#always closely followed by sexytimes

[davnittbraes]

gorl. i’m so excited for the next chapter of TWILE

Just took a break from editing because woooooo boy these two, once they start sharing secrets they just run with it 🥵

[desires-of-chain]

Sleepy and Divine

Finally back with the promised chronic pain/fatigue smut with Warriors! This has been my favourite to write so far - it turned out a lot softer and more tender than I had originally planned, and I'm super happy with it. Also very heavy on the worship kink which I will NOT apologise for. Who's gonna say no to receiving devoted love and attention from a handsome captain? Not me! I will slightly apologise for my blatant favouritism of the petname 'darling', which I only realised was a common thread through all of my fics about three quarters of the way through this one. It's just.... so good.

As with the other chronic pain fic, small psa for those not in the know: reader is aware of their own limits and both them and Warriors know how to handle anything changing - the sexytimes is informed. You do what you can with what you've been given, and sometimes that means having fun then sleeping the entire next day away lmao. Again, this is mentioned in its own way in the fic but I wanted to clarify. I also wrote this reader to be afab, but only the genitalia is described with any sort of gendered language, chest and pronouns left neutral.

With that all out of the way, onto the tender love making <;3

Content: AFAB reader, eating out, fingering, vaginal sex, Warriors' raging worship kink. Reader has chronic pain in their knees, chronic fatigue, and uses a cane.

Word count: 2776

----

The bright lights are starting to get too much. The ball has been at full swing all night, dancing and joyous conversation in celebration of a recent military victory that your group had a hand in. Drinks are aplenty, food abundant, everyone in finery to honour the heroes of the land. But after hours of polite conversation, congratulations, and quite a bit of dancing with Warriors, you're approaching the end of your rope.

You try to follow along with the conversation you're currently having despite the fogginess coming over your brain. The women had approached you a few minutes ago to congratulate, praising your ability to keep up with the famed Heroes of Hyrule all on your lonesome, raving about your rumoured unique form of magic never before seen, and generally cooing over your relationship with the Captain. They’re quite lovely, all things considered, eager to know your talents and happy that you make the Link of this time happy - who in their eyes is a savior that deserves everything good in the world.

Speaking of…

Warriors sidles up beside you with a gentle hand against your lower back and a charming “Sorry to interrupt, everyone.” He’s wearing a gorgeous military jacket in his signature green, cropped at the waist and paired with tight cream trousers. His scarf is around his shoulders like always, but it’s been cleaned and repaired with the utmost care - you wouldn’t be able to tell it was the same one he's worn into battle countless times. He's also wearing eyeliner.

You make eye contact, and his brilliant smile momentarily wipes all exhaustion away. The ladies coo again.

“The man of the hour, so wonderful of you to join us! Your darling here has been great company, telling us about all the things you've seen on your travels together. Lake Hylia sounds like a great date spot, if you ever return, I'd say.”

“That sounds like a great idea. Unfortunately though, as much as I'd like to stay and chat, I came here to steal my darling away for a spell, if you don't mind?” He hits the ladies with his award winning smile, the one you can tell is slightly fake but very convincing, and it works immediately. They shoo you off together with a teasing “Have fun, lovebirds!” and just like that, you're being led away from the crowds and into the surrounding corridors of the ballroom.

Finally out of the sight of everyone, you deflate, leaning more heavily on your cane and closing your eyes. Warriors pulls you into his side, arm wrapping properly around your waist to comfort instead of guide. When you look back up, Warriors is already looking at you.

“Let's find someplace more comfortable, yeah?”

With a nod, a gloved hand intertwines with your own, and Warriors leads you down the halls. You assume you're headed in the direction of the room you were both given, but you don't pay that much attention to the twists and turns. You let yourself drift, losing all focus on everything but the feeling of Warriors’ hand in yours. You trust him to lead you.

You do, actually, arrive at the bedroom you were given as esteemed guests of the Queen, and you leave your cane by the door to head for the bed immediately. Oh, ever since you saw it this morning, you'd been longingly thinking to it all day, unable to wait to sink into the clean sheets and soft pillows and sleep for twenty hours. You flop face first onto the bed, doing the littlest hop to ensure you get the most of your body onto the high mattress. Warriors laughs at you from the doorway. You ignore him in favour of sinking further in. The sheets smell so good…

There's a dip in the bed where Warriors takes a seat by your thighs dangling off the bed. You twist just enough to peer up at him and meet a look of contemplation.

“Y’know, the plan was to steal you away from the party so we could have a different type of fun, but you look rather exhausted.” He tucks a stray hair behind your ear. “We can just cuddle and go to sleep if that's more your speed right now. I'm happy either way.”

You think about it. You are very very tired, but it's been weeks since you and Warriors have had the opportunity to be intimate. And he'll inevitably be dragged off early tomorrow for a meeting or some other bullshit, even if you're allowed a lay in. You wiggle a bit, take stock of your body, roll onto your back. You're already passed your limit - the extra half hour of sleep you'd get now isn’t going to be the cure to your fatigue tomorrow.

“You’ll have to do all the work.” You mumble, watching his face light up like a puppy being given a treat. He leans over and cups your cheek, his face inches from yours.

“I don't mind that at all. You sure you're up for it?”

You nod.

Lips meet tenderly. He's slow, gentle and caring, taking his time. You've done this song and dance before, of Warriors slowly building you up, taking the lead, and it always begins with being kissed like you're the most sacred thing in the world. Hands soon find their way into your hair, gloves soft against your scalp and thumbs at your temple soothing. If it weren’t for the heat against your mouth and the gradual stirring in your lower stomach, you'd be convinced he's trying to coax you to sleep instead.

You reach up and tug his scarf, urging him to hurry up at least slightly, lest you actually fall asleep, and he pulls away from your lips hesitantly.

“What do you need?” He asks, tone almost reverent. You whine. “Relax, darling, I’m right here. What do you need?”

“If I relax any more I will start snoring.” You grumble, and he chuckles.

“Message received, loud and clear. Let's get you out of this stunning outfit.”

He urges you to sit up by the shoulders, and gets to work undressing you immediately. The horniness ramps up three levels when, after fumbling one too many times with a fastening, he decides to pull his gloves off with his teeth to get them out of the way. You stare dumbly as he pulls your garment off your shoulders, watching him take in the details of your bare chest.

“I'm gonna worship you tonight, I think.” He runs his fingers down the length of your torso, the first skin to skin contact all night, just to make you shiver. With the gentlest push to fall onto your back again, Warriors leans over you, and with that same reverence as earlier, “I want to place my touch on every inch of your body, either with my hands or my mouth - alight every part of you with my love. Will you let me?”

You stare up at him wide eyed. You're speechless, fogginess stealing every thought away, only the feeling of awe and love spreading throughout your entire body. Your shoulders involuntarily scrunch up to your ears. You manage a nod.

Warriors leans down and nuzzles his nose against yours. “You're so cute when you're sleepy.” His lips meet yours again, just as gentle as before, but his hands whisper against your arms and chest this time, tracing invisible shapes and cataloguing every angle, every curve. You can't help but shiver again. When his mouth moves down to your neck, you gasp and close your eyes.

Drifting in the bliss of it all is incredibly easy with your eyes closed. You feel like you're on a cloud, each point of contact sending you further and further into it. All focus goes to breathing while your senses are overwhelmed with how Warriors navigates your body, kissing from your shoulders down each arm, holding and massaging your palms before placing a kiss on those too. The whispered compliments against your chest a series of prayers, gentle and profound and so sincere.

He eventually arrives at your hips, other half of your clothes still yet to be taken off. He kneels on the ground and gets to work taking those off you too, nudging you to lift your hips, and soon enough you are completely bare in front of him.

He gives your legs the same treatment as your arms, slowly and tenderly moving up with his lips. When he gets to your knees, he takes even more care, ever so carefully holding each leg to relieve the most pressure and pain, murmuring against them something your ears can’t catch, but you feel all the same. Your thighs sufficiently caressed, Warriors finally arrives at where you need him the most.

You're already wet, and when he parts your folds with his fingers you squirm at his hot breath hitting your cunt. Warriors simply stares for a moment…

And with a whispered “thank you…” places his mouth on you.

The whole night had been building up to this - Warriors’ tongue swirling your clit, gently lapping up your slick as he continues caressing your thighs with his spare hand. You can't think at all, completely lost in the pleasure of his touch, moaning openly as his tongue pokes your entrance. His movements are maddeningly attentive, slow and gentle and pushing you higher and higher. He continues to mouth thanks and prayers into your cunt, like your orgasm will be a divine blessing upon him, and gods, it feels divine. You're close. When his free hand moves to push into you and open you up with deft fingers, you're closer.

You know once you orgasm now you’ll be done for the night, though, so you weave your hand into his hair and try to pull him away from you. He simply moans against your clit instead, vibrations shocking another wave of pleasure through you, bringing you dangerously close to the edge. You try again.

Warriors looks up at you with hooded eyes and a love drunk smile on his face. You can't help but cup his cheek, thumbing some of your own wetness off his bottom lip. You have his full undivided attention, kneeled on the floor at your feet, and it drives you mad with lust. You have no clue what to say, but the realisation that he's somehow still fully dressed sinks in, so instead of speaking, you unwrap his scarf from his shoulders and drape it over your own like a blanket. Then, your hands move to pull his jacket off, and he chuckles and begins helping.

“Sorry, I got so caught up in your body I forgot you probably want to see mine, too.” Heavy fabric slides off Warriors’ shoulders as he stands to take off his boots and trousers, all garments being discarded to the floor without a care. You keep your eyes trained on every revealed inch of skin, admiring each scar and line and curve. Especially the slope of his waist, which you pull him towards you via when he's finally as bare as you are.

Scooting back up the bed so he can properly kneel on it and truly cage you in, you pull him on top of you and into another kiss. The scarf pools around your body, bathing you in royal blue that feels like a hug, and when Warriors reaches down to push his fingers back into your hole, you clench at it with your fists desperately.

“You're so beautiful…” Warriors gazes down at you with nothing but adoration. You look up at him and think the exact same thing. Words are not working for you right now, but you vow to say everything back to him tenfold as soon as you can. For now, you run your hands across his chest and hope he understands.

Three fingers full and getting close once more, you squirm and buck your hips into Warriors’ hand. When he pulls them out and leans over to fetch something from the bedside table, you whine.

“Just a few more moments, darling, then I'll give you what you need.”

He returns with a jar of lube, and begins prepping himself. He's been untouched this entire time, head red and dripping precum, and when he finally touches himself his face scrunches up in pleasure. The shaky exhale of his breath lights fireworks in your brain.

Sufficiently prepped, Warriors lines his cock up with your entrance. Your legs gently encircle his hips and you look up at him with pleading, desperate eyes.

He pushes in, and you see stars.

He's just as tender and gentle as he has been this entire time, curling around you and pushing slowly in, filling you up with his cock like he's afraid to hurt you. One hand is on your knee - the one that tends to give you the most trouble - and is holding it against his waist gently to make sure it isn't jostled. Compliment after compliment is falling out of his lips, praise like a prayer, a keen for your happiness. Gorgeous, stunning, beautiful, light of my life, they coat you in a blanket of love, simultaneously spreading from his lips, and where your bodies connect.

When he's finally filled you to the brim, his forehead meets the sheets next to your head. He groans as you clench around him.

“My god, I love you.” Warriors murmurs into your ear, and your brain cannot tell if it was simply an expression of gratitude and feeling, or if he was calling you his god.

“I love you too…” you whisper back, awestruck.

Warriors picks himself back up to make eye contact when he starts moving. The thrusts are slow, deep, intent on making you feel every drag and sensation inside you. His forearms bracket your head, hands weaved through your hair while you clench his scarf and tremble as waves of ecstasy spread through your body. The contact is overwhelming, the attentiveness of his hands and hips and mouth as he kisses your lips and jaw - you're so close.

He reaches down and rubs your clit.

“Cum for me, my love. Bless me with it. I want to feel you.”

What feels like divine heat and pleasure shock through your entire body as you orgasm. Warriors speeds up his thrusts slightly, caught up in you clenching around him and losing himself to it too, before pushing all the way in and truly filling you up. You twitch and fidget beneath him, trying to extend the feeling as long as possible. Pure love through your veins.

His head comes back down to rest next to yours, panting heavy in your ear as you come down from the high. You shakily bring your arms up - hands still gripped in the scarf - and encircle him in a hug.

In the wake of the high, fatigue returns. As does the ache of your body. With Warriors’ comforting weight on top of you, drifting into sleep is tantilisingly easy. Even when he picks himself up, knocking your arms to the bed, and begins cleaning you both up, that fog remains, pulling you down to dreamland.

You move at Warriors’ prompting just enough to crawl into bed with him properly, then you're out like a light in his arms.

~~~

You wake to an empty bed and shuffling. Groggily opening your eyes, you see the slightest peek of early morning light through the gap in the curtains, as well as Warriors getting dressed in his usual tunic. You can tell it’s early, too early, and just like you predicted your love is being stolen away by duty. When he spots you awake, he smiles and sits on the edge of the bed next to you.

“Morning, sunshine. How are you feeling?”

You take a moment to assess. Still just as tired as last night, a bit achy and stiff all over. So, not the best.

“Bad.” You mumble. Warriors cards his fingers through your hair sympathetically.

“I have to go do boring work, but you can sleep all you want. I’ll get you some food sent up?”

“That sounds nice. Thank you.”

“Of course.”

Warriors leans down and kisses you on the forehead, before finishing up with getting ready. You watch him from the bed, slowly stretching yourself out and getting comfortable for a great pre-breakfast nap. Just as he reaches the door, you call out to him.

“Link?”

He turns to look back at you.

“Please let me return the favour for last night sometime soon. You deserve all that you gave me, tenfold.”

“There’s no favour owed, but I would love that. For now though, just rest. Dream of me?” Warriors winks playfully. You laugh.

“Always.”

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

*bangs on a pot with a spoon* COME GET Y'ALL'S MEAL

🧙 anon strikes once more!

[sweetfirebird]

A Star for Trenne's Own

This is for Djaz/Seren on Patreon, who wanted some Taji and Trenne, something happy and maybe spicy if possible.

Content tags: post and pre-sexytimes. Taji mid-longing at the height of his shehzha-ness. Spoilers for Taji from Beyond the Rings. Alien genitalia (though really described much here.)

A Star for Trenne's Own

Taji flung his arms and legs outward on the soft sheets of his big bed and stretched, trying and failing to remember that though he currently felt no pain, his prosthetic issues were still there. The bedding was freshly changed. Taji had no real thoughts to spare for whoever had been collecting their laundry except to wish them well and maybe thank them some day whenever he left this room again.

He frowned fleetingly at the idea of moving from this room, from this bed, and rolled over to press his shoulders against sweet-smelling pillows and spread his legs in sensual delight. His skin was scrubbed and clean, oil massaged in by Trenne himself, gently urging Taji this way and that, finally allowing Taji to lick at his pussy and suck his cock in exchange for Taji’s stillness while he made sure all of Taji’s skin was moisturized and soft.

Then he’d placed Taji on the bed to rest so he could quickly clean himself before returning to the bedroom. He put a protein bar in Taji’s hand. Taji meant to glare at him for it, but he looked up and was immediately distracted by Trenne’s lovely, delicate eyes. So big and so deadly when he needed to be, but so delicate.

“Eat, peha.” Trenne said that because he was clever and wonderful and knew it would make Taji eat, at least a little.

“Trenne,” Taji sighed back at him, but took a horrible, dry, crunchy bite of something that wasn’t his eshe. The crunchy ones were his favorite, Trenne would say if Taji complained. His ears would dip down. He would worry. Taji took another bite and even chewed and swallowed it, but only to please him. “Why are you so pretty?” he complained, disliking the sensation of crumbs on their bed and turning to sweep them away.

He turned back in time to catch Trenne’s ears twitching the way they always did when Taji paid him compliments. “So strong,” Taji went on breathlessly, not teasing although he’d meant to. “With markings I want to kiss. Will you let me kiss them next, eshe? Ah twitch twitch go your ears now. You’re lovely. Trenne,” Taji caught himself whining and at least cut that much off. He dutifully crunched away at the awful food Trenne wanted him to eat and hummed when Trenne’s eyes would meet his.

Trenne stood at the end of the bed, too far away, checking his DD for news and updates from the others. That was important. Taji tried to remember that.

“So smart,” he sighed this as well. “Clever and brave. They’re counting on you even now. You must be tired. Are you tired, Trenne? Come here and rest with me.”

“Water now,” Trenne said, not asking and also not climbing on the bed with Taji to rest or anything. He took the wrapper of the protein bar away and replaced it with a cup, and stood there, ears forward and attentive, while Taji frowned but drank the water.

Trenne stepped away seconds later, dealing with the wrapper and cup.

“I’m such a bother,” Taji realized, vaguely certain he’d realized this before and suddenly, impossibly tired. His bones were heavy. He could barely follow Trenne’s path around the room. “So much work for you when you’re already tired. I’m sorry.”

Trenne’s ears went to the side and then flattened. He looked at Taji directly, then came closer to the bed to cup Taji’s jaw. “It is my honor.” He brushed a tingling, sensitive space beneath Taji’s ear and then did the same to Taji’s mouth. “And it is pleasant work.”

Taji was basking in warmth and lighter than air. He smiled.

Trenne’s ears came back up. “Rest, peha. I will not leave.”

Rest did not sound fun with him close enough, naked from his shower and still damp while touching Taji. But he picked up the DD and began to skim the information again, petting Taji as he did. Taji pressed into his roughly, textured palm and let his eyes close. He had to be patient. The information was important. Trenne was eshe but they did not have soldiers to spare. He still had to be sharp.

Trenne could be patient. Remarkably so. He was Sha and not human and could come many times without ejaculating. He did that for Taji when the longing was too much, and in the meantime, answered Taji’s begging by letting Taji use him like a toy, stimulating him on his cock until Taji was a pitiful, shivering wreck and only then giving him a taste.

Sometimes, in odd moments when Taji was suddenly aware again, he worried over Trenne putting in all this work to please him while also still working to protect everyone else. He thought of that now and didn’t whine or plead or beckon Trenne to the bed. But he opened his eyes to watch him and the tiny movements of his ears as he absorbed whatever the others had to tell him.

It was good that he wasn’t distracted like Taji was. If Taji had been Shavian too, Trenne would have to fight the longing. But he had probably wanted that, when he’d dreamed of this in his youth. Now he’d never know it because Taji couldn’t give him that.

He exhaled mournfully.

“So soon?” Trenne looked down to ask, a question that didn’t quite make sense.

Taji gazed up to his still face and concerned ears. “You’re so good. My eshe.” He shivered a little and pressed his face hard into Trenne’s palm until Trenne began to lightly touch him again. “I’m more work. I can’t give you the longing. Not much of a…”

“Taji.” Trenne stopped him with a voice so firm that a hot pang went through Taji’s chest. Trenne stared down at him with the Sha version of wonder. “I believe myself fortunate that you cannot. They would judge me and they would be harsh if I gave in, even in the smallest ways. You as you are, Taji shehzha. A star for my own.”

Taji slid forward to put his face against Trenne’s thigh. “All of that and I…. I worried. In Laviias. If something happened to you and the longing would be as painful as they insisted it was. I didn’t know it then, so I believed…. I told—I told them I could live without you if I had to. That’s not very…”

“My wise shehzha.” Trenne stopped him again, one hand curved to Taji’s nape. “Clever Taji Ameyo. I would have you survive. Is that… not the answer I should give?”

His uncertainty cut through some of the warmth in Taji’s mind. He tipped his head back.

Trenne studied him with the quiet that spoke of worry. “Is it not what you want your eshe to want? I would have you survive.”

“Even if it meant another touching me?” Taji shook his head as he asked it. “I wouldn’t want it. If that had happened,” he kissed Trenne’s skin and curled his hand behind one knee, “I would imagine you,” he promised. He licked his lips and had to kiss Trenne again, shivering as he made his way up Trenne’s thigh.  He shifted to get closer, pulling Trenne toward his greedy, hungry, shehzha mouth. “I’d want this.” He used his fingers to part flesh and then his tongue to taste it before shifting to rise up higher. “Want you.” He found Trenne’s cock and sucked hard on one of the bumps that felt so good inside him. Trenne’s cock was just for him. He didn’t want some phantom eshe. “Only you.” He found a new spot to suck, but it still didn’t give him what he wanted. What he needed, hot and nutty-sweet in his mouth. “Please. Please Trenne.”

“Take what you please, peha,” he was told softly, Trenne’s palm sweeping over his shoulders and then down to help draw Taji up onto his knees. The DD was in his other hand. He needed to work and Taji should care about that and not only filling his mouth and getting Trenne to spill so much it fell to his cheek and then his chest and Taji would have to lick it from his fingers to be satisfied that he’d gotten it all.

“Trenne.” He dipped his head to find other secretions and slid his knees apart. No pain, just an open body meant to receive.

He glanced up.

Trenne took a deep breath, the one that meant he was fighting to focus. Taji kept his eyes open while lapping up what he could for now and then returned to Trenne’s cock.

“My shehzha, not yet,” Trenne told him, firm and strong and clever, the DD falling to the bed before his hands were on Taji to position him how they wanted. Taji was slick from before and open enough it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but Trenne pushing him down, pushing inside him slowly to give him so much that he whined and bit his lip and swallowed what little taste he’d had so far.

No one else would compare. Taji shifted back and dropped his head to moan open-mouthed for more. “Only Trenne,” he managed, a thrum in his blood, “only you.”

 “A star for my own,” Trenne answered, and began to move Taji how he pleased.

[flightlessangelwings]

More Than a Job ~ Part 2/2

Din Djarin x fem!reader (no use of y/n)

Word count: 3.9k

Warnings: smut (18+ ONLY!!), unprotected sex, bodyguard!Din, helmet comes off in the dark, switching dynamics, feelings, soft!Din, brief use of a knife

Notes: Thank you all so much for the amazing response to part 1!! The fic is tagged if you need to catch up on part 1! Bodyguard is my favorite trope so I’m glad y’all liked it as much as I did!! And here is the sexytimes and conclusion to this little story! Enjoy and let me know what you think!!

Feel free to also follow my update blog and turn on post notifs to stay up to date on when I post! @flightlessangelwings-updates​​​

~

Din couldn't keep his eyes off of you throughout the entire ceremony of your brother’s coronation. Part of him felt like it was still his job to watch over you, especially after the attack on your life the night before. But the bigger part watched you because he was simply captivated by you. The corset you wore accentuated your body perfectly and you were styled to perfection from head to toe. And the strength you carried within you only added to your beauty. 

This was supposed to be just a job, just a stepping stone to finding his lost clan. But now Din realized it was going to be very hard to say goodbye to you. Especially after that kiss you shared, he felt more connected to you than ever. And perhaps, he could make you part of his people one day… part of his family. Perhaps one day it would be you, him and Grogu together to face whatever the galaxy had in store for you all. The three of you against the universe. 

But for now, he would keep those thoughts to himself and just get through the rest of the day.

“Enjoying the party, Mando?” you asked as you gave him a playful nudge after the ceremony was over and everyone enjoyed the celebrations. The party lasted for what felt like forever, even long after the sun went down and moonlight instead illuminated the rooms.

He turned to you and tilted his helmet to the side slightly. Din seemed lost in thought for a moment before he answered you, “I supposed this means you’re safe now.”

Your face dropped; both of you knew what that meant. While Din was relieved that you weren’t in immediate danger anymore, it also meant his time with you was coming to an end. Memories of his goodbye to Grogu were still fresh in his mind, and though he told himself he wouldn’t get close to anyone else, you made your way through his beskar walls without even trying.

“Rion has more power now. He’s now officially the ruler of planet Mare,” you sounded distant as you watched your brother mingle with the others, “No one would dare make a move now.” Of course you knew that you and your brother still had a long road ahead of you, but it would be at least a little bit smoother now that he was in more control. And he had full support of the people, which made things a little easier too. 

But you had to admit to yourself that you would miss the watchful eye of the Mandalorian. Though you resisted at first, you grew fond of the shadow over your shoulder and he became more of a comfort than you knew. And after that moment you shared… that kiss… your heart sank as it dawned on you that this was your last night together.

“Hey Din,” you leaned in close so that only he could hear you, “You want to get out of here?” You weren’t sure if the drinks made you bolder, or the fact that this was your last night with him.

“Are you sure you’re not needed?” 

You heard the smirk in his voice and you mirrored what you pictured his face looked like with a grin of your own, “There’s only one person I need right now.”

Din grabbed onto your arm and squeezed tightly; he got the message.

Swiftly, the two of you slipped away from the party and made your way to the new bedroom you moved into after last night’s attack destroyed yours. Din always kept a watchful eye out, and out of habit, he still looked over his shoulder around every corner. But, the anticipation quickly built within him, and he never once released you from his grip as you led him back into privacy.

But the moment the door closed and you and Din were alone, nerves cept up on you. The intimate moment you shared flashed back in your mind as you stared across the room at the mirror you stood in front of when you kissed him. Heat rose through your skin as you suddenly weren’t sure what to do next.

Din murmured your name, which made you turn around and face him. His grip on your arm tightened as you felt the sudden desperation that flowed from his hand. You were safe with him, that you didn’t doubt for a second. And the way he held you only further confirmed it.

“Din…”

A sudden rush of movement cut off the rest of your thought as you felt his lips on yours in a flash. Your eyes snapped shut as you quickly became conscious of the fact that Din lifted his helmet just enough to expose his lips. Not wanting to break his trust, you closed your eyes and surrendered one of your senses to him as you parted your lips for him.

Strong arms wrapped around you as Din pulled you flush against his chest. Your hands rested on the cool beskar of his armor as you felt his eagerness in his grip. Din wasn’t a man of many words, but you quickly learned how he spoke through his body language, and the way he held you told you that he was just as desperate for you as you were for him. 

“Din,” you repeated his name more confidently as you broke away from the kiss for air.

“Hold on,” he whispered to you as he pulled away from you.

You suddenly felt cold as he left you in the middle of the room. You heard his footsteps, but you kept your eyes closed just in case. He didn’t tell you otherwise, so you decided to play it safer. As you listened, though, you heard a click of a lock and a flip of a switch. The light that one hit your face was suddenly gone, but you didn’t have time to dwell on that as another sound called your attention.

A thud.

When you felt Din’s presence in front of you once more, both of his bare hands cupped either side of your face, “It’s alright,” his voice was low yet soft, “I trust you.”

Din’s thumb brushed along your cheek in a soothing motion. When he whispered your name, you slowly blinked your eyes open. The room was pitch black, with only a sliver of moonlight to barely illuminate the edges. It was just enough to see his silhouette, but not his face.

Part of Din wanted you to see him, much like he allowed Grogu to see him. But, he held onto the hope that one day in the future, that would be a better possibility, so he decided to keep his creed intact to the best he could while also giving you the attention he wanted to. So, the cover of darkness it was. An equal playing field for both of you. 

And you were more than alright with that. In the dimmest light, all you could see was the fluff of his hair and the outline of his shoulders. While you felt his eyes on you, there was no way you could make out where they were exactly on his face or what color they were. As he turned his head to the side slightly, you saw the profile of his nose for a brief moment, but that was the most you got.

You reached out and felt the softness of his hair before you could stop yourself. Your fingers ran through the messy locks and you exhaled deeply at the feeling. But just as you were about to trace your fingers along the lines of his face, Din leaned in and kissed you again. This time, however, it was more heated… more desperate.

Just as you studied him under the pale moon glow, DIn took the opportunity to memorize every feature he could. He watched as your chest rose and fell with your breaths. He watched as you tilted your head to the side as you studied him, mirroring his motions to you. His vision was just as obstructed as yours, but Din imagined the look on your face and how beautiful you must look in the moonlight.

That was when his emotions crashed over him and he couldn’t hold himself back anymore. Din ran his hands up and down your sides, savoring every curve of your body under his touch. His tongue played with yours and he reveled in the taste of you. You were perfect, and everything he ever wanted. He only wished you could be his forever.

Perhaps one day.

But for now, all the two of you had was this one night. This last night together before Din left to pursue his own path and you went down yours. So in a wordless promise, you both cherished the limited time you had together while you still could.

As Din’s hands landed on your hips, he gently gilded you across the room and to the bed in the far corner. You buried your hands in his hair as you moaned into his mouth. It was surprisingly easy for you to surrender to Din, and it felt as if you had done it a thousand times before. Something about him just felt… right. And Din felt the exact same way about you.

Once you felt the back of your legs hit the bed, you moved your hands down and tugged at the beskar plate on his chest. Din released you just for a moment to help you and together the two of you broke the armor free from his body. You let out a hushed gasp when you reached out for his chest once more and felt the softness of his body instead of the hardness of the armor. His heart pounded underneath your palm, and you could tell from his ragged breathing that he was just as nervous as you were. 

A rush of emotions overtook you both at the same time, and you crashed your lips together while you each clawed at the other’s clothing. You tugged off the shoulder pauldrons then on the cloth that separated the beskar from his skin, and Din did his best to remove the corset that he so tenderly helped you tie earlier that day. 

Din broke away from you so you could lift his shirt over his head, and he let out a groan when you ran your hands across his bare chest. Shivers ran up his spine at the feeling of his bare skin against yours, and suddenly his pants felt tighter from the strain of his cock.

Eager to feel you as well, Din tried to pull at the strings of your corset, but to no avail. It was too complicated to remove in the dark, and with the emotions aptly blinding him, Din had no patience to try.

In the dark, you heard a flick of a knife, and you felt a cold tip of the blade against your skin before Din’s voice comforted you, “Are you fond of this?”

You heard the strain in his voice and you chortled softly, “Not at all.”

A rip ran through the air as Din sliced your corset in half from the back. You stayed perfectly still, trusting him completely to cut the clothing off of you without harming you at all. He didn’t even hold onto the knife; the moment DIn had cut your corset, he dropped it to the floor and pulled your top off with it.

You wrapped your arms around him the moment your breasts popped free and pulled him back towards the bed. He growled when he felt your bare chest against his while his weight suddenly shifted on top of yours. You were soft and warm underneath him, and Din was sure you looked just as beautiful lost in pleasure as you did while composed at the ceremony. 

He took your surrender with care. Din knew what a strong person you were, and how much strength it took to trust him like this. His lips found yours in the dark once more, and while the two of you stayed locked in a deep kiss, his hands ran down your chest and gave your breasts a firm squeeze.

Din swallowed the moan you let out as you arched your back into him. His large hands kneaded the soft flesh of your breasts, and Din savored the soft cries you let out when the rough pads of his fingers brushed against your nipples. 

Maker how he wished he could watch you better as he pleasured you.

“Din… Please…”

You bucked your hips against his as you felt his hardened length against your body. He let out a low groan as he mirrored your motion and rocked his hips against yours. Din’s clothed cock nudged your cunt, causing both of you to moan.

As you clawed at his back, Din felt a wave of desperation crash through his body and suddenly he couldn’t hold back anymore. He broke his grip on you to hastily unzip his pants and free his cock. At the same time, that same rush of need pulsed through you and you tugged at the rest of your outfit until you were completely bare for him.

“Are you sure?” Din asked in a husky tone. He wanted this, wanted you, more than anything. But he wanted to make sure it was what you wanted too.

“I’m sure,” your voice was hushed yet firm, “Please don’t be a tease and stop now,” you added with a soft chuckle as your hand found the back of his neck.

A low rumble of laughter reverberated in his chest as he allowed you to guide his body in the darkness. When your lips met again, it felt like your first kiss all over. You both took your time and savored the taste of the other as you wrapped your bodies around each other.

Din shifted his hips and nudged his cock towards your entrance, and he couldn’t help the growl he let out when he felt how wet you were. Slowly, he pushed the tip into your pussy, and both of you broke away from the kiss and let out loud moans.

You clawed at his back as he filled you inch by delicious inch. Din was big, but the tender way he took care of you just brought you to the edge of pleasure without being too painful. The stretch of him burned so good and you instantly wanted more of him.

He collapsed down onto his elbows when he fully sheared himself inside you and for several moments both of you just breathed heavily as you adjusted. You were so tight and warm around Din, and he found he had to physically hold himself back from pounding into you right away.

“Din…”

The way you tugged at the hair in the back of his neck flipped a switch within him. He gave an experimental thrust, pulling back halfway and slamming back into you. The cry you let out went right to Din’s cock, and he knew you were ok. 

He quickly picked up his pace and rocked into you over and over again in a steady rhythm. You threw your head back and dropped your mouth open to let the moans and praises flow freely from your lips. Every sound of pleasure you made only encouraged Din more, and the way the moonlight highlighted your face only added to the sensations.

You looked so beautiful in the dim light and Din reached up and caressed your face as he continued to thrust into you. Your eyes blinked open and you gazed up into the shadow of your Mandalorian with such admiration that it took his breath away.

Suddenly, Din groaned your name and covered you with his body. In a rush of adrenaline, he flipped your bodies over so that you straddled him, all the while his cock stayed buried deep within you.

You let out a surprised yelp as you found yourself on top of Din, and the new angle drove his cock deeper into you. A shiver ran up your spine as you breathed his name and looked down at him in the shadows.

At this new angle, you saw more of his face, but it was still mostly hidden by the shadows. You were able to make out more of his features, but it wasn’t light enough to see the color of his hair or eyes. You gasped as you paused for a moment.

“Are you sure this is ok?” You asked.

Din caressed your hips, “I’m sure,” his tone echoed yours from earlier.

You let out a deep sigh as your heart skipped a beat. You knew the trust it took for him, just like he knew the trust you put in him. Together you came to a mutual understanding without the words needed, and it only spurred you both on more.

You leaned forward slightly and rested your hands on Din’s chest as you slowly rocked your hips. Matching groans echoed in the room from both of you as you quickly built up your speed. His hands stayed firmly in your hips as you bounced on his cock.

Every time Din was fully inside you, it sent a shiver of pleasure up your spine, and heat soon rose from within your core. You moaned as you picked up your pace, chasing your climax.

Din could tell you were close, and every time your inner muscles gripped him, he groaned in pleasure. As you rocked harder and faster, he ran his hands up your sides and gripped on to your back.

He reeled you forward so that you covered his body and the moment your chest met his, Din crashed your lips together. Both of you moaned as the new angle hit that perfect spot deep inside you.

“Din… I’m…” you broke the kiss and rested your forehead against his while you rode him hard.

“I know,” he clenched his jaw as his own climax quickly built up too, “I’ve got you.”

The rumble of his low voice went right to your core and it only took a few more thrusts for you to fall apart on top of him. Din savored the moans and cries you let out as you rode out your orgasm on his cock. And the way your body trembled as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through you made him let out a low moan of his own. 

But as much as Din wanted to relish in your body, he couldn’t save off his own climax and he came soon after you. He groaned your name as he tightened his grip on you and spilled himself deep inside you.

When you let out a whimper, Din rolled you both over so that he could fully embrace you in a way he hoped made you feel safe. Together, you lay in a pile of limbs as you both caught your breath. Din opened his eyes and just watched as you let out heavy breaths and he couldn’t help but run his fingers along the side of your face.

You opened your eyes and felt his gaze on you in the darkness. A smile lit up your face as you reached for him and slowly nudged him forward for another kiss.

This one was slow and sweet; neither of you were in a hurry anymore. As he tangled his tongue with yours, Din slowly pulled out of you and swallowed the whimper you let out.

He didn’t let you go far though and quickly gathered you in his arms and let you rest against his chest. You let out a contented sigh as you listened to the comforting sound of his heartbeat. 

There were so many things both of you wanted to say at that moment, yet no words came. This was your last night together, and you wondered what the future held for you. Would there even be a future together? You knew it would be selfish to ask him to stay, but was there another option for you both? Filled to the brim with racing thoughts, you were sure sleep would elude you. Yet you felt safe and comfortable in Din’s arms and before you knew it you fell asleep.

He on the other hand stayed awake for some time, his own mind filled with the same questions you had. But for tonight, Din just enjoyed your company while he still could.

It would be harder than he thought to leave you behind…

*

“I cannot thank you enough for what you’ve done for me and my sister,” Rion spoke with an air of regalness as he gave Din the payment and information he promised, “You saved my sister’s life, and I could never pay you well enough for that.”

Din nodded as he fought to keep his composure, “It was my job, your highness.”

Rion smiled brightly, “Please, there’s no need for formalities here, Mando,” he patted him on the shoulder, “But really, if there’s ever anything you need, you have an ally here. Anything at all,” your brother had a sincere look in his eyes.

“Thank you,” he returned the gesture.

The two men broke apart and looked around as they both became painfully aware they were alone in the room. Din had hoped you would show up to bid him farewell, but he understood why you were absent.

“Listen, Mando,” your brother leaned in close, “I know you and my sister got close.”

Din suddenly became more guarded, but said nothing.

“It’s not like that!” Rion immediately lightened his tone, “I’m not threatening you or anything,” he joked, “It’s just…” he sighed, “I don’t want anything to happen to her. She’s tough, but I still worry, especially now. She’s my only family, you know…”

Din knew. Din knew exactly how it felt to only have one family, and one family that he cared so much about. But, it took several moments for him to realize the hidden meaning behind Rion’s words.

“I understand.”

Your brother smiled again, “Safe travels, Mando. And come visit again anytime.”

Din nodded and left the room. Rion had set him up with passage on one of his ships, so he made his way to the dock. Din had a destination in mind now, and he was one step closer to being reunited with his lost clan. He greeted the attendant as he boarded the ship and looked around.

In the back of the rows of seats sat a hooded figure, and Din let out a soft laugh to himself as he made his way and sat down next to the figure. “Are you sure you should be doing this?” he whispered, knowing exactly who it was.

Your face peeked out from under the hood with a grin, “I can do whatever I want, Din. And what I want,” you covered his hand with yours, “Is to be with you.”

“But what about your brother? Your planet?”

“The planet is at peace now… Rion can manage on his own for a while. Besides,” you gestured down to the weapon Din kept on his belt, “I think the new king of Mandalore needs my help more right now.”

Din sighed, but he also felt relief. Not only would your help be a great assist, but your presence would fill that emptiness in his heart that Din tried his best to ignore. 

“So,” you interrupted his thoughts, “What do you say? Is it my turn to be the bodyguard?”

Din couldn’t help but laugh, “Don’t push it,” but he faced you directly and touched your chin with his fingers and guided you to look directly at his visor, “But I am glad you’re here,” he paused, “Let’s figure this out… Together.”

“Together,” you echoed with a smile. 

[itcanbegoodagain]

What I would want Peeta to say and do to me if I was Katniss, is how I think this deserves to be summed up.

Word Count: 1971

Rating: 18+. Mature, but not explicit. Sexytimes after the break.

Sliding down into the tub, I allow the sweet smell of the soap to engulf me, my eyes falling shut as the warm water creeps up my skin. My aching muscles relax, the tension seeping out of them as quickly as it appeared. The first week or two of hunting in the snow is always harder than I’m anticipating it to be. But I’ll be just fine.

I know Peeta’s home when I hear his gait on the creaking, wooden stairs. Deciding to stay put, I wait for him to find me in the bathroom. He’s home a little early today. Oh, lucky wife am I.

And, truly, I am. There is no better man out there than Peeta. So when he gently knocks on the door, I smile to myself. “You can come in.” My head falls back to rest on the lip of the tub, providing me with a better vantage point to see him.

The door pushes open slowly, and Peeta steps through, shutting the door behind him. Not necessary, since we’re the only ones that live in this house. But no complaints here. Just observations.

“Hi baby,” he says, leaning back against the counter and folding his arms across his chest. There is a slight uptilt to his lips, one that usually indicates a particular line of thinking. I wonder what I’m in for.

I take this chance to stare at him, lazily moving my gaze head to toe, as I know he is sizing me up, too. I avoid the urge to shift my legs together too soon, anticipating the exquisite touch of his hands that’s sure to come.

He’s wearing his normal dark-wash trousers, a long-sleeved shirt in lieu of his usual attire. The tip of his nose is just the littlest bit red. The snow gets to bakers, too, then. Briefly, I wonder what the cold of his nose would feel like while his lips make their way up my thighs. I do know how his body feels, though, as I take in the way his shirt hugs in all the perfect places.

“Hi baby,” I repeat back softly, not wanting to raise my voice too much for fear of bursting this liminal moment we’ve created. It could go very different ways. I know which way I want it to go, and if I know anything about him, I know what he wants, too.

Neither of us moves to break eye contact. Peeta does, however, slowly peel off the counter, walking around the end of the tub to kneel on the ground next to me. His arms rise up to rest on the edge, his fingertips barely brushing the water.

We haven’t lost eye contact this entire time, so when he licks his lips and says what he does next, I am malleable. Pliable. Putty, in his hands only.

“You look very beautiful today,” he says. Normal words, predictable words, but the way he says it - the way he looks at me as he says it - mouthwatering.

Desperation. That’s the thing in my throat that won’t let any other words get out. Desperation to touch, to be touched, which I can see reflected in Peeta’s face, the slight trembling of his fingers.

“You know, these bathrooms really are too large. Look, I take up only half the tub!” I tell him.

He grins. “I have to disagree. There’s only room for one kickass woman in the tub.”

I hum. Trail my fingers, dripping warm water, through my hair. “Too bad. That kickass woman was hoping she’d have someone come join her.”

This is what really catches him. His voice, usually honey-sweet, is strained, just enough to be noticeable. “In that case, I think I might know someone.”

I take a deep breath, surveying him for another moment. “Well, tell him to come my way.”

With that in the air, he finally, finally kisses me. Kisses me with the force of someone who’s been holding back just long enough that they’re about to splinter. His fingers, the tips wet from resting in the water, find their way into my hair, his thumb tilting my head up beneath the chin. Already, he is biting and tugging at my lip with his teeth, which is one of the things he’s best at. Or maybe I just like it.

The kiss is both quenching and provoking. Yes, I finally can taste the love and lust on his lips, but it only makes me want him more. That’s how it works with us. Has since basically day one, though I was blind to it for a while.

Peeta stops for a moment, close enough that we are still sharing the same air. “How can I help you, my dear?” he asks, voice more rattled than before, as one of his hands dips into the water. His fingers find and, gently, scratch along the sensitive skin at my knee. I shiver, despite the warm water. He grins, noticing the gooseflesh that’s appeared on my skin at his mere touch.

A sharp intake of breath fills my lungs, and it takes me a moment to answer. “First, you’re in an unfair amount of clothes.”

He nods his head, pulling his arm out of the water to grab the hem of his shirt and yank it off, the cuff damp where the water had almost reached the sleeve after he rolled it up. His trousers quickly follow, though his undershorts stay on for now. “What else?”

In response, I stand up, careful not to send water pouring over the edge. Peeta stands as well, reaching over to grab a towel and stepping closer to wrap it around me. His hands pause on my shoulders, holding the towel in place around me. He raises his eyebrows. Next?

I send him the best, most flirty smile I can muster. It's never been my strong suit. Then I remove the towel, allowing him to keep it. The moment he realizes my intentions, it’s discarded to the floor, easily and gladly forgotten. In his eyes, I can tell he wants to touch me, desperately, but I make him wait just a little longer.

He makes a sound in the back of his throat, one of such need and desire, that it sends a flash of pride through me. Turning a man on is so much more fun than I ever thought it could be. It makes you feel powerful, even if it’s just one person for one moment.

But with Peeta, there are so many moments like that. He praises, he worships me, but it’s never over the top. It is always in the actions: letting me fall asleep in his lap, leaving breakfast on the table, placing kisses along my skin after I have been well and truly tumbled. Doing as much as he can to please me. Yes, indeed. I am a lucky wife.

After I’ve planted myself on the bathroom counter, the edge lining up dangerously with the part of me that is Peeta’s next destination, he is on his knees again. He begins his ministrations slowly, each brush of his fingers or lips on my skin like an electric shock. My skin is so, so sensitive, and he is so, so gentle. There’s nothing better.

By the time he reaches my knees, he has scooted closer, his shoulderblades now between my legs to give him the proper access he requires. Each touch of his mouth to my skin makes it harder not to move, but I try my best. As he nears the top of my thighs, he takes one leg and throws it over his shoulder, carelessly, I would say, if it were anyone else.

“So,” he begins, frequently pausing to occupy his mouth in less talkative ways, “there is so much time left, so many things to do.” His tongue traces a thin line up the most sensitive part of my inner thigh. I gasp, eyes falling shut, hips beginning to squirm. One of his hands pushes back on my hipbone, his fingertips pressing into the skin just hard enough to leave marks. Marks for him to see, later. Maddening. “Where shall I begin?”

I realize, maybe two seconds too late, that he is genuinely asking. “Katniss, baby,” he continues, his rough voice sounding heavenly from between my legs. “Tell me how to help.” To emphasize his point, he flips my other leg over his shoulder, effectively trapping himself between and beneath me.

I gasp again, trying to get the words out. In a moment of clarity, I’m able to string together these words: “Kiss me.”

He hums, running his hands over my hips, back and forth. “From down here?”

Smartass. “Not on my lips,” I manage.

He grins, a fiercely boyish grin that I sometimes forget he’s capable of. “I see. Well, since you asked so nicely…”

I choke out a laugh. “Right. As if you didn’t come home with it already in mind.”

He laughs too, but doesn’t allow it to linger for long. “You got me there.” He says this one moment, and the next, his face is hidden and his mouth and tongue are doing such extraordinary things, and, god, his nose -

Well. I hit the nail on the head with that one.

My fingers curl into his hair, urging him on as I push him closer. I can feel his grin, so I give a sharp tug on the hair I have in hand as recompense. This pulls another sound out of his throat, a gasp out of his mouth. Both feel lovely, situated where he is. So I continue to pull at his hair when he needs some humbling.

It's breathless, it's wonderful, it's only the beginning. I'm trembling, grateful to be sitting, as he makes his way up my body. Lingering kisses on my hips, along my stomach, up my chest. He stays at my neck for a while, paying particular attention there, surely leaving behind bruises that can easily be covered by a turtleneck in this cool weather.

--

A good chunk of time passes before I'm able to drag his lips back to mine, feeling like I might die if I don't get to kiss him right this second. He happily obliges, as he knows that he is good with his mouth. In several different regards. But who's keeping track? Certainly, certainly not me.

My hands, itching to touch his skin, smooth down his shoulders, wrapping around his back, pulling him even closer. Now, he is standing again, my legs circling his waist. Our bodies are pressed together at their most intimate places, though his undershorts are still on. Slowly, I run one of my hands down his side, making sure to take my time, before sliding the tips of my fingers below his waistband. I don't move them, I don't try to take his boxers off, I just let them rest there. Let Peeta give me this incredulous, sex-addled smirk.

"Yes?" I ask. "Is there something wrong?"

"Oh, no, nothing like that. I'm just thinking..." he trails off for a moment, leaving me to fill in the blank. "Well, you know, it's not only the tubs that are too big for one person. The showers are, too. Haven't you noticed?"

Tapping my chin, I pretend to ponder his question. "Truly? I haven't. Do you care to show me?"

He swoops in for another kiss, this one full of teeth and lips and pressure. He steals my breath away. "Gladly," he says, grinning, hauling me off the counter.

With a quick turn of the knobs, the warm spray of water begins falling from the shower head, and, truthfully, there is no way to describe what happens next. No way to describe it other than really, really good sex.

[pjisskullourful]

( ƝЄҲƬ ƓƖƦԼƑƦƖЄƝƊ )

💙Victoria X reader

NSFW!🔥 sapphic smutty dirty swearing sexytimes

° Victoria de Angelis & female reader insert ✨ cameos by: Damiano, Thomas & Ethan

° 🎶 baby I got an idea... I should be your next girlfriend ||| your longterm friend & on&off crush, Victoria dares you to take part in a drag competition & you decide to give her a performance she'll never forget

wordcount:: 7,533

° wonderful anonrequest x2 - we have all read smut about the band being in the zone and reader getting turned in by it but I really want to see the opposite, so like maybe reader is a dancer and she is in the zone being a badass and one of the members (or more) just gets super hot and bothered, + We need some vic smut ASAP (with a female reader please). [ask & it shall be given- requests are open!]

° fuelled by queer queen gia woods' masterpiece NEXT GIRLFRIEND all the lyrics included belong to her  ° tricks & stunnalina stage presentation heavily inspired by queen of everything KYLIE SONIQUE LOVE & her serve of actual sex on legs in this lipsync ° inspired by weekly sydney drag comp night- also called DRAG FOR DOLLARS which has the same setup of loudest cheer wins- which does welcome performers of all different schools of drag: including magical bioqueens✨ &before any of yall ask- yes, i have painted my body blue & goneout to a dragshow in only a bodysuit

"You should perform." Victoria leant in close, her words carrying clearly over the pumping music.

You almost choked on your drink, spitting the straw out of your mouth. You turned to where she had scooted over to the edge of the couch. For a moment, the rest of the nightclub faded away and you were trapped in her gaze, a lump in your throat.

People had been staring at you ever since you had left the apartment with your four friends - but that was to be expected when you had painted the majority of your body blue. But this was instantly different, it was so much more intense than the gawks coming from strangers.

It wasn't easy to settle under her fierce stare, it made your heart beat faster and your mind race.

Three years of friendship - three years of wondering, marked by the occasional dream. Three years of one or the other not being single. Three years of jokingly calling one another wifey and sharing a bed a few times per year. Three years of holding hands and people regularly mistaking you for a couple.

Three years of no action because you were waiting for the perfect moment, always half-considering that maybe she didn't feel the same way.

Now she was giving you that look, like you were the only woman in the world. She looked directly into your eyes, not getting distracted by the extreme makeup, or the black netting that covered your features, save for your eyes and mouth. She was looking at you like she expected something great, her interest secured.

"What, are you nuts?"

The group had come to your favourite gay club in Rome, hanging out simply because there was time in your schedules - an availability with the four members of Måneskin was getting rarer as time went on. But tonight there had been an opportunity, coinciding with the venue's weekly open stage night for drag queens. Drag for Dollars - it was a free for all, sometimes it was great and other times it was full of amateurs who had over-estimated their stage presence, running out of steam before the Lady Gaga song was finished.

It wasn't for you to participate in. You had never felt the urge - it was enough to just watch and cheer.

"This is a drag show." You said.

She nodded. "Right and what you are in tonight- that isn't drag, because��?"

You paused, this entire look had been thrown together, following an idea that had made complete sense in your head. You had simply kept adding ideas until you had something that was interesting, something that could add excitement into your Instagram feed. You wanted to impress your friends, to see how many a's Damiano would add to yaaas, to see what kind of flirty comments Victoria would leave on all the pictures that you posted.

"I don't quite meet the necessary criteria."

"Oh, come on…" She inched forward and put a hand on your knee. "You're the best dressed person here and I know you can dance, I've seen you vogue."

"That's just goofing around." You said.

She shrugged. "Okay, so why don't you just goof around on stage? What's the harm? Nobody here tonight cares, this is hardly Drag Race. And you'll probably win and then you get some money out of it. Why not?"

"Why not…" You repeated slowly, eyes going over to the empty stage. You felt the urge to do as she requested, to show off for her, to be the centre of her attention.

"Did you tell her our idea?" Damiano had sprung onto the couch next to Victoria.

"Your idea?" They had been talking about it, not just her fantasising about you on the stage. There was something equal parts relieving and disappointing in realising that.

"Yeah, Thomas is talking to the host right now to see if they've still got an available slot for you."

You looked across to where Thomas was standing by the bar, talking to a drag queen in a long, peach-coloured sequin gown. They were looking over a clipboard, heads bowed.

You were nodding as you turned back to Victoria and Damiano. "I'm gonna do it." You quickly sucked up the rest of your drink, locking eyes with her.

"Hell yeah!" Damiano jumped up and offered his hands to you. "Let's go pick a song."

You placed your empty glass down and tore your eyes off of her face. In the same instant that you took his hand, you were pulled up onto your feet. She waved to you before you were yanked into his momentum, scampering along after him. 

"Is this a terrible idea?" You asked, tugging on his arm to get his attention. You realised he was the wrong person to ask - in all the time that you had known him, he had never ruled anything a bad idea.

"What, are you kidding? This is the best idea ever, this is going to be so iconic."

"Hey." Thomas greeted you with a smile. "They have room for you."

"Yeah." A deep voice came from the well-painted woman. "We'll start in about thirty minutes, just head backstage…" She indicated an inconspicuous door tucked away opposite the stairwell. "What song are you gonna do?"

"Uh…"

"We'll be alright, I know what songs are already picked." Thomas said.

The queen dismissed this with a flap of her wrist. "Nah, don't worry about that- the crowd loves when there's a double-up. Just pick something that's on Spotify and it'll be fine. When you've figured it out, talk to the stage manager- you'll be able to pick him out, he's wearing the trucker hat unironically." She tipped you a wink before leaving.

"What song are you thinking?" Damiano asked, both of them turning to you.

"I don't… I don't even- should I do Billie Jean and moonwalk, that'll get a pretty big cheer, right?"

His mouth dropped open. "You know how to moonwalk?" 

"Oh I know what song." Thomas said, stepping forward. "The song that has the sick bass that comes in like…" He started to mime playing a bass guitar, making the sounds of the notes. "And then it goes, da-da dadadada da du-da-da…"

"Are you literally singing what's playing right now?" You asked.

"No, no, it's a new song. You played it when we were in the car the other day and Vic has literally not shut up about it since, 'cause it's the gay song, you know?" He said. "And there's that awesome guitar solo that closes it out."

"Um, do you mean the one that goes…" Damiano started mumble singing. "Um babida and there's a girlfriend, 'cause somethin' or anything and a girlfriend… ladida, somethin' about being sticky- sticky."

You hadn't been expecting for this to make sense, but somehow their ramblings sparked an insight in you. "Next Girlfriend by Gia Woods- I think that's what you're thinking of."

Thomas' face lit up and he clicked before showing you a thumbs up. "Yes! Do that song, don't you think?"

"That song is hot, you have to do that one."

You nodded to yourself, taking a moment to think it over as you readjusted the temporary long ponytail attached to the crown of your head. "Yep, I'll do that."

"Hell yeah!"

"We gotta get the euros ready." Thomas said. "We'll tip you lots. Wait, you don't have a drag name. Shit, we'll think one up… shit…"

"No, she doesn't need one. Look at her, showstopper without needing to say a word." Damiano said, picking up one of your hands and giving it a squeeze. "I feel like such a stage mum, God, this is the shit I was born for. But the question is- when you win, how much of the prize money are you gonna share with us?" You stared at him, slack-jawed. "What? I'm just sayin', it was our idea."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves, I probably won't even win." 

"You're gonna win, honey."

"You will." Thomas said.

"The winner is picked by whoever gets the loudest cheer, and guess who has the loudest friends?" Damiano completed his statement by tucking his head down as his arms extended into a dab.

"And he doesn't just mean in this club tonight, he means in the whole of Rome."

"Right. I'm gonna go backstage and talk to the guy and touch up my lipstick and, I dunno, do stretches or something."

"You're gonna be amazing." Damiano said, releasing your hand after kissing the back of it.

"Do you want us to keep the song a surprise for the others?" Thomas asked.

"Yes, definitely."

You found your way backstage and quickly identified the stocky stage manager amongst the gaggle of drag queens already gathered here. You faced no issues in getting added to the running order and no one else had picked your song..

There was a wall-length mirror that was out of the way, you placed yourself in front of it, despite the lacklustre lighting it provided. You made adjustments to your costume, ensuring the foam padding was sitting where it should be against your skin. 

You became aware of the tremble in your hands as you raked your fingers gently through the black ponytail of fake hair. It had been awhile since you had performed on a stage, even longer since you had performed solo. But it wasn't the feeling of being out of practice that was making you so nervous.

You were raising the stakes on yourself, already picturing how Victoria would look from the audience. You wanted to do something that would impress her - but it was more than teaching Ethan to perfect a tongue pop. You had to earn her attention and make her never want to look away.

You wanted to entrance her and mesmerise her - just as she did to you when she got down onto her knees on stage and writhed around without missing a single note. You would stare at her for an embarrassingly long time, sometimes missing the transition of one song to the next.

You wanted to make it impossible for her to not be amazed. Your true goal was to seduce her, to leave her so dazzled that she couldn't resist.

You planned to give her something that she couldn't not react to. Then, once you saw her response, you would have the answer you had been waiting on for years. You would know if she was attracted to you or if it was all a fantasy that you needed to snap out of.

"You're up next, after Barbies Bush- just wait there and you'll hear them say your name." The stage manager took you over to the curtain that covered the entrance of the stage. You nodded and smiled, to show you understood before going back to thinking over what you remembered of the stage layout.

You were running through the song, thinking about the pole that was mounted on the stage, off to the left. You were thinking about how to build the narrative. You had a few combinations of moves in mind when you heard your name said over the speakers.

You felt your throat clench, but you followed the music as you heard it. Sell the fantasy, you told yourself repeatedly, making the decision to recall that you had never let stage fright stop you before. You pushed your shoulders back and began onto the stage, doing your best impression of a runway model. You kept your chin raised, determined to create something Victoria would feel like she couldn't live without.

"I don't want no drama, but I know you're lookin' at me." You matched the movements of your mouth to the song you knew as well as you knew your own name.

You stopped before the ledge of the scuffed-up stage, running your hands down either side of your body. "Got the body of Madonna, like a virgin…"

"Wee-oww." You heard a voice scream out over the song.

Your friends were easy to pick out of the audience, even before Damiano yelled out. They were standing at the front of the stage and now you allowed yourself to look at their four smiling faces. You didn't let them break your concentration, it was enough to know that Victoria was staring up at you.

"Know you like what you see…" You spun around to put your back to the audience, swinging your arms up. You stuck your ass out to the left, planting a hand on this hip. You sent your ponytail flying through the air as you looked over one shoulder, letting the stage lights hit your face again. "You look so damn good on me, like you're good enough to eat, uuh…"

You turned to the crowd a little more, flipping your head down by your knee then throwing it back. "Now you're stuck in my teeth. Got me pickin' out a ring."

You walked towards the floor-to-roof pole, reaching for it with one arm while leaning the rest of your body back. "Baby, I got an idea, ohh…"

You timed your jump onto the pole to coincide with the shift in beat that indicated the beginning of the chorus. You grabbed it with both hands, holding your legs out straight as you completed a slow spin.

You heard more cheers, it sounded like more than just your friends and you could feel your confidence growing.

You curled your legs up, until you could link one knee around the smooth metal. You crossed your ankles over one another, continuing to spin. "And she should be your ex-girlfriend." You reached one arm out to the general direction of the audience. "Hey, you should be my next girlfriend.

“La-la-la, ooh!” You released your legs from the pole and loosened the grip of both hands, letting yourself slowly slide back down towards the ground, teasing out this last past of the chorus. “Mmm, la-la-la…”

You landed onto your knees, keeping both hands on the pole and completing a few body rolls, gyrating up from your crotch.

You were back on your feet in time for the second verse, bracing yourself with your feet shoulder-width apart. “California summer, like a popsicle, it’s drippin’...” You bent your knees before springing off your feet, throwing your weight backwards. You planted your hands onto the ground, completing the backflip without issue.

You slowed yourself down, gaining some grace for a landing with your legs spread straight out on either side. Once you were into the fully extended split, you looked back up to the audience. Your eyes immediately landed onto Victoria. There were paper bank notes fluttering around her head, your friends trying to give you tips.

“Spicy like a rumour…” You spun around, crawling towards the edge of the stage on all fours. “You’re my hallelujah, sticky.”

You remained on your knees, reaching out to collect the money from the eager hands of your friends. There were more than four sets of hands offering you money and you accepted it all, smiling as you continued to mouth every word.

You held the money in one hand, raising your arms above your head. You let your eyes settle on Victoria, feeling an electricity coming from her intense stare. “Baby, I got an idea, uuuhh…” She wasn’t singing along, just watching you with her mouth open.

You planted your hands onto her shoulders, shimmying forward to shake your tits directly in front of her face. “Hey, I should be your next girlfriend. And she should be your ex-girlfriend. Hey, you should be my next girlfriend.”

You tossed your head from side-to-side, letting your ponytail flick through the air to more boisterous cheers. “La-la-la, ooh, mm!”

A poke from Ethan got her attention, looking to her right, where he was pointing his phone directly at the two of you. She stuck her tongue out, playing it up for the camera as you couldn’t keep yourself from rubbing against her. “Hey, I should be your next girlfriend.”

You arched your back, planning to perform some more flips and tricks across the stage to close out the song. But there was a tug at the front of your bodysuit before you could get away. 

You looked down and found the netting had hooked over the numerous studs pierced through her right ear. You grimaced, trying to work her free as your flow was broken.

Ethan moved in, taking over for you. You did what you could to salvage this last bit of the performance, even as you felt embarrassment rising. You placed your wrists together, pulling on the vogue moves you had practised almost endlessly in your mirror. You twirled your hands around, creating a figure eight with how your hands spiralled. 

You kept the control in your arms, trying to ignore what was happening at your chest. You completed as many of the fluid arm dance moves as you could remember, maintaining your poker face. The guitar solo stretched on as you mimed checking your reflection in an invisible hand mirror, applying the imaginary powder puff to your cheeks one after the other.

"Da-da dadadada da…" You closed out the song by framing your face with quick gestures around your head.

The crowd was cheering and Ethan finally worked Victoria free from your bodysuit. You got to your feet, waving and getting ready to retreat.

"The audience participation was next level for that one, eh?" The host drag queen said into her microphone. "Look out fellas, she's got a spiderweb that's ready to trap ya… alright, who's next?"

You scurried off of the stage, back through the curtain and out of the way of the queen following you. You felt like an idiot - everything had been going fine until you had gotten too close to Victoria, determined to seduce her. You had probably come on way too strong, bordering on desperate.

But you had a whole wad of euros in your hand now. You collected your handbag and started to smooth out the bank notes, putting them into your purse.

You left the backstage area, only to be instantly grabbed and pulled into the embrace of Ethan. "That was amazing, girl. Best performance of the night, swear it."

"Really?" You looked up to find the rest of your friends had been waiting to see you. "That turned into a total train-wreck."

"No, no, no- everything before Vic's ear ruined it was spectacular." Thomas said.

"Really amazing." Ethan said, kissing you on the forehead.

"I've seen you do flips into the pool before, but I had no idea you could do that." Damiano said.

Victoria drove her elbow into his ribs. "She's a gymnast, dumbass. Why do you think I stopped doing yoga with her?"

"So, you knew that she could do all of that?” Damiano asked.

"Not to that extent, no." She said, looking down.

"Recovering with the voguing…" He said, finishing his compliment by raising his fingers to his mouth to perform a chef's kiss. "Pure genius."

--- --- ---

You had finished in second place - losing to a queen who had brought a big finish, in the form of a gun that spat out fake money. She was the only one to receive a cash prize. But, looking at the tips you had amassed, you had already earned that amount - along with the free drink tickets provided to the top three.

Other club-goers had continued to come up to you, grabbing your arm to tell you how great they thought you were. They wanted to compliment your skills on the pole, they wanted to praise your costume, they marvelled at your splits. Not a single person brought up the wardrobe malfunction at the end.

But you were still thinking about it. And you assumed Victoria was as well, she hadn't been able to meet your eye since you had gotten down from the stage. This was the exact opposite of what you had been trying to achieve.

You shared the drink tickets with your friends, as well as helping yourself to some more Midori sours. Victoria and Thomas kept disappearing, bouncing off across the dancefloor. You shared cigarettes with Damiano and Ethan, both of them wanting tips on how to vogue. Ethan could copy along quicker - the hand-eye coordination that allowed him to juggle, transferring to this skill as well.

You stayed out much later than you had originally planned, the crowd mostly gone by the time the five of you decided to call it a night. In the decision-making of who would buddy up to share an Uber home - you were paired with Victoria, thanks to the three guys living on the opposite side of the city to you and her.

The two of you talked in the backseat and it was almost normal. Almost. But you could feel the anticipation hanging in the air between the two of you.

You found a way to break the unexpected ice by making a joke, asking how many pizzas you could afford now that you were 'rolling in cash'. "I promise I'm not gonna let the money change me, just because I'm rich, that doesn't mean I'm gonna stop going thrifting with you. But I'd probably rather go to the upscale places, you know, less holes in the carpet, 'cause I'm movin' on up in the world…"

She laughed, shaking her head. "I think the money is changing you."

"Huh? Sorry, I couldn't hear you over the sound of cash registers in my mind, you know, preparing myself for how it's gonna be when I buy enough Birkin bags for every day of the year."

"Did you know that it wasn't just us tipping you? Like, it wasn't just us being supportive friends- randoms were sticking their arms over my head to try to get the cash to you." She said. "Everyone was loving it, they were loving you. And why wouldn't they? You really slayed it."

You grimaced. "Really? It wasn't the most awkward thing in the world, at the end there?"

"No, did you not hear them cheering from beginning to end?" She asked and when you looked up, you found she was looking directly at you. "I was hoping that performing would help you get back some of that confidence that you lost when you… when Bella screwed you over.” 

Her eyes dropped at the mention of your ex-girlfriend, a topic that both of you had been avoiding at all costs in the two months since the end of your longest relationship. You had kicked Bella out of your life immediately after discovering that she was cheating.

Victoria had offered to beat Bella up, to go to the bar where she worked and yank the extensions right out of her head. You had advised Victoria against this, telling her it was in no way necessary and that you were ready to put Bella behind you entirely. Since then, Victoria had done her best to build you back up, without tearing your ex down. She had helped you move on.

“You really looked incredible up there, babe. Can I put these videos in my story or did you wanna approve them first?” She asked.

“You took videos?”

“No, these are from Ethan. I wasn’t recording, I was too busy just watching you.”

You smiled, grateful for the dark lighting in the back of the car and the blue face-paint hiding the blush you felt rising in your cheeks. “Yeah, I kinda noticed that you were pretty- um, focused.”

“How could I not? You were magical up there, like poetry, but, uh, dirty poetry.”

You giggled before being jarred out of this moment, noticing that the car had reached a halt. You looked out the window and saw the driver had stopped beside your apartment building. “Oh, thank you, this is perfect.” You unbuckled yourself and got out of the car, with Victoria quickly sliding out after you. “Did you want me to grab your sunglasses for you?” She swung the door shut and the car pulled away. “Once I take my shoes off, I can be up-and-down in, like, three seconds.”

“No, no, no, don’t be silly, I’ll come up with you and get them.” She said of the item she had left behind during her last visit to your home.

When you were in the elevator, she turned to you, even in the awful and cheap overhead lighting, she was still breath-taking. Her cheeks were shimmering with perfectly applied highlighter, a subtle dusting across her cupid's bow drawing your eye to her lips all the more.

"So, forgive me for being so forward, but-..." She began and you felt your throat clenching. "With the cost of the entire look, maybe sans makeup, 'cause you already had all those supplies- was there a profit made from your little swimsuit and blue paint?"

"Oh, yeah, a huge profit. This was so cheap to throw together. It's literally scraps."

"Well, you make scraps look incredible and sexy and expensive." She said, her sentence punctuated by the ding of the elevator as you arrived at your level. "And ultimately, like a winner."

You smiled, liberating your keys from the rest of the mess in your handbag. "Yeah, well, we'll see who's feeling like a winner while I'm struggling to get all of this off my skin, to de-Smurf myself."

"It's gonna be difficult, huh?"

You opened your front door and instantly flicked the nearest light-switch on, illuminating your empty apartment. "Oh yeah, I'm probably not gonna get out of the shower before sunrise, and even then, I'll still be going to bed with blue caked behind my ears."

You were looking around, trying to remember where you had placed her sunglasses, when you felt her hand sliding into one of yours.

"What if I helped you?"

You turned to her, eyes wide as you waited for her to laugh, waited for her to declare this a joke. "What- in the shower?"

She giggled quietly, putting a hand over her face. "That didn't sound as creepy in my head. Look, forget that I said it."

"No, Vic…" You held her hand tighter as soon as you felt her begin to pull away. You put your other hand on her forearm, counteracting her attempt to move back. "I don't wanna forget it."

She was studying your expression carefully, hands going to your waist while you put your hands on her face. You brushed her hair away from her cheeks, stroking your fingers across her soft skin. You had to bend at the neck to eliminate the height difference caused by your platform boots.

You secured both of your lips around her bottom lip, leaning into her. Her hands moved to the small of your back, firmly pressing against your skin.

You felt her tongue pushing against your top lip and you tilted to your right, parting your lips to allow her access into your mouth. You could taste the beers she had consumed at the bar, but you didn't mind. You were so instantly drawn in by the way she moved her tongue, massaging it against your own.

You couldn't stifle a moan, so many endorphins rushed through your body - greater than the high you had received while your performance had been going according to plan. You didn't need the cheer from a crowd, or even money offered freely to you by the entertained strangers - the only thing that you needed to validate your existence was her and her touch.

"Well…" You said, shakily gasping for breath. "It's about time."

"What do you-?"

You burst out laughing, interrupting her train of thought. "Now there's blue all over your face, I'm sorry, babe."

She smiled, biting her bottom lip. "My offer to help you shower still stands."

You nodded and started to pull down the netted face covering. "Yeah, just gimme a sec' to take all of this foolishness off."

"Okay." She said, pushing her leather biker vest off. This revealed the leopard print bralette that you had spent most of the night trying to ignore.

You removed your constricting boots and began the process of shedding your padded body.

She was out of her high-waisted jeans and down to just her underwear while you were still picking at the clips that had been holding your wig secure all night long.

"I probably look like a crazy person right now." You said, peeling off the layers of false eyelashes.

"No, never."

She was grabbing you as soon as your corset and the last pair of pantyhose were removed. She brought your body close to hers, hands tracing across what had been concealed to the point of pain. She drew you in for another kiss, making you forget how sore your legs were and how sticky the body-paint had become.

She took your hand in hers, walking towards the bathroom as comfortably as if she lived here with you. There had been so many times when you had stood in this exact room, showering while a fresh set of clothes was set on the vanity. With the door locked, you would quickly dress yourself, unwilling to have her see you naked. It was different when you were hanging out at the pool with a group of friends and bikini tops seemed unnecessary. There was a different intensity, a different charge of electricity in the air, just at the thought of walking around naked in your apartment during one of her visits. It had always felt like something you should avoid, an impossible fantasy that would never work out.

But there was something about how things were unfolding right now that felt entirely natural. It was almost as if you had been priming one another to end up like this all along. Now that you were here, it felt like everything was falling into place.

She started to turn the shower on, working at getting the perfect temperature while you looked at your reflection. You were instantly laughing at the sight of yourself transformed into some kind of sea monster. Your blue makeup was patchy and the netting had left some lines on your face, similar in appearance to how the scales of a fish looked. You were struggling to think of a time when you had looked worse.

"You gonna come in here, or what?" She asked.

You moved over to where she was waiting, naked under the stream of the shower. You licked your lips, stepping into the shower with her, your skin raised into goosebumps.

She placed her hands on your cheeks, stroking softly while your eyes hungrily took in the sights of her body. You saw freckles where you had never noticed them before.

"I've thought about this, with you, so many times." She said as you watched drops of water catch on her lashes. "But then when I saw you on that stage- you were so sexy, so beautiful, so powerful. Watching you twirling around on that pole- it got me so wet and I just knew that I had to have you.”

She kissed you, drawing you in deep and you let your hands freely roam over her body, touching the parts you had only ever dreamt of or accidentally brushed against in the past. She linked both arms around your neck and you were amazed at how perfectly your bodies could fit together. There wasn’t any awkwardness or sense of being shy or not knowing what to do.

She moved a hand down, exploring over your shoulder before running it down the front of your chest. Her hand grabbed your breast, toying the nipple between her fingers. This produced a moan from you, heat lapping at your skin, beyond where the stream of the shower could reach.

"We're supposed to be getting all this crap off of me, not making you dirty."

She shrugged, tossing her damp hair off of her shoulder. "I don't care. I'm used to being dirty." She reached across to collect the bar of soap from its caddy. "But I'll do what I said, I'll help get you clean."

She moved back half a step, giving herself some space to work and watch as she did. She cradled the soap in her palm, running it across your skin. She massaged it along your chest and you felt your heart pounding.

She moved the soap up to your neck, slow and tender rubbing to work the paint free from your skin. She paid attention to each area as she cleaned it, every move purposeful - she was making you feel taken care of, as she always did.

You reached out to grab the jar of coconut oil, unscrewing the lid and scooping out some of the semi-solid oil. As she lathered your throat, you returned the favour, rubbing at what had transferred from your face onto hers.

You caught yourself in disbelief over this scenario, coming down from the lust enough to see reality and count yourself as so lucky that this was actually happening. Whenever her eyes met yours, you would blush and smile - as giddy as a schoolgirl on a first date with her dreamy crush.

"I wouldn't have thought that our first time showering together would be with me looking like a baby dragon just hatched- the aftermath of drag is seriously unsexy." You said, taking the oil to your face to dissolve the makeup still stuck on your skin. "Um, not that I ever- uh, that came out wrong. I haven't, like, pictured us showering together before."

"You haven't? God, I have…" She said. "Like coming home from the beach and both of us scratchy from the sand, but I'd be like, no, it's fine, you can have the first shower, I'll just smoke a cigarette and wait." You stared at her for a moment, at a loss for words over how well she had been able to hide this. "Turn around."

You did as instructed, putting your back to her. You continued to wipe the oil across your face, while she relocated the soap to clean the nape of your neck. She moved one hand along your shoulders before placing the other hand to the front of your body.

Your breathing halted at the first touch of her skilled fingers to your cunt. All of your focus swung to that area and you lost track of any other sensations - you couldn't hear the water hitting the shower tiles, nor could you feel it beating down against your skin. You felt yourself wanting to melt for her as she took her time in exploring across your labia majora.

"Sometimes I just really can't help myself, like when I'm staying here and you're taking a shower and I just can't seem to think about literally anything else. And I turn the music off and I just listen to the water and I let myself picture what you look like in here, on your own, washing your gorgeous body. And then, you'd come back into the room and I'd have to act like I wasn't wet.

"I'd have to act like I hadn't been imagining all the things you and me could be doing in that shower. Like I hadn't been thinking of all the ways I'd wanna touch you and make you feel so fuckin' incredible."

"Like what?" You asked.

She had gotten distracted from the bar of soap and, instead of feeling that on your skin, you were soon feeling her lips as she kissed along your shoulders. Her touch on your cunt became more noticeable, her fingers seeking out more of you to play with.

"I'll do whatever you want, baby." She whispered.

Her unoccupied hand went to your hip, caressing and gliding across your skin. You put your hand over her wrist, gently pulling her hand away from your pussy before she could touch upon your clitoris. 

You knew that once she got to your pulsing hood, you would hardly be able to hold it together. You wanted her to know that she was allowed to explore more of your body. You wanted her to discover the parts that she liked best. You wanted all of the stimulation she could give you, you were greedy to have her awaken pleasure from all of your erogenous zones so that she could fuck you to an amazing height.

She allowed her hand to be dragged up from your crotch, over your stomach. You put your hand on top of hers, continuing to guide her up even further. You turned your face to hers as you placed her palm over your breast. She squeezed it into her hand at once, drawing a whimper from you. Her eyes were fixed on your face, watching how you responded as she tested the nipples' sensitivities with her fingers.

Your lips met, lining up perfectly so that you could taste her again. She soon had both hands on your tits, making you feel so secure and appreciated. You tilted your head, unable to wait to get her tongue into your mouth. This slow build-up was so easy, the two of you finding the rhythm you needed without issues.

Her deft fingers worked at your hardened nipples, finding the unique reactions they could produce. She rolled them and favoured them with gentle twists - tweaking them, and you, into a higher state of pleasure as you felt these sensations down to your core. She was so attentive to all of your needs, getting ready to light your soul on fire.

You slid your own hand down her tummy, seeking her perfectly maintained pubic hairs. She sucked harder on your lip as you cupped her cunt and you felt emboldened to keep going.

She sent her hands exploring in opposite directions - one returning to your cunt, while the other tenderly stroked your throat. You turned your body towards hers a bit more as you sought to deepen the kiss, to taste more of her.

Her fingers slid between your folds, seeking out your most intimate heat. Your teeth grazed across her lip as you started to feel her fingers on your clit. She let her fingers dance across the pulsing nub, waiting to set a rhythm - for now, she was just playing with you. You felt the tingles radiating up, hot sparks of electricity pricking at your core.

You started to work your fingers between her labia, feeling every sensitive twitch that acknowledged your hand in this tight area. You heard her draw in a sharp inhale when you slid your middle finger down and over her clit. Then you pulled it back up, allowing her to feel the pressure as you wanted. You took your time, lazily working to arouse her.

She was drawing circles around your clit, tight circles that were only getting faster with each rotation. The building pleasure stole your breath and your mouth fell back from hers, losing your energy for kissing, instead gasping as you sped up your hand.

"Oh, God…" You moaned through the first powerful shaking in your knees. You were getting so sensitive, every nerve in your body pulsing to the excitement she was setting. "Yes, touch me Vic, touch me, fuck me, oh."

She held your throat a little tighter, her hot mouth moving over the side of your neck. She was pressing her fingers down harder and you could feel the throbbing of your cunt growing so much stronger.

You spun around, pushing your chest to hers. Before she could slip, she was being pressed to the wall. She took her fingers away from your pussy. It was easy to look past the smeared makeup on her face, instead fixating on how dark and intense her eyes currently were - so differently to how she usually looked at you. She raised her fingers to her mouth, sliding them between her lips.

She moaned as if she was tasting the most decadent gelato known to man. You were able to bring this sound to an even higher level when you stuffed a finger into her slicked cunt. She slumped against the wall, her jaw hanging open as she started to pant.

"Uh, fuck…" You watched her eyelids fluttering as you inserted a second finger into her cunt. You had never seen her looking so weak, all of her usual bravado had gone into hiding.

Your heart pounded desperately and you wanted to know how much closer to the edge you could drive her. You ducked your head down and secured your lips around her nipple. You sucked the pebbled skin into your mouth, causing her to wrap her arms around you tightly. Her hand went to the back of your head, trimmed nails lightly scratching over your scalp.

You could hear her whimpering over every breath as her hand returned to your pussy. Her fingers sought your clit out again while you added a third finger between her quivering walls.

"Fucking, uh- you're gonna make me come…" She rasped, her fingers fumbling across your clitoris without much precision at first.

You released her nipple from your mouth, looking up at her as you licked your lips. "Good, I wanna make you come so fucking bad." You had begun to curl your fingers, stroking up higher and seeking her g-spot. "I've waited so long for this- I've gotta do it right…"

"You are- unhh, you are, baby, you are, I- fuck!" Her hips jolted into you when you put your finger to her clit.

Her fingers found a rhythm against your clitoral hood and you were soon rocking your hips forward, pushing more of your body weight into her. She followed the movements you made, setting into the pace your body wanted. She danced fast circles around your clit, full of energy despite how short on breath she was.

She manipulated full body tremors through you as she ran her fingerpad over the aching nub. The pearl was pulsing against her digits, your pussy weeping for her. You saw stars bursting in front of your eyes as every stroke hit to your core.

You pushed her closer to overstimulation, keeping your hands steady as if your life depended on it. Her clitoral hood felt swollen as your fingers slipped all over it.

You bit into your bottom lip as you felt your body transcending - all that you could feel was the fire she stoked higher with each confident swipe. With two fingers on either side of your clitoris, she petted you through to the climax.

The strength required for you to pump your fingers into her was lessened, thanks to how eagerly she was fucking herself against you - she just needed you to be there, to catch her excited bucks.

"Oh yes, yes, baby." She cried out, louder than you, louder than any other sound in the world right now and it was enough for you to drown in her pleasure. "Yes, yes, unf- oh, God, yes!"

Her walls clenched upon your fingers and you felt your sensitivities taking you over. Your eyes rolled back and every muscle in your body tightened - before you flew into such a glorious release. You dissolved, immediately wrecked by your climax. Your body shuddered, random flinches taking over your limbs as the electricity pulsed for a few more moments.

She cupped her hand over your labia majora - guiding you through the process of coming down, a comforting sign that she understood what you were feeling. Her arm was tight around your middle and she gasped as you removed your hand - the fingers feeling numb.

You put one hand to the wall above her head and shut your eyes, waiting for your brain to return to functionality after that overload.

A complete shock came to your system with what felt like a knife made of pure ice jabbing against your spine. You hissed, this rude awakening ripping you out of the afterglow far too soon. But you shouldn't have been surprised - it was a miracle that the hot water had lasted for as long as it had. You shuffled closer to her, attempting to get out of the way of the harsh stream.

"Fuck…" You groaned as you reached out for the taps.

She was laughing breathlessly, pushing her dripping hair away from her face. "C'mon baby, I'll warm you up again." She moved out of the shower first, offering a white towel to you once the water was halted.

Your eyes moved eagerly over her body as she wrapped the fuzzy towel around your shoulders. She was just as enticing now as she had been before your explorations. Her body was a work of art and now you could enjoy it without shame.

She linked her arms around you, her warm mouth meeting yours - slowly, sensually sucking upon your bottom lip until you felt ready to melt for her again. You were warmed from your head, down to the tips of your toes. You could have gone on kissing her like that for hours, discovering your favourite ways to experience her.

"Can I tell you a secret?" She whispered, a mischievous grin on her face.

"Uh-huh…"

"You look like you should be my next girlfriend…"

--- --- --- 

If you like my writing, feel free to tip me. I am open to both commissions & requests, commissions get priority & the most input

[officialcharactersimp]

Best of Friends

Summary: "Like they were in the red room together and they’re best friends and now talking all about stuff yknow and accidental confession of feelings OwO" is the actual note I left myself

A/N: sdaklfjsdsf fluffy it's just fluffy ok leave me alone I had the want to write it and so I did. I also have 2 more parts already (one almost finished, one half-finished). WC: 1.2k

my carrd masterlist

please reblog my posts!!! it feeds my soul and fuels my writing :)

CW: fluff :3; maybe minor bw spoilers?? don't think so but just to be safe; mentions of sexytimes; reader says no thanks to sexytimes and yelena is like ok that's fine :); reader was a widow but that doesn't mean they haven't since discovered that they are not in fact cisgender :)

“Have you ever had a crush on anyone?” Yelena asks you. You sit up and look at her. She sits up too, crossing her legs and adjusting herself on the queen-sized bed. You’d managed to snag an apartment with two bedrooms, but both were cramped and there wasn’t a common space to sit—just a bathroom and hallway-turned-kitchenette between the two rooms, so you both often ended up in one of your rooms to hang out. This evening, it was hers.

“Yelena, I’ve been in the red room since I was six, same as you, and it’s not like I’ve really met anybody in the past month and a half,” you say. “I’ve been mind controlled for all the years I would have a crush.”

“Well, we still felt things,” she said, looking at her lap. “We just couldn’t do or say anything.”

“Did you have any crushes?” you turn the question back onto her.

“Oh, of course. A few little ones, but there was always one that never left me alone,” she sighs. “I spilled my beans, now your turn,” she pokes at your knee.

“Alright, alright, I had one or two, too, mostly later on,” you admit.

“You were quite a late bloomer,” she recalls, making you blush. You were the last of your class to get the hysterectomy, considering they preferred to do it one you were “fully matured.” “I’m only teasing,” she assures you.

“I know, Lena,” you say.

“So who were yours,” she grins.

“No way!” you scoff.

“Okay, just the biggest one, and I’ll tell you mine too,” she says. “We’ll do it at the same time.”

“Alright, alright, fine!” You yield, heart beating so hard you swear it’s visible.

“3…” Yelena begins

“2…” you say.

“1!” you both shout.

“You!” you both shout in unison. An almost dopey grin spreads across her face as you slap your hand over your mouth in surprise, letting out a shrill laugh.

“Do you still?” you ask after a minute, your blush spreading down across your chest.

“Do you?” her question answers yours.

“Mhm,” you nod bashfully.

“I’ve crushed on you since we were 11,” she admits.

“I was 15,” you giggle. “I had all these dreams about kissing someone, and before I woke up I would see it was you, but only for a second,” you said softly.

“You used to throw your hand over the side of the bed, into the gap between ours. I always put it back when I saw, for your elbow’s sake, but sometimes I would hold it just for a second,” she confessed. “Oh my god, that’s so creepy,” she lamented.

“It’s okay, Lena,” you put your hand over hers. “We had so little comfort or contact there, I really don’t mind. It’s kind of nice to know, actually,” you say.

“So long as you don’t think I’m creepy,” she says with relief.

“Aw, of course I think you’re creepy. But not because of that,” you laugh, making her shove you with her free hand playfully. She interlaces your fingers and squeezes.

“You’re creepy too.”

“Thank you,” you hum softly.

You both sit there for a bit, holding hands and smiling at each other, basking in the moment you’ve both daydreamed about for years inside your mental prisons, a spark of hope and joy finally realized.

“What do you say about making your dreams come true?” she says, cocky and mischievous.

“Like, kissing?” you ask. She nods. “O-okay, yeah, that’d be nice,” for someone trained in keeping their cool, you’re failing fantastically at it in this moment.

“Still so innocent somehow,” she hums, bringing a hand to the nape of your neck, then sliding it to the back of your head to pull you in gently. She meets you halfway and then her soft lips are on hers, gentle and reassuring. You bring your hands to rest lightly on her waist, letting your eyes close and your body relax.

Without your surgery done until later, you never went on many missions that involved seduction, and you’ve never kissed a girl. Her lips are so fucking soft.

“So sweet,” she pulls back, resting your foreheads together. You press your noses together and smile. “Is it everything you dreamed of?” she smirks.

“And more,” you confirm.

“You want some more?” she teases.

“Yes please,” you say, trying not to sound too desperate.

“I’m more than happy to oblige,” her voice sounds a little husky as she pushes you back down to lay on the bed, settling over you before kissing you again.

“Lena,” you gasp between kisses. “How the fuck are your lips so soft?” you ask.

“Chapstick, dekta,” she says back when she can. You stick your tongue out at her, a little whimper of surprise making its way out of your throat as she takes it as an opportunity to slide your tongues together and gain entrance to your mouth.

You follow her lead, letting her explore and tentatively doing the same, trying to contain any more of your sounds. You’ve never kissed anybody like this before. You’re floating on cloud nine in the whole situation, hardly able to believe it.

“Let me hear you, dekta,” she says when you pull back for air. “You always sound so cute, I’ll bet you’re downright adorable when you whimper for me,” she says.

“Okay, okay, I will,” you say. “Just don’t stop, please,” you beg. She chuckles and goes back to kissing you, and now you let out all the little whimpers and whines that were trying to escape beforehand. She hums happily into the kiss.

“Absolutely precious,” she confirms. “So good for me,” she praises, you whine a little louder. “You like that?” she asks. You nod frantically. “Like it when I tell you how good you are? How about when I tell you that you’re my favorite?” she presses further. You hum happily, flushing red again.

“So cute,” she says, nuzzling her face into your neck. You run your hands up and down her back, enjoying the pressure of her body on yours and relaxing.

“I’m not cute,” you say. “I’m a trained killing machine.”

“Still cute,” she says. “Even if it’s just for me to see,” she kisses your jaw. You feel one of her legs slotting between yours. “Unless you want to keep it here tonight,” there’s no pressure or expectation in the question, so you answer honestly.

“Can we just kiss and cuddle?” you ask. “I’m just—it’s not you, it’s just a lot—“

“It’s okay, dekta,” she hushes you. “I know, it can be a lot. Don’t worry. There’s plenty of time for me to take you apart later,” she says with a smirk you can hear.

“Is that a promise?”

“Just you wait, mladenec,” she says. “But for now, come here,” she rolls you both to your sides and brings her lips back to yours. She doesn’t have to tell you twice.

[honeypiehotchner]

intelligence & issues (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- chapter eighteen

Helloooo I almost posted this yesterday as a thank you gift and then I totally got caught up in schoolwork. Gotta love finals season am I right

Anywho, thank y’all so much for 1.7k followers <3 Here’s a long ass chapter that’s a good ol’ mix of fluff and angst xx.

Chapter Warnings: waking-up-together kinda fluff, no sexytimes but there are some ~suggestive~ comments of course, ANGST at the end (i’m so sorry), the end of this case is very near on the horizon

Previous chapter || Fic Masterlist

Aaron wakes you when his first alarm goes off at 5a.m. It’s way too fucking early in your opinion, but you know he wants you to have time to go back to Emily and JJ’s room to get ready for the day.

Still, being woken by a kiss on your forehead is something you can see yourself getting used to. Not to mention using his chest as a pillow all night.

You tilt your head to capture his lips in a sweet kiss, not caring that the both of you probably have disgusting morning breath right now.

He pulls away first, nudging your nose with his before he rests his forehead on yours, looking deep into your eyes. “Good morning, sweet girl.”

You can’t help the smile that splits your lips. “Good morning.” You close your eyes in your flustered state, burying your face down into his chest. “I don’t want to leave.”

“I want you to stay,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “But we’ve got a job to do.”

“I know,” you sigh, opening your eyes to bring yourself back to reality. Then, you hook your arms around his neck, starting to grin. “Same thing tonight?”

He smirks, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Depends on how much of a good girl you are today.”

“Ooh, a challenge,” you tease. “I dunno…I’m feeling pretty bratty this morning.”

You feel his arm tighten around your shoulders, drawing you closer to him in warning.

“I’m just teasing,” you murmur, propping your chin on his chest, giving him your best eyes.

But he isn’t fazed. “I know. I’m keeping track.”

So, naturally, you pout. “Fine.”

“Strike two.”

“I have a feeling this isn’t like baseball. Three strikes and I’m out?”

“Are you trying to find out?”

“Mm, maybe?” You grin, but, as always, the FBI Agent part of your brain comes back to life. “If we didn’t have to be downstairs soon, I’d say yes. But I probably should go get dressed.”

“Understood,” Aaron replies, a small grin on his lips too. “I suppose even as your boss, I can’t keep you here.”

“As my boss, we’re technically not even supposed to be in the same bed together,” you remind him with a snort, but seriousness comes over him. “What?”

“We still need to talk,” he says quietly. “Really talk about this, but right now I just want you to know...I don’t regret this. I want this. No matter the consequences.”

“Me too,” you whisper, fingernails gently scratching the base of his skull, your weak attempt at comfort. “Do you think there’ll be consequences?”

He sighs, and you rise and fall with his chest. “I don’t know.” He pauses. “If Strauss finds out somehow, maybe. I don’t know if keeping it from her until she inevitably finds out is better than telling her ourselves, but…”

“We’ll figure it out,” you assure him with a small smile. “But you wanna do this?”

Instead of answering you verbally, he pulls you closer for a soothing kiss, coaxing all your worries away.

“I want to do this,” he says, knowing you need to hear the words from his voice.

“Okay,” you murmur, taking a deep breath. “What do we do about the team?”

His eyebrows furrow. “What about them?”

You give him a tired look. “Come on. They know.”

“What?” He blurts, sitting up a little, taking you with him. “Rossi knows.”

“And Emily and JJ and Garcia,” you chuckle. “I didn’t even tell them. Emily saw us at dinner one night. JJ figured it out from the phone call a few days ago. Garcia just...knows.”

“What about Morgan and Reid?”

“Are you kidding me? Morgan knows. Have you seen how he irritates the shit out of me every day?”

“Exactly,” Aaron says. “He does it every day.”

“Have you noticed how he’s been doing it especially when you’re around?” You raise an eyebrow. “Come on, you’re our supervisor! I thought you were a better profiler than that!”

“We have a rule not to profile each other,” he says sternly, obviously a little butthurt that he didn’t see that everyone else knew.

“A rule that none of us stick to, by the way,” you laugh. “We just don’t voice it. But we do. Trust me.”

“I didn’t think you’d figured that out yet,” he admits.

“Eh,” you shrug. “It wasn’t hard. I caught myself profiling everyone. I figured I couldn’t be the only one who does it by accident.”

Aaron only smiles. He’s amazed by you every single day. Sometimes he wonders if you even know how intelligent you are. If you even know the full scope of your mind. Maybe you don’t, maybe no one does.

“But anyway,” you swerve back on track. “I feel like it should be unspoken, but just...no PDA, you know? It’s fine that they know because honestly I think they knew before we knew, but let’s not make it a big deal.”

“Agreed,” he nods. “We still need to be professional.”

“Exactly,” you breathe, glad to be on the same page.

His second alarm goes off, the one for 5:30, and you groan, dropping your forehead to his chest.

“Why does it have to be so early?” You mutter, your lips brushing against his skin as you speak. It sends a hot wave through him, one that causes him to promptly shift your body off of him. “What are you doing?”

“You need to go get dressed,” he says. “And if you stay here wrapped around me any longer, I won’t be able to let you leave.”

You grin. “Point taken.”

You roll off the mattress, fully aware that he’s looking at your ass, and at your entire body, marveling at the way you look in his shirt.

“Oh,” you say, doing a dramatic turn, watching his eyes very quickly move back to your face. “Do you have any boxers? I probably shouldn’t walk down the hall in just a shirt.”

He’s scrambling for a pair of his boxer briefs, the thought of anyone else seeing you just like this making his blood boil frighteningly fast.

“Thanks,” you smirk when he hands them to you. And you put them on in front of him, partly for a show and partly because the look he was giving you demanded it. “I’ll see you in an hour or so?”

He nods. “Try not to spend too much time gossiping.”

“Oh, please,” you shake your head. “They’re getting all the details.”

You’re out the door before he can even catch you, and you just know you’re going to get it later.

+++

Emily and JJ are on you as soon as you open the door, both of them dressed and ready, arms folded over their chests like Moms whose daughter stayed out too late last night.

In a way, that’s completely accurate.

“And where have you been?” JJ asks, fully entering her Mom persona.

“Uhm, a friend’s house?” You play along, trying to inch your way to the bathroom.

But Emily knows your move, and stands in front of the bathroom door. “Is this friend named Aaron?”

“...maybe.”

And the façade falls, because they both cheer, pulling you into a hug.

“Finally!” Emily screams.

“Finally, what?” You laugh. “The night before I was also in his room.”

“Oh, we know,” JJ assures you.

“Finally, you admit it,” Emily clarifies. “So...details?”

“So...we have to be downstairs soon and I need to get dressed,” you walk past them to your bag. After grabbing your clothes, you turn back around to find them still staring at you. “What?”

“You’re in his shirt,” JJ says, still smiling.

“And boxers,” you laugh, pulling the hem of his t-shirt up a little. “Guys, don’t make this a big thing.” You pause, heading toward the bathroom. “He was a little upset that I knew everyone knew, and he didn’t.”

“How did he not?” Emily scoffs. “He can be so dense.”

You shake your head, shutting the bathroom door to get dressed.

When you emerge from the bathroom, now dressed and looking more presentable, Emily and JJ are finally getting ready, too. They still watch you like a pair of hawks stalking prey, though. You just hope they won’t make any comments later.

That’s wishful thinking and you know it. But hopefully the comments will be held in at least until you’re all on the jet, heading back to Virginia.

+++

When you walk out of the elevator with Emily and JJ, you find Hotch standing with Rossi, the former looking much more grave than you left him. And he’s on the phone.

“Shit,” you mutter under your breath, picking up the pace. You glance at Hotch, silently asking, and he nods. “There’s another body,” you fill in Emily and JJ, ignoring the strange look that Rossi gives you.

Once Hotch hangs up, he looks immediately at you. “There’s two bodies. Male and female.”

“What?” Emily blurts. “In the same location?”

He nods. “Same house.”

About this time, Morgan and Reid step out of the elevator, jogging over when they see the team’s faces.

“What’s going on?” Morgan asks.

“Two bodies this time, same house, male and female,” you explain briefly.

Hotch jumps in. “JJ: you, Reid, and Y/N head over to the precinct and get Garcia on the phone. Get her to find everything she can on these new victims.”

You nod, glad he’s not sending you to see anymore bloodied bodies. Just the thought has a chill running down your spine.

You don’t want to admit it, but it’s hard not to picture Trevor’s face. It’s hard not to feel the thrill of the possibility of revenge. But you know that’s only the irrational part of your brain. You know you wouldn’t really act on those thoughts.

But they’re still there.

+++

Back at the precinct, you’re dialing Garcia and stirring a cup of shitty coffee. When she picks up, she sounds about as frizzed as you feel.

“Good morning, my angel sent from Heaven,” she sings, sounding far too bright for seven in the morning. “What can I do you for?”

“Good morning,” you chuckle. “We’ve got two new victims.”

“Mm, I know,” she groans, and you begin to hear typing. “Morgan texted me their names, I was waiting for your call.”

“Yep, we just need you to work your magic, that’s all.”

“That I can do,” she replies, no doubt through a smile. “Speaking of magic…”

You already know where this is heading. “Seriously? Who told you?”

“JJ and Emily texted me,” Garcia admits. “But you know I was going to weasel it out of you eventually, anyway!”

“Yes, I know,” you roll your eyes, tossing the coffee stirrer and empty cream and sugar packets in the trash. “Listen, how about this: Once this case is over, we’ll all have a girl’s night at my place with a bunch of junk food and wine, and I’ll give all the details -- whatever they might be at that point.”

You can’t let yourself believe that you’ll still be together because who knows what could happen. Anything could happen. The universe has a bad habit of getting in the way of your love life.

“You know the way to my heart,” Garcia sighs dreamily. “It’s a date. Speaking of dates, it looks like our two victims were married.”

“Married?” You nearly yell. Talk about a plot twist. “And the guy brought our unsub home for a one-night stand?”

“Looks that way so far,” Garcia says with a grimace. “Caroline Merritt, 35, was the CEO of her own company and traveled a lot. It looks like she changed flights yesterday and landed around eleven p.m. She checked her car out of the airport parking lot at eleven forty-five.”

“Great, so she might’ve walked in on our unsub.” You rub your forehead from the stress. “What about the other victim?”

“Jasper Rhodes was 34 and a part-time worker at the local Walmart,” Garcia lists off. “They had been married for three years, but Caroline never changed her last name.”

“Don’t exactly blame her,” you remark. “Alright, which one had allegations?”

“I’m about to burst your bubble, babycakes. Neither of them.”

“Really?”

“Really,” Garcia echoes, just as solemn. “Caroline has a squeaky clean record, aside from one speeding ticket when she was seventeen for going forty-five in a school zone. Jasper also has a clean slate for a record, but he does have one DUI from when he was twenty-two. Nothing else since.”

“It’s been twelve years, so for all we know, he could be sober for a decade now,” you mutter. “Okay. Do they have any connection at all to our other victims? Please say yes.”

“Cross referencing as we speak,” Garcia says, typing furiously. “Almost done… Negative,” she sighs. “I’m sorry, babe.”

“Don’t be sorry,” you shake your head. “Thank you for being such a wizard, as always.”

“It’s my specialty,” she quips. “So...do I get some details about you and Hotch now?”

“Goodbye Garcia…” You chuckle, ending the call before she can ask anything else.

You walk back into the conference room, shaking your head sadly at JJ who looks up with hopeful eyes.

“Garcia found virtually nothing. Caroline got a speeding ticket at seventeen, and Jasper a DUI at twenty-two. Nothing since. And no connection to any of our other victims,” you relay the information, ending it with a sip of your coffee.

“This unsub is good,” JJ says, exasperated. “How is she always three steps ahead of us?”

“She’s not, really,” Reid says, and you can feel something else coming on. “It’s like she knows we’re closing in on her, so she’s going after those who have no reported allegations. She’s not as far ahead as we think, but maybe that’s what she wants us to think.”

“Reid, dude, you’re sounding like a fortune cookie right now,” you laugh. “I get where you’re going with this. But unless they find some DNA at the crime scene, we’re back to square one again.”

“Maybe…” He trails away, getting up to look at the map.

Something is going on in his head, but you’re not sure what. He’ll tell you when he’s finished with it, you’re sure.

In your pocket, your phone starts buzzing. Thinking it’s Garcia, you pull it out and answer without looking, but Garcia’s voice isn’t what you hear on the other end.

“I’m heading back to the precinct,” Hotch says.

“O...kay,” you furrow your eyebrows, mouthing, ‘Hotch’ to JJ. “Why just you?”

“I need to show you something,” he says slowly, like he’s struggling to get the words out. “The unsub left a note.”

“What does it say?” You ask, wondering why it’s like pulling teeth to get him to speak.

“It’s addressed to you,” he finally says, and all the blood drains from your body. “It’s in an envelope and sealed. Your… Your name is on the front.”

You’re not sure what to make of that at all.

“Okay,” you say, your brain unable to really process it. “Okay, we’ll look at it when you get here.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Aaron,” you whisper, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Don’t say that to me. You’re scaring me.” You pause. “What are you sorry for?”

“For this note,” he replies, voice quiet. “For this unsub targeting you, and now for scaring you.”

“What does the note say?”

“I don’t know,” he says. “I didn’t open it.”

“Okay. Just...hurry, I guess.”

“I’m turning into the parking lot now.”

“Okay, see you in a sec,” you murmur, ending the call.

You look up from the phone to find both JJ and Reid staring at you, concern swimming deeply in their eyes. You don’t even have the energy to offer them a reassuring smile. Nothing about this is comfortable for you.

Why would the unsub leave a note addressed to you?

Hotch walks through the precinct doors a few moments later, a man on a mission as he walks directly to the conference room. You’re explaining to JJ and Reid about the note when he walks in, and you fall silent upon seeing him.

He hates that he even called you to warn you, but he had to do something. His mind was racing on the drive. He had to hear your voice, and he knew you were bound to ask why he was coming back on his own, what’s so urgent, so he knew he’d have to tell you.

But the fear in your eyes right now is something he never wants to see again. Ever.

“Where is it?” You say, your voice wavering.

Slowly, Hotch pulls the envelope out of his jacket pocket. It’s in a plastic bag, which is standard protocol for evidence, and you begin searching for a pair of gloves.

You find a pair and start to slip them on, grimacing at the way your hands shake, and using your peripheral vision to see that Aaron is watching you closely.

Once you’re gloved up, he hands you the plastic bag. It feels much heavier than it should.

Carefully, you pull out the envelope, swallowing down the nausea you’re feeling. As Hotch said, your name -- Agent Y/N L/N -- is scrawled on the front in messy handwriting. Fortunately, Reid can examine that, and this letter if it’s handwritten.

You break the seal on the envelope, flinching slightly, and ignoring that you did. But Aaron saw it.

You pull out the note and half of you cries in relief because it is handwritten, and the other half of you feels sheer terror because your business card is taped to the top left hand corner.

“Shit,” you cuss, closing your eyes.

“What?” Aaron asks, taking a step closer, lowering his head to meet your eye level.

“My business card,” you say, opening your eyes again, hating the way things look blurry for a moment. JJ and Reid are just fuzzy figures at the table when you look around the room. “It could’ve been anyone at the meetings. I handed my card to as many that would take it. There’s no way I’ll remember everyone, or even half of them, I mean, I ran out of cards, I had to go stand by Morgan because--”

“Okay, okay, slow down,” Aaron stops you, putting both hands on your arms. “Look at me, please.”

Slowly, the world comes back into focus and you meet his brown eyes, finding your peace there like you have so many other times before. You focus on the weight of his hands on your arms, grounding you, bringing you back.

“I know it’s difficult,” he says. “But you need to breathe.”

You nod, sucking in a deep breath a little too abruptly, not even realizing you had been taking shallow breaths in the first place.

“Good girl,” he whispers, so low that he’s almost mouthing it, careful not to let JJ or Reid hear. And it’s not sexual or sensual this time. It’s comforting. “Can you read the rest of it?”

You nod. “I can help you end your suffering. I can help you avenge. I can help you heal. It doesn’t have to be this way.” You pause, looking up from the note, looking between Hotch, JJ, and Reid. “What does that even mean?”

“Did you talk about your experience during the meetings?” Reid asks.

“A little bit, but I barely scratched the surface of it,” you admit. “And I didn’t mention any names. I might hate him, but...I’d never send a serial killer after him.”

“I know,” Hotch says. “We’re not accusing you of that,” he adds gently. “It’s clear our unsub feels a connection to you now. Something you said must’ve resonated deeply with her.”

“But all I said was that he was my fiancé and that I didn’t report him, so that still gets us nowhere. She’s still a ghost.”

“She’s not a ghost,” he says sternly. “We will find her. You’ve already seen her once.”

“Yeah, but I don’t remember seeing her, Hotch.”

“That doesn’t matter. What matters is she’s reaching out. Which means we’re close.”

“Not close enough,” you protest, tossing the letter back on the plastic bag on the table. “I need to take a walk.” You move toward the door, and he’s following you, so you add quietly, “Alone, please.”

Hotch nods, and watches you go, more worried than he’s ever been in his life.

+++

When Rossi, Emily, and Morgan return to the police precinct, they spot you sitting alone on a bench outside the front doors.

“I got this,” Morgan says, hopping out of the car and heading to you, gesturing for Rossi and Emily to head inside. They share a look and nod, disappearing into the precinct to leave Morgan alone with you.

You don’t even look up from your hands when you see Morgan coming over from your peripheral vision.

“What’s up, kiddo?” He asks, standing in front of you.

“I’m really not in the mood right now, Derek.”

“Too bad,” he shrugs, sitting next to you on the bench, stretching his arm out behind you. “What’s going on? You know I’m just gonna keep buggin’ you until you tell me.”

You snort. “I know.”

“So…” He pauses. “Tell me. It’ll save us both a whole lotta time. And it’ll save you a whole lotta stress, sittin’ there with all that in your head.”

You know he’s right. And you know he’s the only one who really gets it.

So, you tell him what’s wrong.

“The unsub left that note just for me. My card was taped to it, Morgan.”

“And?”

“What do you mean and? It means I laid eyes on her, maybe talked to her, handed her my fucking card, and I still didn’t know it was her.”

“We’re not superhuman, Y/N. We only see what they show us. She probably put on a mask while talking to you.”

“Well now she’s still out there--”

“Listen to me. I ran out of cards too, remember? We started using yours. I easily could’ve given her your card. Hell, I was there with you, I probably looked at her a dozen times, too. Are you gonna yell at me for not recognizing her?”

“No--”

“Then stop doing it to yourself, you hear me?”

“I just… She feels a connection to me. What does that say about me?”

“That you’re a relatable person,” Derek offers, causing you to glare at him. “Hey,” he raises a hand in surrender. “I’m just being logical. It doesn’t say anything about you. Because a serial killer’s view of you is not who you are. You are who you are.”

“Thanks for the fortune cookie.”

“Don’t get that tone with me, kid,” he replies tiredly. “You know you’re not really mad at me, so don’t take it out on me, okay?”

“I know, I’m sorry,” you rub your forehead. “I’m just…”

“It’s not your fault, Y/N.”

“I know that.”

“I know you know that, but you still need to hear it,” he says. “And I’ll always be here to tell you, got that?”

You look over at him with a small smile. “Got it.”

He smiles too, glad to see you’re feeling better. He shoves your shoulder lightly, playfully. “Come on. Let’s get back in there.”

“Yeah,” you nod, standing up.

He walks ahead, but you stay still, wondering if you should even ask what you’re about to ask. But Derek notices your hesitation and turns back around, studying you.

“Spit it out,” he says, knowing there’s something.

“The unsub is trying to talk to me,” you say, shrugging your shoulders nonchalantly. “So...what if we set up a trap.”

“What?” Morgan deadpans, raising his eyebrows, turning his body to completely face you.

“What if we--”

“Use you as bait?” Morgan finishes, incredulity coating his words.

You nod. “I wasn’t going to word it like that, but--”

He scoffs, looking more and more pissed off as the seconds go on. “Hell no. Are you outta your damn mind?”

“No, I’m not. I’m--”

“No,” he stops you, holding up his hand, pointing at you. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence. Don’t go there. We will find this unsub, and we will do it without you sacrificing yourself.”

“I wouldn’t be sacrificing myself!” You protest. “You guys would be there. You’d have my back.”

“We can’t predict everything this unsub will do, Y/N, you know that,” Morgan fires back. “And I’ll be damned if I let you throw yourself into danger like this. It’s not happening. You hear me?”

SIghing, you nod. “I hear you.”

“Have you even told Hotch about this?”

“No.”

“Good. Don’t,” Morgan replies. “You’ll just get a lecture and you and I both know you don’t need that right now.”

“I know.”

He pauses, shaking his head. He steps forward, wrapping you in a hug, eyes closing when he feels you burying your face in his neck. “I love you, kid,” he whispers. “And I know it’s hard, but you got this, we got this. And it’s gonna be okay. Okay?”

“Okay,” you nod into his neck, taking a deep breath. “Yeah.”

Next chapter

[quicksilverownsmysoul]

I'll gladly take any smut you have for Detective Zabel please! I'm not sure on ideas except making it up to the reader for working too hard with some ah-maay-zinga sexytimes! I just wanna wrap him up in love fjdjrjfkd

Sameeee Colin Zabel owns my heart I just wanna smother him with so much love!!

Overworked

Summary: Colin has been so stressed lately so reader decides to help him get rid of some of that stress ;)

Warnings: smut, +18, do no read if under, fluff

Colin had been overworking himself lately, you noticed the dark circles under his eyes and the tension that never seemed to leave his body. He said they had a lead for his newest case and he was determined to follow it in hopes it would lead them to a break in the case. He called you during dinner to tell you he’d be coming home late get again.

It was the fifth time this week Colin had had to stay late and work. You sighed and wrapped up his half of dinner and put it away in the fridge for him to eat when he could. You hadn’t seen much of Colin lately, only catching him if you got up really early, he’d kiss you on the cheek before disappearing off to work. You missed him. You had tried to wait up for him each night, putting on some random show to keep yourself entertained but you always fell asleep right before he made it home. Tonight was the same, you had found yourself drifting to sleep in the middle of some sitcom and had decided to turn in for the night.

You had just fallen asleep when Colin came home. He took off his coat and hung it by the door, he gently shut the door not wanting to wake you up. He made his way to the kitchen and opened the fridge the soft light illuminating the dark kitchen. He saw the food you had wrapped up for him, you had put a little sticky note on it that said eat this when you get home you need to take care of yourself and then added a little heart.

He smiled at it and took it out, unwrapping it he saw it was his favorite. He heated it up and then leaned against the counter as he ate thinking about you. All he wanted to do was come home and have dinner with you every night, you curled into his side after dinner. But his work had been taking him away from you, he was longing for you. In more ways than one.

He finished, cleaning up his trash and heading to bed. By now he was used to stumbling is way through the dark, he didn’t want to turn on any light and risk waking you up. He took off his work clothes, tossing them into a hamper by the closet. He rubbed the knot behind his neck as he brushed his teeth, trying to ease the tightness in his joints. He watched you as he brushed his teeth, smiling to himself at how peaceful and angelic you looked. The moonlight from the window making you look ethereal, you let out a small snore and he chuckled to himself.

He tossed on an old shirt from college to sleep in and did his best to slip into his bed without disturbing you. But you felt his side dip and turned slowly to face him. You let out a yawn and opened your eyes to look at him. “Hey you.” You said sleepily, reaching your arm out to give him a lazy hug, .

“Hey you.” He said squeezing you back. “Go back to bed.” He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to your lips. You hummed and turned back around, falling back asleep against his chest.

Colin did his best to fall asleep but the stress of his work was keeping him up. His mind running in circles trying to connect it all, each night even after he went home his mind don’t seem to get the memo. Keeping him awake and forcing him to thinking about the case. And tonight it wasn’t the only thing keeping him awake. Every now and then you would press back into him, you ass brushing against his crotch and making him tense up. Each time you did his body would tingle with a wave of pleasure.

Due to his busy work schedule it had been a while since you guys had done it and it seemed it was affecting him more than he thought. Your soft brushes made him hard in an instant, but he did his best to ignore it not wanting to wake you up.

But you had already felt it, you turned in his arms to face him yet again. “Hello detective.” He blushed at the realization he had woken you up. “It seems we have company. Why don’t you let me help with that?”You whispered, kissing his neck, softly sucking on his most sensitive places. His breath hitched, as he tried his best not to give into your touch.

He gently grabbed your shoulder, pulling you off. He pressed his own kisses into your skin for a moment before before kissing your cheek. “It okay, go back to bed darling.”

You could see the lingerings of lust in his eyes, but you could also sense his hesitance. He didn’t want to put you out, as much as he wanted it he didn’t want to bother you. You shook your head, reaching up to cup his face and he leaned into you touch, kissing your palm. You smiled at the sweet action, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his, he kissed back, this time more desperate and needy. You moved in sync with him lightly nipping at his bottom lip when you pulled away.

“Let me take care of you detective.” He nodded his head and you smiled up at him. You sat up to straddle him, you trailed kisses down his neck, pushing up his shirt and lightly running your fingers across his skin. You gave his sides a slight squeeze, loving the little bit of fat that lived there. You kissed your way down his chest, leaving marks here and there, knowing how much he loved seeing you claim him as your own. You took your time kissing his stomach, knowing he could be insecure about it. But to you it was one of your favorite parts of him, it was soft and supple, it showed how much he loved all the little treats you made for him.

He wiggled under your touch, it had been so long since you had kissed him like that. You made you way down, you ass resting just above where he needed you most. He tried bucking his hips up, trying to get any kinds of friction. He felt you smirk against his skin, you slid yourself down, settling yourself between his legs. He scooted up on the bed, sitting against the headboard to give you better access.

You hooked your fingers on the waist band of his boxers, pulling them down at a tantalizing slow pace. You watched as his cock sprang free from its tight confinement, slapping against his stomach, he let out a little whimper at the cool air. The tip was angry and red from going so long without release. You grabbed it by the base and ran you hand up to the tip, flicking your wrist, earning a moan from Colin.

You found a pace, taking your time with pleasure him, wanting him to enjoy every second of it. You ran your thumb over his slit, making him buck up into your hand, you did this a couple more times noticing the way his head flew back into the pillows as he moaned out your name. You knew he was close, he wanst going to last as long since he hadn’t been touched in so long. You sped up the pace, your other hand coming down to squeeze his balls, and roll them with your fingers. You wrapped your hand tightly around the base and ran it up one more time, rubbing against his pulsing vein and pressing down on the tip. He let out a loud groan, gripping the bed sheets tightly. He never looked so beautiful as he did now calling your name like a mantra, his face glistened with sweat as he came, his stomach painted with his own release.

You eased him down from his high, his chest heaving as he watched you collect some of his cum onto your fingers and lick it clean, he could have came again from that action alone. You got up and came back with a warm cloth. You cleaned him up and he melted under your touch. You settled back into bed and he moved to grab at you, kissing you feverishly. You let out a light laugh as you broke the kiss. “No honey, tonight was about you.”

“But-“

You cut him off with a kiss, tangling your hands in his hair. “No buts.”

He brushed your hair from your face. “Do you know how much I love you?”

“Not as much as I love you.” You responded, pulling him closer.

“I don’t think so.” He smiled and pulled away, getting on top of you. He kissed your neck leaving his own marks.

“Colin I told you-“ He pressed a kiss to your lips cutting you off. He gave you a smirk as he pulled away, looking into your eyes deeply.

“Like you said darling no buts.”

[shirks-all-responsibilities]

I was really struck by these lines, pondering how there’s nothing quite like finding someone who feels like a treasured safe haven when you’re with them, a home in the deepest soul-reaching depths of the word, to have that person be someone who loves you deeply…

“Not like before, not in desperation, or anger, or fear. None of those emotions are present, here, safe and surrounded by everything you call home, held by one you love and who loves you…Yes, love is simple compared to this, this fullness, this sense of belonging. This sense of home.”

For both of them it much be such an achingly beautiful thing to feel, for the first time in their lives…it’s a feeling that feels so much more grounded, so deeply at peace, consoled and soothed to the center of one’s self…there’s something about this infused in this whole finale of a chapter for me. These kind of deep, soul-touching feelings are so much more quiet and profound than the intensity of heart-bursting emotional feels that don’t quite reach those depths. When I got to the part where Tionas laid down on her stomach with her back bared so openly for him, I got very quiet and very still…there was such a profound reverence I felt, what a powerful moment, it meant so much, was so transformative and healing. And then to transition into the intimacy that follows, his chest against her back, the eye contact…HOLY FKN INTIMACY?????? I need a new word to even begin to convey that kind of intimacy??? The English language is FAILING meeeee?? And that short line, “Your world is filled with him,” just about says it all for me? How it conveys how he is literally everything to her, in all senses? Encompassing literally EVERYTHING?

And look, the sexytimes are hot as always but now they are Profound Sexytimes™, which sounds ridiculous 😆, but like…again English why are you failingggg meeee?

“It’s more than just physical want. It’s something else entirely, an intuition, pulling you together. Weaving through the air, your touch, your shared breath, your heartbeats, frantic for more. Pressing deeper, through emotion and thought and consciousness into the very core of your being.”

I LOVE how this feeling is so evident in this chapter, after the build up of the story so far, of how everything for these two is going so far beyond the surface level, beyond emotional swells and BIG grandiose feels that can seem like they are the deepest one can go, to some far deeper level of the CORE of their selves. The way the tears gently stream down her face, the energy of the chapter…it’s like there is this gentle, slowed down undercurrent to the energy of everything here, that these two have earned after their long journey...a sort of paradoxical calming when things reach their greatest profundity. 😊

And in the context of Profound Sexytimes™, you had to go and just DROP THIS LINE THERE, ALL CASUAL LIKE:

“Another small wave of pleasure courses through your limbs, trembles in your thighs, and he opens his eyes, gaze meeting yours as his glistening tongue laps up your slick, brows creased in utter indulgence.”

Brows created in utter indulgence?? BROWS CREASED IN UTTER INDULGENCE?????? UTTER?? INDULGENCE?? Oh my GODDDD, like, the slow pacing of how this sentence unfolds to end in such POETRY and how LOST Din is in the moment is JUST…ENGLISH WHYYYYY.

“You’re reaching for him, fingers tracing his features. He closes his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath, blinking them back open to meet your gaze and your heart stutters with a jolt of something so pure it must be joy.”

And THIS moment, kinda like the one above in that WHAT IS IT ABOUT seeing a person open their eyes from a state of closure, about gazing at them at that very moment of opening, connecting with them, ahhhhh it’s so precious!! And that “You’re falling, sinking into those dark brown depths ...” OH THIS just says EVERYTHING about what she’s feeling at that moment.

That “You’re ok” Din says near the beginning, what he is actually saying and what she’s feeling is 1000 times deeper. And that ending, “Yeah. Everything is perfect” WAS PERFECT. Simple, incredibly meaningful and calm, a feeling she’s never had until then…it’s everything that she’s feeling wrapped up in one short phrase. I was smiling at that closure, loved it my friend.

You should feel SO PROUD of finishing this fic, of writing so many words, and sharing this beautiful story with us? I can't believe it's over! I knew it was coming and it feels like such a perfect closure, but I still can't quite believe it!

To close, here is a live snapshot of me basking in the Profound Feels™ this chapter and closure of this fic inspired in me:

🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

The Fifth Step - Chapter Thirty-Eight

Part of The World Is Light, Embodied.

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 6100

Warnings, etc.: smut, like hella descriptive but you should anticipate that by now, and FEELS, tender smutty feels, omg the FEELS, I just think it needs to be noted a few times given how much there is, a little bit of angst at the beginning but that clears up real quick, sweet moment of domesticity for our perfect little family 🥰

Notes: This is it. The end of The World Is Light, Embodied. I’ve added a note to the end of this chapter because I can’t contain myself (shocking, I know) and it ended up being way too long and wordy (also shocking) but in summary, I love you all.

Mando’a translations at the end of the chapter.

Please check out the Series Masterlist page for more info.

Ok. Deep breath. Go.

You’re hovering. 

You know it, there’s no real reason for you to still be here, leaning against the wall of the hold, watching the kid sleep. 

The hold of the ship is almost pitch-dark as the last few minutes of the day cycle tick away. Now that the kid is down, you should be moving through your usual nighttime routine - tidying up, reviewing what needs to be done tomorrow, getting yourself ready to slip into bed with Din once he’s done in the cockpit. 

But something stays your feet, holds your gaze fixed to the slight rise and fall of that little chest. 

An archetypal protectiveness, a need to have the kid in your line of sight, to know that he’s safe. 

Even now, when he’s snug in his hammock, snoring lightly, tiny clawed hand curled around his stuffed frog. 

A tightness in your chest tugs at your heart, making it skip against your ribs, events of today flashing across your thoughts. 

He came so close to…

And you…

Boots on the ladder draw you out of memories. 

Din steps off quietly, obviously taking the silence in the hold as proof that the kid is asleep. He moves toward you with that familiar confident grace, beskar glinting in the dim lighting, stopping when he’s close enough to rest a gloved hand on the small of your back. 

You lean into the touch, but it’s not enough, that tight feeling constricting your lungs and your body instinctively turns to slip your hands around his waist and pull yourself into his embrace, tuck your nose into the curve of his neck just as you’ve done countless times before. His hands glide over the span of your back, one pressing you to him and the other cupping the back of your neck.

Your muscles release, and you sink into the moment. The tight feeling strains, pulls, snaps and every emotion trapped within floods your system. 

Not like before, not in desperation, or anger, or fear. None of those emotions are present, here, safe and surrounded by everything you call home, held by one you love and who loves you. 

It’s a simple acknowledgement of the events of today, and those primal instincts, that drive to protect and survive that razed your veins with adrenaline and left you feeling unmoored. 

A recognition that experiencing those emotions is part of the life you live. A life you choose to live, because even if you are left drifting, uncertain, you will always come back.

Din will always guide you back home. 

He bears your weight easily as you lean into him, tears sliding down your cheeks, dampening the cloth of his cowl. 

It’s quiet, just the hum of the ship’s engines vibrating along the edge of silence. For a long moment, there’s only you and him, only the barely-there pulse of your heartbeats pressed close together, seeking each other through layers of cloth and beskar. 

The torrent of emotion slows eventually, lessens to a trickle that allows you to direct strength back to your limbs, pull back from Din to stand on your own two feet again. 

His hand on your neck slides around to cup your jaw, tilt your face as his hidden gaze takes you in. “You’re ok, kar’ta.”

There’s an insistence in his words, a strain in his modulated voice that brings fresh tears to your eyes. 

You nod once, smile weak but reassuring. “I’m ok.”

A sharp exhale crackles through the modulator then he’s moving, hands leaving you to grasp his helmet and pull it off and you get a glimpse of those eyes you’ve been wishing to see again all day before he’s kissing you. 

It’s soft and firm and frantic and steady all at the same time, his lips pressing so gently to yours while his hands grasp desperately at your waist, as if he’s afraid of hurting you and losing you at the same time. 

You press yourself full-length against his frame, shiver as the cool of his breastplate seeps through your shirt, and sift your fingers through his hair, cup the back of his head and return his kiss with resolution, conveying your silent reassurance. 

I’m ok.

The bone-deep tension he’d been holding releases in a tremor that runs through his body into yours and back again, reverberating, growing until both of you are trembling with the need to be as close to one another as possible. 

Everything blurs, the lines between you and him disappear, his actions become your own, and you can’t tell who’s hand reaches behind you to key shut the bunk door, who’s feet guide the other’s down the length of the hold, who’s voice murmurs pleading sounds against who’s skin.

It’s more than just physical want. It’s something else entirely, an intuition, pulling you together. Weaving through the air, your touch, your shared breath, your heartbeats, frantic for more. 

Pressing deeper, through emotion and thought and consciousness into the very core of your being.

It’s a single beat of a moment in time, only a few minutes at most, but it feels like eternity. 

In flashes, pieces of your individual physicality come back - the cold durasteel at your back as he presses you to the wall of the hold, the scrape of his teeth over your bottom lip while he kisses you deep, then the shift of your weight when you push back, turn and twist until you’re both moving again, heading for a destination only vaguely marked in your mind, somewhere soft and safe that you can fall into with him. 

You suddenly stumble, waver as your knee bumps into something - the edge of the bed.

A pause, then, a slowing of breaths and heartbeats, a calming of the frenetic energy. 

Din’s grip on your waist holds you steady as you rebalance, come back into yourself, look down at the dim shape of the bed in the dark of the hold. 

Was it only this morning you were slipping into wakefulness in this bed for the first time, awareness slowly pulling in sensations of warmth and safety and comfort, of Din?

When you’d sat on this bed, met his gaze and spoke words that bound you together in a way that transcends intimacy and connection?

A blink and you’re suddenly back there, in that moment, full of everything you’ve ever wanted but could never find hope for. 

You turn back to him, cup his face in your hands, trace the curve of his jaw with a thumb, push the memory of the words past your raw throat. “Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar’tome.”

His fingers flex, smooth over your hips, his voice rasping with the echo of your own emotion. “Mhi solus darasuum.”

A faded moment from the past flickers across your thoughts. In this very place, when you had realized happiness wasn’t a distant concept, it was something you could have, if you let yourself have it. 

“How do you say ‘forever?’”

Pressing a kiss to his mouth, you stay close, let him feel your soft words. “We are one, forever.”

He returns the kiss with a small sigh. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” You let the smile curve your lips, let joy swell behind your ribs, every emotion close to the surface, ready to burst out at the smallest opportunity. 

“Can I… can I turn on the lights?” 

The words are hesitant, you immediately jump to reassure him. “Din, I will never ask you to, but I will always welcome the chance to see you.”

This time his kiss is firmer, a growing passion behind it that makes your head spin. Then he’s pulling back, pressing a command into his vambrace and the lights of the hold blink on and -

Pfassk. 

You’re reaching for him, fingers tracing his features. He closes his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath, blinking them back open to meet your gaze and your heart stutters with a jolt of something so pure it must be joy. 

The words fall from you with a shake of a giggle. “You’re so kriffing pretty.”

A blush dusts his cheekbones, crease forming between his brows as the corner of his mouth pulls up in bemusement. “And that’s funny?”

“Kinda.” You let the giggle loose, smoothing back an errant curl from his forehead. “People think you’re some serious, scary Mandalorian but you’ve got those eyes and -“ your thumb dips to trace his bottom lip - “these lips that practically beg to be kissed and -“

He silences you with those lips on your own, the vibration of his own embarrassed laughter shifting his chest under your palms as you hook your fingers over the edge of his breastplate to pull him close again. 

A low sound rumbles in his throat, and he grasps your hands, guides them to the straps of the breastplate. Your breath hitches as he helps you unlock the clasps, a moan following quickly when his tongue coaxes your lips apart and slips inside. 

He repeats the motion with his pauldrons, moving your fingers with his, but you’re distracted, hands twitching, practically useless as his mouth takes yours, nipping and lapping and pulling. That frantic energy swirls through your core, pushing arousal to the forefront. 

The whimper that slips from you when he pulls back makes him still, look at you, gaze deep and all-consuming. Taking you in, from your clenching hands to the fast rise and fall of your chest, your swollen lips and eyes probably already hazy with want. 

An answering want flares in his own gaze. 

Then it’s a flurry of movement and he’s alternating between layering kisses on your mouth and the curve of your neck and removing his gear and armour. You try to help, fingers fumbling with the clasps and straps, focus wavering with each kiss that curls your toes in your boots until he’s slipping his flightsuit off his shoulders and letting it fall to the floor and tugging his underlayer shirt over his head and -

Crikking hells. 

Golden skin fills your vision, firm planes of muscle and the slight swell of his stomach and you can’t breathe, your entire body is frozen, thoughts trying to piece together the significance of this moment, of seeing this part of him you’ve never seen before, but all you can think is -

“Mesh’la.” You murmur the word as your hands glide over his chest, marvelling at the combined sensations of his skin under your palms and the sight of his muscles twitching beneath your fingertips. 

Need sears hot through your core. 

A rough whimper buzzes under your hands and he suddenly yanks you close, kissing you hard enough to make your knees bend with the force. 

Another shift and he’s pushing you back, down, a hand moving behind you to brace your weight as you fall onto the bed, his lips following yours. 

Your thighs part automatically, boot catching on the edge of the bed, and you groan in frustration, all of a sudden aware of every layer of clothing you’re still wearing, unnecessary barriers between your skin and his. 

He pulls back, and a thrill of arousal curls into the growing heat of your desire at the fierce intent in his expression. His movements are quick and precise, pulling your boots off and tossing them aside, slipping his fingers under the hem of your leggings and underwear and tugging them down your legs and away. 

Then he’s kneeling, not on the bed but on the floor, and his large hands grip your thighs, haul you to the edge of the mattress and push them apart. 

Oh kriff -

Anticipation shivers down your spine, cool air swirls over your pussy, arousal arcs up in reaction -

His eyes are so dark, a brown that’s almost black, drawing you into their depths and you can’t look away, pinned in place by that gaze as he lowers his mouth, as his plush lips part, as his tongue slips out to swipe over your clit. 

Crikking hells -

The moan that pushes from your chest sparks a flash of something in his eyes and he laps up the length of your cunt, tongue dipping inside to flick over your fluttering entrance, lap up your arousal already gathering there. 

Your fingers fist into the blankets at your sides, a breath-taking wave of pleasure rolling through you. “Din -“

He groans in response, presses a wet kiss to your clit before swirling the tip of his tongue around it, then pulling it between his lips, the brown of his irises darkening impossibly more and you can’t, it’s so much, feeling the swipe of his tongue over your clit and the gentle suck of his lips and seeing those eyes, deep and devouring, watching you lose yourself. 

You whimper, a wordless cry, your head falling back and eyes squeezing shut against the swarm of overwhelming pleasure radiating from your cunt, you hands tugging uselessly at the blankets as if they could keep you grounded and suddenly he’s shifting, his fingers twining through yours, gripping tight as his tongue slides down through your folds in a long, slow glide that sends a rush of slick from your core and sparks of blinding pleasure up your spine. 

Again, he laps thickly at your entrance before pulling your clit in between his lips and pressing -

Your back arches sharply, words stuttering gasps. “Yes oh pfassk so good feels so good -“

He hums low and the vibration resonates through your core, pushing your pleasure higher. His lips press, rolling your clit between them with a barely-there suck and -

Your entire body shudders, fingernails digging into the backs of his hands. 

Again and again, the press and pull -

Pleasure burns bright, building higher -

One of his hands leaves yours and a fingertip slides through your folds, presses to your entrance, and your hips instinctively rock forward, pushing it in with the motion -

He groans long and low as your cunt clenches around his finger, draws it in deep, and his tongue circles hot and firm over your clit and yes -

Lights flicker along the edge of your vision and your free hand dives into his hair as he slides another finger into your pussy. 

He starts a rhythm, a barely-thrust with a crook of his fingertips along your inner walls and a squeeze-pull of his lips on your clit and you cry out, nails digging into his scalp, pleasure building up and up, higher -

Your voice cracks, pleads. “Din I’m gonna -“

His growl rumbles through your core, shoves your pleasure to the edge and a pulse of his fingers on that spot inside you is enough -

Bright wet heat -

Your body shudders through the wave, cunt squeezing his fingers tight, clit throbbing under the wet pressure of his lips and tongue as you come. 

The drop punches the breath from your lungs, curves your back into your body with the force of it. 

He withdraws his fingers and grips your thigh, smearing slick along your skin as he drags his tongue over your entrance, moans into your still-fluttering cunt. 

You prop yourself up on an elbow, some urge driving you to look -

Crikking hells. 

Another small wave of pleasure courses through your limbs, trembles in your thighs, and he opens his eyes, gaze meeting yours as his glistening tongue laps up your slick, brows creased in utter indulgence. 

You’re falling, sinking into those dark brown depths and you need -

A sound full of raw desperation squeezes from your suddenly tight chest and he reacts immediately, rising up to press you back down into the mattress with a deep kiss that steals the end of your cry, fills your mouth with the taste of your own pleasure. It’s grounding, the weight of his chest on yours, but you need more -

Hooking your legs around his thighs you twist, push, and he rolls onto his back, hands curling around your waist to pull you with him. 

A warm throb of fresh arousal pulses in your core as you settle, straddling his hips, his cloth-covered cock pressing tight to your cunt. 

He grunts and rocks up, grinding his arousal along your wet heat. You bite your lip against the urge to close your eyes, sink into the delicious friction, keeping your gaze steady on his as your hands smooth down his chest. 

Broad expanse of glowing skin, accentuating undeniable strength, unmarred by the few scars that are evidence of his ability to withstand, to succeed. 

To survive and live. 

The skin of your back prickles with an awareness that sinks deep into your thoughts, pulling something you’ve been trying to understand for a long time to the surface. 

Your scars, those thick lines scattered across your back - they don’t mean what they used to. 

Now, they’re just another part of you that you want to share with him, the last of your secrets. 

You want him to see you. All of you. 

There’s no hesitance, only absolute certainty. 

You grasp the hem of your shirt, pull it up and over your head, toss it away. 

The hands on your thighs grip hard as he stills beneath you. Those beautiful brown eyes are fixed on yours, wide with something like awe. 

Your hands slip behind your back and unclasp your bra, and the cool air swirls over your bare skin, pulls your nipples tighter. 

He swallows hard, the rise and fall of his chest noticeable - he’s seen you like this before, but not quite, not without the security of your shirt covering your scars, and his voice holds his awareness of how important this moment is. “Tionas…”

You take his hands, bring them to your chest, press those long fingers over the swell of your breasts. “It’s ok.” A flash of memory, Mando’a words rise to the surface of your thoughts. “Gar haa’taylir ni, Din.”

His gaze softens, then he’s sitting up, one hand sliding around your back while the other cups your breast and his lips capture yours in a firm kiss. 

The glide of his warm hand over your naked back sends a shiver down your spine. Your hips roll with it, your cunt grinding over his cloth-covered cock and he groans into your mouth, thumb brushing over your nipple before pinching it between his fingers. 

Oh pfassk -

He shifts, lips leaving yours to trail along your collarbone, tongue flicking out over the curve of your breast. 

Your instinct is to let your head fall back, close your eyes, lose yourself in feeling but you can’t, your gaze fixed on the way his plush lips close around your nipple, how his large hand cups your other breast with restrained want, so obviously cautious not to squeeze too hard, how the curve of his jaw shifts as his tongue works over your breast. 

He nips lightly with his teeth and pleasure shivers through your body. 

Yes -

Your fingers dive into his hair, nails dig into his scalp and he grunts, nips again and the lightening-hot sensation arcs down your spine, hips rolling with its force, amplifying it as the head of his cock catches on your clit and sends tiny sparks across your hips. 

He laves at your nipple, hand on your back pushing to press it further into his mouth as he sucks gently, and it’s so good and your entire body shudders at the sudden weight of your need, cunt clenching around aching emptiness. 

Your fingers tug on his curls, unsure if you’re trying to bring him closer or pull him away so you can kiss that perfect mouth of his. 

Another roll of your hips, his cock twitches against your folds and he pulls off your breast, presses his forehead to your chest as a rush of your hot slick soaks his underlayer. “Fuck, I need to be inside you -“

You rock your hips into his again, panting at the drag of wet fabric over your sensitive clit. “Yes, please -“

His answering moan crackles along your damp skin and he pulls back, looks up at you and kriff he’s so beautiful, expression pulled tight with want and pupils blown wide, lips swollen with his efforts to pull pleasure from your body. 

Pfassk. You want him so bad it hurts.

And you want to give him all of you. 

His brows pull together in confusion as you shift off his lap, out of his embrace, until you cup his face in your hands. Pressing a soft kiss to his lips, you meet that dark, deep gaze. “I want you to make me feel you everywhere.”

Understanding blooms in his eyes as you slide up the bed, holding his gaze until you turn away, lay down, settle on your stomach into the well-worn blankets, curving your arms to pillow your head. 

Air ghosts over the heated skin of your naked back. 

He’s silent behind you, but his hands immediately settle on your hips, warm and reassuring. You can feel his gaze, tracing the scars cutting up the skin of your back, but no fear grips your heart, no shame curls in your stomach. 

It’s ok. You’re safe with him. 

A movement, he kneels between your thighs and you spread your legs further to accommodate him. 

His hands slowly shift, sliding up your sides, coming together over your shoulderblades. 

You close your eyes, arch into his touch. 

A soft kiss, the barely-there press of lips to the small of your back pulls a whimper from your throat. 

Another, and another, tracing your spine, up between his hands, blessing your scars with love and acceptance so profound it wraps around every memory you have of receiving them, of hiding them, and blurs the edges until the memories no longer hurt. 

He pauses at the nape of your neck, resting there, breath warm as it drifts down your back. 

No words break the silence, but they don’t have to. 

There are no words to suitable for this moment, anyway. 

His hands sweep down your back, and the bed shifts with his weight. 

You look over your shoulder to see him standing, hook his thumbs into the waistband of his underlayer pants and pull them down. 

A surge of want curls your toes, clenches your inner walls. 

Long legs, toned thighs -

Pfassk -

His cock, golden skin flushed at the tip, glinting with the wet proof of his arousal -

Your mouth waters, your clit throbs -

You’ve felt it, heavy in your palm, warm and smooth on your tongue, thick and full in your cunt but now you know -

Even his cock is pretty. 

He moves, kneeling back between your thighs and your gaze is caught by his again, that look of concentrated focus back on his features, and a rush of heat floods your core. 

You rise up on your elbows, reach back a hand to guide his mouth to yours, push every emotion - gratitude, awe, love, trust - into your kiss. 

He returns it, moan filling your mouth as you part your lips, glide your tongue along his. 

His chest presses to your back - pleasure goosebumps over your skin, feeling his bare warmth on yours - and you gasp, breaking the kiss to pull back and just look at him, wonder at the intimacy of this moment overwhelming your focus. 

The soft depth in his eyes tells you he feels it, too. 

A gentle kiss between your brows and then he braces himself on one hand, the other sliding down between your thighs to -

Kriff -

Your moan shifts to a whimper at the end, the head of his cock dipping through your slick folds feels so good and you need -

Arching your hips, you curl your fingers around his wrist, tugging lightly. “Please, Din, need you.”

A shift and -

Your mingled sounds of pleasure catch in the small space between you as his cock notches into your entrance, pushes inside -

Yes yes more -

The stretch bows your back and pulls  him deeper -

He sinks home with a low groan, free hand pressing over your collarbone, head falling to the crook of your neck. “So wet and warm, feels so good, fuck -“

Your inner walls flutter, cunt begging for friction, and he draws back, slow and steady, sending curls of pleasure through your core. “Yes like that -“

Thrust deep -

The head of his cock grinds over something that shoves a cry from your throat, ripples pleasure through your core. 

He does it again -

Again and again -

Your orgasm blossoms bright out of nowhere -

Oh pfassk -

You grip his wrist hard, head dropping to the blankets as pleasure blasts through your limbs. “Din I’m -“

Words choke off with the next thrust and you’re suddenly right there, at the edge, and it’s big and -

His hand slides to your shoulder, holds you in place as he thrusts quick one two three -

Bright wet heat -

Pleasure whites out your vision and squeezes the breath from your lungs and your cunt so tight around the thick of his cock -

Your arms give out under the weight of it but he holds you there, grip firm on your shoulder as he fucks you through it -

He buries deep, hips pressed tight to your ass, stilling, and finally the wave crashes over you, rolls through your body, tenses every muscle until it breaks. 

A last pulse of pleasure and you’re trembling, something like a sob muffled in the blankets against your lips as he eases you down. 

Your senses are scrambled, scattered, blurred with the aftershocks that keep quivering through you. 

Gradually they pull back together, focused on the singular point of his lips, soft and pressing gentle kisses along the span of your shoulders. 

You reach up, curl your fingers through his hair, turn your face to find those lips with your own. 

He kisses you so softly, and love pulses through the warm bright thing in your chest. 

His cock twitches against your sensitive inner walls, still hard and thick, deep in your cunt. 

The primal need to feel him, feel everything crawls through your senses and takes hold. 

Your teeth graze his plump bottom lip. “Need you, love. Fill me up with you. Gedet’ye.”

He hisses as you clench around him, hand shifting to press over your heartbeat, pull your weight back against him as he thrusts again, a sharp snap of his hips that ripples pleasure through your body. 

Crikking hells -

He picks up a rapid pace, one that jolts hot sharp pleasure into your core with each slap of his hips against your ass, each shove of his cock deep into your cunt. 

Pleasure builds up and up, more and more -

Yes yes yes -

Another thrust another again -

He pulls back just a bit, his free hand cups your face and you look up at him, your gaze meets his and -

Time stands still, thoughts flickering randomly through the pleasure haze. 

Deep brown, warm and full of something profound -

More than simple love -

Is love simple?

His thumb brushes over the curve of your cheek, through the moisture there -

Are you crying?

Yes, love is simple compared to this, this fullness, this sense of belonging. 

This sense of home. 

The peripheral of your vision catches the glow of his bare chest, shoulders, the soft fall of his hair, the play of muscles in his arms as he flexes his hips against yours again. 

Your world is filled with him. 

Senses fragment, each pulsing through your veins and pushing your pleasure higher. 

The warmth of him, bare skin pressed along your naked back -

Slick slide of his cock pushing apart your inner walls, slotting into the place imprinted with the shape of him -

Wet sounds of the suck of your cunt trying to pull him deeper -

Ache of your thighs as they flex, arch your body into his, silently begging for more, more -

It rips through you suddenly -

Your pleasure, bright hot -

He growls, brow creasing and eyelids fluttering and he thrusts hard again and again and -

Hot slick wet -

Your core floods with warmth, his and yours, pleasure combined -

So good -

Perfection -

Both of you pulled together, entwined. 

No more barriers, no more secrets. 

Souls laid bare and embraced with compassion, understanding. 

This moment anchors in place, frozen, and you know that even when time starts again, a part of you and a part of him will be here, always. 

The release crashes on you both, a drop that shudders through you and has you falling into the blankets, his body splayed over yours, warm weight pressing you into the mattress and surrounding your senses with him. 

A breath. A beat. 

Time moves slowly, lazily pulling you along. 

Pulses steady, pleasure-haze clears, contentment settles in. 

Din sighs gently, his chest shifting against your back and he kisses the curve of your shoulder. “Kar’ta isn’t enough. You’re more than my heart, ner runi.”

There’s a reverence in his voice that threatens to close your throat without you even knowing the meaning of his words. 

You turn enough to look at him, cup his face, trace the laugh lines around his eyes with a fingertip. “What does it mean?”

His eyes meet yours, warm and steady. “‘Ner’ is ‘my.’ And ‘runi’ is an old word, not used often anymore. But it’s the only one I know that comes close to what you are to me.” 

He leans down, kisses your lips, lingers there. “‘Runi.’ It means ‘soul.’”

The warm bright thing in your chest swells, presses against the inside of your ribs until it hurts. 

Tears sting the corners of your eyes as you push out words that have been quietly swirling at the back of your mind for a long time now. “How do you say ‘stars’ in Mando’a?”

A pause, his gaze flickering over your features. “Ka’ra.”

You kiss one of those bare patches along his jaw. “Do you remember -“ a hitch in your voice, those tears clenching your throat - “when we sat in that clearing, and I told you how much the night means to me? How I looked at the stars since I was a child?”

His gaze soften. “Of course, tionas.”

Your smile is automatic, an intrinsic response to the term of endearment. “Din, you’re what I looked for. In the night sky.”

A tremor runs through him, understanding widening those beautiful eyes. 

You stroke along the curve of his jaw, watching the path of your fingers. “In those dark places where there was light that my eyes couldn’t quite see. You were there. The home I was searching for. The stars I was meant for.”

Emotion shimmers over his gaze and you blink back your own, push the last words out. “You’re my stars, Din. Ner ka’ra.”

He kisses you, soft at first and then firm, with a familiarity that makes the warm bright thing in your chest expand, grow, encompassing your body and reaching for his. 

It’s a moment full of eternity. 

He pulls back, rests his forehead against yours and everything is in his dark gaze. “I was there, ner runi. And now I’m here, where I will always be. With you. Darasuum.”

“Mhi solus darasuum.” You echo back his words, full of an everything of your own. 

He smiles - blinding bright light - and then his lips are on yours. 

It’s perfect. It’s everything. 

His arms come around you, ease you onto your side, and you settle into the bed, back against his broad chest. 

You reach for his hand, thread your fingers through his and tuck it over your heart. “I like Mando’a, it’s a beautiful language. Will you teach me more?”

A pleased hum against your back. “What would you like to learn?”

The thrill of anticipation, playfulness, pulls a laugh from your chest. “I’m sure you can guess.”

He sighs, but there’s no weight to it, sound full of the same lightness you feel. “Shabla. Probably the crudest curse word. Don’t use it around other Mandalorians, it can be taken as an insult.”

“Noted. Can’t promise I won’t though, if we see Cranky Pants again.”

This time his sigh is exasperated, but still rooted in that effervescent joy running through your own veins. “Mir’sheb.”

*****

It’s late. There’s a heavy sort of silence laying thick in the air, the kind that can only be found in the depths of night, when every living thing around is at its quietest - limbs and muscles relaxed, heartbeats and lungs moving slow and steady. 

You open your eyes, blink against the pitch-dark of the hold. Something pulled you from sleep, but it wasn’t a sound, or a movement - it was something internal, an urge, a need. 

For what?

Din is sleeping beside you, arm heavy and warm across your waist, cheek resting on your shoulder, breath ghosting over your collarbone. All it takes is a subtle motion and your nose is buried in his sleep-mussed curls, lips pressed to the top of his head, breathing in the scent of him. 

You close your eyes, your thumb lightly stroking circles where your hand rests on the arm over your waist, silently ask the part of you that brought you into wakefulness. 

This?

Did you need to feel him, reassure yourself that he’s here with you? Thoughts flick back through the night, smile curving your lips as memories of beautiful brown eyes and golden skin and words laced with emotion float through your mind. 

Still, that strange compulsion doesn’t cease, swirling and incessant, making your legs twitch with the urge to move. 

Din shifts, breath stuttering, his arm tightening to pull you closer as if sensing your sudden desire to get up.  

Your heart flutters with the gesture, at his obvious inherent need to keep you close. But you can’t resist the call any longer.

Gently, you ease yourself out of his embrace, murmuring soft reassurances when he half-wakes, slip out of bed and dig for your shirt and underwear in the piles of clothing scattered over the floor. 

He sighs heavily, and the blankets rustle as he settles back in. 

You bite your lip, hold back the giggle that threatens to slip free. 

The fact his bounty hunter instincts didn’t instantly shift him from sleep to full awareness is a testament to how the events of yesterday - and your activities tonight - exhausted him. 

It’s sweet, endearing. 

And too kriffing cute. 

The durasteel is cold on your bare feet, your shirt barely keeping out the chill of the air, goosebumps prickling over your skin as you make your way down the length of the hold, letting your instinct take you where it will. 

You can’t really see much but memory moves you past obstacles, sidestepping storage crates and skirting around the corner until you find yourself coming to a stop in front of the kid’s bunk, keying open the door and turning on the light inside the small space. 

The flood of dim light barely illuminates the hold but you can clearly see big, amber eyes blinking at you, large pointed ears lifting with excitement. 

You smile, reach into the hammock and scoop him into your arms, pitching your voice low so as not to disturb the heavy quiet surrounding you. “Hey, kiddo. What are you doing up?”

The kid coos softly, tiny clawed hand curling into the cloth of your shirt, eyes bright and clear of any sleep fog. 

“Figured you’d be exhausted like your dad.” You huff a laugh. “Figured I’d be exhausted, too, actually. But here we are, huh?”

He babbles in the way you know means he’s happy, and it’s infectious, pulling another laugh from you. 

A barely-there sound behind you, the step of someone who can move with complete silence but doesn’t want to startle you. 

The kid squirms in your arms, lifting himself to look over your shoulder. You follow his gaze, pulse fluttering when the dim light glances off the familiar helmet, outlines the tall, broad frame dressed in black underlayer. 

Din slides a hand across your back, soothing, and tweaks the tip of the kid’s ear. “Everything ok?”

The sleep-rasp of his voice through the modulator sends a shiver down your spine, and his fingers trace it with obvious affection, palm settling in the small of your back. 

You look down at the kid, smile when those bright eyes turn back to you, wide and full of the same emotion pulsing through the warm bright thing in your chest. 

Leaning back against the steady warmth of him, you take a deep breath, let it out, and sink into the sense of home that surrounds you. “Yeah. Everything is perfect.”

*****

Mando’a translations

Tionas - question

Cyar’ika - sweetheart

Kar’ta - heart

Mesh’la - beautiful

*****

I’M NOT CRYING YOU’RE CRYING

Jk I’m definitely crying 😭

I want to take this opportunity to say thank you to everyone who reads this fic. The fact that you’re willing to give these characters some of your precious time is incredibly humbling as a writer.

Those of you who interacted with this fic with likes and empty reblogs - I want you to know that I saw every single one, got worried when you didn’t like or reblog it in the timeframe you usually did because I thought either I had completely bungled the chapter or something bad had happened to you. Please know you were seen and appreciated. 

Those of you who comment, dm and generally scream into the void with me about this fic - there are no words to describe how much you mean to me. Your comments are direct fuel for my motivation and I reread them when I’m at my lowest. 

I have more to say to those who supported this fic from the beginning through to its completion, but I’m saving that for another post, so for now just know that you have given me the strength to reach this point, where I’m writing a thank you at the end of the first novel I’ve ever completed after several failed attempts to do so throughout my life. Your contribution in the form of your unwavering support makes this as much your achievement as it is mine. I couldn’t have done it without you. Thank you ❤️

- Davnitt

[jaskierswolf]

Horny Geraskier ask- caught out in the rain at 3am after the bars close, summer thunderstorm, sexytimes in an alley?

I had fun with this! 700 words of smutty fun! CW: 18+, alleyway handjobs, they’ve been drinking and Jaskier is a little drunk so know that?

_____

Jaskier giggled and leant on Geralt’s shoulder. God he loved clubbing; the music, the people, the dancing! He was in his element. Geralt… not so much, but he always came along for the ride, if only to make sure Jaskier got home safe at the end of the night.

“I fucking love you,” Jaskier giggled again, the world seeming so bright under his vodka fuelled haze.  

“I had no idea,” Geralt drawled back, not sounding nearly enthusiastic enough for Jaskier’s liking.

“Oh at least try to sound sincere!” Jaskier whined, hanging off his boyfriend’s arm as they stumbled through the streets. Ok, so maybe he stumbled and Geralt was swayed trying to keep him steady.

“I sounded sincere the last ten times you said it, Jask,” Geralt said, pressing a kiss to Jaskier’s temple.

Jaskier whined. “Well, I meant it every time, oh cock!” The heavens had opened without warning, or perhaps there was warning but Jaskier was too drunk to notice. One moment he was dry and the next ice cold raindrops were streaming down his face. Geralt rolled his eyes and pulled Jaskier faster along the street. “Geralt, oi! Bollocks, fucking slow down!”

“We need to get out of the rain, love.”

Jaskier spun round, tripping over his feet and clinging onto Geralt to stay standing. The world continued to spin for a moment and he giggled. When everything still he spotted shelter. The alleyway in between the club and the bar next door had some canvas up, shielding the alley from the rain.

“This way!” Jaskier cried and tugged at Geralt’s hand.

They ran together, laughing as the rain soaked them both through. Really it was too late for shelter, they would be better off getting home and into a change of clothes but where was the fun in that. Jaskier fell against Geralt as the huddled close in the enclosed space. Jaskier’s cunning plan had failed and the rain continued to beat down on them, but now he had other things on this mind. He smirked as he glanced up at his boyfriend, raindrops still stuck to his eyelashes.

“Hey, gorgeous, fancy seeing you here…” he purred, and then attacked Geralt’s lips in a messy kiss. Geralt stank of cigarette smoke and he tasted like cheap whiskey and sweat. Yes, clubbing was great fun but it was a bit gross. “You taste weird.”

Geralt snorted and pulled Jaskier into another kiss, his hands landing on Jaskier’s arse, pressing their bodies together. Jaskier groaned and rutted up against his boyfriend, his lips moving along Geralt’s jaw to his neck. Geralt hummed, baring his neck so Jaskier could suck pretty little bruises into the pale skin. The rain felt like ice against his skin as his arousal burned through him, vodka had always made him a little sluttier than normal and Geralt never complained… as long as he still had his senses about him of course.

“Fuck, Jask,” Geralt groaned as his head rolled back, hitting the wall behind him. Jaskier giggled, reaching down to unzip both their jeans. He was delighted to find Geralt was already hard under his fingers as he gripped both their cocks together. He gasped, biting at Geralt’s lips. Their cocks pressed against each other as Jaskier worked them both with his hand.

He swore as a car drove past and the alleyway was suddenly filled with light. He froze, hand still holding them together, pushing impossible closer to Geralt to hide them from view. Adrenaline made his heart spike faster, the fear of getting caught unbelievably only making him more aroused. “Oh fuck,” he moaned, burying his face in Geralt’s neck.

Geralt laughed, a deep laugh that rumbled in his chest, and god Jaskier was weak. Geralt squeezed Jaskier’s arse, sending another wave of pleasure through him, fuck he’d never felt so alive whilst being caught in a storm. He moaned and sought out Geralt’s lips, the raindrops almost blinding him. Geralt’s hand knocked Jaskier’s aside as they were once again plunged into darkness. After that it didn’t take long until Jaskier came, his moans muffled by Geralt’s lips. Geralt grunted and followed Jaskier, shortly after.  Once they manage to catch their breath, Jaskier started to giggle again. Geralt’s laugh soon joined in and they clutched onto each other, soaking wet in alleyway. What a perfect end to the evening.

[mimizepp]

may i request poly bruabba relationship hcs if you’re okay writing that ? 😛

i can never get enough bruabba goddamn i love them so much.. fluff + nsfw hcs and i added some scenarios for how the relationship came to be just for some fic practice i guess? enjoy !!! (also sorry my nsfw headcanons are never great but i tried)

poly bruabba relationship hcs

- bruno and abbacchio always saw their soon to be s/o in libeccio, alone most days but sometimes joined by a friend or two. they sat at a table relatively close to + facing the entrance, visible to anybody walking in 

- half due to suspicion, abbacchio always made unbreaking eye contact with s/o. it wasn’t anything threatening but he surely didn’t make himself appear too friendly. the way s/o never failed maintain this mutual gaze intrigued abbacchio, enough to tell bruno about this strangely sexy person of interest

- bruno was equally compelled to s/o, and even started to subtly express his interest once he and abba discussed the possibility of a polyamorous relationship

- bruno would slow down as he passed by s/o, just barely dragging a long finger along the table as he gave a soft, bidding smile. abba would follow behind, a mellower expression than usual, which s/o returned

- little bouts of small talk sprouted from this, s/o charming the hell out of bruno and abbacchio. s/o would occasionally join abbacchio outside for a quiet smoke, which he thought to be quite endearing

- for a while s/o never joined bruno nor abbacchio for a proper meal, as they were always with their associates or whatnot. it was a tad disappointing and s/o almost felt as if this friendliness between the three would never become anything more, but one morning bruno and abbacchio walked in libeccio, abba going the usual way and bruno approaching s/o

- ‘cara/caro, would you care to join us somewhere more private?’

- after melting under that sweet, familiar voice of reason, s/o gladly followed. in the private area sat abbacchio at a table in the corner, bruno escorting s/o to a seat beside him. abbacchio smirked and poured s/o a cup of (NON PISS) tea before questioning them about loads of things

- before s/o knew it, they were in a poly relationship with two of the sexiest gang members in italy

fluff

- abbacchio softens up a bunch and always has this understated, loving expression when with bruno and s/o

- bruno becomes even more of a mommy and loooves babying s/o and abba on their days off

- YES THIS MEANS HE LETS THEM SIT AROUND AS HE DOES EVERYTHING FOR THEM IT’S HIS PRIMARY LOVE LANGUAGE AND ITS SO SWEET

- if he’s been overworked due to passione business, s/o and abba like to take care of him for the day so he can unwind 

- bruno and abba feel really bad that they have to leave s/o for work so often so they’re always calling to check in + love bringing little gifts home for their s/o

- if bruno and abba come home exhausted / beat from work they’ll cuddle up with s/o and form a little bruabba nap sandwich for a little while

- if s/o’s back is ever turned, either bruno or abba will be going in for a soft little embrace just for a few moments (or longer if they feel like chatting and swaying for a bit)

- bruno and abba love bringing s/o to libeccio, whether it’s to accompany them in meetings with the bucci boys or just for a comfortable meal together (it also just reminds them of how this beautiful little relationship came to be)

- btw the bucci boys really like s/o + love how abbacchio softens up when s/o is present (saves giorno from constant berating and glares)

- little comforting things with hands are all the pda abba is able to tolerate (there will be arms wrapped around waists, hands resting on lower backs, and hands held AT ALL TIMES)

- s/o and bruno love teasing abba and like to kiss one another in public, just to see if he will want to get a peck of his own (leone usually doesn’t induldge himself when they’re out but will defo be glaring with an eyebrow raised until s/o and bruno stop)

- one time s/o just went for it and placed a little kiss on abbacchio’s cheek + bruno took a photo just as abba’s face was its deepest shade of red

- if any single one of the lot is sleepy, all three are required to cuddle up and get cozy (it’s an unspoken poly bruabba rule)

- the same goes for little kisses at home. if abba gets three, then bruno gets three... etc.

- s/o and bruno often wake before abba and love surprising him with breakfast in bed :,)

- just once did abba wake up super early and try to surprise his babies with a meal... he burnt everything and was later found on the kitchen floor sipping a glass of wine and eating a blackened piece of toast

- abbacchio likes doing his hair and makeup in the quiet company of s/o + bruno (who will be doing whatever necessary to make sure his braid + bob are up to par)

- abbacchio sometimes gets really indecisive and asks s/o and bruno if he should try out his black or green lipstick, but he always ends up going with his safe choice despite anything said (light purple)

- on lazy days at home abba ties his hair back loosely and wears a large tshirt with boxer briefs and some comfy ass slippers + bruno has his hair styled very slightly and wears a cute little sweater with comfy pj pants. s/o wears one of abba’s large tshirts with just undies underneath as well as some fuzzy socks

- bruno is often dreaming of having children with s/o and abba + really wants to have a nice little house to raise them in the countryside someday

- dates are usually planned by bruno, who loves having s/o and abba in cute family-owned restaurants or niche little locations that he knows his babies would adore

- abbacchio has planned several wine tasting dates along with a few afternoon picnics. he always takes s/o and bruno to this quiet, secluded park that has the loveliest view

- sometimes abba and s/o tirelessly try to come up with ways to surprise bruno + thank him for all his hard work as a milf, and they normally end up trying to cook his favorite meal (bruno is so grateful for this even if it doesn’t taste the nicest.. he loves the sentiment though and his heart feels so FULL)

- bruno says ‘i love you’ not only through his words, but also with his touch. s/o can always tell when bruno is embracing them in a way that communicates such a feeling, whether it be a kiss on the forehead or the squeeze of a hand. he most often likes to stand behind s/o with his hands on their hips, so he can lean in to kiss their cheek and bring his arms around their waist and hug them as tight as possible

- abba says ‘i love you’ with his eyes and facial expressions. whenever doing daily / domestic tasks with s/o, abba holds the warmest, most adoring look on his face as he looks at his dearest. s/o always meets his eyes and blushes before reminding abba how much they love him, to which abba responds with a light ‘mm’ full of intimacy

nsfw

- as much as s/o abba and bruno hate to admit it... jealousy and lust are MAJOR players in the bedroom

- bruno gave s/o more attention than he gave abbacchio? abba’s making sure he gets his share of it and has the two follow his every demand + won’t let them finish until they’re begging for it with tears in their eyes

- so many hickies / love bites EVERYWHERE

- also loads of purple kisses will be all over s/o and bruno’s chests

- abbacchio loooves having s/o take him from behind as bruno plays with himself (and vice-versa)

- ‘bruno can’t wait for his turn to get inside you... i know you’d love that, you fucking whore.’

- abbacchio likes being pegged by bruno while giving s/o oral more than he’d like to admit + still won’t let s/o or bruno finish until he wants them to

- whenever pegged by bruno or s/o he usually gets super bratty and loves being punished with many slaps on the ass / accross his face

- shibari.

- abba will intricately tie s/o with their hands bound behind their back. he and bruno will have a liiittle too much fun teasing s/o until they’re nearly crying +  begging one of the two to fuck them senseless

- if bruno ever gets to take the lead he makes it much slower and intimate most times, focusing loads on foreplay

- he likes having s/o and abba wear blindfolds so they never know where his next touch will come from + is always down to tease with some nipple play

- looooves lightly tracing his fingers down s/o and abba’s torsos until he reaches their inner thighs and watching his babies shudder beneath him

- if s/o or abba ever whine during foreplay or lean into his touch, bruno will punish them by making the other cum first and then edging the impatient party until he’s satisfied

- ‘hm, it seems you’re coming close, amore mio.’ he will cease movement completely and smirk, ‘i’ll let you finish soon enough.’

- abbacchio likes cumming inside s/o or bruno, but doesn’t mind having to pull out and finish in their mouth or on their chest

- bruno loooves finishing all over s/o and abbacchio while they have their mouths wide open and waiting for him

- as for what happens after sexytime, abba is the first to get sleepy and ask s/o to cuddle + bruno goes and gets towels and some glasses of water for his two favorite people

- s/o bruno and abba will cuddle for a little while and make sure each of the three is satisfied and soothed + then they’ll all lovingly drift off to sleep at some point during the night

- they will all be showering together quite sensually in the morning with plenty of sudsy groping

[honeymoonjin]

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 11.3k || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:

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Congratulations! You’ve been accepted as the Lady in the first season of The Gentlemen.

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banner designer @jamaisjoons​ | many thanks to @joonsrack​ for her translations and @jooneggs​ for beta reading

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: just a heads-up, there is French in this chapter. it isn’t translated because y/n does not speak French and thus has no clue wtf goes On BUT if you want the goss, feel free to use google translate or ur Local Translation Engine. explicitly sexual content, cursing, voyeurism, exhibitionism, filmed sex, spanking, dom!jimin obv, sub!reader, public (not sex-sex but sexytimes in public), shoe kink, dirty talk, humiliation, degradation, use of safeword, teasing, bondage, gagging, use of sex toys, fingering, multiple orgasms, forced orgasms, overstimulation, crying during sex, unprotected sex, creampie, squirting, a sexy sliver of aftercare before yn zonks it

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Please vote for your favourite member in the house according to Week One only. Vote here. Multiple votes are allowed but please do not spam the voting as this is an overall audience pick. I’m very excited to see what the results will be ! Voting is closed! Thank you for participating!

DAY SIX

You wake up early in the morning to a sore throat. Though the arm that rests heavy on your waist and the breath that tickles the nape of your neck tempt you back to sleep, you can’t even swallow without wincing, and the only solution is a cool drink and some pain meds. 

Namjoon doesn’t react when you slip out from under him, sliding your pillow under his arm. He simply lets out a satisfied hum and curls it closer to him. Still, you dress in breathy silence, tiptoeing out and leaving the door open a crack for your return. 

Downstairs, the blinking numbers on the microwave read shortly before 6am and you groan. The chance of you getting any more sleep after this was slim.

You pour some water and swallow some basic pain meds with a sigh. If you were honest, quiet moments like this were rare. Past the glass sliding door which leads to the outdoor dining area, you can see glints of reddy golds and flaming orange, pooling between trees to warm the concrete patio. This villa was truly beautiful, and you knew you’d never stay in a place like it again. Not only the house itself but the company you shared was invaluable. All the guys had such a personality to them, and you were surprised at how quicky you’d grown accustomed to them all. Fond, too.

Yoongi’s thoughtfulness, Jungkook’s energy, Jin’s stability. Taehyung who was so giving and Hoseok who never let the mood falter. And more recently, Namjoon becoming more confident and Jimin revealing flecks of heart behind the stone facade. Everyone brought something to the villa that made it a truly magical place. You feel like you’d be happy even without the mind-blowing sex. As the elimination day draws painfully close, your stomach turns with the thought of turning someone away. Of removing them when they’d only just gotten settled. The Lady was the hardest job in the game in many ways. 

Finishing your glass, you set it in the sink with a wet clink and roll your shoulders, arching your back as the last of your sleep leaves you in a final yawn. You turn to leave, squeaking when you’re met with a solid body coming out of nowhere. 

“Woah- Jimin?” The last person you expected to be up so early, you cringe as your voice raises in disbelief.

The man in question grins, eyes twinkling even in the relative darkness of pre-dawn. “Going so soon?”

“I-” You find yourself at a loss of words, feeling caught somehow, and you clear your still-aching throat. “What are you doing up?”

“Looking for you, little mouse. Or did you forget I’m next in line?” He speaks as light and melodic as a music box, but his lips are twisted in a grin as his eyes roam over you, wearing the same clothes as last night. “Has our Namjoonie finally popped his cherry?”

The way he plays with every syllable has you feeling so vulnerable, so under his control, and your gaze falters, looking instead at his odd attire. Like he’d gotten up in a hurry, he’s wearing a mix of pyjamas and clothes. His legs are tightly clad in glossy faux leather, blacker than black, and his top half is a silk pyjama top, sinful red trimmed with black, and with only a single button done up in the middle of his torso, exposing his lower stomach and the top of his chest. You suck in a breath at the expanse of skin, and what looks like the black sliver of a...tattoo? 

“Cat got your tongue?” he questions, drawing your eyes back up as he licks his top lip slowly, purposefully.

“It’s none of your business,” you reply, cursing the way your voice catches throatily, clearly affected by him. “And if you’re going to take your turn, can we at least go somewhere a little more comfortable? It’s six in the fucking morning.”

Like a switch is flipped, his face darkens, the humour gone. You swallow the lump in your throat as Jimin’s mouth sours into a scowl, but you can’t deny the heat that pools between your legs at it too. “I knew it,” he announces, voice acidic. 

“Knew what?” Your fate sealed, a streak of confidence rises within you. You’d ruffled him. And every part of you is screaming to make him react again. 

His eyes are molten power as they focus on you. “Five days and you’ve already become a spoilt brat.”

Your mouth drops open. “Fuck you! It’s your job to fuck me.”

“Why should I fuck you when you haven’t done a thing to earn it?” Jimin takes a step forward and reflexively you back up. “You’re an ungrateful cockhungry slut, little mouse. If you want me, beg for it.” He takes another step and again, you shuffle back, heart picking up.

“I shouldn’t have to beg,” you counter, though your voice isn’t as firm as before. Jimin simply raises a brow, continuing to walk you further into the kitchen until your lower back strikes the countertop. You swallow again, wishing you weren’t so easily affected. “If you don’t fuck me, I’ll just send you home.”

“You could,” he gives dismissively, lips twitching into a sneer at his following words, “but I don’t think you will. I don’t believe you’d send me home if I didn’t fuck you. Because you want to know how it feels.”

You bite your tongue, glaring up at him, at the way he’s so indifferent about it. “Fine. Then fuck me.” 

Jimin tuts reproachfully, his arms leaning forward to prop himself up on the bench behind you, caging you in. Your heart stops beating, the throb felt between your legs instead as he’s close enough to touch, his mouth close enough to kiss, not that you’d dare. “That isn’t begging,” he whispers in disapproval. 

“I don’t beg,” you insist, even as your hands clench, fighting the urge to touch him. 

Suddenly, the shadow over his face disappears, and he pushes up, creating some distance between you again. “It doesn’t matter, anyway,” he says airily, causing you to frown in confusion. “We aren’t at the begging stage yet. You know what you need first?”

You stare at him blankly, giving him a shake of your head. 

Jimin grins, and you swear you see his eyes flash. “Punishment.” 

“You can’t be serious,” you breathe, though instead of sounding offended as you intend, you just sound needy. Fuck Park Jimin and his iron grip on your arousal. 

His grin broadens like the Chesire Cat. “You’ve been very bad, little mouse. You’ve been demanding and impatient, you’ve used vulgar language and I seem to recall the night you interrupted my sleep because of how loud you were next door. I can’t let it slide,” he divulges with a solemn shake of his head, like your poor behaviour pains him, “I just can’t.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you say with a disbelieving laugh. “You can’t punish me like a child.”

“And that will be another one,” Jimin says instead, perfectly calm, rich blue hair catching the light as the sun continues to rise just outside. 

“Another what?” you fire back, beginning to tire of so much talk and so little action.

“Another spank,” he deadpans. Were it anyone else, any other situation, perhaps you would’ve laughed at it. Instead, you stare wide-eyed at the stoicism on his face. “That makes it five for swearing to me in this conversation alone, four for being impatient, and five for keeping me up that second night. Should we round it up to twenty?”

You stay silent for a moment, desperately trying to process it. You shake your head slowly. “You can’t make me,” you point out.

“Of course I can’t,” Jimin gives with a chuckle, running a hand through his hair as if to demonstrate how calm he is. Your eyes are magnetised by the silver rings that glint on his fingers, unable to keep yourself from imagining how they might feel on you. “You can always use your safeword, and I’ll respect it,” he continues. “But I doubt it. Whether you like to admit it, little mouse, you want this. You think I haven’t worked out that you a little pain with your pleasure?” He stands back, just a step, but the extra distance makes you feel suddenly unanchored, and you hate it. “I’m going to give you three seconds to turn around and bend over. If you don’t, I’ll walk away and you get nothing. If you take your punishment like a good girl, then we can talk.”

You huff, pressing your lips - and thighs - together in an effort to stay strong.

“One,” Jimin begins, eyes alight with bemusement. You don’t move, just sighing in annoyance again. “Two.”

Your incisors are clamped on your tongue so tightly you can almost taste blood as you glare intensely at his mouth. He draws it out cheekily, letting you wait painstakingly as he wets his lips and finally opens his mouth, the pink of his tongue pressing against his teeth as he-

Before you can process it, you’re flipping yourself around and pressing your upper chest against the counter, eyes squeezed shut in humiliation as Jimin begins to chuckle. 

It’s far too loud for the stillness of the early morning, and you muffle a sob in your forearm - not regret, but neediness. A week he’d deprived you, and the smug fucker was right: you’d take what you could get, and love it too. Blessedly, he doesn’t seem to notice the sound, the air filled instead with his triumphant peal of laughter at seeing you presenting yourself to him just like he knew you would. 

“Oh, little mouse,” he coos. “What would the others think if they saw you like this, hm? Bent over for me in the middle of the kitchen where anyone could walk in.”

You take in an unsteady breath, feeling your pulse race with excitement as his fingertips - still cold from the morning air - slip under your waistband, as he painstakingly slides it down, revealing your ass. You let out a small whimper when the toe of his shoe catches your ankle, pushing to widen your legs apart. You bite your lip, cheeks heating, core heating even more. 

Jimin runs his palms flat over your bare ass and you hiss through your nose at how icy his rings feel. While his hands are smaller than those of other guys of the house, you feel no less under their control, shivering at the contact. “Was it twenty we agreed upon?” His tone is light, playful. He knows he’s got you, and one final burst of defiance bubbles up through your chest.

“Fuck you,” you spit. “Does that make it twenty-one?”

You’re jumping before you even feel the lacing of fire on your right cheek or hear the smack that echos in the room. You choke on a moan, unable to deny how the pain settles into a low-burning pleasure that adds to the wetness between your thighs.

From behind you, you hear Jimin sigh heavily and quickly, like he’s trying to calm himself. “I want you to count them,” he instructs, and you flinch as his hand comes down on you again, but this time his slaps are weak, light swats that warm your skin to prepare it. “Twenty starting now. Understood?”

You bite your lip, but pull yourself up a little to free your face, propping yourself up with your elbows. You feel so vulnerable like this, just your ass bared, legs spread and at his mercy, but all you can think of is feeling his hand on you again. Blearily, you nod, and a pleased hum comes from his throat, barely audible. 

Jimin makes you wait for it, holding the silence so that your ears strain, fighting the urge to glance ba-

You jerk with a shallow cry as your other cheek stings with his smack, core clenching. “One,” you announce quietly. With every moment of sunrise, the room gets lighter and lighter, and you squeeze your eyes shut at the thought of someone walking in on the two of you. Was that dread in your stomach or excitement?

He doesn’t speak, only smoothing the skin to cool it before laying another blow, waiting for you to call out a shaky “two.” He’s wearing at least three rings, and you can feel them, more unforgiving than his flesh and painfully ice cold. You wonder in the back of your mind if they’ll leave marks. You can’t help but hope they do. 

You’ve made it to eight strikes before your knees begin to shake slightly. Every lick of pain simultaneously hurts more on the raw skin of your ass, but pools as liquid pleasure between your legs faster as you grow accustomed to it. Your pussy aches for contact, and you arch your back after the ninth spank falls, presenting yourself to him even more in the hopes that he’ll be tempted, but Jimin just tuts in disapproval.

“Look at you, little mouse. Soaking after a few spanks. You love this, don’t you? No part of you can deny it anymore.” You pant and bite down hard on your lip, wanting so bad to beg for it. Still, you refuse. Jimin just hums at your attempt at stoic silence, amused more than anything. “Almost halfway. It’ll be over so soon, don’t you think? We should make the most of this.” 

You frown at his words, more so when you feel the heat of his body leave you. You crane your neck automatically, spine lifting to stand, but his voice freezes you. 

“Fucking face the front and keep position,” he seethes, “I never said you could move.”

You sink back down, widening your legs and lowering your chest so it rests on the edge of the countertop, eyes locked onto the splashback in front of you. With ears straining, you shudder at the sound of a drawer sliding smoothly open, and the various clinks and thuds that follow as he rummages. Once the drawer shuts again and Jimin returns, you can barely breathe, goosebumps breaking out on your thighs and arms. 

He pats something against you, then slowly runs it over the heated skin of your ass, the slight friction making you hiss. “Do you know what this is? Feel it.” He continues to brush it around slowly, and you wrack your mind. It’s not metal or plastic - the texture is a little too rough and it isn’t as cold as his rings were. You hiss when you feel it dip down between your thighs, too low to touch you were you need it most. The shape is a tall oval, flat on one side but concave on the other, and you let out a low moan, back arching lower as you work it out. Jimin laughs, bringing it back up to tap it teasingly on your cheek. “I think you do,” he remarks. “Shall we continue?”

You bite your lip but it can’t fully cover the needy moan that spills out. He’s really about to spank you with a wooden spoon, and you’re really dripping for it. “Ye-yes,” you gasp out, a cry ripped from your throat at the first hit. It’s far sharper on your skin than his hand, whistling through the air and landing with a resounding smack. The sting lasts longer too, almost like you can feel the exact outline of the spoon on your skin. “Fuck, ten.”

When Jimin speaks again, his voice is rich with sadistic amusement. “Do you like it, little mouse? You should see yourself. The outline of the spoon just now, the marks from my rings-” he drags a single nail down one of the aforementioned marks, and you keen, the raw pain sent straight to your core, “you mark so beautifully for me. This perky little ass of yours is so red, you know? Should we make it even redder?”

Without waiting for your answer, he lands three smacks in quick succession - right, left, right again. Your body’s instinct takes over and you pull your body forward, tucking your ass in as if to escape it, even as your core throbs with need and your nipples press stiffly against your shirt. 

Jimin won’t have it, though, and you moan in a low keen as he wraps an arm low over your hips and tugs you back down, pressing the middle of your back with the fist and clenches the spoon so that you arch beneath it, dropping down that hand to run his knuckles lightly over your abused skin. “Shh,” he hushes firmly, “we aren’t done here yet. If it’s too much for you, you know what to say.”

Your heart warms at his reminder of your safeword, but you have no intention of using it, already melting under the additional physical contact. Instead, you lean back into his grip, presenting yourself for more. 

You sense rather than see his grin, but it makes you shiver nonetheless as the amused breath escapes his nose, his cool fingers running over your flesh, thumb and pointer as the rest wrap around the stem of the wooden spoon. “Are you gonna count them then, little mouse?”

Your mouth drops open to answer, but you pause, having to really think back. “Mm, uh, twelve? Eleven?”

Jimin chuckles, returning to those light teasing pats of the wooden spoon, just to make your thighs shake. “Thirteen, actually,” he reveals in a rakish tone. “If you wanted more, you just had to ask.”

Before your brain can process a retort, the spoon comes down again, an audible thwack that jiggles the flesh of your ass with the force of it, and you keen, knees buckling for just a moment. The contrast of intense stimulation of the fiery skin on your ass and the complete neglect of your needy core is infuriating but addictive nonetheless. “Fuck, Jimin, fo-fourteen.”

You automatically suck in a breath in the sudden lull as Jimin rears his hand back, but the quiet reveals a different noise, the laughing and joking and thud-thud-thud of people coming down the stairs, and you’re choking on the air in your lungs, freezing as two familiar faces round the corner and come to a halt as they witness the scene you’re in. 

Your legs shiver but your core throbs still as Jungkook and Taehyung watch you wide-eyed, eyes dancing in unision from Jimin, to you, to your ass and the spoon in Jimin’s hand. The cheeks of your face are somehow hotter and redder than the others, but regardless you stay frozen in position, waiting for someone else to make a move.

Unsurprisingly, it’s Jimin who speaks up first, the only one of you four unbothered. “She has six hits left, boys,” he offers up, patting your hip like you’re a ride to have a go on. “Any takers?”

Taehyung steps forward first, Jungkook’s mouth still hanging low. As you watch his slender fingers wrap around the handle of the wooden spoon, you shiver, and he chuckles at your reaction. 

“You know,” he muses casually, replacing Jimin behind you as the older man steps away to lean against the bench beside you, “I think I’m starting to warm up to this whole situation, petal. Where else would I get to walk in on a sight like this? And Jimin-hyung is so generous to let us help out. Thank him, Y/n.”

A breath rushes out of your throat, one you hadn’t even realised you were holding. Humiliation rushes through you, but it’s cloudy with arousal, and your tongue is loose with it. “Thank you, Jimin.”

“Good girl,” Taehyung coos shortly, and that’s the only warning before he’s swatting you harshly with the flat back of the spoon, and you let out a strangled moan. Your ass won’t stop stinging between hits, but you obediently call out ”fifteen, sixteen, seventeen,” until you only have three to go. 

Taehyung relinquishes his turn reluctantly to Jungkook; the youngest contestant in the house eying you up strangely, almost like he can read and understand the pleasure in the welts on your ass and the tremble of your knee. Almost like he’s been where you are, or somewhere close. Judging by the apparent variety of his streams, you don’t doubt it. 

Like Jungkook’s testing the waters, his first hit is the weakest, barely making you flinch. You exhale lowly in disappointment. “Eighteen,” you say, swallowing down the drool that threatens to gather. 

Before any more land, you instead feel fingers at your hairline, brushing back strands that have covered your face. Small but strong points of pressure light up on your jaw as Jimin pulls your chin to look up at him, his eyes swirling with deep satisfaction. 

“I wanna see the look on your face,” he announces quietly. “I want our Jungkookie to make these last two hurt. Will you take it for me?”

His voice brooks no disagreement, still dripping with authority and control, but you know that he’s once more giving you an out should you wish to use your safeword, so you nod shakily, eyes fluttering. “Please.” You’ve still received no friction - or contact at all - on your pussy, and you feel yourself going crazy. The pain is addictive, licks of pleasure that seep into your veins after every spank, but you can’t handle how you drip down your own thighs, soaking your panties even as they rest hooked just above your knees. Two more hits and you’d finally get what you needed.

You haven’t seen Jimin’s face this close, and certainly not seen his eyes in such intense detail before, and instead of anticipating the next hit you find yourself blinking up at him dazedly. His hair, the deep glossy navy that you’d never seen on somebody before, is swooped gracefully over his brow, which is still a natural black, and below it his eyes are molten with lust and satisfaction, watching your face intently. His hands are hot on your face, the rings cool points of unforgiving contact, and you can’t help but wonder if the plush pillows of his lips are warm like his hands or cool like his rings. They’d feel softer against yo-

“Fu-fuck!” you cry, eyes squeezing shut as two sharp hits strike you not on the already-red skin of your ass, but the tops of your thighs instead, just below the swell of flesh. It’s more painful than you’d expect, but you’re so turned on that your mind just screams better and more. Caught up in it, you belatedly gasp out a “nineteen, twen’y,” and feel yourself sink against the countertop, held up by Jimin’s hands on your face and jaw.

“Little mouse,” his voice calls out, and your brows knit together as you struggle to decipher his tone. “Little mouse.”

You force your eyes open, breathing heavily through your mouth as everything except the burn below and Jimin above fade away. “Jimin,” you whisper, lips barely moving.

His give a twitch, pleased. It warms your heart to see the flicker of approval. “What do you say, hm?”

You don’t even think, but your body knows the answer. “Thank you, Jimin.”

“I’m not the only one,” he remarks, though a pleased grin is evident on his face and in his voice. 

Truthfully, you’d almost forgotten the others, but as you thank them, eyes still locked on Jimin, you feel your toes curl at the realisation that you’re surrounded by three extremely attractive men. Men that are all here to-

The dopey smile of anticipation is struck from your face when Jimin abruptly lets go of you, pushing off the countertop. You stumble, catching your legs under you and fumbling to pull up your jeans reflexively. “Where are you-?”

You jump at the dull clang of the wooden spoon being tossed in the sink, Jungkook’s hand free as Jimin discards the tool. You watch openmouthed, panties and jeans barely on as the former rest uncomfortably soaked against your core, as the eldest of the three rolls his shoulders and sighs happily. “So, boys; should we make some omellettes for breakfast? I feel like cracking a few eggs.”

Taehyung grins and Jungkook’s gaze slides to you in uncertainty but the two agree, casually retrieving ingredients and utensils like you aren’t sitting there with a stinging ass and your jeans unbuttoned. 

“Jimin,” you mumble dumbly, and to your surprise he acknowledges you this time, walking over to stand in front of you with a congenial smile. 

“You’re done here, Y/n,” he announces. Unabashedly, his hands slip down and begin to fully slide your panties and jeans up, fingers slipping up the zip and buttoning them closed. “You didn’t want to beg, and I’m not going to make you. You took your punishment, so why don’t you toodle along? I’m sure one of us will call for you when breakfast is ready.”

Your mouth drops open, the final lusty haze of the scene evaporating fast enough to leave you reeling. “Are you serious? You aren’t going to do anything?”

Jimin’s eyebrows lower intently, voice hushing like he’s sharing a secret, even though Taehyung and Jungkook are right behind him in earshot. “Oh, little mouse. You know exactly what to do to get what you want.”

He waits expectantly, but your eyes dart past his shoulders to the other two boys. Begging was one thing, but in front of the others? You fight a pout, hoping your face looks angry rather than put out. “You’re an asshole, and I’m voting you out.” 

His grin broadens, wolfish. “Well then,” he remarks with an unbothered lift of a brow, “I better hurry up and make these omelettes before I get sent home, now, shouldn’t I?” 

And with that, he turns his back to you and begins chatting to his friends. You stay for one more moment of shocked silence, but soon turn tail, stomping back up the stairs with the wet fabric of your panties pressing coldly against you.

---

When you peek your head in the door, Namjoon is still asleep, so you quickly duck back into your room and change into some fresh clothes and underwear before going back in, content to chill on his armchair until he wakes. 

You’d told him you would stay, and the way the fabric of your leggings rubs against your sore ass when you sit only reminds you of the fact that you’d been gone longer than anticipated already. He looks peaceful, though, clearly quite content with the pillow you’d left him with. Namjoon’s mouth is parted slightly, slack and half-pressed into his own pillow. He clutches yours with both arms, snuffling or grunting in his sleep every few moments. 

You’re happy with just scrolling through your phone aimlessly for the half hour or so it takes before he wakes, back arching and neck cracking as he stretches. A beam broadens on your face at the dazed slow blink and wide yawn that he emits. “Sleep well?” you ask softly, not wanting to startle him.

He pats the pillow and mattress beside him in confusion, sitting up to stare at you with a squint. “You stayed?”

“I said I would,” you dismiss, a single thread of guilt wrapping around your heart at the memory of where you’d just came from. “I woke up a bit early and needed a drink. Sore throat.”

Namjoon’s eyes widen dramatically, the concern on his face ringed by a mess of tanged purple hair. “I’m so sorry! I should’ve asked…”

“You’re fine, Namjoonie,” you murmur. “I was actually wondering if you’d want to-”

You break off to the sound of what is undoubtably Jungkook belting out his lungs from downstairs, announcing breakfast is ready. Namjoon lights up, kicking the blankets off in a rush to get out of bed. “I’m starving,” he chimes, getting dressed without a shred of the self-consciousness you’d witnessed the night before. Hunger has seemingly stolen all his brainpower, and you follow his eager slipstream as he rushes down the stairs noisily, thumping into the kitchen. 

Both your heart and your core throb in disappointment, your opportunity for morning sex lost by the offer of a hot meal. Your mood sours even further when you come face-to-face with the three youngest serving up omelettes, Jimin smiling brilliantly, still dressed in a barely-buttoned silk pyjama shirt and some black glossy pants.

He barely spares you a glance, even as he sits almost directly across from you. You take a seat between Namjoon and Jin, Taehyung, Jungkook and Jimin on the other side and the heads of the table kept by Hoseok and Yoongi. 

You have to admit that the wafting smells of cooked egg, cheese and various spices have your stomach grumbling, so you vow to ignore the unsatisfied heat between your legs and the smug man across from you and tuck in, your knife cutting through the omelette like butter. It’s delicious, and clearly everyone at the table shares the same sentiment, moans of surprised enjoyment filling the air. 

“I’m impressed, Jimin,” Yoongi admits, “the first time I’ve even seen you awake for breakfast and you make us this. It’s fantastic.”

His voice is melodic, teasing at your eyes even as you avoid looking at him. “Thanks, Yoongi-hyung,” Jimin replies warmly, “I was actually taught the recipe from one of my good friends who works as a chef in France.”

Hoseok isn’t impressed, and the way he scrunches his face up in annoyance makes you suppress a grin. “Let me guess, Remy the rat? If we dig around in that hair of yours will we find him tugging you around?”

Jimin ignores him coolly, knife twirling deftly around his fingers. “I haven’t seen Victor in several years, but his cooking lessons have always stuck with me. Dis-moi ce que tu manges, je te dirai qui tu es.”

“You are what you eat,” Namjoon muses, shoveling a wobbling stack of egg into his mouth. 

Your eyebrows lift, turning to him with shock. “You speak French?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Jimin straighten in interest at the man directly across from him, but Namjoon doesn’t seem to notice, cheeks bulging as he hurriedly tries to finish his mouthful. “Took it as an elective in university,” he explains once he’s done, “never actually been to France, though.” He turns to Jimin finally, eyes shining with the spark of curiosity that always seemed to smoulder there. “What’s it like?”

“C’est incroyable,” Jimin enunciates, the French dripping off his tongue like sparkling water. “Tu devrais y aller un jour. Mon ami a un appartement à Paris avec une chambre d’amis dans laquelle je séjourne des fois.”

Namjoon gasps, and you glance around the table, everyone bar the two of them looking totally confused. “Avec vue sur la Tour Eiffel?” The only indication it’s a question is the way his pitch rises, but the rest is incomprehensible to you, so you just return to your omelette, content to watch the conversation play out like a foreign movie without subtitles. Body language and tone being your only clues.

“Bien sûr,” Jimin replies easily, his head tipping to the side, eyes burning as he stares at the older man, “mais on pourrait peut-être parler de choses plus excitantes que cela? As-tu apprécié la compagnie de Y/N dans ton lit hier soir?”

You straighten up as you hear your name, glaring at Jimin in suspicion. You’d never regretted picking Spanish in high school instead of French more. Namjoon, interestingly, seems equally ruffled by Jimin’s comments. “That’s really none of your busi-”

“Tu vas me parler en Français, Namjoon, ou je vais commencer à te poser des questions en Anglais. Qu’est-ce que t’en dit?  The choice is yours.” Jimin’s voice turns sharp, spitting out the syllables like jabs. The choice? In unison, everyone at the table turns to Namjoon in question as the academic flushes. 

“Fine,” he says shortly in English, before switching back to French. “On n’est pas vraiment... allés jusqu’au bout. J’allais lui proposer ce matin, mais tu nous a appelés pour le déjeuner. .”

Jimin’s mouth curls slowly, deviously, making Namjoon swallow. You feel your own cheeks heat at the thought that they were very likely speaking about you. “Is that so?” Jimin asks in English, head tipping slowly. He takes a single bite of his breakfast, making Namjoon shift awkwardly in his seat at the wait. “Well; I do apologise for interrupting.” You look up between the two of them. Was he referring to him spanking you that morning? Or him calling you down just when you were going to make a move? Jimin isn’t done, sliding down in his seat just slightly, so he’s leaning back. “Laisse-moi me faire pardonner.”

Namjoon’s brows knit and his mouth opens to reply, but suddenly he goes ramrod stiff, eyes flying wide open. “Wh-what are you-?” His chest heaves once, his throat bobbing as he swallows down the rest of his sentence. 

You frown, glancing down to see the shiny tip of Jimin’s shoe pressed firmly against Namjoon’s crotch, shifting back and forth. You look away, hoping to avoid attracting more attention to Namjoon’s predicament, but you can’t deny the hot rush of heat between your own thighs at the thought of Jimin getting Namjoon off at the breakfast table with just the sole of his shoe. You finish off the last of your omelette bitterly, hating the way that your mind wishes you were in Namjoon’s seat right now. 

Like nothing’s happening, Jimin continues to converse with his elder, the others at the table seemingly none the wiser. “Ce n’est peut-être pas une une chatte bien chaude et humide, mais tu es un bon garçon, n’est-ce pas? Tu vas prendre ce que je te donne, non?” 

“Jimin,” Namjoon croaks out, voice surprisingly steady even as it’s low with arousal, “i-is there any more batter left? I’d love another omelette.”

Jungkook pipes up, finally hearing enough English to be able to contribute. “There’s not much left, but I was actually thinking I kinda feel like some hash browns and bacon, so we could go for round two if anyone else is up for it?”

Yoongi and Jin, like they’ve been awakened with the promise of more food, drag their chairs back simultaneously to stand. “I don’t trust you with frying bacon, Jungkook,” Jin answers from beside you with a small grin, “let hyungs help.”

Half the table files away, Hoseok also joining those in the kitchen, probably because he’s hoping for some taste-testing, and you’re left with Taehyung being the only unaware party, on his phone as he mindlessly sips away at a glass of juice. 

“Regarde-moi ça,” Jimin announces with melodic glee. “il y a moins de regards sur toi maintenant. Les autres sont dans la cuisine, Taehyung ne nous prête pas attention, et Y/N sait déjà ce qui est entrain de se passer; regarde-la.”

You glance up at your name but Taehyung doesn’t even react, mouth slightly open as he focuses on the video he’s watching silently, pinky finger tapping at the condensation on the glass absentmindedly. 

Namjoon turns to face you, before glancing down at the shoe which rocks faster and broader between his legs, his cock tented and leaking a small wet patch in his trousers. He knows you know. “I-I’m sorry, I don’t-”

Jimin overtakes deftly, making Namjoon hunch over the table as the jerking of his shoe against Namjoon’s clothed cock speed up. Even as Jimin’s eyes are on you, he addresses the older man in lush French. “Est-ce que tu vas venir comme ça, hm? Crois-tu pouvoir rester silencieux?”

Your skin feels like it’s on fire, the heat stemming from between your legs as you wish you could’ve felt some contact from Jimin instead. Even just the sole of his shoe would be better than nothing, but it seems that Namjoon doesn’t share the sentiment, as his hand shoves at Jimin’s foot. “Rouge,” he gasps out lowly, and Jimin recoils like he’s been shot. 

Sitting upright, feet to himself again, Jimin’s eyes widen at the word. Even with the little to no French knowledge you have, you can guess the meaning. Red. Namjoon used the safeword. “I’m so sorry,” Jimin croaks, and you’re startled at the vulnerability and genuine apology in his voice, “are you not-?”

“Juste parce que je suis techniquement vièrge, ça ne fait pas de moi un soumis,” Namjoon explains with a rueful smile. You wish he would’ve spoke in English, but his light tone at least reassures you that he isn’t mad or hurt or upset. He mostly just seems a little embarrassed and overwhelmed. 

“Can we stop speaking in baguette?” Taehyung pipes up miserably, putting his phone away. “Oui, oui. Mercy. Oh reservoir. Anything more complex than that and you’ve got me lost.”

Namjoon frowns, bewildered. “Do you mean merci and au revoir?” 

“Do I?” Taehyung questions rhetorically, eyes dazed. Namjoon just shrugs hopelessly, but that seems enough for the black-haired boy. He cheers up a bit and, glancing at Namjoon’s hunched figure, lets out a short sigh. “You look tense, hyung. Do you need some help relaxing?”

Jimin bites his lip with guilt, and you hate the way you’re drawn to that pillow of flesh, so pink against the white of his teeth. What you wouldn’t give to lean over there and see what it felt like to kiss him. 

Namjoon, however, seems less concerned with Jimin. You get the idea that perhaps he’s not one to have a short temper or hold grudges. “It’s okay, I think I might have a quick shower upstairs before the second lot of breakfast is finished.” Displaying his characteristic shyness, Namjoon makes an awkward yet completely unsuccessful attempt to leave the room without revealing his tented crotch. 

Taehyung’s eyes follow it out until Namjoon’s out of sight, his mouth hung open. After a moment’s thought, brows knitted tightly together, Taehyung turns back to the two of you at the table. “Do you think he’s turned on by food or something? He did seem pre-tty eager to chow down that omelette. I should go ask him.”

“Jesus Christ.” Jimin sinks his face into his hands as Taehyung scrambles after Namjoon, and you honestly don’t blame him.

--

You manage to make it to late afternoon before you encounter Jimin again. After the meal, he speaks quietly to Jin and the two disappear into the private rec room. For you as well, the day is spent inside, Jungkook asking for your assistance in spotting him at the indoor gym, mostly so he can explain to you and Hoseok the extremely elaborate plot of his latest anime show while he lifts weights. You and Hoseok, completely lost, ended up spending hours there trying to understand all the character arcs and plot twists and backstories, eventually moving up to Jungkook’s room so he could show you the first few episodes. By the time he let you go, you made your way downstairs with a bag of laundry, having almost spent a full week in the villa.

Unlike most of the house, the laundry feels very basic and surburban: a front-loader, a dryer and a sink with some cabinets are really the only pieces of furniture, so you perch on the dryer as you wash, and the washer as you dry your load of clothes. 

Letting the regular thump of the drying machine lull you into a sleepy daze, you’re too zoned out on your phone to notice someone approaching until fingers wrap around your phone, pushing it down away from your face. 

Jimin’s still hasn’t changed out of his red pyjama shirt, and as you sit up ramrod straight and focus onto him, you admire the way the lapels lay open to expose his collarbones. “Fancy seeing you here,” he announces with a grin, eyes raking over you as you sit atop the washing machine. 

“What a coincidence,” you deadpan, crossing your arms. “I know what you’re doing.”

“And what would that be, little mouse?”

You fight the urge to press your legs together at the petname, Jimin’s eyes intelligent and self-satisfied as they watch you. “Coming here to seduce me.”

Jimin laughs, and your cheeks flush hot at the sound, his head tipping back to expose a graceful neck. “Oh, Y/n, don’t think so highly of yourself. I’m just here to do my laundry.” 

Dubious, you keep your legs dangling over the side and your arms crossed as you look down. True enough, a basket of washing rests and his feet, and you wait bitterly as he brushes your legs wider so that he can turn on the machine, selecting the right settings and pouring in a scoop of detergent. You keep a stoic silence, biting down on your tongue at his actions, but he doesn’t seem to care about your eyes on him.

In fact, he appears to openly thrive on it, sinking into a crouch in front of the machine and blinking up at you innocently, his face in front of your aching crotch. Refusing to give in, you press your lips together while he opens the door and deposits his clothes, socks, underwear, everything he’s been wearing the past few days. Once he’s done, you feel yourself relax a bit, but then he lets out a thoughtful hum.

“I suppose I should wash these too,” he muses, fingering at the bottom edge of his shirt, and your mouth goes dry. That fucker. He doesn’t even look at you as he undresses, but the smirk on his lips speaks volumes.

Your hips long to writhe, but you force yourself still as he unbuttons his shirt, opening it up and chucking it in casually, running a hand over his now-naked chest, quite literally rubbing it in. The most skin you’ve seen on him yet, you allow yourself to drink in the sight. He’s more muscular than you’d expect, though it’s all lean muscle, graceful yet speaking to a corded strength. 

Even though you know it’s coming, there’s nothing that can prepare you for the obscene sight of him pulling down the zipper of his black patent leather pants, revealing equally black boxers. He’s not hard, not even the slightest hint of a chub, and the thought infuriates you that he could make you so needy without even getting aroused himself, like it was the easiest thing in the world. 

As he lowers his pants down, his thighs are revealed in all their glory, the thickest part of him. They flex as he lifts each leg, tugging off the pants fully and tossing them in. Though you hadn’t noticed before, now is the first time you’ve seen him without his shoes on, and you marvel at the fact that he loses none of his power like this, that it really comes from within, from his piercing gaze, knowing smile and confident posture. Chucking them in the washing machine too, he pauses for a moment, lip tugged up in a smirk, before his ringed fingers find the elastic waistband of his boxers.

Startled, a breathy, “Jimin,” falls from your lips unbidden, barely audible.

“Hm?” Jimin has no regard for modesty as he bares himself fully, cock twitching as you stare, wide-eyed. “What’s the problem, little mouse? This is a shared facility.” He chucks the slip of light fabric amongst the rest of his clothes and shuts the lid, pressing start. A gasp escapes you as the machine kicks into gear, already beginning to shudder and rock under you, sending vibrations to your needy core. 

As you stare, Jimin stands in front of you, resting a hand on the edge of the machine, right between your splayed legs. His dick is slowly plumping up, the man completely unbothered as he lowers his free hand to press at the skin around it, sighing. 

Your fingers clench into fists as your arms remain crossed, pussy thriving and dripping with the pleasure after so long, but cursing that his hand is so close yet so far to your clothed cunt. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you spit, leaning back and tipping your head up to stare stubbornly at the ceiling. The image of him, his naked body is still seared onto your eyelids and you let out a huff. “You have no shame.”

“Shame never seemed like a particularly useful quality to have.”

“I’m not giving you what you want,” you insist, voice trembling slightly - though you blame the steady jarring of the washing machine that runs from your core all the way up to your teeth. 

“Then I could say the same to you,” you hear Jimin reply easily, before letting out a suspiciously low groan. 

Your head shoots down and you gawk at the way he grasps himself, fully hard now, and runs the crook of his pointer finger over his weeping head. His cock is gorgeous, the hair above trimmed neatly and the tip arcing towards the ceiling, towards your shocked stare as he smears the glistening precum around his head, hissing at the coolness of his rings on the heated skin. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” you utter in complete bewilderment. “This isn’t washing your laundry!”

Jimin hums, head tipped back and eyes slipping shut in indulgence. “I can leave to jerk off alone if that makes you more comfortable?”

You fall silent, eyes locked onto his languid strokes. That isn’t what you want at all, and he knows it. “Jimin,” you murmur lowly, captivated by the slow drags of his hand on his cock, rings glinting wetly. He makes a noise of response, almost lost in the mechanical whirring and thudding of the washing machine that stirs in your loins. Your voice is barely louder than his. “Jimin, why are you making this so difficult?”

His head tips back down, lips parted and eyes lidded. “Oh, little mouse,” he sighs, “do you wish you could touch? Do you wish I was inside you?”

You glance again at his hand, resting mere centimetres away from your core. “You know I do,” you admit in a small voice.

“Then beg,” he replies simply, hand slowly picking up speed on his dick. “The only thing that’s keeping you horny and unsatisfied is yourself. You could’ve cum three times already if you knew what was good for you.”

You sigh, licking your lips needily. A light ding echoes in the room; your washing has finished in the dryer. You ignore it. “Please, Jimin.”

Jimin’s eyes open fully, locking on you with a smirk. “Closer,” he answers, teeth exposed as he grins just slightly. Still, though, he continues to stroke himself, even going so far as to take a half step forward to rest the underside of his cock against the washing machine, groaning at the vibrations. 

You huff when you realise he isn’t going to speak further. “You do realise I could just go get myself off, right? You don’t have all the power here.”

You know you’ve said the wrong thing when his cheeks lift, lips spread wide in a teasing sneer. “We both know that’s not quite true. Perhaps I don’t have all the power, but a little birdie told me that you’re no longer allowed to put your hand in your own pants. I don’t suppose that rings a bell?”

He knows about Hoseok’s deal. Perhaps they all do. In an effort to wipe the smug look off his face, you scoff, spreading your legs wider in a show of relaxation. “Well then, I guess I might as well go upstairs and ask Hoseok to fuck me. I bet he’d do a better job than-”

Like lightening, his hand leaves his own cock and lashes out, fisting your shirt in his hands and tugging you forward, hard enough that you have to quickly uncross your arms and grab onto him to stop your foreheads from knocking together. You gasp at the fiery look on his face, his voice a sharp growl. “If you think he can fuck you half as good as I can, you’re dreaming.”

“Wha-?” you make out, so close that your breath ruffles the wisp of hair that swoops over his brow.

Just as quick as he grabbed you, Jimin lets go, stepping away. “Your laundry is ready,” he announces lowly. “You’ll be waiting outside my bedroom door in two hour’s time or you won’t get anything at all. Clear?” 

Startled, you nod, jumping down off the mid-cycle washing machine, your legs feeling wobbly with the sudden withdrawal of vibrations. Grabbing your washing out of the dryer, you rush out the room with one last glance at him before the door slams and locks behind you. All is silent in the hallway as you ascend the stairs, but internally you scream with excitement. 

--

Two hours drags and stretches and then snaps, everything too slow and then too fast until you’re knocking on Jimin’s door, stomach swirling sickly with anticipation. 

He takes his sweet time answering, heightening your heart rate, but by the time he does it takes your breath away. He’s in a different pair of black pants, jeans that are skinny enough to make his legs seem a million miles long. His chest is fully covered this time, but it’s a transparent white mesh singlet, a white pressed blouse with gold buttons and cufflinks unbuttoned at the top to expose it. His lips, plush as ever, are covered in a sheer gloss that glints in the light and his eyes are intense in the frame of thick lashes and a hint of shadow on the lids, warm and smokey. As usual, he’s laden with jewellery, his classic silver rings paired with a pair of thin dangling chains from his lobes that sway hypnotically when he tilts his head in greeting.

You, too, had dressed for the occasion, seeking out your prettiest pair of lingerie - a black lace set with embroidered vines and buds around the hems and cups. The only thing you’re wearing on top is a black silk robe tied lazily around your waist. Thanking your lucky stars nobody had wandered into the upstairs hallway while you were waiting, you step inside, the thick carpet under your bare feet muffling your steps.

Jimin is back in shoes, and you bite your lip when you recognise them as the ones he’d worn at breakfast just that morning. It feels like days ago, your heightened arousal the whole day stretching time into an eternity. 

“Kneel,” he instructs shortly, pointing at the carpet in front of him. For a moment you hesitate, but you'd gotten so far and it would be foolish to test your luck and risk getting thrown out with nothing yet again. Besides, part of you wants to see what he'll do when you're actually good for him. You kneel.

His room is perhaps one of the largest excluding yours. His bathroom door is shut, but even just the bedroom has room for a queen bed, two nightstands, a dresser and a chest at the foot of the bed which you're facing. You wonder idly if he'd paid the staff off for the biggest room, but before you can ponder much more he steps in front of you, his crotch right at your eye-level. You glance up him, sucking in a breath at how perfect he looks glancing down at you.

You lick your lips in anticipation, and it draws his attention. "This pretty little mouth of yours," he muses, reaching out to run his fingers over your lips, tugging down the flesh to watch it bounce back. Your chest puffs in pride, mouth practically watering at the thought of sucking him off. You part your lips when he presses on the seam, and his first two fingers delve into your mouth, slowly thrusting so that the pads run along your tongue, making you drool around his digits. You widen your jaw obediently, eyes pleading. But his face changes, then, a frown clouding his features. "More trouble than it's worth," he decides stiffly, and suddenly your mouth is empty, Jimin wiping your saliva off on your cheek before he turns his back to you, opening the chest.

Your mouth stays slack and open, but for a different reason. From what you can see, the wooden box is filled with toys, slips of fabric and leather, metal chains, everything. Suddenly, something catches your attention. At the bottom right corner, the initial PJM have been gracefully engraved, painted in with a glossy black ink. This is his, you realise, what he uses for his shoots. You feel your panties dampening between your legs as he rifles around.

When he turns back around, you recoil slightly, recognising the buckled contraption he comes up with. A ball gag. He smiles wickedly at your reaction, standing over you and running his hand through your hair, combing it back from your face. "This is a good thing, little mouse," he explains, tapping your lips twice to indicate to widen your jaw. You obey in a daze, feeling the sphere of unforgiving black plastic fill the front half of your mouth, your teeth keeping it in place. "Now you won't be tempted to run your mouth. Isn't that thoughtful of me?" You glare up at him as the straps wrap around your skull, his deft fingers tightening the buckle just enough so you can't spit the ball out. Your breath comes through your nose now, huffing at him.

He chuckles, crouching in front of you. It's overwhelming, suddenly having his face so close again. The perfect swells of his cheekbones, the sculpted brows and intelligent eyes so intensely locked onto yours. "You can't speak now, little mouse. So your safeword is going to be non-verbal. Click your fingers once for yellow, and over and over as much as you can for red. Okay? Click now so I know you can do it."

You click your fingers, feeling your chest ease slightly with the reinforcement of your safety net. The moment you're done, however, that warm concern vanishes, and he straightens up, turning away from you yet again.

"You're lucky," his voice announces, leaning over to dig in his box of tricks, "normally I'm not so generous. Normally I wouldn't let you cum until you'd well and truly earned it. But those cries of yours on the Monday night..." He trails off, spinning back on his feet to face you, a pair of leather cuffs in his hand, unconnected with heavy duty silver loops dangling from them. His eyes pierce you with a hint of vulnerability that you don't think he even realises he's showing. "You drive me crazy, Y/n. I want to hear you cum over and over and over again for me."

No matter how much your chest rises and falls, you feel breathless, eyes wide. Unable to verbally respond - though you don't even know what you'd say - you just give him a pleading gaze, hips rocking against the bottoms of your feet in search of friction.

He lets out a breath, stepping forward. "Take off your robe," he instructs with a rough voice. Your fingers fumble with the slack knot, hurriedly shedding it and tossing it away, leaving yourself in just the lingerie. "Fuck," he says with a breathy chuckle, "you're gonna be the death of me, little mouse. Wrists."

You clench your teeth around the ball gag in a keen at his words, lifting your arms up to reach him.

One at a time, he fits on the leather cuffs. They're relatively wide, though not too thick, and once he does up the buckle on each one you feel your eyes flutter. Something you'd never felt before but it's divine, the way they wrap so snugly around your wrists, not only a physical anchor, but a reminder that you're his, letting out a low moan when he slips a finger in one of the silver loops, tugging to ensure the fit.

Jimin's lip twitches at your reaction, and instead of telling you to stand, he uses the hoops, pulling your wrists up by the cuffs until you stand to ease the pressure, stumbling slightly as you get off your knees without your hands to assist. He leads you to the head of the bed, where you see the two chains that wrap around the bars of the headboard.

"On," he instructs, letting go so you can clamber up, sitting as you await further instruction. "On your back, darling," he coos, pressing at your shoulder so your head rests back onto the pillow. Automatically, you lift your arms, pulling a smile from his lips as he loops the chains through the silver hoops of your cuffs, spreading your arms wide apart, knuckles brushing against the wood of the headboard.

"Don't go anywhere," he remarks teasingly before leaving you, retrieving a few things from the chest. You tug slightly at one of your cuffs, testing it, and muffle a groan at the feeling of being trapped, tied down and at his mercy.

When he returns, his hands are full, and he tosses the fruits of his labour on the bed beside your torso, getting up on the bed to sit between your legs. You gasp when he tugs your ankles firmly, making you slip down so that your arms are straight, less room to struggle. This way, too, you can barely crane your head up, chest blocking your few of the toys he's brought over.

"Now," he says with a patient sigh, fingering the hem of your panties, "let's get rid of these, mm?" You lift your hips obediently when he goes to slip them down, curling your toes at the sudden cool air on your pussy. "Fuck, look at you," he gushes lowly, his fingers running up and down your slit so light you can barely feel them, making you whimper. "So fucking wet, little mouse. I haven't even touched you."

You lift your head to moan at him, trying to get out your plea, though your words are unrecognisable through the ball gag.

He pouts teasingly, rubbing the flat of his palm over you, slicking up his hand. "Oh, poor baby. The mean old Jiminie kept teasing her, did he? Baby just wants to cum?"

You groan, eyes scrunching shut as you nod your head. Even the simple touch of his hand between your legs is so good you could cry.

You tremble when you feel two fingers slip inside your wetness, a tight fit but one that lets him in so smoothly with how much you're soaked for him. He finds your g-spot with an almost supernatural ease, rubbing at it with the pads of his two fingers, curling inside you. You let out a strangled groan which makes him chuckle.

"I'm being generous now, aren't I? Say thank you, Y/n."

You sob. He knows full well you can't speak, but you obey nonetheless, letting out an unintelligible garble of your thanks.

"Good girl," he coos, and your legs fall apart wider in bliss as he begins an indulgent pace, the cool bands of his rings when they plunge inside you addictive. The second his thumb lifts up and begins rubbing at your clit, you're already on the edge from being deprived so long, and you cum almost immediately, shuddering around his fingers at the deep but powerful satisfaction.

You come down from your high relatively quickly, but he's already slipped his hand out, and you glance down in confusion, only to choke on a moan when you see him, tongue poking out slightly in focus as he uses your own slick to lube up a dildo, a powder pink silicone one that's roughly the shape of a cock, but far smoother, getting wider at the bottom for a place to hold it.

Once he's done, almost without acknowledging you, he grips your knee, making it bend and your leg lift higher up the bed, spreading you wider open for him, the other one still flat on the mattress, splayed wide.

"That was your warm-up, little mouse, I hope you enjoyed it," Jimin remarks with a grin, and you breathe heavy around the gag, back arching as he presses the head of the dildo into you.

It's far wider than his two fingers, and the stretch dumbs you, making your mind slow to a halt to appreciate every inch that fills you, dragging against your sensitised g-spot. Jimin's knuckles bump your clit when he bottoms out, and you shiver, the dildo so deep inside you.

"Let's get started, shall we?" he declares rhetorically with a wolfish grin, and once again your eyes squeeze shut when he begins a bruising pace, every strike spearing you open and making your eyes water. Your spine hitches as you writhe beneath him, but his grip on your bent leg is too strong, and no matter how hard you clench he drives the dildo so fully inside you that your mouth is slack, wide enough that your teeth don't even clamp around the ball on your tongue. With an open mouth, more sound comes through, and you hear the room filling with the wet sound of him fucking you with the dildo, but also your own moans and hiccuped screams.

He fucks you to the edge faster than you can comprehend. There's so much pleasure on every stroke, and he's using so much speed that it feels like you can't take it, like you might explode, but still he pins you down, letting you yank at the cuffs that bind you as you're forced to cum violently around it, thigh muscles clenching as you try to clamp your legs around the intrusion.

"Fuck, that's it, don't stop cumming," you hear him growl, and you sob with pleasure as your orgasm morphs quickly into oversensitivity, but Jimin never lets up for a second.

Your eyes water, tears slipping down over your temples as he continues to fuck you, and suddenly you no longer feel his hand on your leg, it flopping down weakly as fingers tap over your hand.

"Don't forget the signal," he instructs as you sob and writhe, "I'm not fucking stopping without it."

It takes you a moment to process that he's asking about the safeword, but as overwhelmed as you are, you don't want him to stop. "Hngingn," you cry, his name coming out jumbled through the ball gag, and your legs automatically lock around his hand, seeking to stop the roughly thrusting dildo, but his spare hand just rips your legs away, one of his jean-clad knees pinning down your shin and your screams reach a new pitch when you feel fingers strumming at your clit, the pleasure like a million needles, making your hands fist.

After an eternity of going crazy with overstimulation, you pass a bend. The pain turns back into pleasure, and you settle, going quiet and shifting slightly to seek it out, eyes rolling at the rhythmic rocking of your hips as he fucks you with the dildo.

"That's it," Jimin guides, breathless with exertion, "I want you to cum again, little mouse. Clench tight for me."

You do as he says, eyes so blurry you can't even see anything but the patch of blue in your vision, his head bobbing slightly as he speaks.

Without thinking, you follow his instructions, and like clockwork a third orgasm rips through you, taking you by surprise as the extra pressure of the dildo on your g-spot plunges you over the edge. You hadn't even realised you were close, but clearly Jimin had, and you tremble beneath him, letting the waves of pleasure flood to every corner and crevice of your body, your fists tightening and your toes curling. You weep openly at how good it feels, whimpering when his fingers on your clit stop and the dildo slows, slipping out of you one last time with a slick noise.

You're sweating, twitching, trembling, but still you manage to blink away your tears and focus on him blearily as you feel him removing the ball gag from around your head, fingers gentle as they massage your jaw slightly, letting you close it and lick your lips, feeling the ache.

"Did so well," he praises, and you pant happily, a lazy smile stretching out on your face as your tears begin to dry. The sound of a zip makes you frown, so you glance down to see Jimin already fisting his own cock, just as red and needy as the last time you'd seen it. You whimper as he shuffles forward, lifting your legs up into the air to spread you wide for him.

Almost forgetting you can speak now, you whimper wordlessly for a few moments, before making out a weak, "Jimin," tone pleading.

"Shh," he coos, his cockhead tapping at your drenched entrance, making you shiver. "One more, little mouse."

"I can't," you sob, chest hitching as he slips into you, just bigger than the dildo. You let out a reedy cry at how he strikes you're abused g-spot, and his fingers massage the backs of your thighs soothingly.

"You can," Jimin insists, fucking into you slowly, making you hiss every time, "just one more for me. You have your word."

You sob at the overstimulating madness as his pace picks up, driving so intensely inside of you, but you don't use the safeword. There's a kind of euphoria bliss to being stretched to your limits, pushed so far, and you trust him to take care of you, want to do a good job for him.

So you shake your head, moans blending into cries blending into whimpers. "Fuh-fuck," you gasp as once more sharp stimulation turns warm again, and you near a fourth orgasm. You shiver under Jimin, his thrusts so deft and powerful, jerking your body in rhythm. "I ca- I can't cum again," you admit shakily, "'s too much, Jimin, I can't take it!"

Jimin grunts with the force of his thrusts, but his hands are gentle as they keep your legs spread. "You're almost there, little mouse, you're doing so well."

Your back arches violently when he drops one of your legs to rub at your clit, fresh tears streaming into your hairline. "Fuck, oh god, I'm gonna- fuck!"

You stream as your final orgasm takes you like a train, and a feeling you've never experienced rushes through you as you squirt, thighs clamping iron tight around his hips as he curses at the sight and spills into your trembling body.

Even in the throes of his own orgasm, you feel Jimin's hands pass up and begin releasing you from the headboard, your arms falling limply as he cups your face, barely even rocking into you as every slight movement plunges you into oversensitivity.

You gasp, trying to catch your breath with closed eyes as this thumbs brush away your tears, his cum hot inside you.

"God, Y/n, you were amazing, did so well for me," he confesses lowly in your ear, and you let out a whimper as he presses a single kiss to your cheek, the most tender he's been with you so far.

"Did well," you repeat mindlessly, "Jiminnie."

"You did," he promises, and you hiss as he pulls himself out of you carefully, the feeling of his seed mixed with your own cum flooding out down onto the sheets. "God, look at you," Jimin muses under his breath, surely not meant for you to hear.

Barely conscious, your eyes flutter, and the last thing you remember seeing is him stripping off his expensive white cotton blouse, cleaning you up with it so gently that you barely feel the sting on your clit.

FAN FAVOURITE

On the sixth Day of every Week in the game, the Audience Fan Favourite vote is released for 48 hours following the post of the fic. Please note, this is NOT the elimination vote, which is taken on the seventh Day of each Week.

Please vote for your favourite member in the house according to Week One only. Vote here. Multiple votes are allowed but please do not spam the voting as this is an overall audience pick. I’m very excited to see what the results will be ! Voting is closed! Thank you for participating!

TAGLIST

Okay real talk doing 5 ppl per comment takes fucking AGES so imma just try 45 since last time 50 didn’t work.

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The rest will be in the comments!

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[itcanbegoodagain]

The Indulgence of a Kiss

Just a quick little thing that I wrote as I try to get back on my writing feet. Peeta realizes that Katniss loves him, and (non-graphic) sexytimes follow. They're in loooove.

Word Count: 929 (vaguely proofread at 1 a.m.)

It happened naturally on an uneventful Thursday, the sun long having disappeared behind the dark storm clouds. The rain poured down onto the roof, the constant murmur of it drawing me to the front porch. I sat outside under the awning and counted my breaths. One, inhale. Two, exhale. All the way to ten. Then I repeated that, over and over. One of the many ways I've found to help me stay grounded when I feel myself thinking those thoughts that I shouldn't.

Peeta came out shortly after I did, joining me on the cool bench. I leaned into him, scooting as close as I could, wrapping both of my arms around one of his. He tilted his head to lay his cheek on my hair, breathing out a long, relaxed sigh that I felt against my side. Neither of us said anything, and we didn't need to. It was just another day of the easy, comfortable familiarity we'd fallen into.

"I was thinking," I began quietly, not taking my eyes off the horizon. "Well, I was thinking about you. Your flashbacks, how you haven't had one in a while." Peeta's body tensed a little as I said this, but then quickly relaxed. This helps him, actually. Talking about it. "And I just wanted to tell you that I'm proud of you. And I am so selfishly grateful that you've dealt with it so I can always have you near me." My heart pounded as I said it, but the words are true. I didn't want to take them back. I couldn't.

When Peeta pulled away to look at me, the damp chill from his sudden absence brought gooseflesh to my skin. It was quickly replaced by his hands as he brought them to my face and kissed me hard. His thumbs stroked my cheekbones when he broke off a moment later. He stared at me intently, biting his lip as if holding back the need to cry. Peeta blinked quickly, his small intake of breath barely audible.

When he moved again, it was to gently run his hand into my hair, tucking it behind my ear. He gave me a soft smile, one that only I would ever see, before using his thumb to tilt my chin into another kiss, this one slow, deliberate. Shivers ran down my spine, my heart seemingly about to burst out of my chest.

I gave myself the indulgence of kissing him a moment longer, then I pulled away. "I mean it." Smiled. "And I needed to tell you."

---

The words seemed to shock Peeta, as later that day I frequently found him looking at me. His breath caught in his throat every time our gazes met, and every time it gave me a flash of pride. I looked away, pretending I didn't notice the small change.

After dinner that evening, we were playing a quiet game of chess to end our quiet day. With a swift, easy movement, he grabbed one of my pieces and replaced it with his. "You have been everything I needed for so long now," he said. He knocked his foot against mine.

"I've loved you for so long," Peeta continued softly, shifting my chair to kneel in front of me, "and at times I wondered if I would ever know what that felt like in return. And today, it hit me. I felt the weight of your words, and the understanding and relief that I finally knew the answer."

Peeta brought his hands to my thighs, gently running them along the side. He was between my legs at this point, on his knees, declaring his love for me. There's a certain power to a man on his knees before you, and I was alive with it that night. "And it is so much damn better than I imagined," he said against my lips, grinning.

This time, I didn't have to stop myself to finish what I needed to say. There was nothing but time for us that night, and I wanted to be close to him.

So, I didn't stop him as he moved his hands up to my face again, his lips pressing hard into mine. I didn't stop him as he tried to get closer, realized that wasn't possible, and yanked me to the floor with him. This time, I was looking down at him from my knees, and he pulled me as close as he could get.

He didn't stop me as I ran my eyes down his torso and back up to meet his, or when I reached down and grabbed the hem of his shirt, tossing it behind me.

And I didn't stop myself as I did, well, whatever the hell I wanted.

---

Some hours later, as we were lying in bed, the moon shining her cool light on us through the open window, I heard the rhythm of Peeta's breathing shift. He inhaled, yawning, as I turned around to face him, tucking the blanket up to my chin. Peeta rested on his stomach and looked at me, locking his hands beneath his pillow.

He looked at me with such an easy, boyish grin, one that lets you know exactly what he remembered, that all I could do was laugh. When I pulled my head out from under the blanket, there was a wry smile on my lips. Peeta leaned over and kissed it away, taking a little bit of my breath with him as well.

"You love me. Real or not real?"

So, I gave him the only answer I could. "Real."

[quickspinner]

The Magic of You - Part 2

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | AO3

This was supposed to be sweet and fun and easy, and it is the first two I hope, but it was not easy and now there’s a part 3 in the works, so. Oopsie. 😆

Some sexytimes in this one, slightly less off screen than usual but still not detailed or explicit, and should be fairly easy to skim past.

“You’re in trouble,” Juleka sighed, leaning an elbow on the table and looking at him through the curtain of her hair. 

Luka didn’t answer her, humming as he replaced the strings on his instrument. He normally carried his gittern on his trips to the meadow, because it was small and light, but he had a mind to play his lute for Marinette tomorrow. 

“Luka.” Juleka kicked his foot. “Say something.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Juleka.” 

“Tell me you’re not falling for a girl who’s not even your species.” 

Luka didn’t look up, but he knew she could see his lopsided grin. “Can’t. Sorry.” 

“You barely know each other.” 

Luka hummed. “I’ve never heard a song as beautiful as hers. I know her, Jules. I don’t know a lot about her, but I know her...deep down, the core of who she is. She’s sweet and kind and...vibrant…” He trailed off, lost in thought, until Juleka kicked him again.

“She’s a literal snake, Luka!”

Luka frowned, finally looking directly at her. “She’s not a snake.” 

“Half-snake,” Juleka snorted, rolling her eyes.

“Don’t talk about her like that,” he said, and his clipped tone made Juleka’s eyes widen slightly. “She’s not half snake. She’s not half anything . She’s not a snake and she’s not human and she’s definitely not half snake-half human. Don’t make her sound like some kind of  construct, like two things somehow got mashed together in some weird magical accident. She’s not a freak, she’s just...herself. A complete being meant to be as she is.” He turned back to his work. “And she’s beautiful, just like that.” He pressed his lips together, jaw tight.

Juleka sighed. “I’m sorry. You’re right.” Luka’s tension eased, and he glanced up at her. She got up from the table, placing her palms on it as she leaned over to look him in the eye. “Also, you’re hopeless.” 

Luka chuckled as Juleka stalked off. “Fair.”

***

“Girl, you are in so much trouble.” 

“I am not,” Marinette protested, lashing out with the end of her tail. Alya dodged the half-hearted blow and giggled. 

“You liiiiiiike him,” Alya teased, twining around her friend with both tail and arms to hug her. “Admit it.” 

“Like him? Yes.” Marinette leaned into the embrace for just a moment, and then slid away. “Of course I like him,” Marinette huffed, coiling back on herself with her nose in the air as Alya made herself into a loose coil in the corner, draping her upper half over the angled rock there for that purpose. “He’s sweet. Very polite. He’s interesting, and I want to know more about his magic. His music is beautiful. He’s handsome for a human.” Marinette shrugged. “Maybe I have a little crush, but that’s all.” 

“Mmhmm. And if he was a naga?” Alya leaned her chin on her hand and gave a fangy grin. “Would it still be a little crush then?” 

Marinette flushed deep red. She couldn’t deny that she had thought about it. Imagined what Luka would look like with a sleek black scaled body instead of legs, or what fangs would look like in his knowing smile. Maybe she’d fantasized a little bit about eyes in that exact shade of deep blue, with slit pupils slowly widening into near-circles as she teased and tortured him— 

It hadn’t felt right, though, imagining him as something other than he was. The fangs spoiled the gentleness of his smile, and he would move differently if he had a tail, and she loved the soft, content expression in his eyes when he looked at her. Luka had a quiet strength of his own, but there was nothing predatory or dangerous about him. He was fearless without being threatening, and Marinette found that very, very attractive. There was none of that contentious, dominating element of naga courtship that she had never before managed to navigate. Luka had made it clear from the beginning that he respected her and what she could do. She’d never had to prove to him that she had the strength to bear and protect a clutch, nor establish that she would not be dominated or intimidated by a mate, and his own easy confidence in her presence convinced her of his strength—of power and character, if not of body. With a jolt, Marinette suddenly understood that without realizing it, or likely even intending it, Luka had slipped past her guard and straight into the sweetest part of courtship, the learning and the teaching, the teasing and the wooing, and she suddenly realized that this little crush she had been indulging might be more serious than she had meant to let it get. 

“I’m in trouble,” Marinette sighed, sinking down onto her coils to mope. Alya patted her back sympathetically. 

***

She felt a little shy the next time Luka appeared in her meadow. She tried to greet him with the same cheerfulness as usual, but he still looked at her with those knowing eyes, tilting his head slightly. 

“Is everything all right?” Luka asked, leaning toward her a little. He reached to tuck a lock of her hair behind her pointed ear, and though the touch was light, the feel of it lingered on her cheek and ear. 

“Yes,” she breathed, and then blushed, looking away. “I’m just...happy to see you.” She glanced back at him to see his reaction, and the grin that spread over his face was gratifying to say the least. 

“I’m always happy to see you,” he said, and then seemed to hesitate. “In fact, I was wondering—would it be all right if I came to see you more often? Not for the magic. Just to see you. I’d...really like to spend more time with you, if that’s okay.” 

Marinette held in a very undignified squeal, and gave him a broad smile, fangs fully in evidence. “I’d like that.” 

“Good,” Luka smiled back at her. “I was hoping you’d say that.” 

Heart pounding, Marinette could feel a giggle bubbling up. She launched herself forward at striking speed and coiled loosely around Luka. He started at the sudden movement but otherwise just looked over his shoulder at her, chin tilting up as she raised herself to look at the instrument strapped to his back. “This is new,” she observed, fingers hovering over the wood. She felt shy of touching it without his permission and drew her hand back. 

“I thought I’d play something different for you today,” he said, and she tilted her head slightly as she looked at him. His voice had gone deeper, and there was a pink tinge to his face, like he had been out in the sun too long. Except he wasn’t even out of the shadows of the trees yet, and…

She watched his throat bob as he swallowed, and felt a flutter in her belly. 

“I like different,” she dared, sinking down again, but making no move to unwind from around him. 

She saw his little tongue come out to wet his lips as he turned forward again. “Me too.” Marinette decided she liked that deep voice very much. She let the giggle escape this time, and swept around him to take his hands. 

“Then come and do your work so you can play for me,” she said, slithering back and drawing him with her. 

“I can do my work and play for you,” he smiled, following her lead willingly. 

Marinette let go of him and made herself comfortable by the rock, but instead of lounging on it as he usually did, he took his instrument off and lowered himself onto the grass with his back to the rock, then tilted his chin at her in invitation. A little shyly, Marinette shifted herself to bring her torso next to him. “That’s better,” he murmured, his long fingers drawing the first notes from the strings, checking the tune. He paused to lay out his little line of crystals beside him, and Marinette leaned over him. 

“Does the magic work with any kind?” she wanted to know. 

“Not any kind, but many,” Luka replied, seeming unbothered by the way she had draped over him to look, even when she ever so casually rested a clawed hand on his chest to steady herself. “Some work better than others. Some regular customers have favorites that they like to reuse. Some mages find that certain types of crystals work better for them. I can work with most things, but some are easier than others. Mostly though, we just get whatever my sister, Juleka, can buy for us when the miner’s guild rep comes through.” He shrugged. “When it comes to business, I have to work with the supply.” 

“That makes sense,” Marinette said, easing back. “Sorry. For interrupting.” 

“No need,” he smiled, strumming again. “I have all day, and excellent company. I am in no hurry.” He held her gaze for a moment, and Marinette would have sworn that her heart stopped. She hadn’t realized she was still leaning so close to him. She drew back a little, and was glad when he shifted his gaze and let his eyes fall nearly shut as he sank into the music and the magic. She needed some time to compose herself, before she did anything else foolish. She would have to think of a way to get back at him for being so...so charming . 

And she’d have plenty of chances, because he was coming to the meadow more often. He wanted to see her more. She gave an excited little wiggle that rippled down the length of her body, and then glanced at him to make sure he hadn’t noticed. His eyes were still closed, and she took a moment to admire him openly. Yes, he was plenty handsome, just as he was, and his aura radiated peace and comfort. 

Maybe it wouldn’t be the life she had imagined for herself, but if it was like this...she crushed that thought before it could go any further. She reached for the workbasket she’d left on the ground beside the rock, and pulled out some leatherwork she’d been meaning to get done. She glanced at Luka one more time and smiled. 

***

Juleka was right, and Luka knew it. He was hopeless. His hands shook slightly as he made the walk to the clearing on his next free day. This would be his first purely social visit to Marinette, without even the pretense of work to hide behind. He was here, purely and simply, because he wanted to see her, and he’d made sure she knew it, and now he would see...he thought he would see, if this was indeed the first step of shifting their relationship toward something more than friendship. 

He put a hand against his heart, feeling it flutter in time with the butterflies in his stomach. This was what he had always loved about love, the way that it quickened his breath and sharpened his senses, but there was more to it than that with Marinette. She was so vibrant and alive, bubbling with curiosity and creativity and with such a unique way of looking at things—he could listen to her talk for hours and never get tired of her stories and her ideas, nor did he tire of answering her questions about himself and his family. He wanted her to know him, and he treasured up everything he learned about her in a heart that had begun to ache for her presence when they were apart. 

And he thought...he thought that maybe she...

He took the last few steps from the trees into the meadow, and Marinette, draped over the great couch-like stone in the middle, immediately looked up. Her face lit up like one of his glowing power crystals the second she laid eyes on him, and his heart soared and he opened his arms instinctively even as he tried to quash the rising hope in him. Marinette’s scales whisked along the grass and then she was colliding with him hard enough to knock him off his feet. That surprised her, and they both went down in a heap. Marinette managed to catch him in her coils in such a way as to protect the instrument strapped on his back, and for a moment they both blinked at each other. Marinette smiled sheepishly, one fang poking out adorably between her lips. “Oops. I...forgot you were human.” She winced. “I mean, of course I know that, it’s just—well, we’re a lot harder to tip over.” 

Luka began to laugh, one hand reaching up to cradle her cheek as he lost himself in her eyes, eyes that should have been strange and foreign but to him, were simply beautiful. “Forgiven.”  

Marinette smiled and tightened her hold on his arms, and then Luka wasn’t exactly sure what happened. It reminded him of being on his mother’s boat when the water was what she called “sporty.” It only lasted a moment, though, and then he was sitting upright on the grass in the curve of Marinette’s serpentine body. He had a giddy moment of disorientation; he always forgot how big she was compared to him, because so much of her body was often hidden in the grass and she tended to carry herself lower to the ground, so that she was shorter than him. Clearly no matter how lost his heart was, his head still had some work to do on remembering that she was not human. 

“Better?” she asked, sliding her hands down his arms and looking him over. “I didn’t hurt you, did I? Or your lute?” 

“I’m fine,” Luka smiled, carefully catching her clawed hands as they began to slide away. “I’m happy to see you.”

“I’m happy to see you too,” she said shyly, and he felt her shifting behind him—curling closer, he thought, and tried not to jump as the tip of her tail curled up over his thigh. “What did you want to do today? Since you don’t have to work.” 

“Anything,” Luka smiled. “What do you do when I’m not here invading your meadow?” 

“Miss you,” she said coyly, and then blushed, and quickly unwound herself from him and slithered away. “Come on, it’s too cool here in the shade.”  

Luka was frozen for a moment, caught off guard by her sudden boldness. Only when she curled around the base of the rock where he usually sat and propped her arms on it, peeking shyly at him over them, did he manage to move.

Don’t get ahead of yourself, Luka told himself as he got rather unsteadily to his feet . They were, after all, very different, and a summer romance, or even just a summer flirtation, might be the most that could ever happen between them. 

Oh, but he wanted at least that much, if she was willing to give it to him, so he went to the rock and laid down on his belly, folding his own arms under his chin as he blinked slowly at her. 

She giggled. “Now that’s almost the proper way to lounge on a sunning stone,” she teased him. 

“Not so convenient for playing though,” Luka chuckled, and had to swallow at the way her eyes softened.

“Well,” she said, lifting up a little, and tracing random patterns on the stone with her fingers. “You don’t have to play, if you don’t want to. We could just...talk. Or enjoy the sun.” 

Luka hummed. “You don’t seem like the type of person who just lounges in the sun.” 

Marinette turned her nose up. “I”m a nagi. I spend a lot of time lounging in the sun, for your information.”

“Of course,” Luka agreed. “But you don’t just lounge, do you.” He leaned a little over the side of the rock and looked pointedly at a basket resting at the base. He looked up at Marinette and smirked, his face inches from hers. 

Marinette’s cheeks went pink. “There’s nothing wrong with keeping busy.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything else from you,” Luka smiled, propping his chin up in his fist. 

“You think you know me so well,” Marinette pouted.

“Not yet, but I’m hoping to,” Luka said, his eyes on hers. “Will you show me what you’re working on?” he asked, breaking the gaze. 

Blushing hard, Marinette bent to pick up the basket that had been sitting on the grass and set it up on the rock to show him the leatherwork she had brought to do in the sunny meadow. He watched her, content and happy as she described her plan for the jerkin that was in pieces in the basket, a gift for a dear friend. 

“Will you...play for me?” she asked, settling down with her work at the foot of the rock. “If you want to. If you’d rather take a break for today, that’s okay too, I know you must play a lot so it’s completely up to you—”

“I would love to play for you,” he interrupted gently. “What would you like to hear?”

Marinette blushed. “Could you play...me? I want to hear...what you hear. If that’s okay. Like you did the first time you spoke to me.”  

“I can’t play you as you were then,” he smiled. “But I could play as you are now, if you don’t mind me touching your mind as I did before. Your feelings, as I said, not your thoughts.” He saw her hesitation, and added, “Or I can play something else. It’s up to you.”  

Marinette considered, and finally said, “I don’t mind. I’d like to hear it. I’d think I’d like for you to hear the way I feel right now.” She ducked her head a little, and Luka chuckled. 

“Music is often simpler than words.” 

“Especially when you use magic to sense emotions,” Marinette snorted, and stuck her tongue out at him. Luka laughed at the way it flickered in the air, but quickly sobered again.

“There is something I should probably tell you about that,” he said, looking away for a moment before he gathered his courage to meet her eyes again. “When I first meet someone, I have to be tranced to hear anything, and I have to work to find their song out of all the ones I’m hearing. But, the more I get to know somebody, and to know their song, the easier it is for me to pick it out. I’m already very aware of you just from coming here so often. Eventually, if we keep spending time together, I won’t have to trance at all to hear you.” 

Marinette seemed to take that in. “So...you’ll be able to read my emotions all the time?”

“If I listen, yeah,” Luka nodded. “I can try not to, but it’s...difficult sometimes.” He felt his face flush. “Especially if it’s someone I feel strongly about. Sometimes I don’t realize that I’m doing it.” He hesitated. “Is that...does it bother you? I mean, if it’s a problem, I can...I can stay away. I’ll understand, if you would rather not—”

Marinette placed one clawed hand over his, and he stopped, swallowing, at the way she was looking at him. “I don’t want you to stay away,” she told him, low and earnest. “That’s not what I want at all. This sensing, it’s a part of you, so I’m not afraid of it. I trust you.” 

Luka turned his hand over to take hers, and lifted it to press his lips against her palm. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “Not everyone is so understanding.” 

Marinette blushed, and butted her head against his shoulder, hiding her face for a moment. 

Luka cleared his throat. “Shall I play for you now?” 

Marinette looked up, and smiled shyly. “Please.” 

He settled back, played his key tune, and sank into the magic of the meadow and of Marinette beside him. He found her song in the meadow’s symphony, and began to play along with it—not to replicate it, exactly, for it had a richness that he didn’t think his simple instrument could capture, but to follow the flow of her feelings and the underlying melody of Marinette herself. He smiled, slightly, pleased at what he sensed from her. Happiness, hopefulness, affection, and a sparkling thread of nervousness and anticipation that matched the feeling buzzing along his own veins. 

He lost himself in the music and the energy of Marinette and this, her place, and began to explore the way his own melded with it. His attention returned to Marinette when the tune of her mood shifted. He shifted with it, following the new feeling with his music, and he found himself playing something richer, warmer, more rhythmic—his eyes flew open wide and his trance shattered. He looked at Marinette, but she was looking very intently at the embroidery in her hands, seemingly not paying attention to him at all...but he could see her peek at him from under her hair and away. 

“What were you thinking about just then?” he asked, as if compelled, though he knew it was none of his business.

Marinette flushed a deep red, and he watched in fascination as it spread down her neck and down the exposed V of skin above her collar—he snapped his eyes back up to her face and swallowed, and hoped she hadn’t caught the trend of his gaze.  

“I wasn’t thinking about anything,” she lied blatantly, and then her eyes darted toward him, giving him a look through her lashes that quickened his pulse.  “I was just...admiring your playing.” 

Oh . He licked his lips unconsciously, and saw her own tongue flicker out as she watched him out of the corner of her eye.

He cleared his throat and put his instrument hastily away. “May I see how it’s coming along?” he asked, sliding over to the edge of the rock to get a look at her work. Marinette rose up, coiling her body under her so that she was effectively sitting beside him, and let him admire the pieces. If he leaned a little closer than necessary, she didn’t seem to mind, and they spoke in quiet, intimate tones, even though the clearing was empty besides themselves. 

It seemed hardly any time had passed when Luka looked up at the sun and sighed. “I must go,” he told Marinette regretfully. “I will come again—if you still wish me to.” 

“I do,” Marinette replied with a smile, making no move away from him, though they had been sitting quite close. 

Luka’s heartbeat quickened, and his gaze flicked down to her full, pretty lips. With an effort, he tore himself away, turning to pick up his lute and strap it to his back. “Then I shall come as soon as may be,” he said, picking up her hand instead and cradling it for a moment in his own. Farewell for now, Marinette. Be safe, until I see you again.” 

“Shouldn’t I be saying that to you?” Marinette grinned, baring her fangs. 

Luka chuckled. “Nothing in this forest could keep me from coming back to you,” he told her boldly, and smiled at her blush. “Until then.” He squeezed her hand, and got to his feet, giving her a little bow as he took his leave. He felt her eyes on him until he disappeared in the trees. Only then did he fully let loose the dreamy smile he’d been trying to keep under control. When he pressed his hand over his heart, it was pounding instead of fluttering.

***

Luka was true to his word, and came often now. The days without him found Marinette pouting and discontented, though she always had plenty to do. She spent hardly any time in her lair, but that was hardly remarkable in summer, when her meadow was so pleasant and beautiful, full of growing things, and beginning to show the marks of Luka’s presence even in his absence. She treasured those little proofs, the marks of his heavy boots in the grass, or the wood shavings from his whittling while he spoke to her, the quill plectrums he occasionally left behind. 

She was growing more foolish by the day, and yet Marinette couldn’t quite help herself. The more time she spent with Luka, the more she wanted to coil around him, rub up against him, tempt him into touching her with those rough fingers that played so beautifully. 

Luka didn’t seem to mind, and even seemed to welcome her attentions as much as he was able, though she doubted he really understood the signals she was sending. Still, the way his hands brushed against her scaled body in little, encouraging touches spurred her to further boldness, and no matter how often she got flustered and retreated, he never teased her about it. 

She wanted him. She thought she might...love him. Even Alya had stopped teasing her, watching her now with a worried expression. 

If she wanted the life she always thought she’d have, the life everyone expected her to have, the smart thing to do would be to send Luka away. 

But Marinette couldn’t...and part of her wondered if that was her answer.

***

“Luka,” Marinette gasped, looking at the bolt of soft grey doeskin leather he’d laid in her arms. “This is beautiful.” 

Luka watched her face as she touched the soft leather, basking in her happiness. “You like it? It’s yours. I brought it for you.”

Her lovely mouth opened, but nothing came out, and Luka’s grin widened. 

“Your smile is all the thanks I need,” he told her, curling his fingers under her chin. “You have a beautiful smile.” 

She blushed, and Luka held her gaze for just a moment before dropping his. He picked up her hand and kissed her palm, and then pressed his lips to the inside of her wrist, feeling her pulse flutter against his lips. Her hand curved to cup his cheek, and he leaned into her touch, dragging his fingertips lightly down the inside of her arm. 

“I should put this somewhere safe,” Marinette murmured, and Luka made no protest as she moved away, only sighing as he lounged back on the sunning rock. His instrument and packs were set aside for the moment, but for once, he didn’t want to play—only to listen as he watched  Marinette pause on her way back to examine some of her flowers. He admired through half-closed eyes the colors in her serpent scales and the graceful arc she made as she bent to look at the blossoms. He started slightly as she made one of those quick movements that always surprised him, doubling back on herself to glide back to him over the grass. 

“You know,” she said, rising up around the sloped side of the rock where he was leaning, so that he had to look up at her. Her hair fell around her face and tickled his temples. “This is my sunning stone you’re always lounging all over.” 

“Perhaps you should come and join me then,” Luka suggested, raising his eyebrows slightly. “I think there’s room for us both, if you don’t mind being close.”

She seemed to consider that for a moment, and then she shifted up and over the rock, turning until her human torso pressed next to his, and the rest of her body followed, draping beside and around him. He shifted the little bit he could to make more room for her, and watched in fascination the play of muscle rippling along her length as she tucked her body next to and around him.  

Carefully, moving slowly, Luka slid his arm around her human waist, tugging her nearer, and she relaxed against his side with a quiet hum of contentment. Her slit pupils went wider, rounder, as his fingers stroked her lightly. 

“Not so bad, is it?” Luka asked with a smile, and she pressed closer against him, smiling back. 

“I could get used to it,” she sighed, and laid her head on his shoulder. “You’re warm.” She poked him in the belly with a knuckle. “Because you stole my sunning rock.” 

“It’s a good rock,” Luka chuckled, and then arched up slightly with a gasp as Marinette’s hand slid across his chest and she settled more fully against him, making a sleepy noise. He raised his eyebrows. “Marinette?” 

“Ssssleepy,” she hissed, and he bit his lip, though his chest shook under her with his chuckle.

“You should have told me you were so tired,” he chided softly, though he didn’t think she would hear him. 

“Not tired,” she mumbled. “Just warm. Comfy. Sleepy.” 

Hmm , Luka thought. Must be a naga thing . Not that he minded. He was more than happy to cuddle with her, feeling privileged to hold her as she slept. He could think of worse ways to spend a beautiful afternoon than napping in the sun with his...whatever they were. But then, whatever he was to her, she was his beloved, and he was only waiting for the right moment to tell her so. 

Her steady, even breathing told him that now was not that moment.

Chuckling, Luka dropped his free hand to fish in his clothes for a handkerchief. He finally found it, and let his head fall carefully back against the rock. He put the handkerchief over his face to shield himself from the sun, and sighed, stroking Marinette’s waist gently, fingers running over skin and scales. It was pleasant here in the sun, with Marinette soft and supple against him. She roused slightly, shifted, and swatted at his hand. 

“Stop that,” she complained sleepily. 

“Sorry.” Luka stilled his hand. “Ticklish?” He was close enough to sleep that her song teased the edge of his consciousness, sultry and... oh —his eyes flew open under his cloth, and the song slipped away. It didn’t matter though because he felt the vibrations of Marinette’s laughter in his chest, as her hand slid teasingly down to rest lower on his belly.

“No,” she murmured. “Definitely not ticklish.” 

He swallowed. “Oh.” She giggled again, and he felt her tongue flick against his neck, and her nose nuzzled his jaw. 

“You smell good,” she sighed, cuddling closer, and then she was asleep again.

Luka picked up her hand, moving it back up to his chest and breathing slowly as he tried to calm himself after that unexpected discovery. He would have to be more careful how he touched her. He had no idea that he was touching a sensitive place. He was lucky she hadn’t shoved him off the rock, but...she hadn’t. He’d been touching her intimately, turning her on, and she hadn’t done anything more than tease him about it. She hadn’t even really made him move his hand away, just insisted he stop moving. 

He was glad she was asleep, because his heart was suddenly pounding beneath her hand. She shifted slightly even as he thought it, which didn’t help matters. He closed his eyes and did a breathing exercise, shifting his focus to his magic, calling the song of the meadow into his mind. It took some time, but he managed to calm his body, and then, focusing on Marinette’s deep breathing and the scent of her hair, to drift off into a light doze himself. 

He woke at the soft brush of the handkerchief sliding off his face. Blinking, he found Marinette’s face inches from his. She was propped up on the slope of the rock next to him, but she was half on top of him, folded arms leaning on his chest as she looked at him. He smiled slowly. “Hi.” 

Marinette giggled. “You snore.”

Luka snorted, amused. “So would you, with your head tilted back that way.” He made a face as he tilted his head, stretching his stiff neck. “Ow.” 

Marinette made a sympathetic noise, and nuzzled his jaw, which woke him up considerably and reminded him of what he’d been thinking before he fell asleep. “It was a lovely nap, for me,” she said. “You’re very comfortable.” 

“High praise,” Luka sighed, and smiled at her, taking a breath as he gathered his courage. “May I ask you something? About nagas. I’ve been reading, but...human texts, you know. Biased.” 

She made an inquisitive noise, toying with the lacing of his shirt. “Ask.”

“Do nagas kiss?” he asked, and fought to hide his amusement as Marinette’s eyes widened slightly in surprise and her cheeks pinked. She looked away for just a moment and then fixed her gaze on him, shifting a bit higher so that her face was level with his, leaning an elbow by his head. She was so close he could have counted the pale, barely-there freckles across her nose, if he could’ve made himself look away from her eyes. 

“Yes,” she chuckled, “But maybe not quite like you.” She winked at him and flicked her long tongue out, and he felt his own cheeks flush. 

“Good to know,” he said, and had to clear his throat. 

“Why?” she asked, tilting her head slightly. “Do you want to kiss me?”

If he hadn’t been blushing before, he would be now, but he kept his eyes on her and admitted, “I really want to kiss you.” 

Marinette’s eyes widened, and so did the slits of her pupils, and he felt her go tense all along her long body, everywhere it was pressed against his. Moving slowly, he brought his hand up and cupped her cheek. A quick tremor went down her body, and her hands flexed against his chest as she leaned into his touch. “May I?” he asked, 

She nodded, and he drew her to him, leaning up to meet her as much as he could while she was still leaning on his chest. He kissed her lightly, brushing his lips against hers, and then kissed her again, still softly but firmer and more lingering. He felt an intense thrill at the feel of her fangs behind those plush lips and kissed her harder without meaning to. He drew back, relishing the sound of the soft click. 

He watched, enchanted, as Marinette’s eyes fluttered open and she looked at him, a shy smile curling her lips. Luka was fighting the grin that wanted to spread from ear to ear, trying to keep it to something sane and not frightening, when Marinette’s face fell slightly. Cold fear settled in his stomach as her brow furrowed.  

“Humans,” she paused. “Humans kiss family, right? Friends? It’s not—I mean—you don’t—” 

Quickly Luka picked up her hand and pressed his lips to the back of it. “Humans kiss friends or family like this,” he murmured, and then leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “Or this. Or…” He kissed her temple, and then her forehead. “Like that. But this—” He kissed her lips again, harder and longer than before, the hand still on her cheek sliding back into her hair to tilt her to a better angle. “That,” he breathed, “is for lovers. Or...people hoping to become lovers. Courting couples.” 

Marinette stared at him for a moment, cheeks pink and lips reddened, and he watched that beautiful mouth as it opened slightly and then formed to make her quiet, “ Oh. ” Her tongue flickered nervously, distractingly. “Are we courting?” 

Luka forced his gaze back up to her eyes. “I am definitely courting you,” he said with a grin, and then sobered as he watched her flustered reaction, her mouth opening and closing wordlessly, and the sudden, restless shifting of her serpentine body. “Should I stop?” he asked, as gently as he could, though his pulse was pounding in his ears. 

“No,” she whispered, leaning closer, the corners of her mouth twitching upwards. “Don’t stop.” 

Relief made him urgent as he pulled her back and kissed her again, wrapping an arm around her back to keep her close. He felt her own arms slide up around his neck, her body pressing him back against the stone. Her tongue flickered against his lips, and he parted his lips to return the gesture. Her tongue filled his mouth before he could do anything, and he made a rather embarrassing noise. Marinette drew back and looked at him, adorably pink except for her reddened lips. “Sorry,” she said breathlessly. “Did I—”

“You’re fine,” he told her. “You’re amazing. Do it again?” 

Giggling, Marinette kissed him again, and this time her tongue flickered in his mouth and made him chuckle. “Hold still?” he asked, the next time they broke, and Marinette did as he pressed his mouth to hers, and then slipped his own tongue inside her mouth, mindful of her fangs. The noise she made and the way her hands flexed against his chest were ample compensation for the danger as far as Luka was concerned. She held absolutely still until he withdrew, and then she came alive with a small whimper, wrapping her arms around his neck as her body slid into his lap to bring her closer. 

The kissing went on, a soft, slow, sensual exploration. Luka flinched and Marinette froze at the taste of blood on her tongue. 

“Oh no,” Marinette gasped, brushing a thumb over his lip and looking at the bright smear on her thumb in horror. 

Luka just laughed quietly. “It’s okay, it’s just a scratch.”

“But I hurt you,” she said, clearly upset. Luka caught her hand and twined his fingers through hers, reaching up to cup her cheek in his other hand. 

“We could as easily say I hurt myself,” he teased. “It’s not as if I wasn’t an active participant. It’s okay. It’s probably going to happen. I don’t mind. I think it would feel too much like a dream otherwise.”

Marinette just stared at him unhappily. Luka sighed, and then smiled at her smiling as he lifted the fingers of one hand to his lips, and hummed a quiet tune. In a flash of blue light, the cut was gone. 

“See?” he grinned. “Now will you kiss me again?”

Marinette moved towards him, but hesitantly. 

There was nothing hesitant in the way Luka kissed her, though, and after a moment she melted back into him with a helpless noise that shot straight down his spine. 

It was hard, leaving her that day, even as he whispered promises to come again soon between sweet, soft kisses from already bruised lips. He could hear, faintly, her song, swelling with her joy—joy to be with him , to be cared for by him, and his own soul sang with it. 

Juleka took one look at him when he got home and groaned. “Don’t tell me, I don’t want to hear it,” she grumbled.

“Oh, it’s so romantic though,” Rose sighed.

Luka ignored them both. 

***

There was a lot of kissing, after that day. They spent hours tangled together on the big rock, sleeping, kissing, and talking in turn. Sometimes he teased her and Marinette chased him playfully around the meadow, reveling in his laugh and the joy in his voice. He brought a ball one day and set up a frame with sticks, and they had a day full of laughter as they tried to adapt the game he knew into something she could play. He kept tripping over her tail and eventually they just ended up tangled together in the grass, laughing so hard they were breathless even before the kissing started.

He brought her more gifts. It was a custom among courting humans, he said, which made Marinette blush when she thought of the gifts she had left him before they officially met. He’d brought a package of his favorite sweets for her to try, some dye plants that grew in one of the other places he drew magic from, and flowers that she had never seen before from a garden he’d visited. All of his gifts were thoughtful and precious, and Marinette felt rather spoiled.

She came up with a plan, and worked eagerly on it on the days he didn’t visit her. He’d complained to her before that the pouch he used for his magic crystals had a habit of slipping from his belt if he wasn’t paying attention, and she had noticed it was rather worn. Marinette was delighted at the way Luka’s jaw dropped when she presented him with a new leather pouch, with sturdy loops to hang on his belt and a fold over flap that buckled so he didn’t have to remove it to open it. She had embroidered it all over in the blues and greens he seemed to favor. She had only been slightly annoyed when the silly man wouldn’t stop kissing her long enough to put it on. 

It gave her a little thrill to see him wearing it now, and the little smile he wore whenever he opened it or stowed his crystals away made her heart flutter happily, especially when he looked up from it to gaze softly at her.

That almost always led to more kissing, and that was just a bonus.

They were napping together on the rock again, after trading lazy kisses and touches that had been growing steadily bolder. She no longer moved away when his rough fingers played along the transition between scales and skin, setting her nerves alight, and he permitted her touch anywhere she dared to bestow it, whether with her hands or lips or her body. She quite enjoyed teasing him, and he made it clear that he enjoyed it too. She took a special delight in the way he tensed when she slid across his lap, and the way his big hands flexed on her, the slight jump of his hips. Not that she was any better when he stroked his big hands along her body, looking at her with an intensity in his eyes that melted her on the spot. 

Marinette woke first, and roused herself with a stretch, before settling back against Luka’s chest. She had made him a little pillow to go behind his neck, to keep him from hurting himself in their little naps, and he wasn’t snoring now. She slipped away the bit of cloth he always covered his face with and admired the lines of his nose and jaw. She reached up to play with the strands of his hair. In sleep like this, he looked so delicate. 

Delicate he may seem to her physically, but the strength of his character was more than enough to satisfy both her heart and her instincts. Those instincts were growing harder to resist by the day. Alya had given Marinette a horrified look the other day, when she found Marinette humming and sewing pillows to line the rock hollow where she slept—pillows that a naga had no need of.

“I like the feeling,” Marinette lied with a nonchalant shrug.

“You’re nesting ,” Alya had accused with narrowed eyes. 

“Don’t be silly,” Marinette had sniffed, and turned her back, and refused to answer anything else. 

Because if Alya knew...oh if Alya knew the kind of urges Marinette was fighting when she was with Luka...well. 

Marinette reached out one clawed finger and ran the back of it down his temple and across his cheek, causing him to stir slightly. His hips raised up against her, where she was draped across him, and he moaned softly. Marinette slid her body up his and kissed him, softly at first, and then deeply when he woke and began to respond to her, his hands going to her waist, and then sliding up to her ribs. He moved against her again, and his arms tightened around her. 

Marinette pulled back, pushing Luka back down as he made to follow her. He blinked at her sleepily, lids heavy with sleep and, she was sure, desire.

He desired her. 

“I could kill you,” she murmured, her fingertips stroking lightly down his face. His eyes, though half-closed eyes, were focused on her. Luka lifted his chin so that her fingers slid down onto his throat. She felt his pulse under her fingers, only the thinnest of barriers between her claws and his life’s blood pounding through his veins. If she slashed, he would not even be able to sing himself well. Yet he lay there, calm and unafraid, yearning towards her instead of cringing away. Gods, she wanted him. 

Marinette’s breath quickened and her pupils broadened. She laid her forehead against his and her tongue flicked out of its own accord to scent the scent air between them. “Fool,” she whispered harshly, with just the slightest tightening of her fingers. 

Luka chuckled, and she felt the vibration of his voice against her fingers. “So I’ve been told.” 

Did he know what he was doing to her? Should she tell him? This was dangerous territory, far more than the harmless flirting, the little chases and the touches that could mean anything or nothing, even the kissing that said they were more than friends, even more than the spiraling tension between them that made her insides heat and made her crave his hands and mouth on her. She couldn’t let him make gestures like this as if it were nothing.

Especially when she didn’t want it to be nothing. She didn’t want it to be meaningless. It was wrong of her to let this happen. She didn’t need to mark him to satisfy the desire burning between them. She didn’t need to claim him, but...

Even as she thought these things she was lowering her head. She felt him gasp as she pressed her lips to the hollow of his throat. She shifted slightly, opening her mouth and feeling her fangs come forward to hover over his skin. 

He was breathing hard beneath her, but she scented no fear on him, only…

What she scented made her eyes dilate further, her coils shift and tighten with the urge to wrap around him. As she struggled with herself, Luka’s hand slid up from her waist, up her back to twist his fingers into her hair as his body arched against her, and her tongue flickered again, bringing in that intoxicating scent. Luka moaned as it tickled his skin. 

“You should be frightened,” she breathed against neck.

“I’m terrified,” he rasped, and his thick voice sent a shiver through her. “You frighten me more than anything in this life.” She felt him swallow. “Because I love you, and the more time I spend with you, the more terrified I am that I will never be happy without you again.” 

Marinette keened into his neck, a shiver going down her whole body. “I want to keep you,” she admitted roughly. “I shouldn’t, but I want to.” 

“You already have me,” he said roughly, his grip on her hair tightening. “I don’t need promises. We don’t have to decide forever right now.” The hand on her waist moved away, and he gently pulled her clawed hand from his throat and twined his fingers through hers. “I want you. If you want me—”

She surged up, fangs finally settling back, and kissed him fiercely, filling his mouth with her tongue. “Yes,” she panted against him, finally letting herself wrap around his waist.  

“Then we need to get the hell off this rock,” Luka laughed into her mouth, tugging on her hair to bare her throat where he could lavish kisses along it. He nipped her lightly with his blunt teeth and she jolted and let out a moan of her own. “Right now.” 

Marinette giggled, and flipped them off onto the soft grass, cushioning him with her body.

“What shall I do with you?” she teased, hovering over him, and her tongue flicked out rapidly, tickling his ear and the line of his jaw and the hollow of his throat. He let out a little moan.

“Anything. Everything. Just don’t rip my clothes,” he chuckled. “I’m going to have to walk home eventually.” 

Marinette laughed, rising up above him as she tugged loose the laces holding her vest closed. “What makes you think you’re still going to be able to walk?” she asked, as she slid the garment off her shoulders and dropped it carelessly in the grass. 

Luka, staring up at her, could only make a strangled noise in reply.

Marinette swooped down and kissed him, pressing herself into him as she buried one hand in his hair and drew the other firmly down his chest to rest low on his belly. “Now take these off,” she ordered, claws flexing against the cloth. “Or I make no promises about ripping them.” 

Luka caught her face in his hands and pulled her back into a fierce kiss that had her moaning against him. “Let me up,” he growled, and she did, sliding off of him and backing up until he had the space to stand and unlace his shirt and pants. Marinette watched him undress hungrily, his eyes burning her in return. Yet, when he held his arms out for her, she felt suddenly shy, and glided up to him, not with reluctance, but with something like reverence. 

“You are beautiful,” she sighed, fingers tracing the lines of muscle down his chest. She sank lower as she ran her fingers along his hips and down his legs, fascinated. “You’re shaking,” she observed, tongue flicking out, but she still tasted no fear on him. She looked up at him as his fingers combed through her hair, and the look he was giving her sent her own pupils wide and round.

Luka’s knees buckled and he sank to the grass in front of her, catching her face to pull her to him in a fierce, hungry kiss. One hand reached to stroke the place on her waist where scales met skin, while the other guided her hand back to his leg. She pressed her fingers into his warm, soft skin, mindful of her sharp claws. He was strong here, muscle hard beneath his skin, flexing under her touch as he moved against her. Her head tipped back and her lips parted, and he moaned as she rubbed up against him. She sank back in the grass with a needy whine, pulling him with her. 

There was some fumbling, and some adjustment, and some breathless, helpless giggles that melted into messy, deep kissing, but when they got it right, when they found the rhythm...it was magic. Shuddering and writhing, Marinette remembered just in time to dig her claws into the ground instead of his shoulders, and the cry he made seemed to sink into her soul, and she had just enough wit left to wonder if it was the magic of his voice or just the sound of his pleasure that shot through her, before she lost herself completely with a cry of her own. 

Her coils loosened and relaxed where they had tightened around him, and slipped down to puddle inelegantly on the ground. The two of them lay in a heap, quivering and panting. They squirmed around until they could hold each other, and then gave into the weakness, laying there in blissful contentment. 

Marinette reached up, and brushed a hand along her neck. The skin there was tender, but not broken. Not marked. Not claimed.

Of course not. 

But she felt claimed, when Luka’s eyes fluttered open and fixed on her, and he smiled. She felt bound, as he lifted himself up on one quivering arm, to bend and press his lips softly to hers. He bent to rest his forehead against hers, and it felt like home. 

“I think I love you too,” she breathed, and he pulled back just enough to blink sleepy eyes at her and smile. He lifted one of her hands and kissed the knuckle of each finger, and then pressed his lips to her palm, and then pressed her palm to his heart as he leaned closer and kissed her tenderly. 

If she stayed with him, she would never have the kind of mate bond that her parents had, that Alya and Nino had. There would always be compromises, always. Challenges. 

She didn’t want to think about that. Luka had said she didn’t have to, so Marinette wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed herself into him. He curled his arms around her and returned the embrace, squeezing her tight. Marinette closed her eyes and tilted her chin up, and Luka nuzzled under it, kissed her neck, and bit lightly at her already tender skin. For a moment, she let herself pretend that the soft press of his blunt teeth meant more than it could. 

“I love you,” he sighed against her skin. “My Marinette.” 

Fiction Master Post

[zumpietoo]

Okay...

So..moar dragging shortly, buuuutt.....I was reflecting on Ms Freezie’s latest freakout over the prospect of BH not happening, etc due to SH’s split and apparent rather mutual loathing....

And I do love how we have peeps spinning ridiculous conspiracy theories left and right about being “robbed” (you were not, immaterial, you’re owed nothing), while insisting our points are fanfic, except for how we how we have proof/shit to back it up:

Both actors (PP far moar so) do, in fact, indirect each other periodically. Cole did so far less and has subsequently returned to the high road, PP continues to do so, as well as stalking his “new” (it’s been a year) GF....

PP unfollowed Cole

Skeet unfollowed PP (and others, but still, he shipped them hard back in the day)

They do not interact, at ALL on set or off. In the past year they’ve been at two events, one of which reflects what a great guy Cole is/while PP played up pee arr with her 2 “besties”, the other was clearly staged publicity. And ended so disastrously Cole was no longer required to participate

PP pretends BH never even existed and endlessly pimps Barfie...you know, your queen does this..

But I’ll give you, these are, comparatively, incidental/circumstancial, etc....

However:

We have, on tape, PP throwing a bag at Cole, forcefully, not in script and Cole being visibly pissed off about it.

We have PP sexually harassing Cole in BTS pics, with everybody else looking hella awkward and uncomfortable

The above two are particularly intriguing, because the show didn’t have to share these, but they did.....like they’re even subtly trying to send a message (for all you conspiracy freaks)

And, LBR here, these two instances alone show that, no, PP is NOT “a professional” and cannot be trusted to control herself on set (ditto her ignoring the director to jump in and kiss KokeJ....)

PP’s own BESTIE stated how PP hates doing scenes with Cole, what a bad actor he is, etc.....right after they filmed a “love scene”....

Things were so fucked they had to shoot them split screen for their scene of just the two of them together....

TBH, even those “rescue” scenes in the sewer could’ve been shot separately...

For those of you insisting they filmed sexytimes/romantic scenes post split and seemed fine, errrmmmmm.....

Prom scenes before they fully split in early 2020

Subsequent sexytimes are always Slizzy sexually manipulating/dub con Jughead, him uncomfortable, etc about it all.

Oh andddd....a lot of them aren’t real, to further mesh with the narrative of never, ever getting back together.

If you bother to look closely, Cole’s mouth is FIRMLY closed (something that was not the case in the past with BH) and, frankly, chemistry IS lacking---or it’s moar of his energy channeled elsewhere (e.g. Slizzy is manipulating him, he’s not really comfortable, etc)---plus Cole’s a good actor, with good chemistry. PP’s still obsessed with Cole and, since we’ve seen her sexually harass him now, moar likely she IS happy to channel that. (and it’s likely she routinely got too handsy, which is why they had to shut this shit down completely).

Past maybeee the “rescue’ scenes, they don’t have scenes alone, it’s either a group scene or by split screen....notice all the distance between them, too?

We see NONE of this with Cole and the other actors (excepting perhaps Crotchi---and that works for the narrative, again, sexual harasser)....

If you want to further get into the pattern, again, the show attempted, repeatedly to move towards, at least, a moar civil exes (and I still do think JTB triangle, but PP sunk that with her unprofessional behavior) narrative and, if you follow, each time “BH” interacted, it was immediately followed by an episode with ZERO interaction, moving back to complete hostility on Slizzy’s part....

Culminating in split screens, group scenes with distance only (and as few as absolutely possible), etc....and the shift from a JTB triangle (that still would’ve resulted in Barfie sexytimes, just maybe them being caught or something....) to just Jabi and Barfie...

But hey, change my mind....cite YOUR actual facts, not headcanons/willful misinterpretation. I’ll wait