, baby,” he growls against your ear. His hot breath fans over your skin, sending shivers down your spine. “Have you had your fun now?” he asks, tracing the pads of his fingers around your nipple teasingly.

“Mhm,” you moan. Jungkook’s hands decide they’re done toying with your tits, drifting back down to their original target between your shorts. “Want Daddy to fuck me now.”

He places a kiss against the side of your neck, right over the vein that runs beneath the skin. Jungkook kisses and nips down your skin, until his hair is tickling your collarbones as he sucks a hickey against the juncture between your neck and shoulder. “Is that the right way to ask for something?” he purrs, rubbing your cunt over your shorts.

It’s nowhere near as fulfilling as it would be without the garments. Nonetheless, it makes you ache for him, thighs quivering at the simple touch like you’re a bumbling virgin being touched for the first time. You’re nowhere near that, but every time with Jungkook was exhilarating enough to the point it felt like it was.

“Pretty please,” you pant, covering his hand with yours.

Jungkook rewards you with a fluttery kiss against your shoulder. “Good girl,” he hums. He finally gives you what you want, bypassing the fabric of your shorts and panties to dip his fingers between your folds. You gasp, hips jumping at the sudden brush of his hands along your quivering folds.

“Inside please,” you whimper, knees moving back and forth, only stopping when he helps you out of your bottoms. He places his free hand on one of them, stilling your writhing to fully focus on pleasing the burning fire inside of you. “Jungkook—“

A slap against your cunt that makes you squeal. “Ah ah,” he warns, voice a low tenor against your skin. If you focus hard enough, you can feel the faint brush of a smirk against your neck. “We’re playing a different game right now, pretty girl.”

On screen, your favorite childhood movie is bearing witness to the sinful acts at your boyfriend’s hands. It shouldn’t be surprising how easily you fall into his arms, onto his lap, especially with your history of movie watching with Jungkook.

From your very first date you were enamored with him; the dip of his Cupid’s bow, so innocent and cute, embodied every single aspect of his personality. He was the sweetest, softest boy, one your brain could never conjure in a thousand years. Jungkook’s level of care was hard to come by nowadays; he was a gentleman through and through.

These days he was growing out of that mature persona, and you like to think it’s thanks to you. Your wildness rubbed off on him, made him confident enough to geek out in public, or be adventurous in private. It helped nourish his impulsivity, which led to things like the Super Bowl Jumbotron watching you fuck now.

Despite knowing all this, knowing the way he is, the slow grind against your ass sends a thrill of arousal up your limbs, sensations converging just beneath your mound. “Yes, Daddy,” you mewl accordingly.

Pleased with your obedience, he rewards you by circling your throbbing clit with his thumb. It’s a terribly slow motion, pad of his finger easing over your engorged bud every other second. You wanted more, needed more. You squirm beneath him, attempting to push your clit against his palm. Your efforts are in vain when he clamps a hand down on your waist. “Sit still,” he growls.

You whimper. “Need more,” you rasp out. Your whole body is acting out now, shifting and turning as you try to wiggle closer. Your mouth brushes against his jawline. The sharp angle is the first thing your muddled thoughts focus on, lips hungrily latching onto his porcelain skin to suck a purple blossom onto it.

Any other day Jungkook would bask in the attention, let you bruise his skin up until he was violet from love.

Today... well.

You were playing a different game.

The hand that had been exploring your nether regions suddenly snaps up, catching your chin between his fingers. The wetness that has coated his digits smears messily across your skin, and you whimper when he squishes your cheeks beneath his fingers.

“No ‘please’?” he huffs, turning your head to meet his eyes.

Dark chocolate eyes you’ve come to associate with love and adoration stare back at you unimpressed. His pronounced brow bone twitches, like he’s holding the true intensity of his glare back for your own sake. He slots his mouth against yours with no warning, tongue pushing its way past your lips. It’s messy, his tongue licking into your mouth like you’re nothing but a lollipop for him to suck on. It pulls a surprised moan from your lips that he swallows quickly enough, biting down on your lower lip harshly. When he pulls away, he’s got that same bored look on his face. You feel small under such a cold look, shoulders scrunching up damn near your ears in a subtle attempt to hide from him.

The action makes Jungkook scoff as he leans away from you. He leaves you on his lap alone, like a tiny island desperate to join the main land. You shuffle around in a hurry, looping your arms around his neck in a last ditch effort to calm him down. It does nothing for Jungkook, who only prods his tongue along his cheek as he regards you with a calculating gaze.

After a moment, he finally says, “on your knees.”

Your heart falls out of your chest. “Huh?” you whisper hoarsely, wide eyes taking in his unimpressed expression. “Knees? But Daddy,” you whine, lower lip quivering as you glance down at the hardwood floor.

Anywhere else you wouldn’t have minded. In fact, anywhere else you would’ve been on the floor before the sentence even left his mouth. You loved sucking his dick almost as much as he loved eating you out. However your knees were embarrassingly frail against hard flooring, which is why most blowjobs had been administered in the comfort of his bed or the couch. Sometimes on carpeted surfaces, but Jungkook never pushed when he knew you would be aching the whole time.

Which is why his current demand has you standing stiff. “O-On the floor?” you murmur.

The stark truth was that Jungkook had you terribly spoiled. His constant pampering had convinced you you were invincible. His love was practically handed to you on a silver plate, cloth napkin folded like a crane beside it. He had never made you do something you didn’t like, and he had never put you in an uncomfortable position, mentally or physically.

Until now.

Jungkook gestures for the ground with a curt nod. “Is there a problem?” he inquires.

You look back again, eye the dark wood planks beneath you, glossed over enough to make them shine even in this weak light. “No,” you belatedly respond, slowly pushing yourself off his lap and onto your feet. Your big shirt falls back down, covers the tops of your thighs as you stand nude from the waist down. You’re tempted to just yank it down even more, hide beneath the cloth so he doesn’t have to see you whine and bitch about your knees aching.

Jungkook was so cool. He was so suave and composed. He was the opposite of you, which is why the two of you meshed so well together. You’ve thought about it about ten times tonight, but it was true. Despite all that, there were times his mature exterior made you feel small— small and silly. Like now, with him sitting against the sofa, dark eyes tracing up your legs in amusement.

You sink to the ground, very pointedly avoiding his gaze. The wooden slats are cold and hard beneath your knees, your kneecap immediately screaming in discomfort. Jungkook leans forward with his elbows on his knees, messy curls covering half of his face. “You know,” he hums, reaching out to trail his knuckles across your cheekbone. “I kinda like having you like this,” he admits, “below me like the good little girl you are.”

Your breath stutters as it leaves your lungs, fidgeting hands tugging at the front hem of your shirt in a feeble attempt to cover yourself up. Jungkook smirks at the movement, eventually retracting his hand to give you one, condescending pat on the head.

A hearty sigh escapes his lips as he settles back onto the couch cushions. “Keep me entertained, will you?” You gawk, but you know it’s not a question. He reaches over for the remote to turn the volume up on the Barbie movie.

Your favorite song on the entire soundtrack is playing, almost mocking you as you shuffle closer to him. Two hands tentatively placed on his thighs as the two animated maidens flounce around the screen. He doesn’t bat a single lash your way, eyes focused on the huge screen behind you instead.

His sweatpants give away easily, elastic band snapping away from hips. You have to fight that and his boxers down, Jungkook sitting like an immovable boulder in front of you. You barely manage to free his cock— the same jumbo cock you had referred to earlier —and it almost slaps you across the face from the force of its recoil. Your breath catches in your throat, a short-lived squeal as you flinch at the movement.

The sound causes him to look your way, over the bridge of his nose. “Do you mind?” he says scornfully. “I’m trying to watch a movie.”

“S-Sorry,” you stammer, quickly grasping his cock between your fist.

But apparently you’re doing everything wrong tonight. Jungkook hisses. “Shit— would it kill you to lick it first? Like you’re trying to start a damn fire on my cock,” he mumbles, head lolling back to watch the screen again.

You move in slower this time, careful to lick your palm before trying to grab him. When you do, it’s even more delayed, fingers hesitantly tightening around his swollen member. You’re trying to gauge his reaction, worried eyes flickering up to him every few seconds. Jungkook doesn’t object, craning his neck to the side to crack a joint there. With his clearance you carry on.

The strokes are slow at first, hand barely reaching over his tip like he likes. You’re weirdly anxious you’ll mess up for him, make him look at you with contempt. You suppose it’s because of the game you’re playing that you’re on edge. Usually, Jungkook adheres to your rules, soft as they may be, and he never pushes where you don’t want. Tonight, it’s like you’re a show dog desperate to impress her owner. In short, you were his bitch.

You loved it.

As much as you wanted to be good for him, the mere thought of your normally sweet-hearted boyfriend glaring down at you does something to you, makes your pussy clench.

It’ll haunt you for weeks. The image of such unimpressed eyes leveled your way because you couldn’t handle his dick will stain the insides of your eyelids. Even though he’ll brush it off, kiss you and tell you it’s fine, the inner conceited hoe in you will never let it go, will recall the memory every time your hand is under your panties.

Still, you’re terribly desperate to impress him. He was your other half, your lover, your sweetheart, your goddamn king; he deserved only the best— not some half-assed, scaredy-cat blowjob that would leave him reeling back afterwards.

With that belief and a sticky blob of spit later, you’re pushing him into your throat. It’s the first reaction you get since he’d started feeling you up, a deep, raspy groan straight from the pits of hell, that has you working even harder to swallow his cock down. “That’s it,” he pants, carding his fingers through your hair. “Good girl.”

You positively mewl under the praise, tongue growing heavy in your mouth as you swallow more and more of him down. The hard tip of his cock pulses inside, rubbing against your palate and then your throat. A gag catches in your throat, one you quickly subdue by shifting your hips.

Fuck, he was so big. Just the feeling of his cock brashly rubbing against the corners of your lips has you fantasizing about how he’ll undoubtedly stretch your pussy apart later. You moan, letting your eyes flutter shut as you try to wave those images away.

When his cock hits the back of your throat, you’re ten chapters deep into an erotic novel all about sucking Jungkook‘s dick. If your eyes weren’t already shut you’re certain they’d be at the back of your head anyway. It twitches against your tongue, one thick bead of precum sliding down your throat.

It seems to be the final straw for Jungkook, who clamps a hand down on the back of your head, forcefully pulling you away only to shove you down again. With his grip in your hair, he really goes to town. You whimper at his brutal movements, his cock nudging the back of your throat with every harsh tug of your hair. The slippery, wet glide of his cock against your mouth fills the room with a lewd squelching that drowns out the movie.

Your pussy quivers with each new intrusion, thighs pressing together as if that will quell the searing ache between them. It doesn’t, and when Jungkook finally bursts in your mouth, creamy cum splattering against your tongue and lips, it only grows.

“Fuck,” he growls, pushing you away as he sinks back into the cushions. His chest heaves beneath the material of his t-shirt, sweat dripping down from his hairline. Normally, you’d take this opportunity to crawl back onto his lap, lick and kiss away at his body while he recovered. But truthfully, you were both still new to this whole experience so there were still the occasional lulls between actions.

Sensing your uncertainty, Jungkook tugs you onto his lap. He presses one soft kiss against your cheek, eyes momentarily losing their hard edge to assure you everything is fine. You give him a tiny nod, as if assuring him you’re okay. He presses his mouth to yours, plush lips soothing over your raw lips. It’s brief, the kiss; he guides you through it but switches back quickly. He pulls away and bites down harshly on the side of your neck. “So perfect for me, pretty girl,” he murmurs, soothing his bite over with a swipe of his tongue.

You dissolve into a mushy puddle on his lap, muscles growing weak from his touch. Jungkook kisses down your neck, over your t-shirt clad chest, before he’s nudging you back down onto the cushions. With him looming over you, your body instinctively has you spreading your legs apart. His t-shirt comes up with one yank over his shoulders, sinewy muscles coming into view.

“Yum,” you whisper, hands reaching up to trail over his v-line. They’re quickly slapped away, a startled gasp pulled from your lips as Jungkook takes your wrists in his hands.

One shapely brow is raised in your direction. “Did I say you could touch?” he murmurs, pinning your hands above your head. A gasp catches in your throat from his close proximity. You subconsciously tilt your head up, try to brush your mouth against his, only to be denied with a subtle turn of his face. “How do you want it, pretty?” he asks, releasing the tight grip around your wrists.

Immediately, you latch around his broad shoulders, fingers tracing over the muscles of his arms until they meet at the base of his neck. “However you want,” you purr, pulling him closer until your bodies are aligned, the warm heat of his frame over yours. You kiss the spot beneath his ear once before he trails his lips down.

Jungkook mouths against your shoulder, lips tracing over the juncture where it meets your neck. “Hm,” he hums, taking a tiny sliver of skin between his teeth. “And if I said I wanted it hard?”

His proposal is followed by a slow roll of his hips against your throbbing core, the same dick you had just choked on gliding along your folds. You whimper, toes curling as the pleasure washes over you. Every ridge, ever vein of his hardened cock runs along your sensitive folds, reminding you of the aching flame inside of you. “Th-That’s fine,” you pant, leg lazily thrown over his hip. His hands trail over your waist, collecting your t-shirt as they move up your body until it’s pushed over the swell of your breasts.

When the material is finally discarded off to the side, leaving you in that flimsy bra Jungkook that snaps off, he strikes again. His tongue laps over your collarbone first, pouty lips ghosting over the skin as he makes his way to your breast. He takes one hardened peak into his mouth, drawing a shaky inhale from you. He rolls it between his teeth, tongue flicking the sensitive nub as you squirm beneath him.

Eventually he pulls away with a wet pop. Jungkook smirks, a soft puff of air fanning over your newly bruised skin. “Aren’t you the prettiest little thing.” He pushes away from you with one strong arm, looking down at you with an unreadable expression on his face. “Watch the movie,” he says.

You blink. “Huh?”

Before you know it, he’s tugging you back up onto your feet. He pushes you around, nearly sends you toppling over the coffee table as he positions you to his liking. “Kook!” you exclaim, palms slapping down against the glass tabletop in an effort to catch yourself. Just barely, your reflection glares back up at you.

A tap against your pussy startles you from the sight. “Wha—“

Two hands grab onto your biceps, tugging you up forcefully until your back arches, leaving you bent at a ninety degree angle before him. “Look, sweetheart,” he coos against your ear, voice deep enough that it vibrates through every bone in your body. Your breath stutters in your throat, exhilaration blossoming in your chest. “It’s your favorite movie.”

It is in fact your favorite movie, the same one you had fought tooth and nail just moments prior to watch. On screen, the two damsels are exploring new things in their lives, just how you were experiencing Jungkook’s true intensity for the first time. “It is,” you quietly confirm, back aching from the position.

Jungkook either doesn’t care about your depleting strength or really trusts in you not to faceplant onto his glass coffee table, palms sliding down to the crease of your elbows to hold you. “Tell me what it’s about,” he says

Just as the words leave his mouth, something hard and wet prods against your folds. “Oh,” you cry, fists tightening into balls as the feeling overwhelms you. “Jungkook, please.”

One elbow is let go, and the abrupt release has you scrambling to catch yourself, your glass reflection coming a little too close. This becomes even more difficult when a hand suddenly strikes down hard against your ass, a startled yelp escaping you. Just as quickly as you were released, Jungkook wastes no time snatching your back up, yanking you back until your cunt runs along his cock again.

“C’mon, pretty, thought you knew better,” he sighs playfully.

“I’m sorry,” you whimper, chest heaving with every slow roll of his hips. Your pussy was sopping, desperate to be filled with something. It was even worse knowing his dick was right there, just inches outside of where you need him most. “I’m sorry, Daddy,” you repeat.

Jungkook chuckles, and your heart backflips when he finally begins lining himself up. “It’s okay,” he assures you, in that same gentle tone he uses when you accidentally shove the wrong food down the sink disposal. “Baby’s still learning,” he says, pressing a chaste kiss against your shoulder as he begins pushing himself in. Just the head of his cock proves to be a struggle, swollen tip stretching your entrance wide. There’s an extra sting today from your half-hearted preparation, the both of you relying solely on your own arousal and excitement to let him in. It’s a nice kick.

When he finally pops past that initial tightness, you swear you could transcend into another dimension from the absolute feeling of euphoria that washes over you. “Fuck,” you mewl, fighting against his tight hold. Your efforts are in vain, ultimately choosing to drop your head down as the ecstasy continues to wash over you with each inch he offers you.

A warning squeeze around your wrist. “Language,” Jungkook reprimands, though his voice is strained and light.

You nod mindlessly, toes curling against the wooden floor. “It-It feels so good,” you whine. Your knees wobble dangerously beneath you, until you’re swaying just the slightest bit.

He gives until there’s nothing left, the soft hairs around his dick tickling your lips as he reaches the hilt. “There we go,” he grunts, giving you one final tug to make sure this is as far as he can go. You squeal, the brush against your walls making you ridiculously high. “That’s my girl.”

The praise has your stomach tightening, the pretty images flashing across the screen completely lost on you. You felt so full. The two of you rarely did it like this, without looking at each other straight on, but there was something about Jungkook’s looming figure being distorted by your brain’s memory, his touches wild and unpredictable, that made something inside of you twitch.

“Ohhh,” you whimper, muscles going slack for the briefest moment. The only thing that saves you from falling over is the killer grip on your forearms; when he tugs you up his cock runs along your pulsing walls. “Please, Daddy,” you beg, mouth feeling a thousand times heavier.

“The movie,” he repeats, slowly beginning to pull away from your clenching heat. You moan. “Tell me what it’s about,” he husks, punctuating his seemingly innocent statement with a harsh snap of his hips.

You wail, stumbling forward at the intensity. Still, it’s just a taste of what he has in store for you. He soon picks a pace, not too rushed or slow, as you struggle to keep your eyes open. “I-I don’t know,” you choke out, the images flashing across the gigantic screen practically unrecognizable to your muddled thoughts.

Behind you Jungkook tuts at your incompetence, thrusting forward with an intensity that would have sent you flying if not for the grip he has on you. “You don’t know?” he huffs, tugging your elbows back again as if to secure his grip on you.

His hips are moving fast now, every piston into your warm heat making you tremble. “Fffuck,” you gasp, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he continues ramming his cock into your pulsing hole. You’re met with a harsh yank that pulls you snugly onto his cock, your entire body screaming at the way he nudges against your cervix. Despite the pleasure it gives you, Jungkook seems anything but pleased.

“C’mon,” he huffs, twisting your arms painfully behind your back. “What did we say about that dirty mouth?” His question is followed with a snap of his hips that makes you choke on your spit. “Need you to be good for me, baby,” he groans.

“I-I am good,” you weakly defend, head hanging down limply as you fight to regain some semblance of your senses. But everything feels too much, from the rough push of his hips to the tight grip on your arms. His cock pulls out nearly all the way each time, swollen tip the only thing stopping him. Every thrust makes you quiver, every touch makes you melt.

You suppose he’d been too lenient on you up until now, and that final claim makes him snap. Jungkook scoffs, ramming his dick inside of you. “You’re being fucking terrible right now, doll,” he admits, hammering into you like a crazed man. You sob, the coil in your belly tightening with every brutal shove of his cock. It’s something about the way his composure withers away, all sweetness melting off as he thrusts into your cunt. “I’ve asked you twice now what the damn movie was about, and you didn’t answer either time.”

A hand clamps around your throat suddenly, yanking you up right until his breath fans across your ear. You’re not sure when your eyes had become so teary, but the images flickering across the screen are a foggy mess you couldn’t decipher even if you tried. “__,” he rasps against your ear, his voice scratchy. “Tell me. Now.”

You whimper as he shoves his way back inside, the angry head of his cock testing you. “T-Two girls, one’s a princess,” you cry, knees wobbling as the feeling in your core grows. “They look alike, and-and…”

“And?” Jungkook asks as you trail off, his words followed by a particularly brutal surge of his hips. His cock glides against your walls easily despite the way you clench around him.

“A-And they have problems they wanna avoid,” you stammer, the plot slipping in and out of your mind with every roll of his cock into your core. “So-so they swap places.”

Behind you, Jungkook snorts. “What a stupid fucking movie,” he says meanly, before he begins to piston his cock into you. You’re trembling by now, your orgasm looming over your head with each thrust.

Before you can warn him, the thin string holding you together snaps, the sudden flood of relief making your knees buck dangerously. Jungkook barely has enough time to catch you around the waist, holding you against him as a litany of curses and his name come spewing out of your mouth. “No, no,” you wail, your entire body twitching as the orgasm rolls over you. “Kook— Jungkook!”

“I’ve got you,” he reassures you, fingers holding you tight around the waist. The coffee table you had feared cracking your skull on finally comes to use as you press your hands onto the surface in a feeble attempt to steady yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you whimper, faintly aware of the rock hard cock between your pulsing walls, probably drenched in your cum now. “I-I didn’t—“

He shushes you quickly, settling the two of you back onto the couch. Funnily enough, he doesn’t bother pulling you off of him, his dick snug inside your cunt as he seats you on his lap. “You’re alright, sweetheart,” he comforts, hands soothingly running up your sides. You want to protest, want to get back on your knees and give him another chance to cum all over your face, but Jungkook nudges your chin with a knuckle. “Watch your movie,” he croons.

The Princess and the Pauper is literally the last thing on your mind right now; didn’t he realize how much you wanted to please him? Why was he choosing now to be so stubborn? Oh, that Jeon Jungkook, maybe Doyeon was right to call him an airhead.

Your slander campaign against your boyfriend is cut short when a hand flutters over your mound, thumb idly tracing over your sensitive clit. Before you can turn and look at him, Jungkook is rutting his hips against you slowly. “The screen, baby,” he says, and you want to argue that you can’t possibly enjoy a movie with him being so sneaky beneath you. The words get washed away when he presses down on your clit.

“Koo— Daddy,” you whine, lower lips still trembling from the orgasm you had two minutes ago. Jungkook responds with a kiss against your shoulder, hands trailing around your waist.

“No more of that,” he mumbles as he begins bouncing you on his cock. You moan, every inhale cut short by the shallow thrusts of his cock into your delicate walls. “Just your Kook now.”

“My… Kook,” you pant dreamily. Your cum provides an even better lubricant than before, lewd squelches filling the area alongside your cries as Jungkook chases both your second orgasms.

“Mhmm,” he groans, jostling you over his lap with no rhythm whatsoever. “Yours, baby.” You stretch your hands back, carding one set of fingers through the hair above his ear, pushing the strands away from his face. “Just like you’re mine.”

Something inside of you tightens painfully, and you’re not sure if it’s your heart or your pussy. You guess it’s both, as you stutter out, “y-your pretty girl?” Jungkook hums in agreement, repeating your favorite nickname back to you. The rest of your words die out between the two of you, lost in the slow and soft movements that fill in. You want to tell him you love him, adore him like no other, but every breath of air is stolen away by him.

Eventually the two of your are cumming, your second orgasms much quieter and slower compared to your first. You still mewl, wither against him when you cream his cock, and Jungkook catches you all the same. He guides you through the fog with kisses against your jaw, your dripping pussy helping him through his own.

When all is said and done and you’re both basking in a post-orgasmic make-out, you realize how sweaty and icky you are. “Ugh, this is gross,” you pout as he wiggles you off his lap. He pushes you beside him, letting you flop over the length of the couch as he reaches for something to clean you up with.

“You’re gross,” he retorts softly, blinking in that slow, drawn out way he does when you know he’s sleepy. His t-shirt runs along your neck, collecting the sweat there.

You nudge him with your foot. “I’m not the one who wanted to fuck during a Barbie movie,” you scoff, pinching the skin on his forearm when his gaze lingers a second too long on your creamy pussy. “Look somewhere else, weirdo.”

Jungkook laughs quietly, looking at you with an adoring expression on his face. He doesn’t even finish cleaning you off, tossing the soiled shirt somewhere off to the side in favor of cuddling into you. “Where? My Jumbotron?” he teases, raining down a parade of kisses against your face. “Don't wanna,” he smiles, too soft and boyish for the words that leave his lips next. “Wanna lick your pretty pussy clean.”

“Jeon Jungkook,” you scold, covering your face with your palms in embarrassment. “Look at your stupid IMAX screen and leave me alone.”

He cackles loudly now, in that evil witch way it took him a while to show you, and you know he’s got that big silly grin on his face now. . “The IMAX screen? The same one that made you,” a pause, “climax?”

“Get off of me.”

——

Just as you predicted, Jungkook’s mom gives him the scolding of a lifetime when she drops by the next weekend. The poor woman nearly faints at the theater screen on the wall, only to quickly regain herself. You giggle from your spot on the couch as she whacks his stupidly ripped bicep with the leek you’re supposed to chop up for dinner later.

What you’re not expecting is for her anger to shift to you as she scolds you for letting her idiotic son make such purchases. She gets one playful thwack against your side with the leek before your charming idiotic boyfriend swoops in to save you.

——

#goldenclosetnet #ksmutclub #networkbangtan #bangtanhq #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jjk smut #mine

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machine-gun-casie · 4 years ago

Text

tavern music

synopsis: corpse hears tavern music coming from your room (gn!reader)

warnings: rpf, reader gets cheated on, kind of unrequited feelings, mostly hurt/comfort and physical affection tho (what im trying to say is that this is mostly self indulgent)

wc: 1.7k

a/n: havent written in a while but i found this in my arsenal, fixed it up a bit and viola. original plans for this was definitely something longer that would end with them being together but im not up for writing rn. been feeling really shitty lately and ive been needing something like this in my life. hope u guys like it ♡

He couldn’t hear it at first. His headset was on and everyone was being so loud on the discord call. When he started the stream, he really thought it was gonna be a long one. But he’s only two hours in and he’s ready to get the hell off because something was definitely wrong.

“Corpse?” His name being spoken finally broke him out of his trance, he only hummed in response. “You’ve been really quiet. Are you sure you’re up for another game?”

“Actually,” he starts as he closes a few tabs, “I think I’ve gotta go. Today was fun, though. Thanks for having me guys.”

After a chorus of ‘goodbye’s and ‘see you later’s, Corpse disconnected from the discord call. “Thank you guys for being here,” he addressed the chat, “sorry I’m ending so early today. I promise I’ll make it up to you next time. Take care of yourselves. Later.”

After hanging up his headset and getting out of the chair he’s been sitting in for far too long, Corpse made the short trek to your room.

You had only been roommates for less than four months, but Corpse could confidently say that you have become one of his closest friends. Getting a roommate was the last resort that he never wanted to actually resort to. But alas, medical bills were piling up and youtube and music don’t make half as much money as people think they do. So cutting rent in half was the best plan he could come up with. He did have an extra guest room that no one ever stayed in. Of course having someone move into his personal space was terrifying to him. He didn’t just want to post an ad on craigslist or something. So he asked a couple trusted friends to ask a couple trusted friends… And that’s when you came in.

You were the trusted friend of a trusted friend of a trusted friend. When you met, you didn’t make a comment about his voice. Your face sure as hell showed your surprise but you didn’t say anything. To Corpse, this meant one of two things. You either knew who he was but didn’t want to freak him out, or you didn’t know about his online persona and were just genuinely shocked by his voice. It only took a few minutes of knowing you to know that it was the latter. Thank god. You were like anyone your age with social media. You had a few accounts, followed a few people, but mostly used it to stay in contact with friends.

It only took you guys a week to realize you had way too much in common. After many a late night when he wasn’t streaming, and many an early morning when he was just done streaming, you two became inseparable. Nothing could keep you apart.

Except for one thing.

You had a boyfriend.

There was nothing wrong with your boyfriend, per se. Just the fact that he was your boyfriend and Corpse was not.

Yeah, Corpse definitely had feelings for you.

But right now, feelings didn’t matter when he could hear tavern music coming from your room.

He knocked lightly and pushed the door open slowly. “y/n? Can I come in?”

No response came, just sniffles and sobs. The lack of refusal on your part gave him the courage he needed to open the door wider and step into your room. He had only been in your room a couple of times since you had moved in. But he had never been in a room that gave off the feeling of a person so well.

You were curled up on your bed, facing your open laptop screen and the tavern music coming from its speakers. With every sob shaking your chest, Corpse felt his heart break. “y/n,” he murmured softly, “what’s wrong?”

“It’s not working.” Came your reply, heavy with tears. “You said it would make you feel like you're going on an adventure but I still feel like crap.”

“What happened?” Corpse asked as he sat down on your bed, facing you. You slowly sat up and crossed your legs at your ankles in front of you.

“He-” You sighed heavily. “He cheated on me.”

“What?”

“He cheated on me -has been cheating on me- with my best friend. My little brother found out.” You groaned and dramatically dropped your head onto Corpse’s thigh. His hand immediately came in contact with your cheek as he brushed a few stray tears away.

There was rarely any physical contact between you and Corpse. Sometimes you’d give him a high five, sometimes he’d give you fist bump. And there was that one time you came up behind him at the grocery store and hugged his arm to your chest. You immediately whispered something along the lines of ‘creep won’t leave me alone’ followed by a loud ‘hey babe!’

Corpse could barely admit to himself how much he liked that.

But this? This felt good. Corpse’s large warm hand on your face somehow made you want to cry more but in a good way. The tenderness with which he held your face made your heart squeeze as it remembered moments like this with your boyf- ex boyfriend. But then it remembered your brother’s words.

“Hey, what’s up?” You spoke as you answered his call. Your brother wasn’t much of a caller, so it made you worry.

“Hey, where are you right now?”

“I’m home, why?”

“y/n… There’s something I gotta tell you.” He sighed and you could clearly hear the guilt.

“Did you break my DS!” It was your first thought as you had given it to him the last time you had seen him. “Dude! I’ve had that since I was seven!”

“No no, I called about something else.” He cut you off mid-whine. “But also I did lose the pen.” You huffed out a sigh of frustration but stayed silent so he could tell you what he wanted to tell you. “I saw your boyfriend at the park today.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “And?” How did this warrant a phone call?

“He was with Bob.”

When you had met your best friend, your brother was only a toddler. He had decided that her name was Bob, so it stuck. You always called her Bob, she was saved as Bob in your phone, your whole family called her Bob. But you still didn't understand. Why was he calling you to tell you that your boyfriend and your best friend were at the park?

“Why are you calling me about this? You know that they’re friends, right?” You let out a chuckle, albeit still pretty confused. “They’re allowed to hang out without me.”

“They weren’t hanging out.” You could hear your brother push out a strained sigh. What wasn’t he telling you? “They were making out on the swing set. As in, both of them on one swing. And I double checked, it was definitely them. I-I told mom and she said not to tell you, but I couldn’t not tell you when I’m the one who saw it!”

You couldn’t bring yourself to say a word.

“I’m sorry, y/n.”

There was no lying to yourself, you had doubts about your best friend and your boyfriend. But you constantly brushed it off. He wouldn’t hurt you like that. Hell, she couldn’t hurt like that. Not after everything you had been through together.

But you had seen his call log by accident one time, he called her more than he did you. She face-timed him one time to ask his opinion about a dress she was going to buy while you were in the changing room. She had done a handful of things since your relationship with your boyfriend started that made you uneasy. If this was their first kiss, which was something you doubted, then they’ve both been emotionally attached to the other for far too long.

All those tender intimate moments, all those dates, throughout everything, he wasn’t faithful. Not emotionally, at least. None of those moments that you cherished meant anything to you anymore. He had played you. With none other than your best friend since middle school. You didn’t know who to be more mad at.

The thoughts of betrayal from someone who you considered a sister and the hurt of being cheated on made you nauseated.

So when the large warm hand on your face stroked your cheek again, you didn’t mind it. This was Corpse. Not your cheating boyfriend. Not your lying best friend. Corpse. And you knew that he would never hurt you.

“He’s been cheating on me for a while I think.” You mumbled against his sweatpants. “Maybe a couple months. I don’t know.”

Corpse furrowed his brows in thought. You had told him you were going to visit your boyfriend for your one year anniversary next week. “Weren’t you go-”

“Yeah.”

“And Bob’s been your friend since-”

“Yeah.” Your chin wobbled as you answered. You brought your arms up around Corpse’s thigh and hugged it. It was a strange position, but you didn’t care. He was so warm and nice and hugging him properly required more movement on your end than you were willing to do.

“Oh, sweetheart.” Corpse sighed and reached out to untangle your arms from his leg. He gently pulled you across the few inches of bed between you and sat you in his lap. You wrapped your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist, immediately sobbing into his shoulder. “Do you want me to turn off the music?” You shook your head no against him and he chuckled before he solemnly sighed. “When did you find out?”

“When I came home.”

“But you came home hours ago. Have you been in here this whole time?” You nodded. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You were streaming, didn’t wanna interrupt.” You shrugged.

“y/n,” he sighed disappointedly, “you’re my best friend. I can end a stream if you need me.”

“Okay.” Your voice, broken and weak and tired, made him feel so guilty. You had been crying your heart out for over two hours just down the hall from where he was.

He gently grabbed you by your hips and tried to push you away, but you only held on tighter and whimpered. “I just wanna get you some water.”

“I don’t want water.”

“Then what do you want?”

“You.” You whispered. “Please stay.”

Fuck. How could he say no to that?

So he stayed.

#corpse #corpse husband #corpse x reader #corpsehusband #corpse husband x reader #corpse husband fanfiction #corpse husband fanfic #corpse husband fluff #corpse fanfiction #corpse fanfic #corpse fluff #gender neutral reader

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jangofctts · 4 years ago

Text

Are You in Or Out?

Rated: Explicit

Word count: 11.5K yall I am SORRY

Warnings: good lord y'all here we GO-- smut, explicit language, violence and mentions of blood and gore, injuries, unprotected sex (don't be a dick, wrap that stick!), oral (m&f receiving), blindfolding, vaginal and anal fingering, vaginal and anal sex, double penetration, spit is used as lube but for the love of GOD doNT DO THAT, there are some dom vibes on Paz’s end

Summary: The job you’re on takes a turn for the worst--Paz comes to your rescue and you're brought to the Covert. There you meet Din Djarin. though during a good natured sparring session, you’re suddenly stuck between an age old rivalry that spirals out of hand. Hopefully an agreement can be met.

a/n: hey...how y’all doin....SO lemme explain you smthn. I said helmets must be OfF--giv me them LIPS BABEY so this is a slight AU in which mandos can see other mandos’ faces. ya get me? I also tHot that it would be nice and fun to set the timeline 5-6 years BEFORE the plot of the Mandalorian so we gots a younger din here. anyway, as always enjoy and I hope you like!!

Mistakes, mistakes, mistakes—

Some as little as burning your finger on the nozzle of a smoking blaster or tripping over your own shoelaces. Simple things. Mindless things.

Nothing that could ever compare to the catastrophic decision of picking up bounty hunting as a reliable source of income.

The little ones were easy—tax evaders and deserters of the Empire—most who’d yield and gladly follow without complaint just at the sight of your blaster pointed between their eyes. And the gag of it is—most of the time you never bothered to load the damn thing.

Reckless.

An invitation for disaster.

But skirting that precarious edge, one little slip up away from plunging head first into inevitable trouble is better than Bracca. Stars—anything is better than Bracca. There’s no glory in bounty hunting but there’s even less in ship scrapping. Abysmal pay in exchange for risking your life on rain slicked metal with only the Ibdis Maw to break your fall.

The guild you work for is considerate—scratch that. Greef Karga is considerate. Sure the flirting is a touch unbearable but it saves your ass in the long run. All easy money bounties set aside for you in exchange for a cheap drink, hollow laughs and sugar sweet smiles.

It’s enough credits to get by—more than plenty to rent a room and charter a ship.

But there’s only so many bounties to capture within the limits of the guild and oh so many people the empty blaster trick works on. And so the credits begin to thin; it gets too expensive to buy off a pilot and the debate over buying food or being able to pay for your room becomes more frequent than the scraprats that skitter inside the walls.

It’s suicide to snag a higher paying bounty because....well—these bounties shoot back.

Whatever.

Might as well die trying. Who knows, maybe you could score big time if you manage to pull this off.

Maybe.

-=-=-=-

You’re not sure who’s more surprised—Karga when you asked for the bounty or yourself when he actually gave it to you.

“Are you sure, kid? This could—“

“End in a fiery shitshow? Yeah—I figured that,” you sigh, swirling your drink with a little complimentary toothpick. “But I need the money.”

“Hah! You’ve got guts, girl.” He flashes you a smile and smooths down his mustache with his thumb and forefinger. “Tell you what. The last assignment was just taken but I’m sure if you run you could catch him. Work somethin’ out.”

Jumping from your seat, you throw on your coat and toss a couple credits onto the table to cover the drink. “What’s he look like?”

“Big fellow—Mandalorian. You’ll know when you see him.”

You shout your thanks over your shoulder and hightail outta there. The landing docks aren’t far, you can see them from here. It’s finding the guy that could pose a problem.

If he hasn’t already left, you bitterly think.

However, it seems the universe is on your side today. Karga was right. He is big. Stands out like a sore thumb against his ship that glitters dully in the overcast sky. Kinda like an oversized blueberry. A yellow and blue blueberry….not important—

“Hey! Hey, you!” You’re so close, just a couple yards away. You swear and hurry up your pace as he steps onto the loading ramp. “Big guy! Large...blue man?”

You trip over your own feet as he turns his head. Fuck—

No way are you gonna be able to bargain with this guy. Built like a fucking AT-AT and probably just as stubborn. After all, no one would ever be dumb enough to come between a Mandalorian and their quarry. You grimace, and suck in a breath—

Before a word even leaves your mouth he interrupts with a steady, unwavering;

“No.”

Your brows furrow. “I didn’t even say anything!”

“I know what you were going to ask,” he huffs, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “I work alone.”

Ok, then. You didn’t want to resort to begging, but you’re kinda running out of options here. You take a steadying breath and plant yourself at the bottom of the ramp. “C’mon man. Look—I’ll let you take seventy percent of the cut and I can—“

“You’ll let me?” He repeats, the staticky tone of his voice dropping into an edge more cutting than broken transparisteel. The metal platting on the ramp vibrates from the weight of his step to move closer; Stars it takes every fucking inch of willpower to hold your ground. “You’re lucky if I let you leave with your life. Get lost.”

Fuckfuckfuck—you should listen. You wanna fucking run for the hills and never look back in case he comes looking to purge your name from the kriffing galaxy. You clench your jaw and steel your nerves. Too bad—you’ve dug your heels so far into this empire of dirt and false bravado that your only way out is continuing to poke the sleeping bear until he snaps your spine or caves.

You have to crane your neck to glare into that dark strip of his vizor, seeing as he’s invited himself into your personal space. “No.”

“No?” He mocks, now toe to toe with your scuffed up boots.

Your teeth clench, a scalding flush burning through your cheeks and all the way down to your chest. He’s toying with you—finding amusement in your stubbornness and apparent lack of braincells for challenging him. “You don’t scare me.”

The man hums, a deep purr that rumbles through his entire ribcage as he raises his gloved hand. You curse yourself for flinching because surely he’s about to crush your skull like a fucking grape, but no. All he does is fix your rumbled collar then pat your cheek.

“I don’t need the extra baggage.”

“I’m not baggage,” you sneer, slapping his hand away. “I can handle myself.”

“With an empty blaster?” He points out, tipping his head to the side. “Your parlor tricks won’t do you any good on this job.”

“I’m a good shot!” You sputter, placing your hands over you hips and mustering up your best glare. “W-when I have ammo…”

“Right.”

Meeting Paz Vizsla, could have gone far better, to put it into the most simplest of words. Jagged and hard to settle into a routine around each other for the journey to Nar Shaddaa in a tiny, old, and cramped freighter ship. Most cycles you have to wedge yourself beside a cargo crate to sleep. In addition to that, how it’s able to break through the atmosphere let alone fly is beyond you—an entire mystery on its own.

At least you’re able to sit in the spare seat inside the cockpit—one of the only places available to stretch your legs. The only problem is that it’s also where Paz Vizsla likes to lurk (well, not lurk—it’s his ship and it’s where he can comfortably fit but—to each their own).

There’s a net of tension still woven between you—each interaction like tiptoeing over eggshells. Though, like all things, it becomes simpler. There’s not exactly any ongoing conversations—you don’t want to pry into a life you know nothing about—it’s not your business despite the cumulation of questions that linger in the back of your mind. You know when to take a hint—not every person is willing to indulge you about their livelihood, and surely not something as secretive and well guarded as the Mandalore.

Familiarity is what you want to call it. Comfortable with each other’s presence with small talk speckled in throughout the never-ending vastness of hyperspace. Compared to the infinite turmoil in your life, slippery footholds and uncertainty—Paz Vizsla is steady. In a way— predictable and safe in the confines of this ship.

You’d even go as far as to label him kind, a friend maybe—if you look past the grumpiness and rather poor taste in corny jokes. You know it’s stupid, no doubt stemming from the deep ache of loneliness that comes hand in hand with staking it out on your own in the galaxy; but you can’t help but wish that this could be a new normal. Not some once in a lifetime thing where you both part ways, fade into the recesses of memory and leave it at that.

If things go well—and rarely do they on a job—maybe you’d pluck up enough courage to ask him if you could stay. There’s no harm in it…right?

-=-=-=-

Well—the cynical part of you was right.

It did end up in a fiery shit show.

Turns out the stupid quarry you’d been tracking excelled in long range weaponry. A former marksman for the Empire to be exact. Guess that tidbit of information wasn’t pertinent. A need to know sorta thing, if you will.

You feel the molten bolt of plasma connect with your side before your ears pick up the sound of a weapon firing, like a crack of lighting in the empty alleyway. And before your body even connects with the duracrete, Paz is returning fire. A brilliant neon red against the hazy blur of shadowy buildings.

Kinda weird how knocking the back of your head hurts worse than the literal blaster wound burned into your side. Shock maybe. Or the heat from the plasma cauterized each veins and artery it tore through and ate away at flesh and nerves. Hm…

You’re sprawled in a wet pool of something—either your own blood or a puddle of stagnant gutter water and damn—you’re wearing your favorite shirt.

It doesn’t matter at this point…

You’re choking on your own air from the big ass hole blasted into your diaphragm, so to say things are looking grim is an understatement.

Nar Shaddaa isn’t your first choice to kick the can on, but hey—not everyone gets the luxury of dying on Naboo. And just as you’re ready to slip away into that sweet, sweet abyss, it seems your fellow armored friend has other plans.

The beskar is freezing against your cheek after he deadlifts you off the duracrete—you remember that plain as day. That and the hushed rumble of Paz’s voice insisting you save your dwindling supply of air instead of apologizing to him—or ordering you to stay alive for kriff’s sake. It’s impossible to argue with Paz—like trying to bite through durasteel, and while those beckoning tendrils of eternal slumber are mighty tempting, you cling to your life with all the strength you have left. After all, inconveniencing someone with a corpse is such a party foul to the highest degree.

The rest is muddled—like dredging up silt and clay in a murky river that just leaves you with a pounding headache between your eyes. It’s a terrible mess of pain and bouts of temporary consciousness, mistaken with fever dreams and yup—more pain. The only consistent is Paz—hovering nearby or settled beside you—through thick and thin as you heal.

There’s no solid reason your brain can conjure as to why he brought you to the Covert—it’d have been easier to just dump you at the nearest hospital and be done with it. You’re not his responsibility and you’re too afraid to ask what it means. Too many possibilities—too many answers you aren’t in the mood to face or untwist.

And so you leave it be, set aside for another time—which brings you to the present day…

You’re splayed over your little makeshift cot, feet propped up on a spare pillow as you scour through a cheesy Coruscanti gossip magazine. It’s years old—the only piece of entertainment you could find other than a weapon in the Covert. And seeing as a massive hole had been blasted through your ribcage, picking up the clever art of throwing vibroblades or shooting targets to pass the time was out of the question.

Even if you’d rather fall into a Sarlaac pit than stare at the wall for hours on end yet again—it hasn’t been all that bad. It’d taken weeks before you regained enough strength to sit up on your own, let alone walk—and walking is putting it lightly. It was more of a stiff legged shuffle better suited on a two hundred year old woman seconds from disintegrating into dust at the mere hint of a breeze.

Not to mention—your right lung was all but shredded. Ripped apart from the plasma bolt and miraculously reconstructed by a more than questionable bacta tank, hopeful thoughts and well wishes. To this very day you still sound like a broken air filter.

Eh.

Could be worse.

At least you aren’t dead.

Just another setback that adds on the growing pile of reasons why never to leave the Covert. Free food, free board and mild entertainment to top it off. Paz had stayed at your bedside for the most part while you recovered—stuck with babysitting your sorry ass until you regained a bit of mobility. The times Paz hadn’t been at your side to stave off the boredom, it was up to you to find your own fun.

Snooping is what Paz had labeled it—but you saw it more as an adventure. You met Din Djarin exploring (lost is what you actually were) in the dimly lit underbelly of Nevarro, after all. Yes, you may have scared the ever loving shit out of the poor guy and yes, he may have singed off your brows with a five foot jet of fucking fire—but hey. No one got hurt.

And you made a new friend. Sorta…Din is difficult to read, subtler in his soft spoken words and quiet demeanor. A bit like a skittish loth-cat at the start, but nowadays it’s not uncommon to find him lounging in the same space as you or hovering over your shoulder, awfully curious in whatever it is you choose to do. Like Paz, Din isn’t overly fond of sharing much information about himself but he never complains after you regale tales of your own vastly fascinating past. He seems interested enough—tilts his head a tick to the right when you speak to indicate that yes, he’s listening despite the unforgiving dark line of his visor.

There are others in the Covert too—some so elusive you have a hard time believing they exist. Shadows of what they once were before the rise of the Empire. And so, you count yourself lucky that you’d been introduced to two others—Aeris Fenn, a young man nearly as tall as a Wookie, and a woman named Ives Arrey; her armor a flashy green—damn near florescent in the light.

They’re nice enough company. Aeris is a chatterbox, his wit sharper than a blade but lacking in any forethought before he speaks. Ives is the far opposite—rolls each sentence in her mouth before she voices it, but in no way is she angelic. Maker—you’d bet your entire left asscheek she’s behind each bad decision and silly shenanigans Aeris sticks his nose into. He never learns—not after a harsh chiding or cuff around the helmet from Paz or the Armorer could dampen is childlike enthusiasm or steer him away from repeating the same mistake over and over.

Though if you read one more kriffing sentence of this garbage magazine you’re about to invite chaos himself to entertain you. Good thing too because just as you sit up to find the red armored Mandalorian—Paz rounds the corner and steps into your little broom closet that hardly passes for a room.

“Paz!” You greet, tossing the magazine over your shoulder. “Please tell me we’ll be doing something interesting or else I might start ripping my hair out. Or maybe commit a heinous crime—haven't decided yet.”

Paz grunts and shakes his head. “You’ll be doing neither. But today we’ll be sparing—hopefully that will curve your boredom.”

You scrunch up your face. “Sparring? Er, no thanks—I choose life.”

“You breathe funny since your injury,” he says, jabbing a finger between your ribs. “And all you’ve been doing lately is laying around.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you sneer, tucking your arms over your chest. “Didn’t realize I was supposed to be running laps with half a lung.”

“It’s like stretching a muscle, you need to gain your strength back.” He retorts. “This will be good for you.”

You groan and flop back into bed. “I don’t wanna. I was pretty much dead like three cycles ago—cut me some slack, man.”

There’s a brief silence as if he’s mulling over your words, but he’s stubborn. You crane your head to look at him as he says your name with a deep sigh attached to it.

“Truthfully, I’m surprised you’ve survived this long.” He says it quietly, fragile even, like he’s still expecting you to tip over and die on the spot. You very well might.

You huff. “Wow. Thanks, Paz.”

You feel his heavy stare through the helmet. “What happened to you that night was a mistake. It wasn’t preventable but the least I can do is teach you basic selfdefense.”

You gripe out your complaints but you know you’ve been beat—and well, a bit of your agreement is based on guilt.

Damn it.

-=-=-=-

It’s weird to see Paz without his heavy duty gear—like seeing him naked or a crab without a shell. The only piece he continues to wear is his helmet and padded gloves and under clothes, but it’s still weird. Strange enough that it shocks you tongue into remaining still instead of bitching about this.

He leads you to a wing of the Covert you’ve yet to discover and ushers you through the doorway. The floor is padded, a bit smaller than you expected and already occupied by none other than Aeris Fenn.

It’s a whole other kriffing shock to the head seeing him without the plates and layers of fabric and beskar too. The armor makes him bulkier—fuller and much more intimidating. Now, with only his black underclothes on, Aeris could be the spitting image of a sentient tree. Willowy limbs that stick out like branches as he stretches on the padded mat. He lazily swings his head around as you greet him, his face still covered by the black beskar painted with streaks of red.

“So you choose sparring over knife throwing?” Aeris snorts. “And to think I thought of you as a friend.”

“You think I chose to be here?” You say, grumpy and still upset at the choice of activity. Really, a brisk walk around the Covert would’ve been fine.

Aeris shrugs. “Ah, and I see you’ve roped in my favorite vod. Tch, he uses his fists instead of his words to teach. I wish you luck—you’ll need it.”

You open your mouth to retort but Paz beats you to it.

“Leave.”

“I’ve just arrived, actually,” Aeris scoffs, folding his torso over his other leg to stretch. “Perhaps you could reschedule. After all—our guest is quite free most days.”

Welp—you’re perfectly fine with that. Problem solved.

You spin on your heel and make a break for it but Paz snatches your wrist and pulls you back to his side. “Aeris.”

“Paz,” Aeris mocks, tipping his helmet to the side.

Paz exhales, a long, tired sound and grovels out another plea in clipped Mando’a. Aeris languidly stands and brushes off imaginary dust from the front of his pants. “Sorry, what was that? I don’t understand your accent.”

“Boy—“

“No, no, it’s alright.” Aeris sighs, waving his hand in a mopey display as if he were told that his birthday party were canceled for the fifth year in a row. “I’d have trouble speaking too if my enormously thick head were cooped up in that little bucket of yours all day.”

You wince.

In the time you’ve known Paz Vizsla, he’s never been one to launch into rash decisions fueled by anger—he lets it simmer and build like an oncoming storm over the ocean. Devastating once it reaches land.

Aeris bobs his head and inspects his black leather glove, picking at a loose thread on the inseam over the thumb. He clicks his tongue. “Or'dinii—you’re going to kill her.”

Your offended scoff is ignored as Paz steps forward; jutting his chin up to even out the few inches Aeris holds over the man. “You still haven’t learned to shut your mouth, boy.”

The tension surges and crackles like a volt of electricity through the air—unresolved and ready to ignite with the sparking embers of Paz’s growing irritation. It’s not a fight Aeris Fenn will win. He’s volatile and hotheaded—but his expertise is in long range weaponry. Precise, deadly and swift—not whatever this little pissing match is heading towards.

Aeris clicks his tongue as Paz digs a fist into the black fabric of his shirt. Paz yanks him forward, the metallic clink of their helmets colliding an unpleasant scrape that pierces your eardrums. Aeris snarls out sharpened words in Mando’a as his willowy fingers shoot up to curl beneath the lip of Paz’s helmet.

In the blink of an eye, Paz lifts Aeris up by his collar and launches him across the room like he weighs nothing more than a couple of down pillows. His helmet meets the wall with a resounding clank, chipping some of the red paint outlining the visor. Ouch.

Like a kicked dog, Aeris clambers to his feet, still dazed and swaying and for a fearful second you think he’ll retaliate. But with whatever braincells he happens to possess today—he instead spits out a venomous curse that even yourself would hesitate to repeat. He leaves without another word, bristling with rage.

Your flash Paz a questioning stare. “The hell was that about?”

Paz waves it away with an irritated grunt. “His heart is in the right place but he is young. Aeris doesn’t understand his place in the Covert yet and I doubt he will for years to come.”

You frown. “Poor guy…”

Paz mutters something under his breath. “Enough distractions. We’ve wasted enough time already.”

“Y’know…I think that’s enough excitement for today. I think I’ll be going now—“ Your last ditch attempt at weaseling out of this is quickly thwarted the moment you turn your back.

You wheeze as the heel of Paz’s palm shoves into your shoulder blade, the force of it sending you stumbling to the ground. “Paz—“

“Go on. Hit me,” he orders. You squeak, narrowly avoiding the well aimed kick that skims the top of your scalp.

You scramble to your feet, skirting out of range of the oncoming right hook. “So you attack me instead?”

“How do you expect to catch quarries who are bigger than you?” He presses. You hiss as the points of his knuckles dig into the meat of your shoulder.

You dance out of reach and rub your arm, a dull throb flaring up in the muscle. “I dunno—electrocute them?”

“Not if they take you by surprise.”

You screech as his knuckles skim your cheek. Adrenaline pierces you veins and you wildly throw a flaky punch that wouldn’t even impress a toddler. He catches your fist with ease, his entire hand dwarfing your clenched fingers. “You can do better than that.”

You snarl and struggle to rip your hand back. “I’m a scrapper. I don’t fight.”

“No,” he retorts. You fall onto your ass as he abruptly lets go of your hand. “You’re a bounty hunter.”

You roll your eyes. “Hardly—why can’t I just stay here?”

Although there’s nothing to see with that swatch of black covering his eyes, you can certainly feel the look he’s giving you. A deep sigh hisses through the vocoder. “You can stay here—“

A triumphant smile splits across your face—

“—but not without contributing where it’s due.”

You puff up your cheeks and let out a dismayed stream of air. “Booo—lame.”

He sighs again and helps you off the floor. “Even if you leave the Guild, what I’m teaching you is helpful.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you say. “I’ll give you a call after I use your invaluable skills to beat up some thug.”

Paz ignores your comment and turns on his heel. “Let’s go through it again. This time use your front two knuckles instead of your whole fist.”

As your eyes land over the stretch of tight fighting fabric over his back an idea pops into your head. It’s a petty move but getting a punch in is fruitless—like trying to beat up a brick wall. You don’t fancy a broken hand and your knuckles are already bruised and swollen to the point where it’s hard to bend them.

And so, without any forethought and with a running head start, you launch yourself onto him, your arms coiling around his neck. It does the job—takes him by surprise and makes him tip to the right.

Aha! Yes!

Your reign of victory is short lived, however—

He latches onto your forearms strung around his neck and yanks. And much in the same way he threw Aeris like a sack of potatoes—you’re no different. For a short stretch of time that feels kriffing endless; you soar through the air, your directional whereabouts violently ripped out beneath you and equally nauseating in the same breath.

Why you ever agreed to this—you don’t know.

Your shoulder blade connects with the mat first, leaving behind a dull sting as you roll and tumble with uncontrollable momentum. Oh, yeah—you’ll feel that in the morning.

Groaning, you thank the Maker that your body eventually settles into a miserable little pile of limbs and pain. But, it seems whatever higher power that lingers in the edges of the galaxy hasn’t decided to put you out of your misery just yet.

A bulky shadow blocks out the dim lighting overhead, and for a brief anxiety ridden moment you’re afraid it’s Paz. You roll onto your back with a pathetic groan, a beg for mercy on the tip of your tongue—but as your eyes flutter open they’re met with an entirely different man.

Din Djarin looms over you, his head cocked to the side as you blink in dumbfounded bewilderment. Ah, hell—

You swallow, a furious heat bitting at your cheeks. “Uh…fine weather we’re having…”

“We’re inside,” he states with a brief glance up to the ceiling.

You purse your lips. “Huh.”

With a pensive hum he offers his hand, you sigh and roll over, accepting his gloved hand. He hoists you up easily and adjusts your rumpled collar. “You ok?”

“Pfft, yeah,” you groan, rubbing your throbbing shoulder. “Never better.”

The low grumble of your name is a cross between disbelief and irritation. Din jerks his head, his attention zeroing in on Paz. “Are you trying to kill her?”

“She isn’t made of glass.”

“She is still recovering—“

Normally you’d intervene, but their bickering is tiring and it gives you the excuse to lie down. By the time one of them caves you’ve counted exactly one hundred and twelve weird ceiling stains. They should get that checked out.

“Very well,” Paz snarls, cutting through your wandering thoughts. “You teach her.”

Din scoffs, his shoulders drawn tight as he stomps over to your splayed out self. “Get up.”

“Geez, fine,” you grumble, not in the mood to test his patience further. “Since you asked so nicely.”

Later he’ll no doubt apologize but right now? He has to prove a point. Din cuts right to it, moves in close to place your clenched fists in the right stance and nudges at your feet until they’re a bit wider than hip distance.

“You have to get in close with a bigger opponent,” he says, stepping into your space until your fists are close enough to touch his chest. “We don’t have much range here—easier to break our guard too.”

“Right. And how would you suggest I do that?”

“You’re always beating me at cards.” Din says, tipping his head to the side. “You have a clever mind. Use it.”

“But I always cheat.” You point out, dropping your guard to swat at a stray hair.

He catches your wrists and returns them to where they ought to be. “Quick enough to get away with it.”

You make a noise of uncertainty but do as you're told. Din takes a couple steps back and with a rough order you begin.

He’s faster than Paz—bats at your guard in quick bursts and steps away when you attempt to hit back. It’s a dance almost—somehow elegant in its brutality of bruises and flashes of pain as you move around one another. Compared to Din, Paz is almost clumsy but unpredictable. Din—despite the rapidness of his attacks and evasiveness, becomes predictable.

He steps to to left—you follow. He rocks onto his toes to jab his fist forward and that’s where you find a break. Punching Din’s helmet won’t do you any good but catching the juncture of his shoulder with your elbow is completely feasible. Too bad that you’re not the only one with a clever mind.

Din uses the momentum of your attack to catapult you to the ground—his own body rolling with you in order to capture you in a headlock of sorts. This sucks. After this you’ll never be setting foot in this Maker forsaken room again.

Din tightens his elbow that’s looped around your throat as you squirm and flail, trapped against his chest. He grunts as your elbow digs into his ribs but holds steady and snakes his free arm across your front, pinning your limbs to your body in an unbreakable vice. All mobility is cut off as his knee pushes between your thighs, locking your leg out into an uncomfortable and frankly quite awkward angle.

Inhaling a shaky breath, you arch as the crown of his helmet skims along the curve of your throat; the bite of beskar frigid and startling against your flushed skin. You can see his visor out of the corner of your eye; glittering and dark like the polished obsidian on Black Spire and endless like the greedy maw of a black hole.

Your breath hitches as he shifts and curls his head closer to your ear. His voice rumbles low and deep through his chest and vibrates against the delicate cartilage. “Yield.”

However much your pride wrestles with the sensible part of your brain, it’s all for naught as you jerk your head in defeat.

In retrospect you should’ve said something—used your voice or made some kinda sound because suddenly Din’s forearm digs alarmingly hard into your windpipe. He read the stuttered jerk of your head as another pitiful act of defiance but no. Nope.

Here you are—asphyxiating.

Not exactly what you had in mind, being strangled by a Mandalorian and all—but a chokehold where you could very well die was not it.

Fuzzy darkness begins to shade the corners of your vision, lightheadedness and a curious warmth that prickles down your spine settling low in your belly. A raspy gasp manages to slip through your blocked off airway, and stars why does this feel good?

“Din—”

Paz’s sharp bark is distant above the ringing in your ears and it all stops.

You gulp in air that burns your throat like refined fire whiskey—hunched over the mat as a large palm rubs soothing circles over your upper back. You cough and roll over, sounding like a dying animal run over by a speeder then hit with a spiked club to polish it off.

You’re quickly herded into Paz’s arms and pulled into his lap. Still wheezing and attempting to recover lost oxygen, whatever Din is trying to say translates into an indiscernible hum against the ringing in your ears.

“I’m fine,” you mutter, though neither of them care to listen. Like bristling wolves, snapping at each other’s heels.

“Apologize to her,” there’s not so much as a centimeter of room to argue. “Now.”

It’s nice of Paz you suppose—defending your honor and what not, but you’re not a vengeful person. It was an honest mistake and you want to explain that so Din quits looking like a kicked puppy, yet the sudden touch over your ankle stops you. All the times Din has initiated contact it’d been a friendly pat to your shoulder or ruffling you hair, and while touching your ankle isn’t exactly scandalous it’s certainly an odd place to put your hand on.

Your fingers clutch Paz’s shirt as you eye the man lingering at the bottom of your feet, his gloved thumb unconsciously rubbing patterns into the exposed skin between your boot and your pant leg. “Cyare—I’m sorry.”

You blink and lick your lips. Interesting. “I-I don’t know what that word means.”

His hand inches higher, resting on the swell of your calf. “Sweetheart…darling…loved one—“

There’s a shift—a dark undercurrent that none of you should be dipping your toes into. There’s a million and one things to say or do to sever this at the root, but are you going to? Nah.

Din’s thumb now rests over your knee, goosebumps following in his wake. “Should I keep going?”

It too hot—stuffy with both of their heavy stares locked on your flushed face. You squirm and glance up at Paz who only offers an impassive stare. Great.

“I can make it up to you,” Din continues, his hand stationary—a warm weight even through the fabric of your pants. “If you let me.”

Your mouth feels drier than the desert on Jakku. This…nothing good could come out of what Din is hinting at. This is uncharted territory—launching yourself into the great unknown without any idea of what’ll fester and grow if you agree.

It’s not like it hasn’t crossed your mind—it’s just…it’s never been both of them at the same time. These men are short-tempered, an open flame to jet fuel with deeply seated ire woven into the very fabric of their beings. You’ve barely scratched the surface on the inner workings of their mutual hostility, but you’re bright enough to question if this will make it worse. Tinder and brittle twigs feeding and enabling the hungry flames of rivalry to spiral and consume with chaotic brilliance of a dying star—

But, oh—

Isn’t it worth taking the risk?

You suck in a grounding breath and slowly extend your leg that Din touches, gingerly skimming the toe of your shoe along the inseam of his inner thigh. “H-how would you…make it up to me?”

Din preens at your answer and shuffles closer, lifting your legs so that they rest in his lap. Devotion drips off his words like a fine liquor as he toys with the laces on your boots. “Anything—say it and it’s yours.”

Sparks of molten heat race down your spine and metastasize in your lower belly, spreading through each vein and artery like a some sort of invasive ivy. You spare a look up at Paz as he shifts.

“Go ahead, girl,” Paz assures. “Answer him.”

It’s an unspoken, buzzing sort of thing like the static air before a storm, crackling and surging with pent up energy. You all know the implications of what’s to come—but it’s your words, quiet and steady that irons that nail into your coffin.

“Take me like you mean it.”

The next few moments pass in a dizzying blur, a mess of anticipation as your shoes are yanked off, your pants following soon after and tossed into some unknown corner of the room. Paz helps you out of your shirt, a shiver wracking through your body from the chill, leaving you bare save for your underthings. Yet the warmth that seeps through his shirt and his hands that linger over your ribcage do a lovely job at making up for the cold.

Din shuffles closer and brings his fingers up to cup the side of your face, lowering his head to rest the crown of his helmet on your forehead. “Wanna touch you.”

Your breath hitches as Paz’s hands sweep up your torso, cupping and kneading your breasts. “Y-you already are touching me, Din."

Paz snorts as the rough leather of his gloves scrape over your skin and unhook your bindings. You hardly hear Din over your own whine as Paz rolls your hardened nipples between a forefinger and thumb.

“I want to feel you—without the gloves,” Din clarifies, fighting to keep your attention on him. “Will you let me?”

Maker that shouldn’t even be a question. You moan out your approval, delighted that both of them decide to slip off the padded fabric. Din touches your bare thigh the same moment Paz returns his hands to your tits and it’s exhilarating. The rasp of their bare palms against your flesh is addicting—something so foreign and warm compared to their usual armor and thick layered clothing.

You arch into Paz’s hand as it curls around the base of your throat, a tentative pressure but still heavy. “You’d let us do anything, wouldn’t you? Needy little thing.”

“Yes,” you croak, already debauched and falling apart at the seams. “Anything.”

You’re all too happy to fade away in the embrace of the larger man but the other participant is far from letting that slide. Din grabs your hand, guiding it towards the front of his trousers, the drawstrings already loose and easy to pull aside. He groans and twitches as your fingertips flirt along his navel, then curl over the waistband, tugging his pants the rest of the way down to pool around his knees.

You reach for the already impressive outline of his cock pressing against his boxers, but Paz cupping your cunt through your underwear just before you touch Din is distracting. You gasp and arch as Paz digs the heel of his palm against your clit, electrifying ecstasy zipping down your spine with each touch.

There’s a twinge of guilt after Din huffs and drags your limp wrist back to his cock, this time encouraging you to palm him by guiding your actions with his own hand until you lazily oblige. Din’s quiet grunts, gravely against the vocoder do nothing but throw more jet fuel to the fire inside your belly. The growing urge to actually touch him gnaws and corrodes the forefront of your brain. With a firm yank his boxers are quick to join his trousers and Maker—

Fuck—

Will he even fit?

Din is thick, rosy brown and flushed at the tip and beginning to curl towards his bellybutton. A bead of liquid shines at the tip, dribbling down the underside as he wraps his fist around the base of his length. He gives himself a languid stroke before he, once again, reminds your hand of what it’s supposed to be doing. Din is searing in your palm, molten and stiffening to hardened steel in your grip.

“You look so fuckin’ pretty like this,” Din hisses as his head rolls back onto his shoulders. “S-so pretty holding my cock.”

Your desperation tears at your insides, insatiable and Maker— you wanna taste him. You want to hear every little stuttered moan and feel each twitch of his hips as he claims your mouth as his own.

But before you’re able to ask Din if he’d be willing to fuck your throat, Paz grips your knee and slings your leg over his thigh, murmuring praise as he peels off your underwear. Paz’s hand snakes down to your pussy and runs two thick fingers through your already slick cunt, then delicately parts your folds.

It’s like a fucking bomb going off as his thumb grazes over your swollen clit. His forearm locks tight around your waist, keeping you in place as you arch and tremble. Paz is feather light and teasing, as he strokes over the little bundle of nerves in a painstakingly slow rhythm.

“Paz—“

He nudges your cheek with his helmet and chuckles. “You’re so sensitive, vaar’ika. Such lovely noises too.”

Paz trades in his light touches for using his two fingers instead. They form a relaxed ‘v’ shape, trapping your clit in between the digits as he massages in a steady up and down motion. You cry out, every nerve shocked and flooded with saccharine pleasure, shoving you so treacherously close to that precarious edge of release.

You have no fucking chance as a different set of fingers, leaner in length but just as bulky, carefully prod at your entrance. Din’s pointer finger slides into your cunt, quickly adding a second as your core clenches and stretches for him. The dual sensations over your clit and Din’s fingers steadily pumping and curling inside you send you hurling into that dazzling white-hot pleasure.

Throwing your head back, you cry out—a jumbled mess of their names or just nonsense— pleasure crackling out from your core and all the way down your legs. Your cunt tightens like a vice around Din’s digits, your legs twitching as your high dips into prickly overstimulation. You whine, and swat at Paz’s hand, Din pulling out his own fingers a moment later and wiping your wetness on the inside of your thigh.

Your head rests in the crook of Paz’s shoulder as your breath fans across the side of his helmet, fogging up the metal where the blue paint is chipped and scraped away. The shirt he wears smells a bit like sweat but the underlying scent of him is comforting—worn leather and something crisp, like fresh laundry. You don’t mean for the words to slip out—

You know better than that, but everything feels muddled and silly and, and, and—

“I wish I could kiss you.”

It’s like dousing ice cold water on a pile of smoldering coals. A silence, petrifying and like the inhale before jumping off a cliff and into a rocky sea, ensues. Stupid, stupid, stupid—

Paz shatters the fragile suspense with a rich laugh that burns away all the icy worry making itself a home in your ribcage. He moves his arm up, his fingers gripping your jaw to fix your gaze onto the other Mandalorian. “You want his mouth on you too?”

You whimper and nod, but it isn’t enough.

“Use your voice vaar’ika,” Paz hums, pressing the crown of his helmet against your cheek. “Tell us want you want.”

“I-fuck—” Paz’s fingertips sneak up your torso, rough callous catching deliciously on your skin. “I wan’t your mouth on me. B-both of you.”

Paz chuckles and releases his hold on your chin. “You’ll have to be blindfolded, sweet girl.”

Din scoffs, a harsh crackle through the vocoder. “Like she’d want to see your face anyway.”

“Please,” you mewl, turning your head to curl into Paz’s neck. It’s not ideal, but it’s a sacrifice you’re willing to make. “I don’t care. I need—“

“Patience, little one,” Paz purrs, rubbing up and down your bare sides in a soothing manner. All it does is stoke the flames. “You’ll get what you want.”

Paz shifts, reaching for your abandoned shirt and stars—

You can feel his cock, firmer then tempered durasteel and poking into your lower back. Oh, hell—these men are going to ruin you.

You’re nudged forward, your vision going dark once your shirt is securely tied around your head. The knot traps a few hairs that pull sharp against your scalp but the measly pain is worth it. Oh so worth it.

“Is it too tight?” You hear Din ask, concern lacing his gravely vocals.

You wave your hand in dismissal. “S’fine.”

“Cant see anything either, right?”

You squirm, your patience spreading thin. “Din, please.”

“Fine.” There’s no bite to his tone and under different circumstances you’d have more composure. Acknowledge that they’re putting their religion, their whole being into your hands—a fragile trust that could so easily be shattered.

Your ears pick up their subtle movements, their helmets landing onto the thin mat with soft thunks. With bated breath you wait for them to jump into action, seize every spare moment to taste your skin and breathe the same air. But—

“You need a haircut, vod.”

“And you need to shave.” Retorts Din with bitter indignation.

“It’s hardly even stubble.” He chortles. You giggle and twist away as he scrapes his prickly cheek up and down your neck. “Besides—she likes it.”

There’s another lull, and with the blindfold everything is amplified—the quick and quiet breathing of Din on your right and the slide of fabric against skin as Paz shifts. Your attention is captured by Din’s bare palm, warm and calloused like weathered leather left out in the afternoon sun. He caresses the outside of your thigh in smooth, longing strokes, enraptured by the softness of your skin. You whimper and let your leg fall open, exposing more of your thigh for his curious exploration.

The sudden touch on your cheek is jarring. You know Paz is there—it’s not an easy thing to forget the solid chest you’re leaning against but it’s hard to focus. Difficult to settle on one thought before it slips away like grains of sand between a clenched fist. Paz’s touch is heavier than Din’s, ambitious and greedy but…mindful. Even as his fingers spread along your jaw and drag you into a deep, mouthwatering kiss. It’s…stars—

There’s nothing that can describe this. No word that could ever hold a candle up to the way his lips, plush and soft, move against yours. His nose brushes against your cheek as he tilts his head and deepens the kiss, his warm tongue sliding against the seam of your bottom lip.

You whine and bury your hand into his hair as Paz groans, a low rumble in his throat. You wonder what color it is, but carding your fingers through the curls atop his head suffices for now.

Your curiosity is abruptly ended as Din’s hand snakes around your forearm. You’re forcibly yanked away, only to be met with another pair of lips. Din murmurs an apology at the sting of his teeth bumping into your upper lip, but the pain is hardly the first thing on your mind.

Din’s kiss is devouring—

Scalding and bright—the galaxy, a thousand suns, all there ever will be and all that ever was. The way his lips move against yours is a devastatingly sharp contrast to the steady, syrupy sweet kiss Paz offers. Desperate and eager to surround you in his own arms—steal away any lingering thought and replace it with him. Din Djarin—

You gasp as Din’s teeth nibble and pull on your bottom lip, only a moment before he surges closer, wrapping his hand around your jaw to hold it open as he licks deep into your mouth. Breaking for air, Din tangles his fingers into your hair at the base of your neck and yanks, baring the column of your throat. His travels down, the tender kisses morphing into teasing nips and lingering sucks that’ll turn into tender bruises in the morning.

Din hovers over your breasts, his heated breath and cooling saliva the catalyst to the goosebumps that rush over your skin. He lightly tugs on your nipple using his teeth, then plants a sweet kiss over your sternum.

“Can I taste you?” Din murmurs, his lips ghosting over your flesh. “Maker—wanna put my mouth on you.”

“Din—“ A different set of lips latching onto the juncture of your neck and hijacks your train of thought. Wipes your mind clean until Paz is the sole thing you can consciously focus on.

Paz laves his tongue over the shell of your ear and urges you to lean back against him once more. Your nose scrapes against his stubble as you tuck your head into the crook of his neck, his hips lazily rolling his hardened cock into your backside.

“Or…” Paz rumbles, capturing your hand and interlacing your fingers with his. You marvel at the sheer size of his palm—astounded still when he leads his and your hands to palm his cock. “I could give you this. Fuck your pretty little cunt until you’re screaming for me.”

It’s a punch to the gut. Why the fuck do you have to choose? You squirm as Din points his tongue over your nipple then sucks it into his mouth.

Working through the fog in your head, the answer is clearer than fucking crystal. Because who in their right mind would turn down a Mandalorian’s request to eat you out? Not you, that’s for sure. “Din—want your mouth.”

Din huffs in triumph and slips between your legs that part to accommodate his broad shoulders, leaving no patch of bare skin untouched and worshiped. You shiver as his tongue circles around your bellybutton then retreats. Din settles his head beside your knee and mouths a kiss there.

You whine his name and buck your hips, heart beating wildly in your ears. The teasing is unbearable and, stars—if he doesn’t start now—

He nibbles on the inside of your thigh, laving his warm tongue over each mark he leaves behind, buffering the sting of his teeth. Din snake his hands under your ass, hooking your knees over his shoulders as he heaves your cunt closer to his mouth. Din’s thumbs part your soaking pussy, his breath hot fanning over your cunt. His tongue his scalding—like liquid velvet as he dips the tip of his tongue from the base of your slit all the way up to your clit.

Din sucks on the little bundle of nerves, rolling his tongue until you’re crying out, molten pleasure zipping through you. He grunts as your fingers tangle into his hair—fuck. Fuck, you need more.

Arching into his mouth, all thoughts are obliterated; nothing but the warmth of his tongue, and his lips, devouring you as if he were a man seconds from death and you’re his saving grace. That frenzied desperation lingers on the edges of his movements like he’s afraid you’ll fade into smoke—but you’re not going anywhere. Not even a million credits could convince you to push Din’s head away.

He sinks two fingers into your clenching hole and curls his fingers, stroking and curling his fingertips to make you sing. Zeros in on that little spot that causes the involuntary twitches of your leg and wrenches embarrassing, high pitched mewls that fill the room. You’re careening towards your high, the sensitivity of your last orgasm amping up the influx of pleasure.

“Shit—Din. Close—I’m so close,” you gasp, pulling his hair tight enough that you know it must hurt. He makes no sign that it does, just groans and buries his tongue into your dripping hole, licking alongside his fingers that shovel more of your wetness into his mouth.

Your release unfurls through your body like sticky molasses—smoldering embers that seep into each limb until they’re heavier than lead. Fuck—it’s so hard to think and at this rate your brain is as good as gone.

You pay only a fraction of attention to Din as he kisses his way back up your body and lands a final one over your lips. His thumb grazes over your chin, his gravelly words of praise cutting through some of that foggy haze, how good you were, how fucking delicious you tasted when you came on his tongue. You taste your own arousal on his mouth as he noses your cheek and captures your lips in another kiss.

“Are you done?” Paz asks dryly, much too barbed to be thrown your way. You groan when Paz jostles your limp body as he hoists you back into his lap.

“Just starting, actually,” Din quips. “Why don’t you hand her back over? I’ve got some more things I wanna try.”

Paz scoffs and secures a heavy arm around your middle. “Greed will get you nowhere.”

“Neither will your arrogance.”

“Shut up—both of you,” you interrupt. Your voice is raw and choppy but it does the job. “Just fuck me already.”

For now their little spat is sidelined—it’s not worth ripping off that bandage of a temporary truce. There’s a chaste moment of quiet, like they’re considering tearing into each other’s throats instead, but with a touch to Paz’s thigh the standoff fizzles out.

“We need to work on your manners,” Paz suggests, curling his large, calloused hand around your neck in a loose hold. “I believe it’s please fuck me.”

Maybe if you weren’t practically a pile of brainless goo, you’d argue. See how far you can push—though this time you fold. “Please fuck me. P-please—I need it.”

Seemingly satisfied with your answer; Paz wedges a hand between your bodies to grip his cock and run the tip through your folds, soaked from you own wetness and Din’s saliva. The head of his member nudges at your entrance, and wether it’s his size or the fact you can’t see anything—you panic.

Your hand shoots out, nails harpooning into the meat of his forearm. “W-wait—you’re too b-big.”

Paz freezes and moves you up his lap and presses a kiss over you hairline. “We can stop. Just say—“

“N-no, I’m fine,” you assure, planting an apologetic peck on his stubbled jaw. Stopping is the last thing you want to do—it was just…overwhelming. A sensory overload testing the very fringes of your being. “Go slow?”

You feel his head bob in compliance as he moves you back to where you’re hovering over his cock. You relax this time, not as many alarm bells clanging through your head as your cunt flutters around the fat tip and then that glorious, first thick inch. Paz’s thumb bumps over your throbbing clit, coaxing your pussy to take him further.

“Yeah, that’s it vaar’ika,” he grunts, his breath fanning over your neck in quick pants. “Taking my cock so fucking well. So nice and pretty.”

Your pussy flutters, fresh waves of arousal hot and burning.You nearly keel over when Paz starts shallowly rocking his hips, easing your body the rest of the way down his length until the back of your thighs touch his. Maker—how the hell is he all the way inside? You can feel him in your fucking guts—

“See?” Paz purrs. He sucks a bruise into the meat of your shoulder and pushes his palm against your lower stomach, making the fit even tighter. “Fits fucking perfect.”

The noise your cunt makes pulling out and the debauched moan that filters through his vocal chords is obscene. If anyone where to walk by, well—it’s certainly not training that’s going on, for the better lack of words.

Paz holds true to his word—keeps his pace limited to deep, languid thrusts that brush up against something that makes your whole body shake—like strumming a golden chord molded to a musician’s fingers. Fuck—he’s doing all the work too. Lifting you by the swell of your hips and pulling you down onto his cock with a rough buck of his hips.

Abruptly, he slows to a gentle rocking—quick to lock you in place as you thrash and roll your hips. “Paz—n-no. Keep going. You n-need to—“

Paz silences your please with a wet, open mouthed kiss. “Our friend looks lonely. Why don’t you use that pretty mouth and suck his cock?”

Din.

You hear the man curse in Mando’a, probably some stab at Paz—

But with a pat to your outer thigh, you don’t need any more prompting—you’d give up your left hand to get a chance to suck him off. With the help of Paz, you’re eased onto your hands and knees, shocks of white-hot pleasure zipping through your core at the change of angle. Like this Paz is seated deeper inside, stabbing into each spot that makes you sing.

Fuck—your arms are shaking—only able to hold yourself up for half a click and then you’re sinking face first into the floor, ass in the air as he fucks into you. Paz clicks his tongue and wraps his arm around your front, pulling you back up from your slumped position.

“I told you to suck his cock, girl. Not take a nap.” Paz accentuates his words with heavy, well measured thrusts—the kind of force you know will leave your whole lower half throbbing and sore in the aftermath.

You whine as Paz grabs a hold of your jaw, digging into the tender joints until your mouth falls open. “Good. Keep it like that.”

Paz’s hand falls away, replaced by a softer touch. The pads of Din’s fingers hook under your chin, guiding and tempting you nearer to what rests between his legs, hot and heavy and large.

You feel the tip of his cock, flushed and pulsing, rest on your bottom lip. You lap up the beads of sticky precum with kitten licks that morph into suckling the entire head. Din grunts out your name and tangles his hand into your hair as you tongue at the ridged frenulum. He never forces you to swallow down more of him—lets you cradle the first few inches in the wet warmth of your mouth and languidly roll the pad of your tongue around him.

You want to take him deeper, let Din fuck your throat raw, but your jaw already aches. Your lips are pulled tight around his shaft, drool dribbling down your chin and landing on the mat below. You’re not sure if you could take more of him without the danger of your teeth catching or dislocating your jaw. So you manage like this—hollowing out your cheeks and and using the momentum of Paz’s thrusts to pleasure Din.

It’s frustrating—it must be each time you let his cock slip out of your mouth to breathe or the fact Din isn’t able to fucking fit his cock into your mouth. Annoying that you aren’t able to think properly to help him out a bit ore when that said brain is being fucked straight outta you, put through the wringer and then body slammed onto duracrete.

Din cups your cheek, strokes over your skin with his thumb and maneuvers himself out of your mouth. You whine and lean into his palm, his touch addictive like smoldering coals in the dead of winter.

“You want me there instead of him?” Din purrs, using the tips of his index and middle fingers to tilt your chin and drag you into an open mouthed kiss. “Fuck you like you deserve.”

The profane imagery of Din between your legs instead makes you clench tight. It only takes a couple seconds and a few more feverish kisses before you’re nodding to his request. Paz mutters a swear, hesitates, and reluctantly pulls out, leaving your cunt empty and aching with need.

Din, however, is speedy—quick to hoard you to himself and yank your legs over his hips so that you’re draped on his lap. He jumps straight to the point, no fancy maneuver or drawn out teasing—just grabs the base of his cock, slides the flushed tip between your folds and sinks into your cunt. Even after your pussy had been stretched and molded around Paz’s length, you struggle to take Din’s entire cock into your aching center. It’s easier than Paz but, Maker—not by much.

You whine, harpooning your fingernails into his shoulder once he bottoms out. Din snarls a curse and latches his teeth onto the juncture between your neck and shoulder, prickly pain shooting directly to your belly. “Fucking tight. H-how—fuck.”

There’s no time to adjust before Din sets a pace, harsh and desperate—his hands digging into the flesh of your ass for better leverage. Each roll of his hips borders erratic, taking his pleasure without thought—intent on reaching his own end before it could be yanked out from under him. Din’s staggered exhales below your ear are interlaced with subdued moans that start low in his ribcage then dip into a higher, airy pitch. A delicate sound you’ll guard closer to your chest than any secret you possess for the rest of your life—precious and yours.

Din turns his head to steal a kiss. “You feel fuck—fucking good. Wanna feel you cum around me. S-squeezed so fucking hard around my fingers—“

You choke out a groan and feel your arousal begin to drip down your thighs—hear the thrusts of his cock into your cunt become shamefully wetter. Heat sizzles down each vertebrae in your spine, burning up each and every cell with the brilliance of a wildfire. Stars, this is gonna destroy you.

Din’s hand sneaks between your bodies and rubs tight, little circles over you swollen clit. There’s no build up to your orgasm—just a blinding surge of blistering warmth that knocks you off your feet and steals away all the air left in your lungs. Your nails dig into Din’s back as you shake and grapple for a foothold in your own consciousness—the steady warmth of his body a much needed anchor for the madness that threatens to drown you.

“Good girl,” Din praises, pace faltering from just how tight your pussy squeezes and flutters around his cock. “S-such a fucking good girl for me.”

Regaining some semblance of control, you realize he’s still fucking going—still rock solid and throbbing, fucking you through the aftershocks of your release. Your arousal turns sharp, like rough cotton over a fresh sunburn as it dips into overstimulation. It’s not unpleasant but Din has to slow his hips to a delicate roll for you to recover.

In the time it takes to inhale, a different calloused hand kneads into your lower back then smoothes up your spine. A second later you feel the scrape of Paz’s stubble prick along your exposed shoulder as his tongue drags along your sweat dampened skin—all the way up the curve of your neck and ending at the shell of your ear.

You’re not sure if it’s intentional, but as Paz crowds closer the tip of his cock pokes at your other hole. With a surprised mewl, you tense and shy away—but he follows, molds his chest against your back to sandwhich you in. The hand gripping your bicep jumps to your neck and pulls your head against his shoulder.

Two of Paz’s fingers dip down the curve of your ass and brush along the puckered skin—far less jarring this time. “Do you want to be fucked here too?”

Maker—

You’re gonna fucking explode.

Stuffed to the brim already, it’s hard to imagine Paz cramming himself in along with Din. A little red light blares in some corner of your mind but it’s quickly soothed as Paz plants soft kisses over your cheek and jaw. You trust him—there’s no reason to think he’ll hurt you or push you to the point of pain.

You catch his mouth with a kiss and rock your hips back. “Y-yeah, ok. I trust you.”

You feel his smile curl against your cheek. “Don’t worry vaar’ika—I’ll take care of you.”

Paz strokes your bottom lip with his thumb and kisses the crown of your hairline as you sink into him. With his ring and middle finger, he pushes past the seam of your lips. “Suck.”

You obey, sealing your lips around his two digits and coating them in your saliva. Paz pulls them out with a pop and moves them between your legs, and with the added wetness dripping from your cunt, the first finger is easy enough. The second and third have you gasping as he scissors them and stretches your tight hole wider. You claw your nails into Din’s shirt—and he’s no better—Din’s own hands are clamping around your hips, struggling to keep still and biting back moans each time your cunt constricts.

Your hips begins to meet the thrusts of Paz’s fingers as your body familiarizes the feel of him there. It’s a deep thrill that rushes up through your spinal cord—much different from anything you’ve felt before.

“You like this, don’t you?” Paz goads, chuckling when you whine as he extracts his fingers. “I think you’re ready to take my cock, yeah?”

You shudder and nod, your voice no more than a squeak as it pilfers out. Paz strokes the top of your head and tips you forward into Din’s eager arms as Paz slicks up his length in a mix of precum and your dripping arousal. He touches the swell of you ass in warning, lines himself up with your hole and wedges the tip of his cock inside of you.

Involuntary tears dampen your makeshift blindfold as Paz buries himself deeper, his rumbling tone urging you to relax—relax even though your mind is drowning in an ocean of arousal and swirling emotions you have no hope to pin down and analyze. It’s for the best—thankful as Paz bottoms out that it wrenches you back to a feasible reality you’re able to manage.

“Shit—I-I’m gonna die—“ You sob, writhing at just how full you are. But there’s nowhere to fucking go—

“Easy,�� Din breathes, and you wonder if he’s said it to keep his own head on his shoulders. “Easy.”

Din’s gravelly rasp cuts through the fog in your head, and stars—you sound like you’re fucking dying. Your wheezy breaths and lightheadedness would certainly suggest that—but no…no, you’re fine. Better than fine.

A rush so acute and devastating launches up your spine as Din’s patience cracks. He experimentally rolls his hips and that’s the end of it. You’re swallowed up in that riptide you fought so hard to avoid—fuck. You won’t be the same after this. How can you?

You can feel them both, separated by a thin wall as they sprint towards their own highs. You’re never once left empty—Din reaches the end of you as Paz pulls out and while there’s not exactly any finesse involves it’s the best fucking thing you’ve felt in your entire life. There’s no bickering—no teasing and you’re struck with an idea that makes you clench tight around both of them. You wouldn’t mind if this was the way they decided to settle scores or finally see eye to eye.

This time you can’t discern your high—just a constant overflow of ecstasy and dazzling arousal like an imploding supernova. You cry their names—sob and shake in their hold with such fervor that Paz traps you tighter between them to keep you still.

“Fuck—you get so fucking tight,” Paz growls, blunt nails digging into your hips. “And so fucking wet.”

His fingers touch the inside of your thigh and stars—he’s right. “I get to fuck your cunt next time—see how much you’ll drip for me.”

Even if the blindfold were off—there’d be nothing to see but a white wash of nothing. Blinded by pleasure and bursting at the seems.

Jealous, Din steals your breath away with a kiss, licking and nipping at your swollen lips until you whine his name. His jagged pants fan across your chin—chapped lips and patchy facial hair tickling across your bottom lip as you breath the same air.

Din whispers your name like a prayer, his fingers clutching tight around your thighs as his pace starts to flounder to choppy jerks. “Shit. I-I’m close—“

Your fingers twist into his hair. “Yeah—ok baby. Let go.”

Din’s teeth sink into the base of your throat and cums. His seed coats your insides—hot and copious and fucking shit—if there’s a next time you want him to cum in your mouth.

You don’t get time to relish Din’s stuttered gasps of your name, laced with praise and a show of a tender and bleeding heart before Paz is gathering up your hair in a tight fist and jerking your head up. “You—you want me to cum too? Say it.”

Without a breath of hesitation you beg for it, cry and arch into him. It does the trick—

Paz is loud—shouts a thunderous roar and buries his cock deep into your hole. Din is still recovering from the aftershocks of his release when Paz pulls out after what seems like ages pumping you full. His cock no longer there to plug you up, his cum begins to dribble out and mix with the mess between your legs. Your legs shake and you wobble--crying out as Din slips out, your body dreadfully empty and aching.

You're lowered to the mat by Din and if you weren't still trying to formulate words, you'd thank them. Lips dart over your cheeks and hairline, and for once nothing needs to be said. It’s nice...the radiating warmth from their bodies and the simmering flush through you body is something you could get used to. But you’re no stranger to the shifting tides of the future.

You shrug it off.

Your eyes are heavy and with one of them stroking your hair and the other your thigh, you drift to sleep. Later—later all unspoken things and disastrous words can be dealt with tomorrow. You must be dreaming when it’s said--careless and bold, but the words nestle into your heart and sprouts with fear.

“You love her, don't you?”

translation:

vaar’ika--pipsqueak

or’dinni--dumbass idiot

vod--brother/comrade

tag list:

@bobafctts @djxrxn @teaofpeach @corrupt-fvcker @nelba @datmando @ben-is-a-hoe @dreams-like-clockwork @aerynwrites @auty-ren @huliabitch @anxiety-riddled-mando @phoenixhalliwell @trippedmetaldetector

#happy SINday :)#pls accept some mando schlong #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #paz vizla x reader #paz vizsla x reader #paz vizla #paz vizsla #din djarin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #star wars #sw #fanfic #my writing #reader insert

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detroitbecomeyandere · 3 years ago

Text

You still remember where you were when the news that mermaids were real broke, you were sitting in the library trying to catch up on homework when the person next to you suddenly gasps and turns on a video. More annoyed than anything you tried to ignore his commotion and focus, midterms were coming up and nothing could be more important than that. When you got home and turned on the news you had to double check the date to make sure the headline wasn't a prank.

"That's right folks, the existence of mermaids has been confirmed. Mermaids are real."

That was three years ago and now you had a degree in behavioral psychology and were ready to get out there. You had put in applications at every marine research center you could to try and work with a merperson. Just as you were losing hope the Sunshine Rehabilitation Center reached out to you, requesting your help in dealing with a temperamental merman. You accepted it without a second thought and booked the first flight out and today was the day you were finally going to meet your first merperson.

The night before you got the report of who you would be working with, a shark merman by the name of Cyrus. He had beached himself after some fishermen tore up his tail because he started hunting in their fishing grounds. Apparently he is aggressive and distrusts humans to the point he is hindering his own rehabilitation, the people in charge of the center were hoping you could come in and help them with him. You thought you were ready to meet him but you were not prepared to stand in front of a six million gallon tank and a merman over nine foot.

You had seen a tank like this before at Sea World though unlike those tanks this one was set up to look like the ocean. The sand on the bottom of the tank was almost as tall as you, there was a cave built into the tank to give the merman some privacy. Said merman was currently swimming through the tank as best as he could, the wounds on his tail still looked red and painful. From what you can tell he was a Bull Shark meaning he was already aggressive to start with and his injury only added to it, it was no wonder they needed extra help.

Since it was feeding time you would get to see Cyrus up close and personal and while you were excited you were also nervous, Cyrus could very easily snatch you up and drag you into the tank with him if he felt like it. So you decided to watch him from a distance standing as far back on the platform as you could.

"Okay Ms. y/l/n Cyrus gets a little messy when he eats, you don't get sick from a bit of blood do you?" One of the biologists cracked a smile as she teased you, trying to get you to relax a little. It only made you more tense. A couple of the biologists tossed massive chunks of fish into the tank to get Cyrus's attention, he surfaced causing water to flow over onto the observation deck. You've seen some pictures of mermaids online but none of them looked like him, his jawline was so sharp it could cut glass, his eyes are such a deep brown they're almost black. Opening his mouth he reveals sharp teeth that easily shred the flesh of his meal.

Seeing the other people so close to him made you feel a bit more at ease and as you approached him, Cyrus shot a glare at you as he pulled his food into the pool.

~~~~~~~

It's been almost a month since you started working with Cyrus and slowly things were looking up. The first two weeks had been rough, one time he tried to bite your hand off but after you popped his nose out of reflex he straightened up. Since then Cyrus had seemed to become attached to you, always coming to the surface when you climbed the platform, he'd take things from you very gently as opposed to the almost violent way he would take things from other people. It seemed Cyrus had taken to you so much he started bringing you little things inside his habitat which mainly consisted of things he had taken from the other employees or little pieces of his meal. He seemed to be responding well to your time with him and was starting to let the biologists help him. Today however he was acting aggressive again and you didn't know what set him off, his routine hadn't changed at all and he was even ignoring you today.

By the time five rolled around you were fed up with his behavior and ready to go home, almost everyone else had already left so it was just you and two other biologists. You kick your flats off and walk to the edge of the platform to say goodnight to Cyrus it was something you started as a way to build trust but soon turned into second nature for you, once you had rushed out and forgot to tell him good night and it was all you could think about till you came back in. Before you even get to the edge Cyrus is already waiting for you, only his eyes above the water as he watches you approach.

"Goodnight Cyrus, hopefully tomorrow you'll be in a better mood, okay bud? Get some rest!" As you turn to leave a clawed hand shoots out and wraps around you ankle and pulls you to the floor causing you to hit your head stunning you. Cool water engulfs you as Cyrus pulls you to his large chest and swims away from the platform and into the middle of the pool. Once there he rolls onto his back and places you onto his stomach he watches as you cough up the water in your lungs, you place your hands on his hard abs as you steady yourself. Trying to stay calm you talk to him through your hacking "Cyrus *cough* I know you are having a hard day but this isn't appropriate. Now please *cough* take me back to the platform."

The look on his eyes was so intense you start to feel uncomfortable you open your mouth to ask again but Cyrus's hand wraps around your waist as he hoists above his face, and in a swift motion his thumb he pushes your pencil skirt up to your hips and catches your panties and rips them off. You bang your small fists against his hand and he moves you over his mouth, panic shoots through you as you start screaming for the biologists to help you but they just stood there stunned. Logically you knew there wasn't anything they could do but emotionally you were upset that they were about to watch you get eaten. Tears are streaming down your face by the time his tounge slithers out of his mouth and starts to prod at your cunt and before you can react to his actions he plunges it into your tight hole, pushing past your tight muscles. The sudden intrusion burns and you try and push his hand off of your waist but your struggling makes his hold your tighter as he starts to fuck you on his tongue. The painful burn starts to fade into a pleasurable one as his rough appendage rubs against the bundle of nerves inside you, your hips start to grind down against him and he loosens his grip to let you.

Just before the knot in your stomach can snap Cyrus pulls his tongue out of you making a whine escape you, your eyes meet his now almost black eyes. Never breaking eye contact with you Cyrus places you on his waist just below his genital slits. From the cornor of your eyes you see the biologists frantically moving around, in the back of your mind you were hoping they were figuring out how to save you but your hopes were dashed when you saw they were setting up a camera and taking notes. Feeling utterly humilated and betrayed you turn back around to find two erect penises in front of you. They were white and stripped with the same shade of gray on his tail, the penises had to be at least 14 inches. Panic sets in again when he wraps his hand back around your waist and aligns your cunt with the blunt head of one of his cocks.

Trying one last time you try and talk some sense into the horny merman. "Cyrus please it won't fit inside me! You are gonna rip me in half, stop please!" He pauses for a moment and huffs out in annoyance, you breathe a sigh of relief thinking he listened to you, but before your eyes his cock starts to shrink. By the time it stopped he was around ten inches and already pushing inside you. Once again you try to claw at his hand or close your legs anything to stop him from violating you any farther but with a little more pressure from his hand you legs spread open and slams his cock up into you filling you up all at once.

Your head snaps back in both pain as the breath is forces from your body, Cyrus moves you up and down his cock like a fleshlight as he fucks you. His other dick rubs against your clit everytime he brings you down on him the friction sends jolts of pleasure up your spine and soon your slick starts to leak down your thighs as the knot in your stomach starts to build again. Suddenly his member starts to grow inside you and every thought leaves your brain and all you can focus on is how full you can feel. He finally stop when you go ridged in his grip and starts thrusting even faster into you, going so deep inside you could swear he was fucking your womb. Finally the knot snaps and you unravel on top of him, your cunt tightens around him in a vice like grip and with a growl Cyrus cums deep inside you. The cock in front of you erupts as wells and showers you with ropes of hot cum, his grip loosens around you and you slump down onto his body. His cocks softening and retracting from you, Cyrus lays a hand across your back as you come back down to earth. On the brink of consciousness you are vaguely aware of the fact that there are more than two biologists on the platform now. To tired to feel ashamed you close your eyes and let sleep take you.

#detroit become human #yandere #mermay 2021 #mermay #dbh cyrus #sharkman cyrus #two dick cyrus #monster fucking #mod beau is a monster fucker #mod beau

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sugarmaplewings-fics · 4 years ago

Text

Kissing / Making Out HC’s

Pairing: Kaminari x reader

Warnings: Just a ton of kissing, making out, and mentions of groping (I talk about boobs, uh oh). Still gender/sex neutral

Author’s Note:

Almost didn't have anything ready for this week, but this one only took me a few hours to write up, so here you go! This may end up being my Valentines Day fic. Idk, we’ll see. I haven’t been feeling well lately :/

Enjoy

-Sugar

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● I think this goes without saying, but

● Denki is an absolute s u c k e r for kisses

● As soon as you get together, he wants them constantly

● And who are you to deny him?

● He really doesn't mind PDA (he kinda likes it, actually, getting to show off that he has an s/o)

● So, unless you're uncomfortable with it, he'll kiss you no matter where you are or who you're with (especially around his friends)

● But as I said, if you're not interested, he'll respect that

● It just means he gets to love on you more when you're finally alone together!

● Kaminari loves your lips. Big or small, soft or dry, he's staring at them from across the room, just thinking about when he can kiss them again

● Boy is devoted to you, you don't leave his mind

● After he started dating you, Denki applies lip balm religiously

● He usually goes with vanilla flavors, but he also likes fruity ones

● And he makes special note of what you like. If he knows you'll be kissing soon, he'll pull out your favorite chapstick of his just to make sure he's extra tasty for you

● His 👏 lips 👏 are 👏 so 👏 soft 👏

● Every now and then they'll get a little chapped, but he's pretty good about exfoliating them when they do

● He wants to make sure you have the best kissing experience with him at all times, so he stays on top of things

● Not only does Denki like receiving kisses, he likes giving them as well

● Cheek kisses are his go-to. If you were to keep track, I'd say he'd give you a cheek kiss at least fifteen times a day, if he's around you that much

● Morning kisses, hello kisses, goodbye kisses—a lot of them end up on your cheeks

● But he also loves kissing your nose! He sees those as more intimate kisses, so usually he saves them for when you're cuddling together

● He just loves the way your face scrunches up in a grin when he does it >w<

● He loves to smother your face with little pecks, and he especially likes to tease you by kissing anywhere but your mouth until you get frustrated

● But he doesn't have that much self-control, so he may just kiss your lips soon enough anyway, if you're patient

● You can expect him to prelude a ton of kisses with either a joke or a pick up line. He thinks he’s being smooth (he’s really not), but he loves seeing you happy and giggling

● He also likes to zap you jus a teeny bit here and there. Never enough to hurt (he'd cry if he ever hurt you), but just enough to surprise you

● Sometimes he accidentally static-shocks you when you kiss, especially right after he used his quirk, so that can sting a bit. He always apologizes when it happens and offers you more kisses

● He likes sweet kisses, especially the ones during or right after dates, where he just gets to close his eyes and let the world fall away into nothing but your warm lips. He likes wrapping his hands around your waist to pull you close, and tilt your chin so he can get the perfect angle on your mouth

● Sometimes he smiles and giggles while you're kissing, and that can make it a little difficult to stay on his lips. But it's so darn cute, you have no intentions of ever telling him to stop

● He loves making out with you. So much

● He likes to “set the scene” if he has time, but it’s usually just dimming the lights a little (he's not above making out to music tho, so if you're interested, he'll be happy to deliver)

● But just having you in your or his room with him, on the bed with you on his lap, kissing you slow for all you're worth—

● Fantastic, easily one of his favorite parts of the relationship

● And he likes the hungry kisses too, where he pins you to the mattress (or you pin him; he's into both 👀) and it's all just sloppy tongue and teeth

● 😞👌

● If you allow it, his hands will be all over your body

● If you possess boobs (no matter the size), he's touching them

● With permission ofc

● I headcanon him to be a boob/chest guy (I mean, he loves all of you, but come on. Boobs. Need I say more?)

● Buuuut, he's also touching your butt. Homeboy's a groper

● He likes to grab handfuls of you wherever they may wander, squeezing your warm flesh around his fingers

● You may have to tell him at first not to do it so hard

● He's a hornee boi, so he likes to make out with you a few times a week. If you have to miss a couple of sessions, he'll get grumpy and you'll have to make it up to him (with extra kissies, ofc)

● If you were to pin him to the wall and passionately kiss him, he'd probably die from how hot he found it. Or he’d just short-circuit

● Any time you kiss him, he'll melt

● He loves kissing you, but there's something a little extra special about when it’s you initiating

● It makes him feel so loved, even if you just walk up to him and peck his forehead

● It's important to him not only that he loves you, but that you love him back just as much. That's what makes him go 🥺🥺

● He simps for one person and one person only now, and it's you

● Extra: He draws fanart of you and him kissing in his free time 👀 just little doodles in the margins of his notebooks. Aizawa always makes a face whenever Denki accidentally leaves one on his homework but otherwise doesn’t say anything

The overhead light is turned off, a screensaver on his monitor providing a soft glow to the bed opposite in the room. You're seated comfortably on his lap, his hands lightly resting on your ass.

He starts with simple pecks on your lips, each one lingering longer against your skin, heavier in pressure. He's soft but moist, warm underneath where his saliva had cooled in the temperature of the room. An electricity seems to dance between you, and you're not sure if it's just your imagination or if he really is using his quirk.

Finally his tongue swipes against your bottom lip, and you grant him access. Your fingers lace through his hair, displacing the black lightning bolt that had been shaped so perfectly among the golden-blond strands. His tongue comes into contact with yours, touching and licking before securing itself behind your teeth. You're drawn even closer to him, locked in a wet embrace as his hands squeeze.

He could never get enough of you, enough of this feeling. He was obsessed with the way his heart still pounded in his chest, obsessed with the way fireworks went off in his stomach no matter how many times he'd done this before. All it took was a touch, a kiss, a squeeze, and he was gone. In moments like these, you were the only thing that mattered. Not his failures, not his inadequacies, not the stress of school. Just you, and only you.

One of his hands moved to cup your cheek, keeping you close while the other slid down your thigh. He released your lips, only to come back for more more more, desperate to show you how much he loved you, how badly he needed you. A whimper escaped him, swallowed by the kiss but present nonetheless. You answered in your own pretty little moan, fingers alighting on the base of his skull to pull him ever forward into you.

He could stay here forever, drowning in your taste, your touch, your scent. What harm would it be?

Kaminari picked you up, turning you over and laying you down softly onto his bed. He quickly loomed over you, supported by an arm on either side of your head as he dove in for another kiss.

Forever was a long time, so maybe he'd start with tonight.

His thumb traced along your cheekbone, lips still pushing and pulling against yours. He loved the way you caged his hips in with your thighs, keeping him in place. Loved how your hands softly rested by your head on his pillow.

He paused, suddenly realizing just how lightheaded he was. Reluctantly, he pulled back for air, chest expanding and contracting with each soft breath.

You were under him. He was so thankful it was you. He'd never witnessed a person so beautiful—never experienced lips so addictive, so kissable. You were intoxicating, the way your shining eyes locked with his as your own hand came up to trace his face.

Even in the low light, he could make out every feature he loved—from your nose to your cheeks to your chin, nothing escaped his gaze.

"I love you," you whispered to him, and just like every other time you said it, he knew it was true.

"I love you too," he whispered back, because that was also true. How couldn't it be?

He kissed you once more before shifting to his side, pulling you into his arms where he knew you'd be safe and warm.

'I love you' hummed through his every nerve as he showered your skin with his love—your forehead, your nose, your cheeks. All of it perfection in his eyes, and he wished nothing would change.

You nestled into his neck, your hot skin brushing over his own.

"Sleepy?" he asked, rubbing your back.

He felt you nod, and he couldn't help but smile. Burying his nose in your hair, he inhaled your scent. It was nights like these when he truly knew what the word 'comfort' meant, since he felt it to the very marrow of his bones.

Absolutely nothing could compare to the way it felt to have you fall asleep in his arms. Your breaths began to even out as his hands continued to wander, intent on caressing you and worshiping every inch of skin he was able to touch.

Even before he pulled the blanket over your shoulders, you were warm. Drifting off to sleep in his arms, his lips still lazily pressing kisses to your hair, you felt content.

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Taglist: @aahilovetheatre @basicaegyo @hyunmin-1404 @iiminibattlehero @katsugay @nabo39 @pyrofanatic @rainy-skys-and-bright-stars @sendhelpimstupid @sxngwoos-ash-box @xoxopam4

#denki kaminari #kaminari denki #kaminari headcanons #denki headcanons #kaminari imagine #denki imagine #denki kaminari imagine #denki x reader #kaminari x reader #denki kaminari x reader #kaminari denki x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #reader insert #request fulfilled!#sugar fics #sugar hcs

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jaehyunhour · 4 years ago

Text

BACK 2 U | jung jaehyun

genre + idol → hanahaki au, angst, smut, babydaddy!jaehyun (ft. johnny suh)

word count → 4.9k

warnings → tiniest bit of cursing, protected sex

summary → you and jaehyun have been together for years now and have just had your first child. you couldn’t be happier to be with the man you love, but what happens when jaehyun starts staying late at work, you start coughing up flowers, and you’re left alone with the baby? even worse, what happens when jaehyun comes crawling back years later but you can no longer love him again?

“I’m sorry I couldn’t make you stay. I promise I will tell Jieun good things about you, Yoonoh.”

“Don’t apologize, it’s my fault. I hurt you.”

a/n → have fun with this one, i’m not sure how to feel about the ending but sigh this one really hurt to write..... also please don’t ask me for a part two because i will not write one lol i love y’all but not every story needs a part two

For many people, their worst fears are being buried alive, spiders, something along those lines. But your worst fear had always been falling out of love. Whether you are the one falling out of love with someone, or the other way around, just the thought made you stressed. On one hand, if you fall out of love someone, you cause them irreparable pain, flowers growing in their lungs until they can’t breathe. And on the other hand, if someone falls out of love with you, you’re the one suffering. There’s no winning.

But for the first time in your life, this fear is thrown out of the window. The first time Jaehyun tells you “I love you, I want to be with you forever” you feel the fear leave your body. A weight is lifted off your chest, you can finally breathe again. He sounds so sincere when he says it, it must be true.

And as the years pass, and you spend more and more of your life with him, you know that you never want to love anyone else in this, or any lifetime. He is who you are meant to spend your life with. You and Jaehyun are meant to have children together, grow old together, and be in love for the rest of your life.

One day, Jaehyun stomps into your shared home with his eyebrows furrowed and lips in a pout. You rush to meet him at the door, quickly taking his face in your hands and kissing the pout off his lips.

“Long day?” You ask.

He nods. “You have absolutely no idea. Happy to see your pretty face, though.”

“Could say the same to you, handsome. Go lay down, I’ll make you dinner. I have something to tell you after we eat.”

You skip over to the kitchen, quickly taking ingredients out of the fridge and cabinet to make dinner for you and Jaehyun. The last few weeks, Jaehyun had been leaving in the early morning for work, leaving you alone for most of the day. You’d been waking up with terrible morning sickness, and after going to the doctor earlier in the day, found out you were pregnant. Jaehyun hadn’t asked to marry you yet, and he still had years ahead of him in his career, but you knew this is something you both wanted.

Jaehyun watches as you cook from the kitchen table, feeling his heart inflate with how much love he has for you.

“I can’t wait for the day I get to marry you.”

“Well, we could be planning a wedding right now but you haven’t asked me to marry you yet.” You drop the last few things into the pot, setting the lid on it before crawling into Jaehyun’s lap and wrapping your arms around him.

“I don’t want to have to plan a wedding and go to the courthouse or anything. I just want you to be my wife.”

“Then ask me to be your wife.”

“Y/N,” Jaehyun says, hands gripping onto your hips tightly, eyes flickering from your eyes, to your lips, then back up to your eyes. “Will you— Wait. Wait here.” He pushes you off him and you sit on the chair as you wait for him. He comes back a few moments later, fist closed tightly around something. He gets down on his knees in front of you, grabbing both of your hands with one of his and smiles. “Y/N, will you be my wife?” He opens his palm, revealing the diamond ring you had pointed out over a month ago when you went searching for couple rings.

You nod, and he slips the ring onto your ring finger. He kisses your hand before placing it back down on your lap, admiring the way the ring looks on your finger.

“Alright, I have something for you now.”

“Don’t know if whatever you have planned could be better than you finally becoming my wife.”

“I’m pregnant.”

“Oh- I- Oh. Oh, that’s definitely better.”

Jaehyun is incredible throughout your pregnancy. He takes time off of work to stay home with you, builds and decorates the nursery, even packs your hospital bag as the days inch closer to your due date. But in the last month of your pregnancy, Jaehyun is quickly pulled back to work and you’re left alone with a swollen belly and complete nursery. You can’t even nest because Jaehyun already did it for you — he didn’t want you to lift a finger until the baby came. The last three weeks have been lonely. Jaehyun comes home in the middle of the night, he spends the weekends away on business trips, is always hunched over his computer in the living room when he is home, and you feel like he’s slipping through your fingertips. You want him home, in bed with you, with your baby, before your attention is completely on her.

The longer Jaehyun is away from you, the more nervous you get. Every time he leaves overnight you’re worried he won’t make it back in time for the baby’s birth. And when he calls you from his trips, and you hear a woman’s voice in the background, your throat begins hurting and your irrational fear of falling out of love resurfaces. You feel something stir in your stomach and you panic.

“Come home, baby. Please,” you say quietly.

“Honey, I’m working, I can’t just—”

“— Please, Yoonoh. I don’t want to have this baby alone.”

You feel selfish. Maybe nothing is actually wrong, but the pain in your throat and the feeling in your stomach is too much to ignore. He rushes home, and within hours is in bed with you, thin fingers placed on the highest point of your belly, fingertips tapping and waiting for the baby to react and kick.

“Do you think there’s a reason she’s not kicking?”

“She’s sleeping. Enjoying her last moment’s in mama’s belly before she’s brought out into the real world. Don’t bother her.”

“You’re funny,” he says. “I have always loved that about you.”

The first few weeks of coughing flowers are uncomfortable, but bearable. Jaehyun isn’t around to see you suffer — staying extra late at work, continuing to go on business trips, attending meetings — and you wonder what his new infatuation is like as you breastfeed your newborn daughter and suppress a cough. She must be one hell of a woman if she can tear a man away from his wife and newborn child. You sit in the nursery Jaehyun insisted on decorating himself, illuminated only by the string lights hanging across the room. Once your daughter is done feeding, you sit her up and begin burping her. You pat her back, listening to her slight hiccups and feel your chest tighten.

She spits up after a few more moments and you clean her up, before setting her back in the crib where she quickly falls asleep. You stare at her sleeping figure and finally let out the cough you’d been holding in, plucking the red petals from your lips and tearing it apart with your fingers. It falls on the floor, and then you hear the front door open and Jaehyun’s footsteps heading into the nursery.

“I just put her down,” you say when he gets to the door. “Let’s go to bed.”

You get into bed quickly, with Jaehyun following shortly behind. Once in bed, you turn your back to him and sink into the sheets. He crawls into bed next to you, wrapping an arm around your waist and pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

“Missed you today, baby,” he mumbles against your skin.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Did you really think you would be able to get away with it?”

Jaehyun tenses for a second, but then relaxes again. “What are you talking about?”

“Jaehyun… We live in a cruel, cruel world,” you whisper. “I can’t even feed my own daughter without feeling like I’m going to choke on the flowers growing inside of me. Did you really think you’d be able to get away with it?”

The room is uncomfortably silent. The baby monitor on the bedside table is on, and you can hear your daughter in the other room making noises as she sleeps. Tears begin to fall down your face and you suppress the sob that is bubbling in your chest.

“I don’t know what to say,” Jaehyun responds.

“When I wake up in the morning, I want you out of my house,” you pick up the baby monitor and reach behind your back, letting it fall between your bodies. “If the baby cries in the night, you tend to her. Enjoy your last moments with her.” His grip on your body tightens.

“Y/N—” Jaehyun starts, but you push him off you and get out of bed.

“I’m going to go sleep on the couch,” you say, grabbing a pillow and a blanket from your closet. Once you get to the door, you stop and look at him laying in your bed. “Goodnight, Jaehyun. I really do love you. I’m sorry I wasn’t enough.”

You lay on the couch, staring at the ceiling and listening to the noises of your house. The refrigerator running, the fan running in your bedroom, Jaehyun’s footsteps as he walks around your shared bedroom.

In the bedroom, Jaehyun paces around the room trying to figure out what to do. Surely he loves you, as the mother of his child, but that wasn’t enough. What if I ask her to start over? he thinks. But that could kill her. If we start from the beginning again, try to fall in love again, try to put back together our already broken relationship and it didn’t work, the flowers would fill her lungs and kill her. And if she got the surgery, she would never love me again.

As he’s packing his things, the baby begins crying and it takes him several moments to process what is happening. By the time he realizes the baby is crying and he heads to the nursery, you’re already in there, holding the baby in your arms and sitting in the rocking chair in the corner.

He watches you with the baby and his chest begins to feel heavy. You look so beautiful holding the baby, rocking back and forth in the chair with your eyes closed. Jaehyun wishes so badly he could continue loving you the way you love him. You clear your throat and bring him out of his trance.

“Jieun-ah,” you whisper quietly, tears falling down your face. “i’m sorry I couldn’t get your appa to continue loving me for you. I promise I will only tell you good things about him when you’re older.”

He lets out a sigh before returning back to the bedroom. He packs all of his things up in his suitcases and watches the sun rise from the balcony of your bedroom. A chill runs down his spine as he watches the sun go higher and higher. After one last check throughout the room to make sure all of his things are packed, he sneaks into the nursery to look at your daughter.

He’s surprised to see you in there, inside the crib, lying in the fetal position next to your daughter. He checks the time on his phone, it’s 7:34 a.m. and he realizes any moment now the baby will wake up and want to eat. He heads into the kitchen, heating up a bottle and as soon as he steps back into the nursery, the baby wakes up and lets out a loud cry. You stir, ready to take her and feed her, but as your eyes open, you see Jaehyun in the rocking chair holding her and leading the bottle into her mouth.

“Sleep,” he says. “I’ll leave after this, I promise. Just want to feed my daughter before I go.”

“You know, you never told me why you wanted to name her Jieun,” you say, pulling the blanket over your body and laying back down.

Jaehyun stares down at your daughter eating, memorizing every inch of her face as if it is the last time he will ever see her. She has his eyes but your nose, your ears but his lips. She’s so perfect he could almost cry. He blinks away the tears that surface.

“My father’s name is Jihoon, and my mother’s name is Eunha. So I took one syllable from each of their names for hers. Ji means purpose, and Eun means kindness. I wanted to give her a name that meant something,” he says. “My parents named me Jaehyun for no reason, so I had to change it to Yoonoh when I was older but no one ever calls me that. I wanted different for my kids.”

“I see… I left your ring for you on the coffee table,” you sit back up and watch as she finishes the last of her bottle. “I can burp her if you want.”

Jaehyun shakes his head no, placing her in his lap and holding her upright. He burps her quickly, cleaning her up and placing her back in the crib next to you. He pulls you into a hug and you break down, sobbing into his chest.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t make you stay,” you say, trying not to wake the baby who just knocked back out. “I promise I will tell Jieun good things about you, Yoonoh.”

“Don’t apologize, it’s my fault. I hurt you,” he responds. He pulls back, placing a kiss on your forehead, walking out of the nursery and closing the door behind him.

And with that, Jaehyun walks out of your life.

It’s 3 a.m. on a Tuesday, and you hear the baby begin to cry from the nursery. It’s been 4 months since Jaehyun has left, but you still stir in bed and call out for him.

“Jaehyun — the baby,” you mumble, sinking further into the sheets. She cries harder and you groan. “Yah, Jung Jaehyun, your baby is calling for you.” You sit up in bed annoyed, looking over to the other side of the bed and realize Jaehyun isn’t there. He hasn’t been for months.

“Fuck, I need to stop doing that,” you say, running your hands through your hair, putting your slippers on and running over to the nursery.

You place Jieun into the baby carrier strapped onto your body, slipping a mask on before grabbing your keys and heading towards the door. As you open the door, you’re met with Johnny’s tall body and his hand in mid-air.

“Johnny— oh. I was just about to go on a walk. What’s up?”

“I just wanted to come check on you… Jaehyun doesn’t know I’m here.”

Johnny accompanies you on your walk, offering to take the baby and give you a break.

“How old is she now?”

“Ten months. Every day she looks more and more like Jaehyun and it kills me.”

“She’s getting so big. You ever think of getting a step-dad for her?”

“Surely you didn’t come all the way across town to hit on me, Mr. Suh. I’m still working on trying to get her real dad to come around and see her, haven’t even thought about a step-dad.”

“I’m kidding, you know that,” Johnny stops in his tracks in front of the first coffee shop you see. “Do you want coffee?”

“I’m still breastfeeding, I don’t want to drink any caffeine. But I’ll wait while you get something.”

Johnny enters the shop quickly, coming out in a few minutes with a drink in hand. “Does Jaehyun really not come around?”

You shake your head no. “I called him the other day and he got mad at me for calling.”

You think back to a couple of weeks ago when you called Jaehyun. You were sitting on the living room floor, Jieun in the baby swing as you cooed and tried to get her to talk back to you. Before then, all she had done was babble incoherently and you felt less than the other mothers in your classes whose babies have already said at least a couple of words.

“C’mon, sweet girl, just say mama. Just once, I won’t tell anyone I promise,” you said quietly, finger on her chin and moving her lips.

And before you could even process, the word mama left her lips and you gasped. “Did you just say that? Oh my god, I need to call your dad.”

You grabbed your phone from the couch, dialed Jaehyun’s number and he picked up almost instantly.

“What do you want?” He snarled from the other side of the phone.

You rolled your eyes. “God, I hate you.”

“If you hate me, then why’d you even call?”

“Well, for your information, your daughter just said her first word. I thought you’d want to know.”

“What’d she say?”

“Mama.”

“That’s nice, Y/N. Look, I have to go, I’m working,” He said quickly, hanging up the phone and you groaned.

“I don’t even know why I try with him anymore. You would think he would actually want to hear about his daughter’s milestones at the very least, you know, make sure she’s still alive. But he doesn’t care. I’ll get over it, eventually.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. You don’t deserve this. How did you, y’know, deal with the flowers?”

“Oh, I got the surgery a few days after he left. I left Jieun with my mom for a weekend and got it done. I wasn’t going to wait around for Jaehyun to maybe come back and start loving me again. I don’t have that kind of time, I have a baby now.”

“Damn. You’re stone-cold, Y/N. Seriously, if you ever want a new daddy, I will gladly help you out.”

“Why do I feel like you aren’t talking about Jieun? Don’t start that kinda talk around my baby, sir.”

“If sir is what you’re into, I can do that too,” He says with a wink.

“Ha-ha, very funny. I’m going to let you spend a weekend with her then you can decide if you want to be her new dad.”

“Oh you’re on, Y/N. Hear that, Jieun-ah?” Johnny says, jumping lightly, Jieun’s body moving with him, a loud fit of giggles leaving her lips. “Johnny’s gonna get a chance to be your new papa.”

You flick him on the forehead and he laughs. “You’re ridiculous. C’mon, walk us home.”

“Mama, wake up,” Jieun says quietly, crawling into your bed and on top of you. She places a flurry of kisses on your face and it stirs you awake. “Mama, come on, Papa is gonna be here soon.”

You wrap your arms around her and let out a sigh before pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Who are you calling Papa? Johnny? Did he put you up to this?”

She nods quickly and lets out a giggle. “He said you would laugh.”

“You two are quite the comedians. Alright, go pick out some clothes and I’ll go make breakfast for you before Johnny gets here.”

Johnny isn’t your boyfriend, by any means, but he has stepped up and helped you with Jieun whenever you needed. And now she’s turning six in a few days, and Johnny has offered to take her for a weekend so you can have some time off. In the middle of cooking breakfast, you hear the keypad slide open and moments later, Johnny is walking through the door. He heads into the kitchen and pulls you into a side-hug, kissing you on the forehead and smiling.

“You know, she called you Papa this morning.”

He laughs. “Really? Holy shit, I didn’t think she would actually do it.”

“Dude, you can’t tell her to do that. She’ll get all confused and I don’t want to have that conversation with her.”

“Y/N, when will you finally give up and realize that we’re good for each other? And that I’m worthy of being her dad?”

You sigh. “Johnny—”

“— I’m serious! If you didn’t feel something for me, I would be dead by now. It’s been 5 years.”

“Good luck on your test run as Papa, Mr. Suh,” you say, plating the food for Jieun. “Go tell your daughter to come eat and then pack her bags.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“It’s mama to you, sir.”

The house is eerily quiet without Jieun and Johnny. Their infectious laughter normally fills the house along with the sound of toys clonking and falling, and you’re unsure of what to do to fill the time. What else is there to do with your life if you aren’t fawning over Johnny with your daughter? She might look like Jaehyun, but she’s all Johnny. She’s taken so much of his personality over the years that you barely see yourself in her some days. There’s a knock on the door and you’re quickly taken out of your thoughts — you head over to the door, saying a quick prayer that Johnny and Jieun are behind the door because they missed you, but when you open it, you’re met with Jaehyun.

“What are you doing here?”

“Okay, hello to you too?” He responds, walking past you and into the house. He takes his shoes off, walking into Jieun’s bedroom and walking out moments later, confused. “Where is she?”

“She’s with Johnny for the weekend.”

“Her birthday’s tomorrow, why is she with him?”

You can feel your blood boiling. In the last six years, Jaehyun hasn’t tried once to be a father to her and all of a sudden, he wants to try to be in her life. Having to be a mother, and watch another man have to step up to be her father, hurts beyond belief. You know you shouldn’t want Jaehyun to hurt too, but the words leave your mouth before you can stop yourself from saying them. “She insisted on spending her birthday weekend with her Papa.”

“P-papa? She thinks he’s her dad? You can’t be serious.”

“She knows he isn’t her dad. I promised to her before you even left that I would tell her the good things about you, and I did. I never told her to call him that, she did it on her own. If she feels like Johnny is her papa, what’s it to you?”

Your eyes begin to water and you turn to look anywhere else in the room except at Jaehyun and he lets out a shaky breath. He gets down on his knees in front of you, grabbing your hands and letting his head hang low.

“Y/N, I’m sorry,” he says. “I know I fucked up beyond belief, but we can’t live like this forever. I want a chance to be the father that I haven’t been for the last six years, to be that man for both you and Jieun.”

The tears stream freely down your face. “Jaehyun, get up.”

He gets up frantically, holding your face in his hands and forcing you to look at him. His face is red, tears staining his cheeks, and — call it a moment of weakness, but — his lips look so inviting. You feel like you’re in a trance, it’s been so long since you’ve even seen Jaehyun, especially this close up, and you’re immediately pulled into the time you had your first kiss. It was much too similar to this — you and Jaehyun standing in your living room, his hands on your face, his lips moving in a confession of love. His lips are moving, but you can’t hear any of what he’s saying, and before you know it, you’re leaning forward and pressing your lips onto his.

Neither of you waste any time — in an instant, Jaehyun’s hands travel down your body to the small of your back, and you bury your hands in his hair. His tongue peeks out of his mouth, licking at your lips and you open them for him. He places his hands on your thighs, and you instantly jump into his arms, wrapping your legs around his body. He walks towards your bedroom, his lips never leaving yours, and delicately places you on the bed. Jaehyun pulls away for a second, pulling his shirt over his head and you can feel your panties sticking to you the minute you see his bare torso. He reaches out to you, slipping your shirt over your head and throwing it onto the ground.

You’re not wearing a bra underneath, and in an instant Jaehyun’s lips wrap around one of your nipples, his hand slipping into your leggings and rubbing at your clit through your panties. You let out a content sigh, hand reaching forward to grip his now fully hardened crotch through his pants. He groans, letting go of your nipple and pulling the other one into his mouth.

“Jaehyun, I can’t wait,” you whine.

He pulls back and lets out a laugh. “Still as impatient as ever, I see.”

You roll your eyes, pushing your pants and underwear off, spread your legs, as Jaehyun steps onto the floor to quickly take his pants off.

“Are you on birth control?” He asks.

You shake your head no. “I haven’t gotten back on it.”

“What if Johnny had—”

“What if Johnny had what? Gotten me pregnant? That wouldn’t have been any of your business,” you snap. His eyes widen slightly and you sigh. “There’s condoms in my top drawer.”

He opens the drawer, sees the loose condoms, opens one and rolls it onto himself before getting back on the bed. He pushes your legs open further, balancing his weight on his arms as his tip pokes at your entrance. He looks into your eyes for any sign of regret, and for a second he thinks he sees some, but you nod quickly and he enters in one swift thrust. You gasp as soon as he’s in, clenching around him a few times to get used to the feeling and he groans.

“You feel so good, baby,” Jaehyun says, and for a second it feels like nothing his changed. He still feels the same inside of you, he still looks the same, he’s talking to you just as he always has.

“Move, please.”

He nods and begins thrusting into you slowly, pulling all the way out and slamming back in. You wrap your arms around his neck and he drops his head in the crook of your neck, pressing kisses into your skin as his thrusts pick up speed. Your mouth hangs open, letting out low moans and he groans every time he feels you clench around him. The world around you begins to fade as you feel Jaehyun’s body pressed close to yours, and you close your eyes to memorize the feeling before it’s ripped away from you.

“Say my name,” he says, angling his hips to hit that secret spot inside of you.

“J-jaehyun.”

“My real name.”

He’s thrusting into you at an absolutely inhumane pace, balancing all of his weight on one arm as his other travels to where your bodies meet, fingers pressing into your clit and your hips come up off the bed, chasing your oncoming high.

“Yoonoh, please, I wanna cum.”

Jaehyun’s chest convulses, and you can tell he’s crying into your neck. Tears brim at your eyes, and you can’t tell if it’s from the pleasure you’re receiving or the feeling of Jaehyun’s hot tears hitting your skin.

“Tell me you love me, please,” Jaehyun says quietly. “Lie to me.”

Your hands dig into the sheets, gripping tightly as you’re on the edge of your orgasm. Jaehyun pinches your clit between your fingers and successfully pushes you over the edge. You cum around him, back arching off the bed, and letting out a quiet “Yoonoh, I love you.” At the feeling of you spasming around him, and you telling him you love him, even if it is a lie, Jaehyun finishes into the condom and drops his body on top of you.

Your arms are spread on the bed, not wanting to touch Jaehyun as the guilt begins to consume you. Johnny isn’t your boyfriend yet, but he’s the father to your daughter that Jaehyun never was, and you almost feel like you’ve just cheated on him.

“Hold me,” Jaehyun whispers into your chest.

“Get up, Jaehyun,” you respond, lightly pushing him off your body. He sits up, head hanging low, and you wince at the feeling of him slipping out of you. He slips the condom off, tying it and throwing it into the trash can in your bathroom. When he comes back out into your bedroom, you’ve already redressed.

“This was a mistake, you should go home.”

“Y/N, I was serious earlier. I want to be that man for both you and Jieun.”

“It’s too late now,” you respond, watching as he redresses. As soon as his last article of clothing is back on, you’re pushing him out of the bedroom and towards the front door. You push him out the front door, throwing his shoes out after him. “This never happened.”

“Y/N, can we just talk about this?”

“There’s nothing to talk about, Yoonoh. We have someone new in our life and he’s going to be the husband and father that you never were. Please don’t love me anymore, Jaehyun. It’ll kill you.”

583 notes · View notes

miss-choco-chips · 4 years ago

Text

F’coffee

-.-.-.-.-.-

Honestly. What did Bruce even think would happen? He should have known better.

Tim wasn’t Dick, indoctrinated from a young age to be a good, somewhat (when convenient) obedient son. Tim only went along with Bruce’s shit because, more often than not, it aligned with what he himself wanted. He also wasn’t Damian, so easily manipulable when one knew which buttons to push. And he certainly wasn’t Jason, who would sink his own ship to kill the captain.

So, when Tim and Bruce fought, and his adopted father decided to pull the ‘you live under my roof and work in my company, so I’m the boss all the way through’ card, well…

Yeah. Tim wasn’t going to take that lying down. He had a childhood of zero authority figures to obey and an overabundance of sass, plus a complete lack of fucks to give.

It was bound to go down like this.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

And, well. Tim had money. Like, an absurd amount of money. Even before being adopted by playboy billionaire Bruce Wayne, Tim had his own no small fortune stashed away, a couple of properties gathering dust, two trust funds and more antique cars that he knew what to do with. So he could just… burn through that money, or sell the cars, or make a living of renting the buildings he owned, and he would barely even scratch the surface of his deep wealth.

But it wasn’t about being able to live comfortably with minimum effort. Tim was trying to prove a point here. What point, fuck if he knew. But a point.

So here he was, on the other end of the wooden counter, a cute red cap falling over his eye as he looked dead into his friend’s eyes.

“Tim. Tim, you’re rich. Why are you working in a coffee shop?”

Seeing as Kon and Cassie were currently too busy being shocked, Tim shrugged and went back to cleaning the cup in his hands.

It was a plastic cup. It didn’t need cleaning, he could just toss it away. But it was his favorite plastic cup, and he was gonna save it as a family heirloom forever.

(The fact that the pretty customer from the morning shift had drawn cute little doodles all over it had nothing to do with it’s worth.)

“Teenage rebellion”, he finally said, carefully putting his treasure away.

“You are twenty.”

“Time is a social construct and I’m but a slinky falling down an endless flight of stairs.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Your face doesn’t make any sense. How is it so symmetrical? It defies nature.”

-.-.-.-.-.-

“What can I get for you?”

“I'll have a mocha caramel latte-chino, made with skim milk, no whipped cream.”

“Bart, no.”

“Please put that in a grande cup”

“I’m begging you, don’t do it.”

“But use the same amount of coffee that you'd put into a tall.”

“I’m warning you, you don’t want to do this.”

“That way there's about an inch of extra room on top.”

“I wish you had an extra inch so I could look straight into your eyes when I murder you.”

“To stir in my own nutmeg without spilling any coffee at all.”

“You’re dead to me. Also, I AM going to make you that drink and you WILL finish it or so help me God.”

“What do you want, Kon?”

“To not be here when Tim’s looking like he’s planning both our unsolved murders.”

-.-.-.-.-.-

When Kon entered the shop, the messenger bag slung over his shoulder bumping against his hip as he rushed in to get his caffeine intake before his evening classes, he wasn’t surprised at the scene.

Cassie being there was a given, since there was always at least one of them there at all times, supporting Tim in this ‘independence’ thing he was dead set on trying. Kon himself had his Tim Shift later that day, after his creative writing course. Bart had probably just left, considering the amount of empty cake platters littering the counter.

Tim being face down in said counter, uncaring about the mess, was also old news. The dude barely ever seemed to leave (Kon was almost completely sure he actually owned the place, since he’d never seen any sort of manager and Tim’s hours seemed to work around his weird sleep patterns all too perfectly), and distraught was his general state of being, so. Normal day as far as he could see.

Still, he had to ask. “What is it today?”

Cassie, eyes never leaving her magazine, chin resting in one hand as the other one scratched at Tim’s scalp, snorted.

“A cute boy started working in the tattoo place next door. He came in for a morning fix, when Tim was barely awake, and he said something stupid, so he’s been having an existencial crisis ever since.”

“I said ‘you too’, Kon. He said ‘thanks for the coffee, I’ll enjoy it!’ and I said ‘you too’. What is wrong with me?”

Kon snorts a little. Tim doesn’t seem to be very interested in doing his actual work, so he just jumps over the counter and starts working the machines himself.

“You know that’s a question you can only ask your therapist, Tim, but if you need to know, I’d say you’re highly sleep deprived and a dysfunctional bi?”

At that, Tim does turn to look at him. There’s some cake frosting clinging to his eyelashes, and his hair is a mess. It looks cute, to be completely honest, and Kon has to leave his unfinished latte on the side so he can hug the little shit.

“Aw, don’t pout, Timbo. I’m sure he thought you were cute. Just try to sleep a bit more tonight, so when he comes back tomorrow you’ll be a little more alert and won’t embarrass yourself.”

“What do you mean, when he comes back?”

“I mean, if he works next door, he’ll probably get his morning coffees here all the time, right?”

That seemed to drive Tim back into the distraught spiral. He smashed his head back into the counter, making dying whale noises until Cassie’s hand returned to his scalp.

Kon privately thinks Tim’s life is starting to sound like fanfiction. He wonders which type of background character he would be, in it.

-.-.-.-.-.-

The shop is called F’coffee. That’s why Cassie is convinced Tim is the actual owner; no one else would really think that’s a proper name for a serious establishment. Kon isn’t convinced all the way yet, but with Bart on her side and Tim staying silent on the subject, it is just a matter of time until she convinces him it’s totally okay for him to do his gym routine there. She thinks, with Tim being his own boss, no one would tell him to stop it, and it would help his friend’s business to bloom with new customers.

The place's general aesthetic is exactly what you would expect, with old wooden tables, comfy chairs, potted plants hanging from the walls and tall windows just a little bit stained. The smell is constantly of the strongest brew Tim has, Death Coffee (which he’s actually not legally allowed to sell, so he keeps it for himself), and just setting a foot in makes her feel instantly awake. It's also always warm, and the sweets on display look mouth watering no matter your personal preferences.

In short, it looks like something out of a movie. It’s a tad too perfect for her friend, but she thinks it also fits his obsessive need for perfection.

Except for the board. Oh, the board. Cassie loves it more than life itself.

Tim has divided the drinks in categories. And made up names for all of them.

“Yes, hello! I’d like to order a grande, iced, sugar-free vanilla Latte, with soy milk, but I can’t seem to find it in your menu…”

Tim’s dead eyes turn to Cassie for a second, before facing his customer again.

“You’re probably looking into the Normal People section”, he points out, before raising his hand to signal a bit to the left. “There you have the Pain In The Ass selection. There’s nothing just like you asked, but you have the It’s Britney Bitch beverage, which is almost exactly the same except I’ll add a middle finger drawing in the cup and charge you extra for emotional damages. Also, we’re out of soy milk.”

Or…

“Hey, good morning! I’d like to order…”

Tim raised a hand, stopping the chirpy, good looking young man dead in his tracks.

“Don’t tell me, I know what you need. I’ll just go ahead and prepare it.”

“But you don’t even know what I/”

“You’ll have a Cougar Bait. It has cacao cream, a strawberry pucker and some grenadine seeds. I think it's fitting, for you.”

And also…

“Hey, hum… Sorry, I just have to ask… what’s on the ‘Barista’s heart’ drink?”

“Cacao powder, almond milk and espresso. Also some organic coconut ash, that gives it the blacker-than-night color, that’s just a shade lighter than my soul.”

“...noted.”

Cassie snorts into her cup of Jack it up (coffee that tastes just like a Jack Daniel’s; having Tim working here has opened up her eyes to the possibilities), watching as Tim makes his own usual.

“What’s in that one?” She asks, out of curiosity, when she’s sure there’s no other customer close by.

“Six espresso shots.”

She waits for a second. Tim finishes the drink, carefully handling the dark liquid inside his favorite plastic cup.

“...okay, and?”

“And that 's it.”

“Tim, that-- that would kill you?”

“Duh. Why did you think it was called The Last Sip?”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

181 notes · View notes

bookishofalder · 4 years ago

Text

Night Changes [Six]

Summary: In which Poe and the reader recover, and feelings intensify. A mission brings them closer, and memories give us insight into their pasts.

Warnings: Language, violence, smut, fluff, emotions, angst. Everything you came for.

Poe was wandering aimlessly, his feet scuffing along the dirt road as he kept his eyes focused downward, his cheeks stained with tracks of dried tears. His unruly curls were falling into his face, somewhat shielding his eyes from the lowering sun as he ventured around his neighbourhood. When another sniffle threatened, he cleared his throat aggressively and choked it back.

His father told Poe that it was more than okay to cry, as much as he wanted and for as long as he needed. It wasn’t that he was ashamed of crying and showing his emotions, nor was it why he hadn’t yet gone back home. It was just...he was tired; of crying, of feeling so enormously miserable. And now that the funeral and life celebration was over, it felt suddenly very final. Like the second he walked through the door tonight, it would hit him that she was never coming back.

That she was lost to the stars, forever.

It still didn’t feel real, not fully, and so when they were making their way home a short while ago, Poe froze up when they turned the corner onto their lonely stretch of road. He couldn’t bring himself to continue walking, and after a few moments, his father had glanced around to find Poe standing several feet back. A look of sorrow and understanding had crossed his face before he pulled him in for a tight hug and suggested that he take a walk. Told Poe to take his time and come home when he felt ready, that he’d be waiting up no matter the time. Dad was good like that, never pushed but always seemed to understand, to tell Poe he was seen.

He was on a street not too far from home now, the sun low and golden and the temperature easing just enough, though Poe was still sweating a little. He was considering removing his sweater when a voice to his left cut through the air very suddenly.

“Duck!”

He did, not needing to be told twice even though he wasn’t sure what he was avoiding. Glancing up, Poe saw a large red ball fly over his head and instinctively reached up and caught it before it could get too far. When he looked around, standing back up, a boy that looked to be his age was running toward him, his eyes crinkled in a friendly way as he pulled a face that conveyed his apologies.

“Wow, sorry!” The boy said, coming to a halt in front of Poe and panting. He pointed at the ball, “I was aiming for my sister’s head, but I’m not the best kicker.” He admitted, and Poe smiled at the boy’s candour.

“That’s okay, you missed me too,” He held the ball out for the boy, but before he could hand it over a girl, who looked to be a couple of years younger, came barreling over. Her face scrunched in anger that Poe wanted to think was adorable, but it was also kind of scary.

That was the first time Poe saw you.

“Charlie mommy said not to do that anymore!” You shouted, ripping the ball from Poe’s hands and then aggressively tossing it toward your house. It bounced until it hit the duracrete side, rolling to a stop. “You’re a massive-“

“Hey, don’t swear in front of-oh,” The boy paused and looked back over at Poe, who was standing somewhat awkwardly as he watched the siblings exchange. “Sorry, what’s your name?”

You were both looking at him now, your faces friendly and open. “I’m...Poe. Dameron. Poe Dameron.” He mumbled nervously, suddenly feeling too tired and hot. His face flushed a little from the heat and embarrassment, and he just knew you were both going to think he was a real loser.

“Poe Dameron, nice to meet you, buddy! I’m Charlie and this pipsqueak-“ The boy-Charlie- broke off to ruffle your hair as you rolled your eyes, “Is my sister (y/n). We’ve seen you around before, you must live close.”

Poe nodded, “Yeah, just over by-“

“Why are you dressed like that?” You asked suddenly, a hand shooting out to pluck at his black sweater.

Poe hesitated, unsure of how to explain without immediately scaring both of you off. You were surprisingly serious for a little kid, your big eyes sweeping over his face and taking in his red eyes, before again taking in his outfit.

But when you looked back up at met Poe’s nervous gaze, your lips tugged up ever so slightly in a way that...well, it made him trust you. He didn’t know why, but he looked between you and the equally friendly face of your brother and didn’t sense a shred of hostility or insincerity.

“My mom just died, today was,” He took in a shuddering breath, the words heavier to admit than he ever could have imagined, and yet just saying it out loud was surprisingly freeing, “The funeral. I was just...I wasn’t ready to go home yet, I guess.”

Poe had stared at your bare feet as he spoke, focusing on the wiggling toes because he didn’t want to see the pity on your faces after spending the last few days receiving nothing but pitying looks from everyone he’d ever known. He was entirely caught off guard when he heard you give a little gasp, then launched yourself into him, your arms wrapping around his waist and pulling him into an unexpected, firm hug.

“Poe that’s awful,” You whimpered, peering up at him with tears eyes.

Poe felt it then, the shift inside of him that he wouldn’t realize for a very long time was his universe colliding with yours, the staggering sensation of his soul meeting your soul for the very first time. He was too young to know this, of course, but the intensity of his feelings was felt nonetheless. The first thing he did recognize was that he really, really wanted to prevent you from looking so sad.

Charlie’s hand clapped down on his shoulder as Poe gazed down at you in surprise, only seconds had passed, “We’re really sorry about your mom, Poe,” He smiled sadly as he spoke, shaking his head a little. After a moment his gaze shifted to you, “Kid, he’s already warm! Give him some space!”

You almost seemed surprised at your reaction to Poe’s news, though upon hearing Charlie’s admonishment, you quite suddenly jumped away from him, as though you had been electrocuted, all while furiously apologizing to Poe.

You were so adorable and sincere that Poe laughed. For the first time since his father had come into his room and kneeled next to the bed with the most heartbreaking expression to tell him his mother had died, he laughed. Full bellied, the muscles in his face stretching upward into a wide grin, Poe Dameron laughed. There was only a slight pause before you and Charlie joined in, your pealing giggles filling his ears as Charlie held his shoulder and stars, did it ever feel good.

Poe was still just a kid, even though his mom had died and he’d had to suffer through heartbreak that no child ever should, he was at heart still only ten years old. Yet as he stood on the front lawn laughing with the Horn children he was overwhelmed by the feeling of home he found in you both. He knew this was the start of something incredible.

Charlie gestured toward the ball once the laughter began to fade, “Do you have to go home yet, or do you want to play with us for a bit, Poe?” Charlie asked, gesturing toward the ball.

You were nodding eagerly next to him, and with a glance at the sun to confirm it wasn’t yet too late to stay, Poe smiled at his new friends, his eyes meet yours as he answered. “I’d love to.”

————-

Your hips swayed lazily to the music as you eased your way through the evening crowd gathered at Maz Kanata’s cantina. Poe kept close behind you, his face relaxed but his eyes flicking carefully around the room, watching for signs of trouble, his senses on high alert. He kept his face neutral, holding back the frown he found himself tempted to make as strangers' eyes fell down your body when you passed them, drinking in your curves.

You found an empty booth and sat, propping your legs on the seat across from you, the picture of ease and comfort when you smiled up at Poe. He tried to mimic your relaxation, but you’d always been much better at acting a part than him when it came to the cause you both fought for. He had trouble pretending to not be on edge, and so he kept close to you. Not just for safety, but also to be considered a protective partner, rather than an undercover Rebel.

With a small wink, you patted the seat next to you to give Poe permission, that you knew he needed, to sit close to you. He flung an arm behind you, resting against the booth seat, and spread his legs wide in hopes of appearing at ease. Your hand patted his knee briefly and he had to actively work at not tensing under the heat of your touch.

You sat in silence together for a few minutes before Jess Pava cut through the crowd to join you, her hands holding four drinks carefully that you jumped up to help her with. Your body leaned over Poe’s as you plucked two drinks from the fellow pilot’s hands, and he had to take a small breath to steady himself due to your proximity. Stars.

‘Your system is entirely flushed of the pollen, Commander. We ran the extra tests you requested and they came up the same as the previous.’

‘But I feel so...you know what, never mind. If you say it’s gone, then I believe you.’

You handed him his drink and he raised it in thanks, then pretended to take a sip. None of you would be drinking this evening, because you were working but it would have looked suspicious if you’d all sat down in the cantina without them.

“Thanks, Jess,” You sat back down, your thigh only inches from Poe’s. He watched Jess toss you a flirtatious wink and rolled his eyes in amusement as you flushed in response. She had always loved to flirt with you.

“Well, I’m not sure when exactly our friend will arrive but he can usually be counted on to be on time when there are free drinks.” Jess rapped her knuckles on the table, her eyes drifting around the room casually. She’d been based at an outpost nearby Takodana and was the lead on the current intel handoff that required Poe and you.

You scoffed, “I don’t care if he’s late. But if his intel isn’t as good as he claims, I’m shooting him before I ask questions.” Out of the corner of his eye, Poe saw your fingers twitch on your shooting arm; as though you were tempted to pull the hidden blaster from your backpack.

Poe nodded in agreement, “Not that it isn’t lovely to see you, Jess.”

She laughed as Poe grinned, sitting back into her seat to get more comfortable while waiting for the contact to show up. Each of you was dressed to look like casual, tired travellers. In various shades of khaki, Poe wore a light linen shirt tucked into his pants, his blaster hidden in the waistband at his lower back, his regular boots exchanged for a worn pair of travelling boots that were anything but comfortable. You were wearing the same light linen, though the tunic you wore was tighter fitting, tucking into loose-fitting shorts that hit mid-thigh, the look revealing a lot more skin than he was used to seeing.

It was distracting, you were distracting to him, especially as you sat so close to him that he could feel your body heat, smell your shampoo.

Poe and you had been released from the med bay two days before this mission on Takodana. He’d returned twice to demand further testing, unbeknownst to you because he wanted to be certain he would never hurt you again. He’d woken up feeling pretty spectacular, that first day after receiving what Tahla told him had been special transfusions to clear out the pollen. His friend had said it would feel intense, the new clarity in his mind, because he’d spent nearly a month unknowingly gripped by a fog that only increased each time Poe and you touched.

And stars, it was true how free and open his mind felt now. It was like losing a large amount of weight all at once, and with his newfound clarity, he thought there would be a substantial decrease in his attraction to you-enough, that is, to stop his thoughts from wondering and his heart rate to increase every time he so much as looked at you, but that hadn’t happened. Instead, it was like the exact opposite had occurred; free of the effects of the pollen, Poe was no longer confused or overwhelmed by his feelings, rather they had all seemed to be glaringly obvious.

Now, instead of looking at you and remembering what had happened after the pollen exposure, Poe simply became distracted because you were beautiful. Equal parts protectiveness, adoration and attraction surged within him anytime he glanced your way now, and it didn’t feel wrong or confusing any longer. There had been a few times now where you’d looked at him similarly, and he wondered, or rather, hoped, that maybe you were feeling the same.

With a low sigh, you shifted next to Poe, recrossing your legs as your feet rested on the seat opposite, and Poe’s eyes automatically swept over your form. He sensed your apprehension and impatience and let his hand fall forward slightly, sweeping some of your loose hair away from your neck. His belly warmed when he saw you shiver a little.

Pulling his gaze away from you, he glanced around the room once again. Maz Kanata’s was a neutral territory, which meant that coming in disguise was as important as it was to keep your blaster nearby. The place was filled with a mixed bag of smugglers, spies, travellers and more. There was no telling who could be in the room and with you at his side, Poe was hyper-aware of the risks that being members of the Resistance held and he was as eager to leave, with the intel, as he knew you were.

“Oh, here’s our green friend now,” Jess’s voice pulled Poe from his thoughts and he glanced around, spotting the Twi’lek man approaching their table with an easy-going smile.

“Fucking finally,” You murmured to Poe, your warm breath brushing against his neck and raising goosebumps along his skin.

He was starting to wonder if you were doing these things on purpose, now.

Medical Bay Two Days Prior

You awoke somewhat rapidly with a gasp, almost sitting up as you came to, only a hand on your shoulder that seemed to be expecting the reaction cautioned you to remain laying down. You allowed your body to relax, your eyes still shut.

A distant and possibly familiar voice was speaking to you quietly, though you couldn’t make out the words yet.

To wake yourself up properly, you pulled in a deep breath and focused on yourself for a moment, noticing how good you felt, your body light and pain-free. And your head...it felt so clear.

The memories came back, then, of walking down the hallway toward the hangar with Poe, his hands touching you more and more like he couldn’t help himself. How good those hands felt until each of you was falling to the ground in twisted versions of ecstasy. It had been painful, terrifying, and you remembered clinging to him both in panic and for safety as you screamed, Temmin appearing and then it all slips away, the last thing you could recall was the stinging sensation in your arm. It must have been a quick dose of bacta, enough to keep you from dying even though you still passed out from the overstimulation of everything.

As you thought of Poe, panic began to rise within you and you heard the resulting increase in your nearby heart rate monitor. Had they been able to save him, too? Or had he...oh, what if he-

“Major, relax, you need to calm yourself. You are alright. Commander Dameron is safe as well-yes, that’s right, breath for me, Poe is safe, good, good.” The voice next to you was soothing, the firm hand on your arm rubbing up and down gently as your heart rate decreased.

Poe was safe. Your Poe.

And then the clarity hit, no longer blurred by your panic over Poe’s condition, and the monitor picked up the brief spike as your mind caught you up. It was like...the pollen had mangled and warped your feelings, pushing back everything that mattered most to focus on what your body wanted, what it wanted your bodies to do. It left you both in need, even after you worked through the initial exposure, and you hadn’t even realized it. It was like a filter on your brain, not blocking out the real stuff, but keeping you more and more focused on Poe in a sexual way the more you touched, until it all became too much.

But now you could feel everything real and it was almost too much to suddenly bear. You knew you’d forgiven him, that you’d each begun repairs on your broken friendship, falling back into a comfortable pattern...but stars, it was so much fucking more, wasn’t it? You were completely-

With another gasp, you opened your eyes before the realization could send you into a panic, and the Healer next to you prevented you from sitting up again, coming into focus now as you adjusted to the sunny medical room. You saw a privacy curtain around your bed, then looked at the person standing over you.

You blinked in surprise as you gazed at the Healer because you knew him.

“Tahla!” You cried out in delight, and he let you move finally so that you could pull him down to you for a bone-crushing hug. He laughed, a rich baritone he definitely hadn’t had when you last saw him on Yavin-4 years ago.

“Hey kid,” He said, pulling back to gaze down at you with a wide smile, “Welcome back. How do you feel?” He searched your face in a way that told he was there in a professional capacity as much as a friendly one.

“I...well, shit,” You stammered, struggling to sit up. He helped you, adjusting your pillow behind your shoulders and then pulling your blanket up a little. “My head feels so clear, I can’t believe it.” He nodded knowingly as you gazed up at him, looking at his Healer uniform, then to the medical droid next to him waiting for instructions.

Noticing your shift in focus, Tahla pointed in question to the edge of your bed and you nodded, scooting your legs out of the way so that he could sit. He settled, then took one of your hands into his own. “It’s been a few years, hasn’t it?” He asked you softly, “I’m sorry about that. And for not being able to make it to Charlie’s funeral, either.”

“You don’t owe me any apologies, Tahla Martell, you should know that,” You replied quietly, squeezing his hand, “Not after everything you’ve done for me.”

He sighed, nodding his understanding as you both remember your last few months on Yavin-4. He then glanced back at you and despite the faint laugh lines around his eyes, the more dense peppering of facial stubble, you thought he looked much the same as he had all those years ago. Based on how his eyes were roving over your face, you believe he was thinking the same thing.

“I suppose it goes without saying, but I am a Healer now, a specialist actually. In foreign contaminants. My team was responding to the General’s request for assistance, but when I saw your name and Poe’s name on the patient files, I decided to come myself,” He explained, tossing you a little smile that told you he just knew you’d get yourself into trouble someday. You grinned back at him. “The Healer’s here put you both into temporary medical comas, and once I arrived yesterday I was able to complete the transfusions required to clear your system of any and all lingering toxins.”

Frowning now at the memories of the last month, you shook your head, “Tahla, I really fucked up on this-”

“No,” He interrupted softly, and you felt yourself flush a little from the sincerity of the look he was giving you. “You didn’t. That pollen is one of the more lethal ones known to us in the field. The fact that you were both able to survive this long...and once you were exposed, you were both technically compromised. The pollen didn’t want you to report the exposure, that wasn’t a lapse on your part,” He paused, thinking over his next words carefully as you waited patiently with your guilt-ridden heart sitting in your throat. “One could argue that had there not been a delay in your return to base, meaning the three-day travel, it could have been more likely you’d have reported what happened. But because you and Poe were exposed together, worked out the initial effects together, and subsequently remained within close proximity during the travels home, there was absolutely no chance of either of you making that correct call.”

You let that linger for a moment, closing your eyes as the build-up of emotion swelled. It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t fuck up. Though, you couldn’t help but wonder how far-reaching the pollen’s hold on you was. When you opened your eyes, Tahla was watching you closely with an expectant expression, as though he sensed the direction of your thoughts.

“Did-did it affect everything I did and said? That P-Poe-?”

“No, just the more, shall we say, primal parts,” He said thoughtfully, “I read the report you did submit, and I found it interesting. You stated the trip home was fairly uneventful. Was that true, to your recollection?”

“Oh,” You thought back to those three days after you’d made up with Poe. “It really was.”

Tahla bobbed his head in thought, “It’s unique, I think, that exposure happened to two people who had a pre-existing friendship beyond being mere teammates. At least in our reports over the years. Do you recall wanting to touch Poe, but not allowing yourself to do so?”

You stared at Tahla in surprise, “Yes, right after we rolled through the bush that they were growing from. Why?”

He ran a hand over his jaw, brows furrowed in thought. “I think the pollen had its work cut out for it, getting you both to ignore your instincts to protect one another. If you were fighting it that early, well, that’s the first time I’ve heard of such a thing,” He tapped over his lips now and you could practically hear his scientific brain whirring away. “Even the timeline here is beyond anything I’ve ever come across. You were both able to resist initially, then worked the first dose out of your system. But when you came back to base, you were still fighting against the urges and that is...something else. The more you touched, the harder it was not to touch, am I right?”

You wanted to feel more embarrassed at the questions, but you were too caught up in what he might be getting at to give a damn. So instead, you nodded, “Harder not too, but felt more dangerous to continue.”

“I think the preexisting friendship played a major role here, it allowed you both to walk around nearly for a month when you should have been succumbing within a day after the initial-hold on, what symptoms have you had since you’ve been back, other than what we’ve discussed?”

He gave you an intense look then, and now you flushed a lot because you were hoping not to have to talk about the dreams. “I was uh, having dreams. Nightly, or like really early in the mornings. They woke me up.” You bit nervously at your cheek.

Tahla, ever the Healer at heart, got straight to the point. “You were having sexual dreams that woke you up because you orgasmed?”

You pulled your hand from him, covering your face, “Yeah, but it was like only a second or two of relief. And then I’d be worked up all day...tried, you know, before bed to see if it helped, but nothing did.”

“Huh,” Tahla grunted, going quiet for a few minutes as he thought. You suddenly felt very grateful you were having this conversation with him and not any other Healer’s. Stars. “Remarkable.”

You peeked out from behind your hands, “Tahla, are you saying that because Poe and I care for each other so much, we were able to fight against the pollen to a degree? That what happened the other day was the result of too much touching after so much time resisting?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying, or theorizing at this point,” He replied, and you huffed out a breath. This was too much to think about. He seemed to sense your exhaustion and reached out to grip your shoulder. “Back to the initial question, though, you were both still yourselves underneath the underlying desire to, well, you know.”

He laughed a little shyly then and you smirked, quirking a brow in surprise. “Oh now he gets shy,” You giggled, “Stars, Tahla.”

“I know,” He agreed, laughing along with you, “I suppose it doesn’t make sense for us, considering our history. It was my poor attempt at being delicate after asking such personal questions.” He blushed a little and you couldn’t help but grin at him.

You shrugged, “Honestly, I’m glad you’re asking. I want to understand it all, and I’m sure Poe will want to as well. Have you spoken to him at all? Is he awake?” You wanted to see him, tell him everything was okay now.

Tahla opened his mouth to reply, only another voice cut in from the other side of the curtain. “I’m awake, sweetheart.” Your friend stood then and walked around to the other side of your bed, pulling the curtain along as he did. You watched Poe come into view, sitting on his bed with his legs over the side, and you knew straight away he’d heard everything. Meeting his gaze, you felt your stomach flutter in a sudden wave of nerves, because there he was.

Your Poe.

Tahla was saying something to him, but you couldn’t focus on what because you were lost in his eyes, drinking in his features, the soft expression on his face as he gazed at you, and you realized that whatever Tahla had done to cure you of the pollen, it had worked. Because you were looking at Poe now without any barriers-no pollen, no grief, no anger-and you felt like you were back on Gold team, the night before Charlie died, walking across the cantina as Poe watched you and you started to realize how you felt...

He pulled his gaze away, meeting Tahla’s outstretched hand and you looked to your hands where they sat in your lap. You swallowed, your mouth suddenly dry, though the hovering medical droid passed you a cup of water moments later and provided a nice distraction from your thoughts.

“Well, you’ll both remain here for a few more hours just for observation, but I’m releasing you at dinner time. You’re cleared for duty, so I’m sure you’ll be in the field as of tomorrow.”

“And we...you’re sure, one hundred percent sure, that nothing else can happen? That I-we-“ Poe broke off awkwardly, and you kept your eyes on the drink in your hand.

“I’m completely, entirely sure, Commander.” Tahla assured you both, “Listen, I’ll be off by dinner time so I’d love to catch up if you’re both up to it?”

You glanced up, meeting Tahla’s warm eyes, “That sounds great, Tahla.”

You saw Poe nod out of the corner of your eye, “Yeah man, see you then.”

He left you then, not before reminding you both to relax, and throwing a wink your way that you knew Poe hadn’t seen. When the door shut behind him, you were both silent for a long minute, though you could sense Poe looking at you. And you felt...nervous, under his gaze now, though you wanted to look at him as well, you were afraid of what he might read from your expression. He’d always been able to read you well, and you him.

“How are you doing, sweetheart?” He finally broke the silence, his voice low.

You clasped your hands in your lap, then looked up and met Poe’s eyes. The heart rate monitor gave you away, gave you both away. Each of you gazed at one another, hearts racing, and you thought it felt really good to be looking at Poe, no pollen making it about sex. Instead, you looked over at your best friend and realized how much you cared for him. How much you missed him. How scared you had been to lose him again.

Before you could overthink it, you were out of your bed. It was only a few steps to his, just enough time for Poe to sit up straight, eyes bright, before catching you in his arms. You flung yours around his shoulders and pulled him close, stepping between his legs as you did. “Poe,” You murmured, and his arms tightened around you in response.

You slid one hand into the curls at the nape of his neck, smiling to yourself when you heard him give a low sigh in response. He pressed his face into your neck, making you feel safer than you’d ever felt in your life, wrapped there in his arms. You think you were both putting a lot of things left unsaid into the hug, neither of you quite ready to talk it all out, but silently agreeing all was forgiven.

And as clear as you realized your feelings were for Poe Dameron, you also knew that you weren’t ready to voice them aloud, no longer because you denied them, but rather because you feared they wouldn’t be reciprocated.

Poe didn’t trust the contact, despite the Twi’lek’s easy smile and friendly banter. His opinion was possibly coloured by the fact that Dario had first greeted Jess, whom he’d met several times, before promptly and very obviously dropping his gaze to check you out and then making a show of shaking your hand as Poe glowered at him. He would have remained angrier had he not noticed you shift a little closer to him once Dario looked away to take his seat.

“Listen, I think considering the shit I’ve gone through to give you this information, the least you can all do is enjoy another drink with me,” Dario stated, tapping his glass with a long green finger. “At least make me feel like we’re friendly, Jess.”

Jess rolled her eyes, her jaw tight, “Don’t pretend to suffer more than you do, Dario, it’s unbecoming.” The Twi’lek barked laughter in response. Jess sighed, “We can stay a little longer, and then we’re giving you your credits and you are giving us our intel and we’re leaving, got it?”

“Fine, fine,” He relented, glancing around at the three of you, “Well, who's buying this round?”

Poe wasn’t about to let the man out of his sight, something that you understood just from the set of his shoulders because you sat forward instantly, “I’ll go,” You shot Poe a look that said you were just as annoyed as him before standing up and stepped past him carefully.

Dario noticed the way Poe’s eyes determinedly stared at the table when you stepped over his lap. And he didn’t let it go unmentioned, either, “So are you two a thing or do you just enjoy the heavy sexual tension you carry for one another?”

Jess tried to hide her laughter in her drink, giving Poe an apologetic sort of look when he glared at her. “You said friendly, not friends. I’m not going to let you braid my hair and ask about feelings and shit.” He huffed, to which Dario simply chuckled, raising his glass at Poe.

“Sorry, sorry. Just wanted to be prepared if you suddenly started going at it on the table.”

“You know what man,” Poe growled through clenched teeth, leaning forward, “You suck at making friends.”

Dario raised his green hands in mock surrender, “Then you won’t mind that a smuggler just pinched her ass?” He jerked his chin toward the bar and Poe whipped his head around, seeking you out in the crowd.

Sure enough, you were leaning against the bar and a large, unruly-looking man was standing way too fucking close. Poe was out of his seat in an instant, catching your eye as he approached. The thing about places like Maz’s was that if a little traveller woman like you suddenly pulled out highly skilled hand-to-hand combat moves, it would draw a lot of attention, which your group was rather eager to avoid. Poe, on the other hand, could easily get away with what he decided to do the moment he saw you flinch, the smuggler having pinched you again.

Wordlessly, he pulled you close with one hand and grabbed the back of the smuggler's neck at the same time. Before he could react to Poe’s sudden appearance, his face was smacking off of the bar. He folded somewhat comically, unconscious on the floor. Poe looked at the bartender now placing the drinks on the counter.

“Here’s a few extra credits for the trouble, man.” He passed them over, and the gruff-looking man merely grumbled his thanks, pocketing the credits and then directing a nearby droid to drag the man outside.

“That was satisfying,” You quipped at his side, drawing Poe’s gaze. You pitched your voice lower to prevent anyone from overhearing you, “I think you broke his nose, flyboy.”

Poe laughed, releasing his hold on you but moving his hand to rest on your lower back, just in case anyone else thought they could come near you. “You good? I can go outside and finish him off, you know.” He was only half-joking, and you arched a brow at him before reaching out to pick up the drinks, passing two to him to carry.

“If I can resist the urge to kill him, then you can too,” You replied, leading the way back to the table. “But thank you all the same.”

Before he could reply, Poe met the amused expression on Dario’s face and frowned at him over your shoulder. Jess was determinedly looking anywhere but Poe, which told him enough about where her loyalties were. And while you’d been all smiles for him moments ago, evidently your patience had been torn to shreds from your interaction with the smuggler.

“Alright, here’s your fucking drink,” You growled, slamming the glass on the table in front of Dario, “Now hand over the intel or I’m kicking your ass.” Poe had to bite back a proud smile.

Dario exhaled as he gave you a weary look, “Wow, you’re kind of scary when you get all worked up,” He admitted, shooting back his drink in one go, “Since I don’t think you really want to be my friend now, I’ll give up on the attempt here at civility.”

You gave a cold laugh as Jess leaned toward Dario, “Look, you promised me good intel, good enough that I called in these two to get it straight from you rather than risk it hopping between squadrons. Hand it over and you get your credits and a continued pass from our people to remain on Takodana peacefully.”

With a roll of his icy blue eyes, the Twi-lek man reached into an inner front pocket of his jacket and pulled out a data stick, passing it to you. You grabbed for it but Dario didn’t let go straight away, instead leaning forward to meet your eyes levelly as you both held the intel. “Probably should mention one thing,” He began, and Poe felt himself go rigid, eyes on Dario.

“Oh yeah?” You replied coldly, giving another tug on the intel.

Dario let go of it, “The man I stole that from has a lot of people working for him and I may have been made a few minutes ago. More than likely there are First Order officers on their way, which is why you’ll be happy to hear I no longer want your money. Just sneak me out the back with you and I’ll be on my merry way, deal?”

Poe’s eyes flicked around the room, seeing no immediate threats but fully aware that sneaking out was going to be an issue with so little warning. You had stiffened, then quickly pushed the data stick down the front of your shirt into your chest band before reaching across the table and grabbing Dario’s shirt roughly, tugging him close. “You motherfuck-“

Jess was already typing into her comm as you let loose on Dario, unleashing the fury of your words in place of kicking the shit out of him and Poe continued to survey the room. “Poe,” Jess said, and he glanced toward her, “I’ve got back up coming in for a distraction in two. You’ll have to go out the doorway to the south, take a long way around to your ship.”

“Well, it was great seeing you again, Jess,” He replied lightly, “We’ll have to do this again sometime. Everything, the bad drinks, the toxic masculinity, our idiot Twi’lek the Major is currently teaching a new language. Really, it’s been wonderful.” With a final laugh, Jess reached over and patted your head in farewell, winked at Poe, and then sprinted away from the table to meet her backup outside. The distant sounds of shouting and a sudden loud bang was all the warning Poe needed a minute later.

Grabbing you by the arm, Poe quickly stood and began toward the exit, hearing rather than seeing that Dario was still there because he was cursing as he stumbled along in your angry grip. Pushing through the doorway, he heard Dario cry out in pain and glanced around to see him reaching for his shin. You had kicked him. “Sweetheart, need you to-“

You were on your wrist comm before he finished, “On it,” You said, running a scan of the immediate area, which thankfully came up clean, “It’s your lucky day, Dario, you get to live to see another. I’d say farewell, but I wouldn’t mean it!”

Poe laughed, then pointed into the tree line, “Go that way as long as you can before circling back to your ride, they’ll be gone pretty soon.” He told the Twi’lek, who grunted his thanks and tore off in the direction Poe had indicated. “Which way?” He asked you, knowing you had the entire area memorized in preparation for this mission.

You nodded to his right, adjusting the bag on your shoulders, “That way, there’s some water we can lose them in. Unless you’ll let me go and kill Dario-“

“I’ll let you kill him if we ever bump into him again, I promise,” Poe grabbed your hand and started running, neither of you unaware of the danger you were in with First Order troops nearby. Once safely in the cover of the trees, he continued between breaths, “Though I think it’s safe to say he’s going to be in hiding for a while.”

“He won’t be able to hide from me if this intel is anything but as good as he claimed,” You grumbled, your grip on Poe’s hand tightening as you jumped over thick roots, “You think Jess is alright?”

“Of course,” And he wasn’t lying, he knew she would be long gone by now, seeing as this was more her territory than anything. “You should really be more worried about us, sweetheart.”

You giggled, “I am! Listen, I know we said we’d go straight around to our ship but with Dario out there knowing that it’s probably best we hide for a while.” You left it unspoken, but it meant that you’d be camping in the dense wilderness as you hid from the First Order with highly sought-after intel that they didn’t want in the hands of the Resistance.

“All in a day’s work, eh?”

You sighed heavily in response. Jumping into the ankle-deep stream, you began walking in the opposite direction of the ship, further into the forest. Poe felt the water soak through his socks in seconds and couldn’t help but agree with your angry reaction back in the Cantina. Careless or intentional, Dario had all but ensured Poe and you would be on the run until you could get off of this planet and escape in hyperspace. And he had wet socks to top it all off.

“It’s open!” You called out, glancing up from the dining table where you were sealing the last few boxes of your mothers' things, to see Tahla Martell standing in your doorway. “Hey, Tahla.” You said warmly, moving to greet him in the hallway.

“Hi kid,” He replied, pulling you in for a hug, “I know you’re leaving first thing and you already said your goodbyes to us all, but I didn’t want you to be alone on your last night on Yavin-4.” He held up a covered dish that you caught the scent of, his mother's lasagna.

Warmth spread through you at his kind gesture, “Tahla, that’s so sweet of you,” You had to clear your throat, blinking back tears.

It had been a rough few months since your mother had passed, the house you’d lived in with her for over a year without Charlie and Poe seeming far too big now with just you wondering the lonely hallways. Packing things into storage was at least somewhat therapeutic, and you were keeping the house, but you knew you wouldn’t be visiting anytime soon. It just felt wrong to sell it until you saw Charlie in person and discussed the options.

And you felt a little guilty too, with how excited you were to be headed to the Resistance base the next morning. You’d be seeing your brother and Poe again after two years apart and you couldn’t wait. The fact that your friend understood your mixed emotions and shown up with dinner was...beyond appreciated. Tahla had always been good to you, even when you were younger and Poe had caught you kissing and punched him for it. He hadn’t done anything other than saying he’d prefer to be friends and a friend he’d remained all of this time.

“Are you hungry now?” He asked, and you nodded before moving to the kitchen and realizing you packed up all the plates. Tahla followed you, placing the food onto the table.

“Uh, you okay with eating straight from the dish? I think I have some forks...” You glanced around and spotted the box with cutlery, popping it open and pulling out utensils. Tahla laughed and sat at the kitchen table, taking the cover off of the food. You joined him, moving your chair close and passing him a fork before you both dug in.

You ate in comfortable silence, eating your fill and then sitting back in your seat and pushing the rest toward Tahla while you held your full stomach in content. You looked around the bare kitchen, another wave of nostalgia and emotion bubbling up.

“It feels sadder because it’s not how you pictured it,” Tahla said, breaking into your thoughts. You looked up at him, confused, and he clarified. “You were supposed to be leaving while your mom fussed over you and promised you she’d spend all of her free time with my mom, that she wouldn’t be lonely. She was supposed to take you to the flight dock and wave at you when you boarded, tell you to give Charlie and Poe hugs from her. It’s okay to be sad about how it is instead.”

Emotion swelled again and you nodded because he was right. Your mother was supposed to be here, you were the one that was leaving her, it shouldn’t have been this twisted version, where she left you by way of a sudden and fatal heart attack as you shopped the market together one morning several months before. Tahla and his mother had been at the market as well, a few booths away haggling when they’d heard you screaming, and Tahla had had to pull you away from your mother’s still, peaceful-looking body as his mother checked her pulse and called for Healers. He’d held you for hours, eventually bringing you home, only leaving when you insisted he could come back first thing in the morning.

You ducked your head down as tears spilled onto your cheeks, ashamed to be crying in front of Tahla. He put down his fork and shuffled closer, pulling you in for a gentle hug, patting your back, “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to upset you, I could just tell-”

“No, you’re right,” You interrupted, pulling back only slightly and wiping a hand across your face, “Y-you understand, and I’m grateful. You’ve always been an amazing friend. I’m going to miss you, you know.” You tried for a small smile, and he returned it with his warm one. You sighed, “I just wish I was leaving this place...my home, with better memories. Alone for the last few months, packing things up, sorting out mom’s will, it’s not how I pictured it.”

Tahla nodded in understanding, “I’d tell you to focus on the fact you’re seeing Charlie and Poe, but I know it doesn’t help with this part.”

“I appreciate it all the same, Tahla,” And you leaned back in to hug him again, knowing he’d probably be leaving in a few minutes and wanting to enjoy the last moments of peace before you were alone in this whole house again. “This is a good memory, though, so thank you.”

He chuckled, the vibrations moving you as you leaned into his chest, “I know the lasagna makes it seem like mom sent me over, but I was planning on stopping by either way,” He admitted, his eyes finding yours again when you leaned back. “Didn’t seem right to let (y/n) Horn fly away from home without a proper goodbye, and by that I mean I selfishly wanted to be the last person you saw.”

You quirked a brow at his joke, Tahla was always ready to flirt with you, “Oh yeah? Well, I’m glad you did.” And while your words were light, the tone of voice you used surprised even you, coming out a little more sultry than either of you expected.

You saw Tahla swallow in surprise, his wide eyes flicking from yours, then down to your lips as you wet them. Boldly deciding to go for it because he was your friend and it was your last night at home and he was handsome and kind and sweet-

Tahla closed the distance, pressing his lips to yours and you moaned in response, gripping his shirt. Opening your mouth to deepen the kiss, you smiled because you both tasted like lasagna. Beneath that, though, you could taste the warm, masculine undertones of Tahla Martell, and based on the low rumble in his chest and the way his hands tightened on your waist, he could taste you as well.

It was kind of like one of your books, how you ended up in your bedroom down the hall, clothing stripped as you moved together until you were hitting the bed and he was pulling away from your mouth to move his lips down your bare body. The sun was low now, casting your room in a gentle golden glow and for the first time in some time, you were feeling something other than grief and loneliness in your bed.

The fact that it was with your friend Tahla...while you’d admit you had always imagined your first time with someone different, you had accepted a long time ago that it wouldn’t happen that way. He was older and more experienced and had spent two years worlds away and free to do whatever he wanted. And Tahla had always been your close and trusted friend, he’d been there for you before your mother died and since, and now he was moving his lips and tongue across your most sensitive areas like he couldn’t imagine a better way to be spending his time.

The empty house was filled with your cries and moans as Tahla, who admitted it wasn’t his first time, brought you to the edge and over several times with just his mouth and fingers before he climbed up your body and kissed you again. You moaned, tasting yourself on him, surprised at how turned on that made you, and then almost cried when he moved back and told you that you could stop here if you wanted, that it didn’t need to go any further but he would still stay the night, wouldn’t leave you alone.

You had intended to go all the way the moment he’d literally lifted you from your chair in the kitchen, but now you pulled him to you with a renewed sense of longing, telling him you trusted him, that you needed him. He didn’t to be told twice, his eyes searching yours one moment, then dropping down between your bodies as he glided his cock through your wet folds. He sighed your name when he pushed in, filling you slowly but entirely before stopping and allowing you to adjust to his considerable size. It hadn’t hurt as much as you’d feared, but the sharp sting was still enough to have your eyes pricking, and he leaned forward and peppered you with soft kisses and kind words, encouraging you to voice what you needed and tell him if anything was too much.

It had surprised you both when the pain had ebbed away and you were suddenly rolling your hips eagerly. Tahla recovered and braced his elbows on the bed and began a hard pace that had you practically begging for more, unrelenting even as you came around him. He grunted as he neared his orgasm, his pace slowing to draw the pleasure out as long as you both could stand. He let you roll him onto his back and ride him at an almost lazy pace, his eyes never shutting, even when you found just the right angle to draw the deepest groans from him, intent on watching your face. He’d seemed almost in awe of you like he couldn’t believe what was happening even though it had been...well, the sun had set so going on just over an hour, you had realized.

When you came again as you rode him and his name tore from your lips, Tahla went over the edge with you. He had grabbed your hips and held you down when he came, your name mixing with curses as he filled you.

And then you’d let yourself fall forward and shift, felt him slide out of you before cuddling in and realizing that he meant what he said, that he wasn't going anywhere. He even kissed you again between whispering his promises to remain, his praise over how good it felt to be with you.

You think you loved him a little then, but at the same time, you couldn’t help but think of how he’d done a good job replacing the man you’d pictured having your first time with and you knew that it was a good thing this had happened on the eve of your departure. You could love Tahla Martell but never fall in love with him.

Tahla woke with you in the morning, helped you gather your things, promised to check in on the place occasionally. And then he drove you to the flight dock, where he waved you off with a promise to see you again someday. His smile a little sadder but genuine and filled with enough affection to have you run back for one last hug goodbye, one last kiss on the cheek and a final thank you for being everything you had needed without even knowing.

“This is cozy, really very cozy,” Poe grumbled from where he sat on the cold ground of a small-make that, minuscule, cave that you’d found after several hours of hiking through the forest stream. “Just enough room to stretch out and feel the ache in every part of my body.”

You hummed in reply, rifling through the backpack you’d had strapped on during the journey. “I can only feel the blisters on my feet, everything else is nothing compared to those.”

Poe grunted in agreement, glancing down at his now bare feet. They were reddened and bloody from sloshing through the water for so long in cheap boots. “Think I’ll be fighting you on who gets to take out Dario now, sweetheart.” You laughed tiredly in response.

You were settled on the ground in front of him, pulling out items from the pack now; food rations, water, and a medical kit. He’d put a small light on, the glow barely casting, just enough to see each other. Poe watched you kick off your shoes and then peel off your socks, setting them aside with Poe’s to dry, before tearing open your ration and taking a bite. Plucking his ration from your extended hand, Poe copied you and together you ate in silence, the meal brief but filling. His eyes were already starting to droop, the busy day catching up to him.

You pulled out some small bacta patches from the medical kit and pointed to his feet, “I’ll do yours if you do mine,” You smiled, and he chuckled lowly, nodding.

You held out your hand for his feet and he carefully adjusted his legs to plop them into your lap, reclining back on his hands. He watched you work, tugging the light closer to see his blisters better and place patches over each one, which instantly eased the discomfort. When you finished, you squeezed his leg before pulling out a cleaning wipe and working it over your hands. You glanced up very suddenly, catching Poe as he watched you.

He held your gaze, wishing he could read your mind. He could tell you were equally as annoyed with the way the mission had turned out as he was, that you were relaxed over the current predicament because you’d both escaped the close reach of the First Order plenty of times before. You were tired, too, but there was something else about the way you looked at him that sent heat up his back, and he felt grateful again for the freedom from the pollen-now he knew his reactions to you were genuine, and he felt the depths for which they went, the intensity, the rightness of it all.

“I feel like we’re thinking the same thing right now,” You surprised him by saying, passing him a package of patches, then switching places to rest your feet in his lap instead. Poe caught your feet in his hands deftly.

“What’s that?”

You tilted your head, a small smile tugging your lips upward, “That it’s nice to be around each other without any other bullshit affecting us-pollen or anger, I mean.” Poe wasn’t sure if it was your intent or not, but something about the tone of your voice had him flushing, and he returned your smile quickly before dropping his gaze to your feet.

He set to work, wanting to laugh at how small your feet were, before replying, “I was thinking that, yes,” He admitted, carefully placing the patches on your blisters. “It’s nice...nice to know what I’m feeling is real, now.”

“Yeah, it sure does,” You agreed softly, sighing a little when he placed the final patch over a particularly nasty-looking wound. You tossed him a wipe and he cleaned off his hands as he moved his eyes from your feet to your face. “Thank you.” You added, wiggling your toes happily.

Pulling your feet from his lap, you returned to rummaging in your backpack, first finding a couple of pairs of clean, dry socks for you each to put on. You then pulled out two thin, rolled-up blankets. Poe sighed, “I’m guessing you don’t have a couple of comfortable fold-out cots in there, Major?” He teased, and you giggled while shaking your head.

“Just some lovely, extra scratchy cameo blankets, Commander,” You passed him one of the pitiful little blankets. They were made of a material mixture that worked to confuse heat signature detection more than they provided any warmth or comfort, but they were better than nothing. That’s what he told himself, anyway.

It took no time at all to prepare to sleep, though as Poe shifted around on the hard ground he wondered exactly how he would achieve it. Usually, he was content to pop a jacket under his head, but the planet was warm enough this time of year that you’d only packed a couple of very thin raincoats as a precaution. You clicked off the light and laid next to him, a few inches separating your bodies as you tucked yourselves into your blankets and tried to get comfortable.

It was maybe three minutes later, staring into the pitch black, the Poe gathered the courage to throw out a suggestion. “Proposal...” He spoke softly into the darkness and heard your head turn toward him.

“Go on then,” You replied, though he could sense you had probably guessed what he was going to say, seeing as you were no doubt as uncomfortable laying flat on the rocky ground.

“How about we roll your blanket into a makeshift pillow, you come here and share mine, and we actually get some rest?”

Instead of replying he heard you sit up and felt a brush of air across his face from you lifting your blanket to straighten it and roll. Now that he’d offered up the idea, however, Poe tensed slightly at the realization that he was moments away from holding you in his arms. He felt his face grow warm and felt grateful for the impenetrable darkness the cramped cave provided.

“Lift,” You said at the same moment your hand found his head, tapping. He raised his head and you slid the rolled blanket underneath, providing immediate relief. Poe slowly reached out for you, hesitating when he found your back, then curling it around you when you shuffled into his side and laid against him. After a moment, your head dropped down onto his chest, though your body was almost rigid against his. Another instance where the ability to read your mind would come in handy.

“Relax, sweetheart,” He murmured, turning his head and pressing his lips to your hair. He adjusted the blanket, ensuring it covered you both, then rested his hand on your hip. He thought you might not listen, you still seemed frozen against him, but Poe was smiling a moment later when he felt your entire body melt into the side of his before your hand came to rest over his heart. The position was so familiar, a lifetime of nights together growing up just like this, that he almost couldn’t bear it. “That’s it, sweet girl, get some sleep.”

He couldn’t have said what happened after that, because you both very promptly fell asleep, warm and safe in one another’s arms. Despite being on the cool, hard ground in a cave in the forests of Takodana, hiding from the First Order, Poe had one hell of a good sleep that night.

—

You were staring through a gap in the trees towards the shipyard outside of Maz Kanata’s castle, sitting entirely still in the morning light that filtered through the trees as you surveilled for any sign of First Order troops. You’d bee on watch for twenty minutes while Poe ran around the perimeter, and you were on edge. You didn’t like having to separate, afraid if one of you was captured you’d be less likely to get away without backup, but there was nothing to be done for it.

You might also be a little worked up from spending the night wrapped in Poe’s arms, but you weren’t focusing on the right now. You definitely weren’t fixating on the way he’d spoken to you to encourage you to relax, nor of how he’d called you ‘sweet girl’ and seemed unaware of the effect that had on you. And you certainly were not remembering how, upon waking up at dawn and enough light came into the cave, you had realized how wrapped around one another you were. At some point in the night, you’d both shifted, legs tangled and Poe’s head nuzzled into your neck, an arm wrapped over your body in a way that made you feel safe at the same time revealing how small you felt compared to his broad, muscular frame.

But most of all, you were absolutely not thinking about how Poe had woken up moments after you, lifted his head to peer down at you with heavy-lidded eyes, and then just held your gaze with an unreadable expression on his face that had left you breathless. It was like he’d pinned you to the floor with that fucking look, and you weren’t sure if it was a minute or an hour before your comm alarm went off, indicating an incoming message, and you tore your eyes away to read the message from Jess, who’d managed to send through that it was safe to return to your ship.

In fact, you were so focused on your mission, so completely not obsessing over the last twenty hours, that you were not at all surprised when Poe suddenly appeared at your side, panting slightly from his run.

He saw you jump in surprise. “Did I scare you?” He joked, and you grumbled in response, though this was worse than denying it outright and he started to laugh, before pointing ahead to the pathway “We can take that, head straight for the ship, everything is clear ahead.”

Click.

All it took was the sound of a blaster’s safety clicking off for Poe to grab you and whirl, shielding you completely from the enemy who had snuck up on your six. It took a second for you to steady yourself, then you had to peer carefully around his shoulder to see who it was. The familiar green form stood a few feet away with a grimace, pointing a fairly old-looking blaster directly at you and Poe.

“Dario, you fucking-“ You snarled, attempting to move around Poe but his arm shot back and held you behind him with surprising strength, and you stilled.

“I know, I know,” Dario drawled, unmoving, “Honestly, I had no plans to do this but the First Order put a pretty decent reward out for whoever manages to capture you two. Figured I could get back into their good graces, clear my ledger, you know how it is honey.”

Poe had left his hand resting at your hip, and at Dario’s words, his grip tightened. You were pressed against his back and could feel the tension, the coil in his muscles ready to snap. “Buddy, you do not want to try this. Handing us over to the First Order only puts a massive target on your head-and the Resistance doesn’t play games when it comes to betrayal.” His words were laced with venom, his voice low.

You’d seen Poe like this only a few times in your life because usually when it came to being cornered by enemies he was cocky, mouthing off to distract until he could come up with a plan. Today, however, Poe was almost frightening to you, his focused rage as intense as it was. You pressed a hand into his back, just to do something to calm him-this was one Twi’lek, surely you could take him before he called for back up, when your hand brushed over something hard.

His blaster.

Yours was at your hip, and you knew it was too risky to go for it with Dario pointing his own at Poe’s heart. You wouldn’t even attempt it, however, the blaster tucked into the back of his pants, hidden beneath his shirt, was more than ideal. You just had to time it right.

“Look, I’m more sorry than anyone that it’s come to this. But you two are valuable, did you know that? I certainly didn’t,” Dario took a half step closer, his eyes moving from yours, where you were still peeking from around Poe, and then up to Poe’s, “I will do you one favour though. I won’t tell them how close you are; hopefully, that’ll keep them from torturing you in front of one another-“

Your temper flared again, “They wouldn’t get anything out of us regardless, Dario, that’s why this is fruitless. You hand us over and you’re only letting us die!” As you spoke, you dropped your hand to pull Poe’s shirt from his pants, sliding your hand underneath to grip the blaster.

“Don’t,” Poe said firmly, his eyes still on Dario. You knew it was a command for you, and you hesitated.

Dario sighed, “I have to, and I’m sorry about this but I’ll have to shoot you, big guy because I can’t risk things getting physical,” He lowered the blaster to aim for Poe’s leg, “I hear the First Order have excellent medical staff, so-“

You felt Poe’s grip on your arm adjust, and realized he was going to try and throw you out of harm’s way and take the shot. Now, you didn’t hesitate, pulling the blaster out, clicking the safety off and aiming it at Dario’s head before he realized what was happening. With no other choice, Poe let you go as you stepped from behind him.

“That’s good, you’re going to need them.” You seethed, watching in amusement as Dario tightened his hold on his blaster, gritting his teeth to outgun you. He didn’t stand a chance. You shot his arm first, forcing him to drop his weapon, and then fired two more shots; one to the opposite shoulder, and one to the leg. He cried out in agony and you marched forward, flipping the blaster in your hand to grip the heated shaft, and drove the blunt end into the side of his head.

Dario sagged to the ground, unconscious.

“Well, I’ll hand that one to you,” Poe spoke from behind you, and you glanced around to find him watching you, hands on his hips, smirking in a way that didn’t meet his eyes. “Even if you did ignore my order.”

With a sigh, you held out his blaster for him, watching his jaw clench as he took it from you. “You put that in the report. And I’ll put in the part where you shoved me behind you,” You quipped, quirking a brow at him. He knew it wasn’t protocol for him to have protected you like that, and as much as you were touched and your heart was racing over how instantaneously he had reacted to ensure you were safe, you weren’t going to let him chew you out for doing the same. “Now can we leave this fucking forest, flyboy, or do you want to punish me first?”

You hadn’t meant the words to come out so...charged. You were worked up, still reeling a little over the fact that Poe was almost shot, and you wanted to leave before anything else happened. He had been watching you like he expected your initial remarks calling him out for the break in protocol, seemingly amused. You weren’t sure what he was going to shoot back at you, and you didn’t find out because the moment you tacked on the last line, his expression went blank and he simply stared at you for a very long moment.

You couldn’t look away from him, despite the heat crawling up your neck from embarrassment. You weren’t even sure where the words had come from, because they were enormously similar to how you and Poe used to speak to one another, teasingly, but you’d said it with so much more attitude. Like you were flirting without caution, and it caught him entirely off guard. You wished you could read his mind, as his eyes, now brighter than you’d seen them in a while, searchd your face.

“Let’s...let’s go,” He finally looked away, his eyes flicking around the forest, then to the still unconscious Dario, and then to his blaster. You weren’t sure, but you thought his voice came out a little more husky than usual, and heat pooled in your core as you briefly wondered what being punished by Poe Dameron would feel like.

Poe stood under the hot water, eyes closed, replaying the last few days in his head. His fresher was one of the few places he could be completely alone and he was taking advantage of a quiet afternoon to himself.

After returning from Takodana that morning, he had taken the intel from you to give to BB8 to begin decryption, and you had gone off to begin working on your mission report. Usually, you did this right in the hangar, but today you’d given him a shy smile, and then marched off. He hadn’t seen you since, though he was sure he would find you in the dining hall for dinner.

He was worked up from the mission, that much he knew for sure. It hadn’t gone as planned-when did they ever?-but he was, well, fucking impressed with you. You’d always been something else when it came to being pinned in a corner, though thankfully he’d only seen it a couple of times. But today you had been like a warrior goddess, shooting Dario without even a tremble in your finger and then knocking him unconscious like it was an afterthought. You made it all look easy.

He tried to admonish you just a little for ignoring him, but you had been right that he wasn’t one to talk about breaking protocol. And then you hit him with that flirtatious little line, wetting your fucking lips as you said it, appearing a little shocked at your boldness. He’d had to force himself to go blank, fearing your ability to read him like a book, while he watched you squirm under his gaze.

That pollen had nothing, nothing, on you. An innocent remark from you and he was bulldozed, ready to drop to his knees and tell you he’d give you whatever you wanted, needed, even if he had to fly across the galaxy for it. And you had no idea, he could see that you just didn’t know how much of a hold you had on him, on his heart. Poe had gone back to the med bay the other day, before the mission, and confirmed twice over with Tahla and his team that he was clear of all toxins because his feelings were so intense.

And he’d realized that what he was feeling was so much more real and right compared to the foggy desire that the pollen had caused. And he knew now, after watching you in action in the cantina, and then as you found a safe spot to hide for the night, and certainly in the morning when he’d woken up wrapped around you and gazed into your sleepy eyes, that he loved you.

That he was in love with you.

There was no one else.

And there never would be, because you were his soulmate.

Stepping out of the shower, Poe dried off and began dressing. His mind was flipping through old memories, some from when you were kids, others from after you’d joined the Resistance, each of them evidence to support his realization. He was fastening his trousers when a knock sounded at his door, and he wandered over and hit the release button without thinking, so lost in thought as he was.

“Hey, Poe, sorry I...uh...” You faltered, wide eyes falling comically down his bare torso before snapping up to look somewhere above his eyebrows. Your voice came out almost in a squeak, “Just seeing if you wanted to get dinner.”

Seeing you get flustered looking at him made Poe sweat. He stepped away from you and went to his dresser, pulling out a black tee. “Sounds good,” He replied slowly, then glanced back over at you and grinned. “You want me to throw some cold water on you, sweetheart?”

His joking had the desired effect, instantly clearing the tension from the room. You laughed, rolling your eyes. “I’ll be fine, flyboy.”

“I don’t know, I recall a day at the river a long time ago, pulling off my shirt and then you falling out of a tree...”

You scoffed, then stuttered, stepping into Poe’s room, “I-that’s not, I was talking to someone. It wasn’t because of-Uhg!” You flipped him the bird then, unable to form a clear sentence in Basic. Poe was laughing, enjoying the teasing banter as he walked over to his desk and picked up his wrist comm, glancing at the time.

When he looked back up, expecting to see you still laughing shyly, he was surprised to find you frozen, eyes glued onto something over his shoulder. His brows came together in concern, “What’s up?” He looked around, following your sightline.

At first, he was momentarily confused because you were looking at his corkboard. But when his eyes fell to the picture of you, Charlie and him he realized you didn’t know he had it. He’d seen it in your room a while ago and had almost started sobbing on the spot. But you hadn’t come to Poe’s room before this.

Poe turned around to find you with a watery smile, your gaze fixed on him in an intensely affectionate way. “You kept that all these years?” You sounded winded, eyes locked on his. Poe swallowed, nodding, and felt himself blush.

He couldn’t look away if he wanted to.

He didn’t want to, though. He was pretty certain he could remain on this spot in his room as he burned under your gaze for the rest of his life. A million questions formed in his mind and he didn’t know where to start, what to say first.

The silence was broken by the sounds of footsteps in the hall. Pulling both of you out of the moment to look around at Poe’s still open door. Tahla appeared then, breaking into a grin when he saw you both. “Hi! Glad I caught you both, I was hoping to join you for dinner?” He stopped in the doorway politely.

As disappointment washed through him, Poe relaxed his stance and tossed Tahla a grin, “And here (y/n) was asking me to dinner too, I’m more popular than I thought!” You giggled, shaking your head in amusement, but Poe could see you bite your lip when you glanced back at him.

He thought maybe Tahla was giving you both a knowing look, but it slid off his face when you turned to walk out of Poe’s room. Grateful for his lack of comment, Poe clapped Tahla’s shoulder once in step with him in the hallway, and his old friend winked at him in response.

—

34 ABY

Poe knocked on the door of General Organa’s private quarters, repeating the motion desperately until it finally slid open and he burst through, eyes searching until they landed on Leia. She gave him a knowing look like she’d been expecting him. Of course, she was, she knew what was at stake now.

“General,” He glanced around, confirming they were alone. “You know what I know. Please help me.” He didn’t care how desperate he sounded.

Leia sighed, nodding kindly, “Of course I will...but Commander, Poe, it’s not going to be easy. There’s always going to be danger-“

Poe rubbed a hand over his face, “I know, I know but I have to do something. Tell me the safest planet, and then I’ll go to Jakku, I’ll find Lor San Tekka. I’ll complete my mission.”

The General stood, her expression soft, “You won’t be able to-“

Poe shook his head, “I know.” His voice broke.

“Then I know just the place.”

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