#count your days motherfucker for making me cry >:(

[byemambo]

Though I act unreasonable and don't behave well sometimes, if one day you feel you no longer want to be with me, just tell me straight because if you disappear, I would be in so much pain.

We Are (2024) | 1.12

My Favorite Scenes [6/?] | dir. New Siwaj Sawatmaneekul

[strawberrybouvine]

I got to the end of ep 25 of dndads and what the fuck man

[slushycoookie]

Kinktober Day 12 ~ Sexting

Logan Howlett x AFAB! Reader

Summary: Logan decides to text you before going to sleep.

A/N: A shorter one, but I still got the job done. Enjoy!

Prev *✧･ﾟ: Next Kinktober '24 Masterlist

Logan was tired.

The mission with Wade ended up lasting all day. He dealt with smugglers handling an illegal drug. Instead of taking another 12+ hour drive back home, his partner suggested staying at a motel. Of course, there was only one bed, but Logan decided to crash into a mildly comfortable sofa chair.

Despite the mess, his night immediately got better when he received a message from you telling him to stay safe.

‘What are you doing, sweetheart?’

‘Missing you…’

He grins a little, ‘Yeah, I miss you too. Wish I was in bed with you and not with this dumbass.’

You send him a crying emoji.

‘Be nice.’ Logan rolls his eyes. ‘I wish you were here too. Lying in bed with me.’

‘Holding you, kissing that pretty face.’

‘Such a charmer.’

Logan then glances at Wade, who’s sound asleep while snuggling with his miniature stuffed unicorn.

‘What ya wearing right now?’

‘Your shirt. It smells like you. All manly.’

‘Just my shirt? I know you have underwear on.’

Logan can imagine you rolling your eyes now.

‘Yes, I'm wearing underwear.’

‘What color?’

‘Black.’

‘Mm yeah, I'd take that off. So you’re only in my shirt.’

‘Logan…’

‘What?’

He shifts in his seat, pulling out the recliner part of the chair while watching the three dots dance at the bottom of the screen.

‘Where are you right now?’

‘In a big ass chair. Not the most comfortable but it’ll do. Why? It’s just me and you.’

‘In that case…’

Logan smirks at the picture you sent of you carrying your panties on the tip of your finger, still wearing his shirt.

‘What would you do to me now?’

‘Press that lovely body of yours against me and finger that pretty pussy.’

‘Oh yeah?’

‘Yeah. Pump my fingers inside and take in how fucking delicious you smell.’

Logan feels his cock starting to strain against his boxers. He ignores it for now, wanting to keep talking to you.

‘What do I smell like?’

He bit his lip while recalling the memory, ‘Sweet. It’s fucking delicious.’

‘Damn…’ He releases a low growl, swiveling his hips to provide some release. ‘I wish you could feel how wet I am for you…’

Logan wishes he could, too, as he thinks about pumping his fingers into you. He knows you are drenched and doesn’t hesitate to taste you when sucking on his fingers.

‘I could take the car. Break the speed limit so I can fuck you into our bed.’

‘Don’t leave Wade stranded like that.’

Even when the merc with a mouth is asleep, the motherfucker keeps cock blocking him.

‘I know, I know. I just miss you, sweetheart.’

‘I miss you too… Take this to hold you over.’

After a couple of minutes, he gets a picture of you completely naked, lying under his shirt and gazing at him with a sexy look. Breasts laid along you beautifully, that soft stomach he loves, and a bush of hair that connects him to his prize. Logan bites his lip at his erection, deciding to torture himself and wait a little while longer. But he desperately wants to go through that phone.

‘Fuck me…Gonna make sure you can't walk now.’

‘I'm counting on it.’

Tags:

@fandomfics @freythecrazyfae @maddyperezzzsstuff

@mynamesstevenwithav @eyes-ofhell @maxad99

@howlingco @cherrypieyourface @snails-doodles22

@siren-141 @nega-omega @sweetimpurity

@hehekittyhawk @spencerswh0r3 @saintdiior

@maliaofthevalley @wolverigrl @pigeonmama

@shybluebirdninja @tomie-it-girl @antishadow2021

@honey-and-olives @yxtkiwiyxt @wtfhasmy-lifecometo

@ripleyswife @davidboqie @angelic-sturniolos111

@golden-ebony @ethanhoewke @marit332

[megamindsecretlair]

Sweet Escape, Part 2

Pairing: Bodyguard!Terry Richmond x Singer!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Cursing, trying out some angst, teasing, mentions of loneliness, mental health, power imbalance. Mentions of violence, all consensual. Sorry if I missed some.

Summary: You are on top of the world as one of the world’s most popular R&B singers. But behind the glitz and glam, you were unmoored, lonely, and aching for something you couldn’t put a name to. Terry makes you breakfast, bringing a sense of normalcy to an otherwise chaotic life. Still shaken from the shenanigans of your stalker, you enjoy the break Terry offers you. But all too soon, you’re forced to adapt to an ever-changing schedule. Your label makes you go to a club to promote your new single.

Word Count: 7,152k

AO3 Link

A/N: Idk why I keep doing this to myself, LMFAO. But ya'll see that man show out with his gold chain? Lordt help me, I love that man. Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, gif, or unhinged ask.

You stood beside the door to your balcony staring at the brightening day. The cry last night was everything you needed to reset. Perhaps it had just been too long since the last time you did. That was okay. It was okay to cry.

You clenched your fists and felt your nails dig into your palms. It was a terrible grounding technique. But pain was good. Pain meant you were alive. And as long as you were alive, your stalker wouldn’t win. He wasn’t winning when you worked hard for this shit.

All the blood, sweat, tears, predatory producers, dickhead managers, trashy bitches with their “gossip” websites, all of it. You didn’t survive this shit to let an anonymous motherfucker get you down. 

You took a deep breath. One day, you’d be able to open the balcony and actually feel the sun on your bones. You had to agree with Terry that it was too easy for someone to take a pot shot at you. Though the stalker seemed to only want to scare you so far. Killing you would kill his fantasy, wouldn’t it? 

It was too morbid to think about on such a pretty Las Vegas day. It was nearing the end of your run here before you would travel to LA. You turned and pulled your robe tighter while walking to your bedroom door and flinging it open. 

It smelled like home. Like warm biscuits, sizzling bacon, and fresh eggs. You followed the smell to the common kitchen and peeked around the corner. Terry stood in the kitchenette in a gray tank top and matching lounge pants.

Your eyes tracked the subtle vein in his arm and followed it to where it ended in his hand gripping the pan. Terry looked up at you and smirked. “I figured after what happened we could all use a little normal,” he said. 

“This…is your normal?” You asked. You hopped onto the nearest barstool and leaned over the bartop to look at the spread. He actually did make biscuits. Fluffy ones with butter melting in the middle. You were tempted to grab one but something told you Terry didn’t play about his kitchen.

You grinned and glanced at Terry who lifted his eyes to yours. You peeked down at yourself and noticed that your girls were threatening to slip out. “I am so sorry,” you said. Though you flirted and harassed the man, you weren’t predatory about it. You truly didn’t mean to let them hang out. You fixed your robe and sat back in your seat like a proper lady.

“It’s all good. Biscuits look good, don’t they?” He asked, his lips dipping in the corners. He almost smiled. Hot damn. Terry brought his thumb to his mouth to lick it and he hummed. The sound vibrated in his chest and you couldn’t help thinking what the hell he was doing as a bodyguard. Bottle that sound and package it into a vibrator and there wouldn’t be a dry cooch in the house.

“Mhm,” you said absently. Maybe the cry hadn’t done its job. Now you were just stuffy and foggy and clearly off your damn marbles. You watched Terry as he finished with the bacon. He moved on to a bowl of eggs he had already cracked and watched his arms work as he whipped up the eggs.

“I really only know how to make scrambled eggs. An omelet if I’m feeling fancy. If you want something else –”

“No, no, this is…sweet of you. I can’t remember the last time someone actually cooked for me. It’s been mostly dining out,” you said. 

“You don’t cook when you’re home?” Terry asked. 

You had to turn away from Terry. He looked downright delicious and he was being sweet. The last thing you wanted to do was make him uncomfortable by eye fucking him. 

“No, not really. There’s not usually enough time. When I have downtime, I’m usually writing a song or working out or preparing for the next tour. Gotta do something with this brain of mine,” you said. 

Terry nodded. “Shame. Nothing better than some good food cooked with love,” he said. His voice grew hoarse around the word love. Did he have an ex-wife? Did someone break his heart? There was so much you suddenly wanted to know about your bodyguard. You wanted pieces of him that no one else got. You were hungry and greedy for it. Though you had no right to be. 

“So you can’t make anything other than scrambled eggs, huh?” You asked.

Terry scooped out butter and placed it on the hot pan. It immediately sizzled and Terry’s bulging muscles worked back and forth to spread it around. He added the eggs and then turned to you. “I did say an omelet, too. Give me some credit,” he said.

“But only when you’re feeling fancy,” you said.

Terry chuckled. “You get me,” he said.

“So what makes you feel fancy?” You asked. Your eyes drifted to Terry’s every so often and it was bordering on creepy. So you hopped down from the stool and rummaged around in the cabinets.

“What are you doing?” Terry asked. 

“Setting the table,” you said. You grabbed two plates and placed it on the counter. 

“This was my gesture for you. You’re not supposed to set the table,” he said. 

“My grandma would roll in her grave if she knew I didn’t help some kind of way. You wouldn’t want to hurt poor Grammy Bean, would you?” You turned doe eyes to him and added in a cute pout, sticking out your bottom lip. 

Terry chuckled, turning back to the eggs. “I suppose I can’t hurt poor Grammy Bean,” he relented. You grinned and continued setting the bar top with plates, two cups, and forks. By the time you were done, Terry had finished up the breakfast. 

You stood behind him and handed him the plates one by one while he loaded up the eggs, bacon, and biscuits. He handed you the full plate and you set it down. “That was for you,” he said.

“Oh,” you said and giggled. “Thank you.” You rounded the edge of the bar top, suddenly feeling shy and girly. There was no reason for it. You just…fuck, how long had it been since someone did something for you just because? Not because you were paying them to do it? No hidden agenda?

Technically you were paying Terry too, but to guard you, not cook for you. It was unprompted and there was nothing you could do in return for him. There was nothing you could do to feel like you earned it. 

Terry grabbed his own plate and joined you at the bartop. He sat down and spread his legs to accommodate the long length of them. Feet planted firmly on the ground. “Don’t be too harsh on me. I know it’s not the fancy restaurant stuff you eat,” he said.

You laughed. “Don’t believe the hype, Mr. Terry. I am a southern girl at heart. This is way more up my alley than that french reduction, tuna tartar, or whatever else they think people want to eat.”

Terry chuckled and waited until you took a bite of your food. You sighed in appreciation and smiled closed-lipped at him. “This is delicious, Terry,” you said.

Terry grinned, showing off his beautiful smile. It was gone just as quick and he nodded. “Good to hear,” he said. 

What you wouldn’t pay or do to see him smile like that again. You ate beside Terry, soaking in the domesticity of it all. You were burning with questions. But you bit your tongue and just enjoyed the stillness. The peace. The quiet. 

Terry finished in record time, wolfing down his meal like he had just come back from jail or something. He stood up and grabbed two more biscuits. You didn’t know where the fuck he put it all. 

“Did Grammy Bean get you into singing?” Terry asked. 

You smiled and nodded, thinking of your grandmother. “Yup. She had a piano that she let me toddle on until she buckled down and got me piano lessons. She was a mainstay in the jazz scene. She knew them all. I was always following after her, so she ended up getting me started with singing. Encouraged me to do it for me if I was going to do this professionally. She bought me my first audition dress,” you said. 

Bless Grammy Bean, but whew, that dress was hideous. You were twelve at the time and she somehow transformed you into a little version of her. A blue and purple paisley dress with swirls and waves and too many clashing colors. Old lady shoes. If it weren’t for the studio rep who actually listened instead of laughing at you, you would’ve been sent home with tears to keep you company. 

“She sounds like an amazing woman,” Terry said. 

“She really was,” you said softly, remembering the pain of losing the most important person in your corner all over again. “How about you? Any grandma stories?” 

Terry wiped his hands on the paper towel beside his empty plate and then wiped his mouth. He missed a crumb in his mustache but you decided not to tell him. If anything, it made him more endearing. He followed the towel with his hand, swiping away the crumb anyway. Bastard.

“Yeah, my grandma was no joke. Me and my cousin Mike were terrors. Always running in and out of the house, always getting into trouble. One time, we had been play-fighting in the rain. We were covered in mud. When grandma saw us, she hosed us down, gave us a proper whuppin’ for tracking mud on her porch, and then made us clean off her porch before we could come inside,” Terry said, smiling at the memory. 

You smiled with him and shook your head, trying to imagine Terry at such a young age. Was he an awkward teen? Probably not. He was probably born with “responsible" stamped on his forehead. 

“Oh, she was really no joke,” you said.

Terry smiled and shook his head. “Not a one. She’s the one that got me into the Marines. She would tell me all her stories of the Air Force and how she was in charge of making sure the women who served were in bed by curfew. A lot of them tried sneaking out to meet up with boys. My grandma was there with a clipboard and her service weapon telling them to try her,” he said, chuckling to himself. 

“Not the clipboard too,” you said, chuckling with him. 

“They could either get checked off or checked out,” he said, pitching his voice to sound like an older lady. With his deep voice, the sound didn’t quite manage what he went for. You continued to laugh at his impression, waving your hands. 

“I’m not trying–” you kept laughing, unable to apologize. 

“It’s all good. She was a funny woman. She’d want us to laugh,” he said. He sobered and looked at you while you tried to catch your breath. Giggles escaped you as you calmed down yourself, finding yourself getting lost in his stormy eyes. 

You cleared your throat and sucked on your bottom lip. You both opened your mouth at the same time and then giggled. “You go,” he said.

“No, please,” you said.

“Ladies first,” he said. You sighed and rolled your eyes just as the doorbell rang. You cursed under your breath. You almost forgot for a few moments that you weren’t a normal person.

Terry stood up from the bar stool and went to the door for you, checking to see who was there. But you already knew. In five, four, three…

“There you are! Didn’t you get my text?” Mirage asked, walking into the room. 

Joya followed close behind with a shy, pained smile on her face. She clutched her calendar to her chest and you smiled. You nearly had a heart attack looking at Terry. There was no way in hell your sweet assistant could handle Terry’s muscles on full display. 

“I did not. I was eating breakfast, forgive me. Remind me what we’re doing today?” You asked. Because at this point, Terry effectively made you forget for a morning that you were a singer. 

Terry re-entered the room silently, moving around Mirage and headed towards the kitchen. He began to pack up the plates. “Let me help,” you said, hopping off the stool. 

“I got it. Go be awesome,” he said. 

You rolled your eyes and giggled. You followed Mirage and Joya into the living room and sat down on the huge, white pleather couch. Joya sat down in the armchair, faced away from Terry, and opened her calendar. 

“I managed to push your LA costume fittings to eleven to let you sleep in. You have an interview with Essence at three. Here is the list of questions,” she said, sliding over a piece of paper to you. You looked them over. Nothing too bad, not much you hadn’t answered before. 

“Okay, pretty light day,” you said. 

“Jake called. He needs you at the club tonight, rather than tomorrow,” Mirage said.

“What? Why?” You asked. 

“Lord AK flew in early and will be there and Jake needs you to hype up the single,” Mirage said. She cringed at your expression as you sighed and fell back against the couch. 

“I was looking forward to staying in,” you said. 

“I know, babe. I’m sorry,” she said. “I couldn’t push it. I tried telling Jake about what happened yesterday-”

You waved off her incoming apology. “It’s not you. I know Jake is only thinking dollar signs right now,” you said, thinking of your good for nothing agent. 

“How long do I have to show my face at the club?” You asked. 

“You can’t go to a club. There’s no way to secure your safety,” Terry chimed in from the kitchen. 

“I have to. If I don’t, the single won’t get promoted. If the single doesn’t get promoted, it doesn’t sell. If it doesn’t sell, my ass is out of a job,” you said. 

Terry’s jaw flexed as he took in the information you gave him. “There’s no way around it?” He asked.

“Ah, sorry. No,” Mirage chimed in for you. 

“There’s going to be a lot of influencers there. Lots of cameras. I don’t know if you could have a bodyguard close by,” Mirage said. 

“I can blend in,” Terry said. 

You looked at Mirage and Joya before glancing guiltily at Terry. He caught on, a smirk stretching his lips. “Don’t think I can hang?” 

“I mean…I wouldn’t call you a square…” you said.

Terry chuckled and nodded his head. “I can blend in, princess,” he said.

You stuck your tongue out at him and he chuckled, returning to cleaning up the kitchen. You shook your head and turned back to your team. You went over a few more details for the day, the logistics of everything. 

“Ugh, I didn’t pack club clothes,” you said. 

“Already have you covered. After the interview, you’ll have a few choices the label is sending over,” Joya said. She consulted her calendar and thousands of tabs and sticky notes. You marveled at the way her mind worked. 

You smacked your teeth thinking of the type of clothes your label wanted you in. “Oh ye of little faith, girl! I already told them nothing silver, nothing sparkly, and nothing that’ll have your ass hanging out,” Joya said.

“I love you,” you said and giggled.

“I love you too, miss lady. We have fifteen minutes to get on the road before we’re late for your fittings,” Joya said. 

“Ugggghhhhh,” you groaned, sliding off the couch like a toddler. 

Mirage laughed and shook her head. “It’ll be painless. Well…as long as it isn’t Francois,” Mirage said.

You shivered from the floor. “I’m convinced he pokes me so many times to see if my ass is real,” you said. You all laughed and for a brief moment, you pretended that you were sixteen again with a circle of good friends, having a movie night. But those days were long past and gone. 

“Alright, alright, alright. I’m getting up. Fuck,” you said. You stood up from the floor and collected yourself. You squared your shoulders, threw your head back, and took a deep breath.

Movement to your right made you turn to Terry who had stopped cleaning to watch you. He nodded his head at you and you nodded back. Yeah, you had business to attend to.

The fitting was a breeze. Luckily Francois was nowhere to be found so you didn’t have to grab bandaids as you were done with the fitting. That was the secret part you loved about being a musician. Playing dress up. Seeing the mix of fabrics and clothes and getting to see the hidden seams to allow for quick costume changes on stage. 

The interview went just as well, talking with Brandi Harper, a journalist for Essence. She was cool, down to earth, making the interview feel like a conversation rather than a Q&A. You had bonded over your love for anime, discussing the different shows you watched. 

She did end up asking about the A’Kierra interview that you did and you had to fight everything in you not to drag A’Kierra’s nasty ass. You only ended up shrugging and dismissing it. Why give that clown more ammunition? 

Now, you were back at the hotel, getting dolled up for the club. Terry sat on the couch watching everyone like a hawk. He only allowed one make up artist and one hair stylist and only after he did his little background investigation on the both of them. Your team was loyal. You told him as much. Yet he still looked at everyone like any one of them could snap. 

Angie worked on your makeup while Nicky worked on your hair. “You gon’ sweat this out?” He asked.

“Probably, yeah,” you said with a grin. Nicky rolled his eyes but laughed with you as he switched tactics. He quickly abandoned what he was doing and then undid your hair from the ponytail. 

“You gon’ stress me out, chile,” he said.

“I love you, Nicky,” you said. 

Nicky harrumphed and you blew him a kiss while he started to braid your hair. “You lucky I stay ready, miss thing,” he said. He grumbled about you while he got to work, braiding quickly and efficiently. That was why you paid to bring Nicky wherever you went. No one had hands like him. 

Joya entered the circus that was your hotel living room carrying a garment bag over her shoulder. Mirage was in the corner, on the phone with Jake setting up details about the club. 

You snuck a glance at Terry who caught you looking. You rolled your bottom lip into your mouth and Angie groaned. You apologized to Angie who had to switch tactics as well. “Every time, girl?” She asked. 

You giggled. “You’re right. I’m a bad client,” you said.

She sighed and shook her head. “You’re lucky I like you,” she said. 

“Oh, it’s my lucky night then. I need to do some gambling before we leave Vegas,” you said. You let Angie remove the gloss from your lips and went with a lip stain instead. It was a darker red than what you were used to but some sneaks in the mirror had you feeling yourself.

You may be a homebody but deep, deep down in your crevices, you liked to party too. Liked to dance and move and sing your heart out. Get some drinks going and you were the life of the party. 

Joya managed to get closer and tapped the bag. “Got what you needed,” she said.

“Thank you,” you told her. “Terry? Can I see you please?” You asked.

Terry was by your side in a second, crowding your space. It wasn’t entirely unwelcome. You pointed to Joya. “I had her get some outfits for you as well. If you’re going to blend, I need you to really blend. And I doubt you have a club outfit in that duffel you carry,” you said. 

“I’m good, thanks though,” he said.

“And just what do you plan on wearing to blend in then?” You asked.

He spread his hands and you looked at the black T-shirt and jeans he usually wore. You giggled and shook your head, much to Angie’s and Nicky’s frustration. “You cannot go to a club like this wearing your uniform, soldier,” you said.

“It’s a club,” he said. “No one’s worried about me.”

“Sheeit,” Nicky whispered. Angie elbowed him and he cleared his throat, returning to braiding your hair. He was already halfway through your head. 

You were tempted to lick your lips to keep from laughing at the adorable, confused expression on Terry’s face. “You’ll stick out like a sore thumb if you don’t make some kind of effort. Please, indulge me. Otherwise I’d have to go in by myself and without you there to guard me, who knows what could happen?” 

Terry’s jaw flexed. “I know what you’re doing,” he said. He grabbed the clothes bag from Joya who looked like a deer caught in headlights. She lowered her eyes and tried to back away as nonchalant as possible. Poor tink. You understood though. Terry was intimidatingly sexy as hell. 

“I wouldn’t dream of pulling anything,” you said. 

He gave you a blank stare before disappearing to his side of the suite. You turned to Joya with a grateful smile. 

In no time at all, Nicky had your head braided and put on a wig. He flat ironed it and then pulled it into a half up, half down style. “Oh, I like this,” you said, looking at yourself in the mirror he brought. 

“I know, I know. I’m the greatest,” he said.

“We’re running behind, let’s wrap it up soon,” Mirage called out, returning to her call. 

What was taking Terry so long? You wondered which outfit he chose or if he’d stick to his uniform. You had to get dressed yourself so you went into your bedroom with Angie and Nicky to help put on your club outfit and make sure you didn’t mess up your hair and makeup. 

The jumpsuit was sheer and looked painted on when you got it on. The back was out but it made your ass look extra fat. Oh, you were so keeping this. It had a tropical flower design on it that looked fun and perfect for the club. Partnered with your hair and makeup, hell, you’d fuck you tonight. 

You left your room and Terry stood up. You paused, your heels near skidding on the floor. Got. Damn. He chose to wear a navy dress shirt with gold flowers on it. He left it buttoned all the way to the top and his black jeans made him look extra delicious. 

He smoothed the shirt and looked at himself like he couldn’t believe how he got here. You giggled to get over your initial shock. “Not bad, Mr. Terry. Not bad,” you said.

“Don’t look so bad yourself,” he said. 

You smiled and followed your army of people out of the hotel, to the waiting car. Terry opened the door for you and helped you inside. He went around to the other side, climbing into the back with you. 

“Oh, not driving tonight?” You asked. 

“I gotta blend, right?” He asked. 

If he did any more blending, people would think he was a famous movie star. He pulled on some shaded glasses, completing the look while a member of your security team got in the front seat. Mirage and Joya would be in the follow car. 

Sometimes they were your best friends. And sometimes they were your best employees. The ride beyond to the club was short, really only going from one hotel to the next. But because you’d be spotted instantly, it was somehow easier to take the car than walk. 

Paparazzi lined the entrance to the club and those flashing bulbs immediately turned to your car when it was your turn. You took a deep breath, looking out at the sea of vultures. There were some fans mixed in. 

“Guess word got out that I’d be here,” you said with a rueful smile. “Wondered who leaked that.” 

Jake was such a leech. But you kept him around because if nothing else, he could hustle a dollar from a beggar. And for an artist determined to do this shit right, you needed all the money you could scrounge up. After living paycheck to paycheck growing up, robbing Paul to pay Peter, you had plans. You didn’t ever want to go back to the poor little girl you were before. 

“We can turn around,” Terry offered.

You sighed. “No. We really can’t,” you said. You took a deep breath and pulled on your metaphorical armor. You pictured it encasing you in the hardest known element. Not a chink or weak spot to exploit. 

You pulled on your own shades because the flashing lights left you dizzy. Terry’s counterpart got out of the car and then swooped around to open the door for you. Terry got out by himself and quickly walked around the car, offering you his arm. 

The paparazzi resembled a feeding frenzy at the zoo. They called your name endlessly, squawking with demands to turn here, look here, give us a smile, give us a pout, who’s your man, and on and on it went.

You posed and waved to them all, playing into your persona. You singled out a few fans and took pictures with them, signing some autographs. You blew kisses as you walked up the club’s doors and the bouncer let you in without any fuss.

The sudden darkness of the club’s interior foyer after all the flashing lights gave you whiplash. You swayed on your feet and Terry steadied you with a hand on your hip. “You okay?” He asked. 

You shook your head to clear it. “I hate that shit,” you said. But you were fine. You’d live. 

“We made it,” Mirage said, coming up from the side entrance. She wore a simple black party dress that fit her full figure well. She pulled her braids back into a ponytail and added on makeup. You hugged her and then Joya who peeked out from behind Mirage. She had changed as well, into a pair of dark jeans and a flirty shirt. 

“You both look amazing!” You said. 

“Not as good as you!” Joya said. You waved them off. They were too adorable. Linked arm in arm, you passed through the curtains and entered the club proper. Nothing was small in Vegas on the strip. The place was huge, a mass of people gyrating on the dance floor, hanging out by the bar, or trying to make moves on each other.

You made your way to the VIP section. The section was already bumping with multiple artists bopping their heads to the music. Groupies hung around the various rappers and singers, each all similarly dressed in baggy pants and jerseys or oversized coats. 

“You’re here!” Another singer, Alexandra Crane, beamed and then wrapped her arms around you. You screamed with her. The cute little singer from Atlanta had become a friend during a concert you performed together. You were glad to see that she ditched the other two in her group. 

“It is so good to see you!” You said. You introduced Mirage and Joya and true to form, Joya fangirled. 

“Oh, and who’s this?” Alex asked. 

“This is my-”

“I’m her toy for the evening,” Terry said, extending his hand to Alex. She shook it but gave you an exaggerated wink. You waved her off and let your eyes adjust to the dizzying array of spinning neon lights in the club.

The dance floor was full of uncoordinated people jumping up and down to the same four club remixes on repeat. Ugh. “Have you seen Lord AK?” You asked.

Alex shook her head. “Are you meeting up with him?” She asked. 

You nodded and bent closer to be heard over the music. “We’re promoting ‘Down Bad’,” you told her. 

She smiled and nodded her head. “Oh my god, I love that song!” She said.

You flopped onto the couch with Alex and caught up, leaving Terry to sit beside you and scan the club for potential threats. You relaxed as the night went on, going shot for shot with Alex and your girls. 

As the night progressed, some fans dared to approach and ask for pictures. Terry tried to deter them but you went against his orders, taking pictures anyway. It was incredibly brave to even ask. You wouldn’t deny them a quick picture and wave. 

The club finally changed the music to something you could actually shake your ass too. The alcohol warmed your belly and had you feeling yourself. You grabbed Alex’s hand and made your way to the dance floor. 

Terry grabbed your hand as you reached the bottom step of the VIP section. “I can’t protect you around all of them,” he said.

“I wanna dance. You can join meee, boy toy,” you sang, crooking your finger. Terry tilted his head and if you could see his eyes, you were sure he would be judging you. Ah well. You hadn’t had fun in a long time. Your stalker preferred to catch you unawares. The mask had been the creepiest contact so far. 

The fanboy letters and poems were what really creeped you out. You shivered just thinking about it. But that was the point. You didn’t want to think about your stalker. You wanted to have fun. 

Terry let your hand go and then you squealed, getting onto the dance floor and immediately started shaking your ass to the Ying Yang Twins song. You let go. You just followed the rhythm of the music and danced with Alex, pretending you were just a girl in a club, quietly hoping some man would come holler at you for a second. 

You danced in a circle so that it would make you face the VIP section. Terry’s profile was turned towards you, eyeing you as you danced. You put extra flair into your sexy dancing. Swaying your hips, shaking your ass, flirting with him with your body from across the room. 

He watched it all. He didn’t even pay attention to those around him. Didn’t give the waitress a glance as she lingered, hovered, trying to grab his attention. He lifted his fingers to wave her off and she left with a huff. That only made you smile and roll your body to the music. 

The DJ scratched the record, getting everyone’s attention. Everyone turned to the DJ in the middle of the club, up on stage surrounded by a paneled wall full of screens with colors dancing in the display. 

“Ya’ll ready for some hot, new shit? Fresh off the tracks?” The DJ asked. The club screamed. 

“Ya’ll ready or not, damn!” The DJ asked. 

Behind him, Lord AK stepped out with a microphone. “Call me a simp, ‘cause that ass got me mesmerized…” he started rapping the opening lyrics to your song. You screamed, just as shocked as everyone else.

Why didn’t Mirage tell you this was part of the plan? You looked towards the VIP section but Mirage wasn’t there. Were you supposed to sing as well? Were you just there to witness? This mickey mouse shit was unprofessional as fuck. 

Lord AK seemed to know what the hell was going on because he made a beeline through the crowd to you, serenading you with his rap, grinning widely. Gahh, he was so damn cute. If he didn’t have some deep seated fucking issues, that would be your man for real. But after the scare last year at a party, he had disappeared for counseling. 

Fuck it. You grabbed the mic from him when it came time to your part, singing to him, flirting with him and the crowd. You involved them, making them think that they were the ones you were down bad for. 

Mirage’s head bobbed in the crowd. She gave you a harried look, waving a microphone covertly. You pushed on Lord AK’s chest and sang while backing him away. You grabbed the microphone from Mirage just as Lord AK leaned in for a fake kiss. You tapped the microphone on his lips and he grinned, grabbing the microphone and began the breakdown of the song. 

There was a call and response in the middle of the song, getting quicker as the lyrics turned nastier. You and Lord AK circled each other, getting closer and closer, until you reached the climax of the song where you belted out the final lyrics. The club exploded with cheers and whistles. 

The DJ played another one of Lord AK’s songs. The idea was to get people focused on the music, not his hiatus. You felt bad for him, really. He was a talented rapper. People should already focus on the music and not that he was going through shit. Everybody was going through shit. 

Mirage fought her way to you, grabbing your microphone and Lord AK’s. “Fuckin’ Jake sprung this shit on me. By the time I knew, he was already in place and I couldn’t find you and…”

“Babe, breathe,” you said. Mirage stopped mid sentence and took a deep breath. 

“I’m going to fuckin’ kill him,” she said, shaking her head and walking away. 

“I’m sorry, I thought you knew. Somethin’ told me this shit wasn’t right, ‘cause I almost didn’t find you out here,” Lord AK said. 

You waved him off and hugged him, covertly taking a deep whiff of his cologne. He smelled heavenly, like a mix of spiced flowers and sandalwood. You should’ve been having his babies. You inwardly groaned at the loss of your fictional family as you pulled away. 

“It is so good to see you. Need some familiar faces, for real,” you said. 

His grin was wide and genuine, his eyes no longer cloudy now that he got rid of most of his entourage. That whole group had been toxic and you were glad to see him on the other side of it. Healthy looked good on him. 

However, back in his presence, his luminance seemed to dim. He no longer really turned your head. You only had eyes for – him. Terry remained in the VIP section but there was some unknowable expression on his face. You didn’t know him well enough to decipher this particular look. 

He was always so damn grumpy. “How long you here for?” You asked.

Lord AK shrugged his shoulders. “Enough to be seen. Then I’ma dip. This club is ass,” he said. 

“True that. Don’t leave without me seeing you again,” you said.

“You’re gonna see me in LA, girl,” he said.

“And what that mean!” You tapped his shoulder and made your way back to the VIP section. Most of it had cleared out but there were still a few movers and shakers talking, their phones out recording everything. 

The lights began to go crazy, turning the VIP section darker as the lights danced in time with the club remixes again. “Having fun?” Terry asked when you got up the stairs.

“Are you? Have you gotten up once?” You asked.

“Mhm. Just sitting here. Enjoying the free concert,” he said.

You giggled, looking away. You wanted so desperately to ask what he thought of the performance. The words to excuse the behavior were at the tip of your tongue. You wanted to make it clear that it was all an act for you and Lord AK. That you weren’t really into him, ya’ll just had good chemistry. 

But there was nothing to really explain, was there? You didn’t owe Terry an explanation. You grabbed two shots and handed him one. “If this was what you call blending in, it’s so bad. You scream cop,” you said.

“I look good, what you mean?” He asked. He smoothed down the front of his shirt and you shook your head with a giggle. 

“You gotta drink. You gotta dance. Those are the rules,” you said. 

“I don’t drink,” he said. 

“Like a you can’t handle your liquor thing or is this a health nut thing?” You asked.

Terry chuckled. “Health nut?” He asked. 

“You know you can be addicted to working out, right?” You asked. 

Terry shook his head. “I don’t drink on the job,” he said. 

“This isn’t a job. You’re blending. Blending means going method,” you said. Terry sighed and grabbed the shot out of your hand. He knocked it back without a grimace and you matched him, tipping the shot glass back and grinning at him. 

The DJ gave the club remix a break and turned on Post Malone’s “Rockstar”. You squealed and threw up your hands. “I love this song! Dance with me,” you said. You grabbed his hand and tried to pull him to standing. He remained firmly planted in his seat.

“I definitely don’t dance on duty,” he said. 

The alcohol made you petulant. At least that was your excuse and you were sticking to it. You gave up trying to get him to stand so you took another shot for courage and then began dancing in the VIP section.

The neon blue and purple lights danced across the shades he still wore. You couldn’t see his pretty eyes and you pretended that he was a famous person. Someone who understood what it was like to feel lonely in the middle of a crowd. That image quickly disappeared though. You didn’t want a fantasy. 

You wanted to remain yourself. You wanted Terry to remain Terry. The inflexible, professional, gorgeous man who took your safety seriously. The same man who let you peek behind the curtain of his control earlier today. The same man who made you feel in ways you hadn’t in a very long time. 

You turned around and began dancing for him. Just for him. Rolling your ass in a slow circle to the song, bending down as you did so, making your knees do most of the work to entice Terry. 

He adjusted himself in the seat, tilting his head at you. “What are you doing?” He asked, his voice rough. 

“Dancing with you since you won’t dance with me,” you said. You continued to dance, looking back at him every so often to make sure he was still looking. You grew more bold as you danced, now doing it just because. Just because he made you feel normal when so much of your life wasn’t. 

You backed into his lap and mimicked bouncing on it. You grabbed his knees and ground your ass in lap, used him for support while you danced slower and slower. The thrumming beat matched the beat of your heart, turning you bolder. 

You looked over your shoulder and bit your lip, still grinding in his lap. Terry took a deep breath but you weren’t making it easy for him. “You know you want to dance with me,” you said over your shoulder.

Terry leaned forward and grabbed your hips, slamming you down onto his lap. You yelped, feeling a third leg pushing at the fabric of his jeans. He placed his lips next to your ear and whispered, “Behave.” 

You grinned and kept grinding and dancing on him, giving him a lap dance whether he wanted it or not. He didn’t stop you, only gripped your hips harder with his thick fingers. He slowly began to move with you, rubbing his bulge into your ass.

He moved one of his hands from your hips to trail a finger along your exposed, sweaty back. You gasped, feeling electricity pass from his fingers to your skin. You took back control by abruptly standing up, turning around, and climbing into his lap. 

You continued your dance, wriggling in his lap. You bent backwards, stretched, and then rolled forward. Terry dragged a finger down your chest and you wished it was open in the front too. You liked his hands on you. You really, really liked his hands on you.

Your skin grew overheated, waves of heat rolling through your body. Terry gripped your ass and squeezed. You gasped and fell forward, knocked off your rhythm with just a firm grip. You ought to be ashamed you were that easy, but hell, who could blame you? 

When he looked that good? Smelled that good? Felt so damn good? 

Terry leaned forward and you steadied yourself on his shoulders. You braced for those full, lush lips to touch yours. Watched as if in slow motion as he leaned in. Your breathing was so rapid, your chest rose and fell. 

Terry moved one of his hands to your face, bringing you closer by cupping your cheek. Your eyes drooped, too eager to get this over with yet wanting to savor every little second. His hand was hot against your cheek. His breath fanned across your face.

He bypassed your lips to bring his closer to your ear. “I don’t take advantage of drunk women,” he whispered. He licked your neck and you moaned, shivering as if someone dumped a bucket of ice water down your veins. “I like my women sober when they’re riding me.”

You gasped while he stood up and gently placed you on the couch. “Stay here. I’ll grab you some coffee.” 

You stayed put while he disappeared to do just that. You stared after his retreating form, at a complete loss for words. You were hot and bothered. Your flabbers were ghasted. And you were so damn horny you thought you’d pass out. 

Such a bastard. You fanned yourself as Terry returned with coffee and water, making you somehow drink both. He escorted you out of the club with a few stops to take pictures with fans. Despite whatever the hell he thought, you were not drunk. 

He had you tucked into the car before you could say, “Cinderella”. There was nothing to talk about in the car. The interior was too tense. Too thick. Too cloying with the mix of cologne, perfume, sweat, and hairspray. You rode in silence back to your hotel, escorted to the room, and stood silently while Terry checked every nook and cranny of the room. 

“Goodnight, Mr. Terry,” you sang lazily, heading to your bedroom doors. Terry crossed the living room to his side.

“Goodnight,” he said. 

You stared at each other as you closed the doors at the same time. Finally alone, you turned and leaned your back against the door feeling like the biggest fucking loser on the planet. 

Whew. Help yourself to some more treats! The Secret Terry Richmond Files | Part 1

Tag list: PLEASE. I love ya'll FRFR.

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@browngirldominion @iv0rysoap @thecookiebratz @harmshake @00aijia00

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@avoidthings @lovedlover @blackgurlnhermoods @flydotty @sageispunk

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@monaeesstuff @henneseyhoe @blowmymbackout @charismablu @playgurlxoxo

@misskiki90 @miyuhpapayuh @satoruya @starcrossedxwriter @yamst3rdamctrl

@steampunkprincess147 @sweettea-and-honeybutter @theblacklewinsky @soft-persephone @notapradagurl7

@thegreatlibraryofalex @amyhennessyhouse @hihellogoodbyebruh @becauseimswagman1

[hayatoseyepatch]

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a/n: Consider this my apology for the Endo angst I posted a few days ago. I just KNOW this man is prime real estate some NASTY jealous sex.

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-JEALOUS. Oh my god is Endo one jealous motherfucker. Extremely possessive.

-One of his favorite things to do is mark you up. Just loves the way his bruises decorate your skin, how he just knows anyone who looks at you knows just exactly what you had been up to the night prior.

-He also loves the way your marks litter his skin. He wears them like badges of honor. Endo loves being yours just as much as he loves you being his.

-He will often forego the flannel or any form of outerwear, just wearing his signature tank top. All to just be able to brandish the indents your nails left on his shoulders the night prior as he fucked you dumb.

-But, if you’re a part of Bofurin? He isn’t with you all the time, knowing you spend so much time with the Furin boys when he isn’t there. He is especially jealous of Umemiya, the way Chika only smiled because of him? He’s only worse knowing how much time you spend with him.

-And that jealousy? He definitely takes it out on your cunt.

Endo’s pace is relentless, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the room like a symphony. Endo had been fucking you for what seemed like hours, all because of a simple text Umemiya had sent about how his tomato plant was coming along. Before you knew it, Endo had you on your knees, his large hand curled around your throat, using it as leverage to pull your body flush against his.

Your eyes rolled back, the fast harsh pace of his hips had you on the brink of orgasm for the umpteenth time that night. A chorus of his name and pleas falling from your lips, you could feel Endo’s smirk as his teeth sunk into the sensitive flesh of your neck. “Listen to you, fucked so dumb on my cock all you can say is ‘Yamato, please’~” He taunts, lips grazing your ear as he mocks you. “Go on bunny, use your words, tell me what you want.” He teases, pulling a pathetic whimper from your lips. “Please, Yamato, please… wanna come. Please fill me up with your cum, daddy.” You cry, syllables broken through sobs of pleasure as you beg for release.

“Oh yeah? That so baby? Want me to fill that pretty pussy so full that you’re leaking for days? So full that by the time Umemiya gets his hands on you he'll use my cum as lube cause you'll still be so full of me?” He cackles cruelly at the way you try and hide your face from the humiliation of the words spilling from his lips. “Don’t even try and deny is baby, I felt the way that pretty pussy throbbed around me at the mention of his name” He grimaces, hips snapping cruelly hitting that spot deep inside you that has your eyes glazed over from unshed tears at the overwhelming pleasure.

“That it? You want Umemiya to fuck you? Maybe I'll stuff you full and make you wear a pretty plug to leave him a nice present before I let you fuck him. I think you like the sound of that huh princess?” His words send a shockwave of pleasure to your cunt, the coil building in your stomach barely hanging on by a thread at the combination of the filthy words leaving his lips, coupled with his sporadic movements. He lets a hand wander down your body, two thick fingers rubbing harsh circles around your clit, teeth nibbling at your ear lobe, your nails digging into the skin of his forearm in an attempt to ground yourself.

Endo let out a loud growl of your name as the drag of your nails incorporated pain into the overwhelming pleasure he was feeling. The coil had been tight in his abdomen, but he would hold out, he wouldn’t allow himself to fall over the edge before you had. He picks up the pace once more, thrusts growing sloppy under the pleasure. His thumb quickens its pace pressing harder against the bundle of nerves. “Go on princess, come for me, wanna feel those pretty walls clamp down on my cock. Fuck just like that princess go ahead come for me angel fucking come for me.” He accentuates every word with a deep harsh snap of his hips.

His words were all it took to send you over the edge, throwing your head back and making a sad attempt to meet his thrusts with your own hips. Your walls to clamp down on his cock, as if your body obeyed his very order, hips bucking and body shaking violently as you came undone for him. He groans, loud and deep, feeling your walls slam down on his cock eyes rolling back as whines and whimpers fall from his lips as your own release triggers his own. His body trembles violently as he topples over the edge painting your walls white. He slows his thrusts, body shaking as he overstimulates you both just a little bit before his hips finally still. He releases your throat, quick to readjust your form wrapping you around him pressing a long loving kiss to your lips as he lays you both down in the bed. You notice as shift in the bed as he reaches over to grab something from the dresser. Your eyes widen as he procures a plug from the drawer, letting you know he was going to make good on threat.

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I hope you enjoyed, as always let me know what you guys think, and I'll see you in the next one!!

[karajaynetoday]

nothing's going right, and everything's a mess, and no one likes to be alone | jack hughes

author's note: don't ask me how the university semester timeline in this works. i have simply given reader a three week break in march bc why not. this is fanfiction okay, anything can happen 😂 no one proofread this for me so soz for any typos!

word count: 3.4k words

warnings: none that i can think of? but lmk if i've missed anything. soz if the ending makes you mad LOL i do love a cliffhanger

read part one here

read part two here

(This is a fem reader insert)

More writing here (soz that the masterlist is not up to date lol) | send thoughts/feedback/suggestions here

Somehow, the ill feeling of waiting until summer to see Jack again began to fade with each passing day. The itch to text him every time something exciting or infuriating happened to you began to lessen. The thoughts of him when you saw a funny meme he’d like, or your shared favourite foods on special at the grocery store, quietly stopped happening as frequently. 

But then there were the things that didn’t stop. The sharp pain in your chest whenever Jack’s smiling face popped up on your social media feed. The butterflies in your stomach whenever your parents brought him up in conversation, fuelled by whatever the latest updates were from their group message thread with Jim and Ellen. The joy that would wash over you when you heard about a Devils win or a Jack Hughes goal, followed almost always by a wave of sadness that you were hearing about it second or third hand, rather than from Jack himself.

You were the one who’d asked for space. You needed time, you’d said. Given the blow up of All-Star weekend, all Jack was doing was respecting your wishes; but a huge part of you not so secretly wished he’d be a bit more disrespectful and reach out. Your mind was a mess of conflicting thoughts, and your heart wasn’t sure which emotion to feel or where to go next. 

Since kindergarten, you’d barely gone more than a few days without seeing or communicating with Jack in some way. Now you were nearly a month without a word, and even though you were still mad at how he’d treated you, you were craving a return to the friendship you’d become so accustomed to. Jack knew you better than anyone, could basically read your mind with a single look, and although you had plenty of friends at college and still around in Toronto from high school, none came close to the camaraderie you shared with Jack. He was someone you could talk to for hours, or sit next to in silence for the same amount of time, it didn’t matter. With Jack, you could be utterly and entirely yourself, no complications. Now it felt like you were always pretending. And it was exhausting.

It was about 9pm on a Thursday night when you found yourself pushing through that exhaustion to try and complete yet another university assignment. For motherfucking economics. You couldn’t wait until you’d completed all of your compulsory economics credits because it was the absolute opposite of your cup of tea, when it came to academic subjects. This assignment was your last one, and you weren’t sure whether to cheer or cry at the idea of hitting the submit button on the online portal. Maybe you should’ve bought a confetti cannon to celebrate. Or a box of wine. Or booked yourself a flight somewhere fun, given you had a break from classes soon.

As soon as the thought of a trip crossed your mind, your phone began to buzz with an incoming video call. A video call from… Luke. Luke Hughes. 

Your face scrunched in confusion, as you swiped to answer the call, met with Luke’s smiling face and messy curls. 

“Hey sunshine! Long time no see. How have you been?” Luke spoke cheerily. Almost too cheerily. 

You were immediately suspicious and narrowed your eyes at the youngest Hughes. 

Luke was 3 years old when you met for the first time; he could barely remember a life without you in it. Given how inseparable you and Jack were, Luke became your de facto little brother, always tagging along where he could and joining in your adventures. Later on, when he became a teenager, you were the one Luke would come to when he was having issues with his friends, or trying to build up the courage to ask out the cute girl in his math class, or missing his brothers when they moved away. You were his second call after Ellen when he felt homesick at Michigan, and you were his first call when he had fucked up something that he felt his brothers would never let him live down. Emotional support and damage control, with a healthy dose of teasing and laughs thrown in. That was the dynamic between you and Luke. It also meant you could read him to filth when he was lying to you, and your honesty radar was through the roof at this sudden video call.

“I’m fine, Moose. Just trying to wrap up my final assignment before the break without losing my entire mind.” You offered weakly, half-expecting Luke to make a joke about your mind having been lost years ago, but the joke never came.

Instead, you saw the concern flicker across Luke’s face, just for a moment, before he forced a smile.

“How long is your break for? Any plans?”

“Three weeks, and not really. I promised my mother I’d spend a few days helping her with planning for their anniversary party in June, but that probably won’t happen until right before I go back to school.” You chatted absently, hitting save on your essay and standing up from the couch, bringing your phone with you as you moved into the kitchen to make yourself a drink.

You propped the phone up against the vase on your kitchen bench, reaching up into the cabinet to retrieve a glass. 

“Well, you should come visit. We’ve got like 5 home games in a row or something ridiculous coming up. It’d be fun!” Luke’s tone was cheerful, but cautious, like he wasn’t sure how you were going to react. 

You hummed in response, moving slightly out of view of your phone to get some ice cubes from your freezer and a soda from the fridge. 

“Besides, I heard a rumour that you’ve got an airline voucher to use. I’d hate for it to expire or something.” 

You could feel your heart starting to beat faster. Luke knew about the voucher. Did that mean Jack had told him about your fight? 

“The voucher won’t expire for three years. I’m sure I’ll manage to use it before then.” You deadpanned, stepping back into frame to see Luke rolling his eyes at you. 

“Yeah, sure, but will I survive that long without seeing you? Absolutely not. Come on, sugar. Please? Even if it’s just a weekend?” Luke had moved into full begging mode, with puppy dog eyes and everything.

You sighed, fidgeting with the straw in your drink and avoiding his gaze. 

“I don’t… we haven’t talked at all, Luke. I don’t know what he’ll do if I just show up there.” You half-whispered, feeling that all-too-familiar wave of sadness coursing through your veins. 

“He talked about you tonight at dinner. Says he misses you. But he doesn’t want to push, or not give you the space you wanted. But right now, he’s on the couch watching Gossip Girl, so…” Luke stated matter-of-factly, staring you down with a knowing look on your face.

Gossip Girl was something you’d insisted Jack get into when you were teenagers, as long as he “wanted to be called your official best friend”. And The OC. And Gilmore Girls. And One Tree Hill. And basically any other teen drama series you could think of. Collectively, those shows had thousands of episodes, and you always found yourself settling down to watch them whenever you were missing Jack more than usual. You’d never realised before that he did the same.

“Should… should we tell him I’m coming? I don’t want him to get upset by a bad surprise.” 

“Not at all, sugar. Book the flight and send me the details, I’ll sort out the rest.” Luke’s beaming smile made a smile of your own creep onto your face, as you nodded at him and went to retrieve your laptop from the couch to log onto the airline website.

“Now that that’s sorted, I was wondering, what does it mean when a girl asks me what my sun, moon and rising are? Should I be worried? Or is it a good thing?”

– 

Two days later, you were done with your semester and on your way to the airport. Luke had suggested you book a one-way flight, “That way, you can go home whenever you like!”, but you were starting to feel like the whole thing was a mistake. 

Nonetheless, you pushed through those feelings and boarded your flight. The whole ordeal took less than two hours, and soon enough you found yourself navigating the arrivals area at Newark airport. You spotted Luke’s lanky figure, clad in a Michigan sweatshirt, with his back to you. You couldn’t help but creep up on him and poke his side, cracking up with laughter as Luke jumped at least three feet into the air. He’d always been the easiest to scare, ever since you were kids. 

Luke cussed you out, and then pulled you into a bone-crushing hug. 

“Missed your face, sugarplum.” Luke murmured, as you pulled away from each other and he rested his hands on your shoulders, studying you. 

“Aw, Lukey. I’d say I’d missed yours too, but we really gotta do something about that hair.” You poked your tongue out as the youngest Hughes brother’s jaw dropped in mock offense. 

You retrieved your bag from the luggage carousel, and headed out to where Luke had parked. The two of you fell into easy conversation as Luke navigated through the New Jersey streets back to the apartment he shared with Jack. 

You managed to bury most of the nerves, but they came bubbling back to the surface when Luke pulled into the parking garage at the bottom of his building.

“Is… um… Is Jack home? Alone?” You managed to squeak out, and Luke looked at you like you were crazy. 

Ever since All-Star weekend, you’d been having a recurring nightmare about Jack and the girl from the messages you’d accidentally become privy to. In particular, it was a scenario where you would come home from wherever you’d been out, and opened the apartment door to find them… entangled, on every possible surface you could think of. You felt yourself starting to feel ill as the images from your nightmares started to flash back into your mind. 

“He’s alone. Ever since… ever since he came home early from All-Star, he’s been alone. None of the… usual visitors have been over. And he hasn’t been going to theirs, either. Not even when we’re on a roadie.” Luke said carefully, and you could tell he was trying not to upset you.

You could also tell that he was being honest. Because you could always tell when he was lying. But your mind was running a million miles a minute. Jack hadn’t… for a month? Because of his fight with you? You loved Jack, but you also knew (despite wishing that you didn’t know at all) that it had been years since he’d gone that long without intimacy. In fact, it was probably the longest since losing his virginity that Jack hadn’t fulfilled his desires. 

Your mind was starting to wander into the gutter, and you pressed your eyes closed to bring yourself back to Earth. All you could do was nod at Luke, before you both hopped out of the car and into the elevator. Luke insisted on carrying your luggage, so you found yourself fidgeting incessantly with your hands as the elevator climbed to the correct floor. 

You trailed behind Luke as he strode towards the apartment door and unlocked it, stepping inside and putting your bag down. He looked back and waved you into the apartment, pressing a finger to his lips. You tiptoed across the doorway, and your heart softened at the scene before you. 

You could see the back of Jack’s head leaned up against the couch, and an episode of Gilmore Girls playing on the TV mounted on the wall. In fact, it was one of your favourite episodes; where Jess comes back and shows Rory the book he wrote, and calls her out for dropping out of Yale. You smiled ruefully as you thought about the parallels between that episode and your current situation with Jack, as the argument between Jess and Rory played out on the screen.  

What do you mean?

You know what I mean! I know you. I know you better than anyone! This isn't you!

… 

This isn't you! This! You going out with this jerk, with the Porsche! We made fun of guys like this!

You caught him on a bad night.

This isn't about him! Okay? Screw him! What's going on with you? This isn't you, Rory. You know it isn't. What's going on?

I don't know. I don't know…

“Are we Team Jess or Team Rory this time, Jacky?” Luke called out, making you jump. 

“Team Jess all the way, obviously. Where have you bee-” Jack stopped dead in his tracks as he turned to face his brother, and instead saw you in the middle of his living room.

Jack’s face was a revelation. Confusion, at first. Then the briefest flash of hurt and anguish. Then a smile. Then caution and uncertainty, as he slowly stepped towards you. 

You let a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding, and quickly moved across the room, clumsily throwing your arms around your best friend. You felt Jack freeze momentarily, almost as if he was shocked at your touch, but that soon passed and you felt his hands slide around your waist and squeeze, bringing your bodies as close together as possible. 

You nestled your head on Jack’s shoulder, breathing in his scent. His thumbs softly rubbed up and down your side, and you felt him press a soft kiss into your hair. You stayed like that for a minute, or maybe longer, relaxing into the embrace.

The sound of the apartment door slamming shut made you jolt, and you rolled your eyes as you realised that Luke had tried to sneak way unnoticed and failed miserably. 

“Hi.” Jack whispered, pulling back from you slightly but keeping his hands locked around you. 

“Hi.” You whispered back, reaching up to brush his hair out of his eyes. 

“Is it still shit hair? Or better now it’s longer?” Jack teased, rolling his tongue between his teeth.

“Better. But only slightly.” You teased back, your hands slipping down to the back of his neck comfortably. 

The warmth of the surprise arrival was starting to fade. The dread you’d felt over addressing your fight with Jack was starting to set in, fast. The guilt you felt for being the catalyst for over a month for not speaking to your best friend was washing over you. Your heart rate was through the roof, and your palms were beginning to sweat. 

Jack sensed your change in mood, and pulled away from you to look you up and down.

“Are you hungry? Do you want to shower? Or take a nap?” He was nervous, too.

“I ate before my flight. And showered this morning. And it’s 11am, so I think I’m good on the nap front. But I do think we should… we should talk. About everything.” You were basically tripping over your words at this point, but Jack’s reassuring nod helped to calm your nerves. 

Wordlessly, Jack took your hand and led you over to the couch, gesturing for you to sit. You sat down and faced him, crossing your legs and resting your hands on your knees, still fidgeting with your hoodie sleeves. 

“I’m sorry - “ You both said unanimously, a gentle laughter filling the room. 

“I’m sorry I needed so much time apart, J. It fucking sucked, and it was my fault, and I just didn’t -” You began to ramble, only stopping when Jack leaned over and squeezed your knee reassuringly.

“You only needed that time because I was an asshole, sugar. It’s on me, really. I had no right to treat you like an occasional friend, or something that I shouldn’t prioritise -” Jack paused as you cringed, remembering the text messages that referred to his time with you as “boring family bullshit”. 

“I was thinking with my dick, not with my head, and that’s not fair on anyone.” You shot Jack a weird look, and he looked sheepish in return.

“Quinn… Quinn said that to me. After you told him to tell me about the messages. He’s right, thought. It wasn’t fair.” Jack continued, pausing to take a deep breath. 

“This whole… thing, this life -” Jack gestured broadly at the apartment around you, and you glanced around properly for the first time. Framed jerseys of Luke and Jack’s adorned the walls.Various photos of the Hughes family scattered about the place. The fridge, with a gas bill stuck to it, along with a polaroid of you and Jack from last Christmas. And a photo from your senior prom. And a group photo of everyone from last summer at the lake house, Jack’s mouth open in laughter with his arm slung over your bikini-clad shoulders. 

“It’s all I thought I ever wanted. And it’s amazing, and I’m so grateful. But it’s worth nothing to me, the money, the girls -” You felt yourself involuntarily cringe again. “The fame, the accolades, it’s worth nothing to me without the people that I love by my side. And if those people don’t know how much I love and appreciate them, because I treat them like shit, then that’s on me. No one else. Me.” 

You sat quietly, taking in Jack’s emphatic statement. You weren’t quite sure what to say. So instead, you gently reached over and took Jack’s hand in yours, lacing your fingers through his and squeezing softly, for a moment while you gathered your thoughts.

“I know the life you live, Jack. You don’t have to be sorry for it. Playing hockey was all you ever dreamed of, and I honestly can’t blame you for… enjoying… all the perks it comes with.” You swallowed the wave of nausea that hit you, before continuing. 

“I don’t… I don’t know what life looks like without you in it. The last month was such a bizarre experience, and not one that I ever want to repeat, but I also… I need to… Can I be honest?” You spoke softly, glancing up from your hands to meet Jack’s gaze, and he nodded encouragingly at you. 

“I wasn’t just upset because you made me feel like I was inconveniencing you, or cock-blocking you -” It was Jack’s turn to cringe. “I think I was upset because I was jealous. Because that will never, ever be me. And I think… I think I want it to be? Maybe? Fuck, I don’t know!” You dropped Jack’s hand and stood up from the couch, and started to pace the room. 

“Sugar, please sit down.” Jack pleaded, and you paused, looking back at him on the couch. One look was all you needed, and you narrowed your eyes at the smirk on his dumb face. 

“Why are you smirking? I am experiencing emotional distress, you asshole.” You seethed, running your hands through your hair in frustration.

“Tell me more about this jealousy thing. I’m intrigued.” Jack’s tone was light and teasing, and washed over you like sour milk. Your head whipped in his direction and your face must’ve said a thousand words, because Jack’s smirk soon disappeared and he hurriedly stood up and walked over, reaching out to touch you. 

“See, this -” You jabbed a finger into Jack’s chest. “This is why I have avoided this conversation for almost my entire life. Because you think it’s hilarious that we could ever go down that path. That we could ever be something more than what we are. Because I’m not good enough,or pretty enough, or just enough and I never will be, and I hate it. I hate it so much.” Your voice cracked on the last few words, and you felt the hot tears start to bubble out of your eyes and stream down your face. 

Jack didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to. He pulled you into a hug, bringing his hand up to your face and gently brushing away the tears with his thumbs. 

“Breathe, sugar. You need to calm down.” Jack said quietly, willing you to calm. That just made you cry harder. 

You were about to pull away, when you felt Jack cup your face with both hands, before leaning in to kiss you. 

[periprose]

heard you were wanting some Logan requests. If you want more let me know:)

So I’m thinking this takes places after Deadpool 3, reader, Wade, and Logan are roommates. Reader is like a little sister to Wade, while her and Logan have been seeing each other. But anyway, reader returns home from her college classes for the day. Wade and Logan notice that she seems kind of off, but give her some space. Later in the evening Logan goes to let her know that dinner is ready, but he can hear her crying. So he quietly lets himself in, and he comforts her. He asks her what’s wrong and she tells him that she’s really struggling with her classes, but also she and one of her best friends had a conflict and are no longer friends. Maybe she tells him how she’s always really struggled with having friends, and she feels like she’s always the problem, but the conflicts have always been caused by her past friends (if that makes sense). But he just comforts her, and it’s just cute and fluffy. (I’ve had a lot of problems with past friends of mine, and this would have been very comforting back in may:)) feel free to change of add anything. Thank you🫶🏻🫶🏻

Hi!! I’m so sorry you’ve gone through this, I’ve been there and it sucks :( hopefully you make new awesome friends soon, and I hope you enjoy this!! I made Reader genuinely Wade's little sister if that's okay. :)

Plenty of Time

Word Count: 2.2k

Genre: Hurt with comfort, angst, fluff, some sexual implications but nothing crazy

You grit your teeth as you put your key into the apartment door, feeling the weight of all your books in your backpack drag your shoulders down.

“Wade! I’m home!” You call out to a seemingly empty apartment, as you open the door. “...Hello?”

“Don’t look at me.” Blind Al shrugs as she reads a book, tracing her fingers over the Braille, from over on the couch. “Those two motherfuckers have never bothered to keep me up to date, even though location sharing is a thing now.”

You sigh to yourself. “Thanks, Al. I’ll be in my room.”

You’re not in the mood to track down Wade or Logan, as much as you love them both– the commute back home had been rather exhausting today.

Another day of no phone notifications from your supposed friend, or ex-friend now if you’re being honest, lower grades on assignments than you were expecting, and a moody bus ride back with the latest depressing songs as your personal soundtrack of choice, that perfectly described your continuing spiral– it was enough to make you want to head back to your room and just sit with yourself in solitude.

You’re just beginning to frown when there’s a thump in the next room over.

“Hey, sunshine goodness sister of mine, we’re in the kitchen!” You hear Wade call out. “You know, making dinner for our favourite scholar. Isn’t that right, Logan?”

“Sure. I mean, I’m not doing shit, because you seem to think you know what you’re doing, and I don’t want to be apart of your mess.” Logan says in his typical, gruff tone, and you resist the urge to smile. 

He peeks his head out through the door of the kitchen. “Hey, kid. Wilson’s making some sort of surprise-casserole– don’t ask. You okay?”

“Um… yeah. I just need to get some studying done, so I’ll talk to you later, Logan.” You ignore the way his eyebrows raise– he’s clearly noticed that you’re blowing him off, but you don’t care enough to get into that right now.

“Okay.” Logan inhales, and heads back into the kitchen, wondering what the hell went wrong this time, or if it had anything to do with him.

“Ouch, big guy. Blown off that easily? Sounds like sis is finally picking up on the fact that she’s too good for you.” Wade says cheerfully, as he haphazardly tosses dirty dishes into the sink. 

“Shut the fuck up.” Logan rolls his eyes, and Wade ignores him– you did sound pretty down in the dumps based on your tone of voice, and he’s pretty sure it has nothing to do with him or Logan. Probably just a shit day at college.

Maybe his casserole would cheer you up.

/

After another gruelling hour of Wade making last minute side-dishes, and asking Logan to taste-test things, as Logan swears that he’d rather be out at the bar, if not for you staying at home; it’s finally ready.

You can tell. You can smell whatever Wade has managed to conjure up with your meagre budget, but you’re just not hungry, and you’re not willing to face them or tell them what’s gone wrong.

What even has gone wrong? Nothing super obvious, you know, but just the lack of anything momentous in your life… it feels embarrassing, it feels odd to be at this age and have nothing to show for it.

Like friends matter that much, you try to think to yourself. But it still hurts, knowing that when you walk through campus, through the city, you’re alone. And everyone else seems to be so good at having friends, big groups of people basking in each others’ presences, extroversion on full display. Someone you could never be.

You tried your hardest with your friend, didn’t you? But maybe there’s something wrong with you, maybe there’s something about you that drives people away. A broken friendship feels like you aren’t good enough.

Yes, you have your big brother Wade, you have Logan, and to an extent, Vanessa, Al, Laura, Colossus, Eloise and Yukio, but for all intents and purposes, you know these are people that have to care about you, and you think, even if it’s shallow to think this– they wouldn’t care about you otherwise.

Lately, you’re wondering what your value even is.

Tears start rolling down your face, and you slump down onto your bed, giving in to quiet sobs. 

/

Logan’s been sent to tell you dinner is ready, but he’s waiting in front of your bedroom door. 

He’s been in there plenty of times, and he’s usually not one to care that much about privacy– but he hears stifled, little sniffles, and he knows you’re crying.

Being a typical hothead– Logan can tell he’s getting mad, because he wants to know who or what could’ve caused you to be so upset. But he knows this isn’t going to help you, and right now you need him for comfort, not as a big, angry oaf.

He opens the door quietly, and shuffles over to your bed, where you’re crying, your body wrapped around a pillow.

He sits next to you, and touches your shoulder.

You turn to look at him, eyes watery, face puffy. “Logan… sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“What the hell are you already apologizing for?” Logan scoffs, brushing away your apology and grabbing your hand, trying to steady you. “You’re allowed to cry in your own room. What happened?”

“Well, for one thing, I’m not doing great in my classes. My grades are a lot lower than I thought they’d be.” You answer glumly, and Logan’s mouth twists in a way that tells you he’s trying not to laugh. “What?”

“It’s still pretty early in the semester, kid. Give yourself at least until midterms before you decide that you’ve failed.” Logan admonishes you, but you sit up, leaning in closer to him.

“No, Logan. It’s a bad start.” You shake your head. “I just… I don’t know if I can improve them by midterms.”

“Of course you can. You’re the smarter Wilson, you don’t even know how surprised I was when I found out you were Wade’s sister.” Logan reaches for your cheek, wiping away the tears under your eye, and you lean into his touch, feeling what you’ve missed. Comfort.

“Thanks.” There’s a beat of silence, and Logan waits for you to smile, to tell him that it’s all okay now and yes, you would enjoy kisses to cheer you up, but he gets nothing of the sort. 

You still look troubled as you pull away from his embrace.

“Is that really all?” Logan asks, and you shake your head.

“It’s something stupid, I swear.” You try, wanting to change the subject. The last thing you want for Logan is for him to find out his lover is some kind of lame, no-friend outcast.

“Nah, let me hear it, kid.” Logan holds both of your hands in his, so you don’t move. “I’ll make it better. Want me to beat someone up?”

“Not exactly, but that does make me feel better– if not a little worried that you’re so prone to fighting.” You joke, and he smiles a little, which makes you feel better. “I just… I’m really struggling with making friends.”

“And you think I’d judge you for that?” Logan snorts. “You’re talking to the original loner here.”

“Well, no, but you always take it in stride, Logan. I don’t know– you seem pretty cool to me.” You say, and he shakes his head.

“There you go again with overrating me and underrating yourself. Thanks, but I think you forget how much of that is self-perception.” Logan glances at you. “I’m not that cool. A lot of that is me pretending not to give a fuck about anything.”

“Ah, so you do care?” You tease him, and Logan scowls.

“Obviously. Why else would I be holding your hands, hearing you out right now? I care a lot.” Logan shrugs. “Of course, like with all things in life, people can take advantage of that– people might not care as much as you and I do.”

“I guess so. I just wanted to feel like I could do it.” You frown. “Like I could really be a social butterfly, I guess… you know my friend? A couple weeks ago, we had an argument, and she completely ignores me now. It’s like I never even mattered to her, and it’s not even the first time that’s happened to me. And then I just wonder, what if it’s not in the cards for me to have friends? What if I’m the problem and I just struggle with it forever?”

“Ah, kid. That’s not true, lots of really terrible people have friends.” Logan shakes his head. “Come on. You are not the problem. Friendships come and go, take it from me. You know I’ve lived a long, long time– and I’ve witnessed people change and grow apart more than I’ve seen things last. It’s not a personal thing, it’s just life.”

“Really.” You don’t sound too convinced.

“Yes, really. I’ve got a great example: Charles and Erik.” Logan squeezes your hands as you listen. “They were inseparable for a period. And without getting too deeply into it, both of them betrayed each other in the most terrible way. I could lie and say they never got over it, but that’s not true. Both Charles and Erik made their own choices, and they grew and went their separate ways, and they made new friends. In the end, you end up with the people you’re meant to be with in that moment of time.”

“And you’re saying that I’ll do that, too?” You stare into Logan’s eyes, trying to see if this is some sort of story that’s meant to placate you, or if he really means it.

“Yeah, of course you will.” Logan says it immediately, not even waiting a second to reassure you.

You believe him. “I suppose it makes sense. I wouldn’t want to be friends with someone who didn’t like me, either.”

“Now you’re getting it.” Logan leans back on your bed, against one of your pillows. 

“Well, it was a well-thought out answer. Have you just had that locked and loaded?” You lean back against him, and he lightly exhales.

“You forget my age, kid. I’ve lived through it many, many times.” 

“Well, you’re not gonna leave me behind, are you?” You ask, jokingly at first, but then you feel a sudden insecurity rise in your chest.

Logan gives you a hard stare. “No. We’ve got plenty of time left, and you should really be wondering if you’re going to be leaving this old man behind soon.” 

“I won’t insult your intelligence by saying never, but… I haven’t outgrown you.” There’s a yet left unsaid here, but you don’t think it’s true, you think you’ll stay with Logan for as long as he’ll have you.

“You could do better.” He states, and you laugh and shake your head. 

“Trust me, I wouldn’t say better. Different, sure.” You turn back to face him, and he stares up at you with a soft glance, from where he leans on your bed, and you decide to prove to him that he is the best.

You lean in and kiss him softly, and Logan exhales softly as you do, and it gets a little more needy, as you push against him on your bed, and Logan’s hands find their way around your waist.

There’s a knock against the doorframe. 

Wade grimaces at what he sees, as you and Logan pull away from each other.

“Hey, lovesick idiots. While you’ve been having sappy pep-talks and lukewarm foreplay, some of us have been waiting for you to eat dinner.” He shudders. “And if you’re about to initiate the unspeakable, at least close the door! And use protection, we don’t need a Wilson-Howlett kid with both of your self-esteem issues.”

“Wade– please, too far.” You tell off your older brother, but he raises his hands like he said what he needed to say. “C’mon, I had to listen to you and Vanessa going at it for years– and you wouldn’t stop even when I had trouble sleeping.”

Logan quirks an eyebrow at you.

“The headboard would bang against our very thin walls.” You mutter, and Logan laughs. 

“I’m very sex positive, I swear.” Wade starts, and you point a finger at him.

“That doesn’t sound true considering you’re enough of a prude to freak out at some kissing–”

“Well, in my defense, who wants to see their best friend and younger sister get it on? I always shut my door! Shut yours!”

“That never drowned out the sounds, Wade. You’re lucky this apartment has way thicker walls.”

“Both of you, shut it.” Logan stops the two of you. “I promise next time, we’ll shut the door and put a sock on the doorknob and everything. Now, let’s go eat.”

The minor kerfuffle is easily solved by Logan, and as you walk with him to the kitchen, hand in hand, you feel glad to have him on your side.

[petcr3]

don't shed no tears | bradley bradshaw x reader

summary: you have a terrible day. bradley has a plan.

word count: 845

warnings: bradley calls the reader my girl, this one is very short lol!

You almost hold it together. 

Really, you almost do.

But your work day seemed determined never to end. Each time you thought you’d gotten on top of what you needed to do, there was a new fire to put out. It was as if everything that could have gone wrong did, and just about everyone you encountered during your day was in a foul mood. 

Even so, you had pushed through frustration after frustration, and finally made it home. It’s your day off tomorrow and you get to spend the rest of your night with your boyfriend. Things are looking up.

Any other day, you would have laughed it off. But when you finally let yourself plop down on the couch that’s flush with your living room wall and bang your head, the dam just breaks. 

The sound of a particularly forceful “motherfucker!” sends Bradley bolting downstairs, and when he sees you crouched forward, your face in your hands, he’s on his knees in front of you in seconds.

“Honey? What happened, are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” you say miserably.

“You don’t sound fine.” You don’t respond for a moment. The rough pad of his thumb wipes a wayward tear from your cheek. “You’re crying, hun.”

“I’m fine,” you repeat, voice wavering, “I just hit my head.”

“You hit your head?” You want to curl up and wither away. This is so embarrassing. It’s only the worry in his voice that makes you look up.

“Not hard. I just clonked it when I sat down. I’m… I had a really bad day. I’m sorry.” 

“Hey,” he says softly, “don’t apologize. Not your fault you had a bad day. C’mere.” Bradley leans forward, still kneeling in front of you, and wraps you in his arms. You sag into his embrace, and tears begin to darken the fabric of his sweatshirt. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” he asks. A little sob works its way out of your chest.

“Not–– not really.” You feel Bradley’s mustache before his lips as he turns to press a kiss to your temple.

“That’s okay,” he coos, “It’s okay.” He’s quiet for a moment, and then: “I have an idea.” 

You aren’t particularly pleased when he gets up, but you don’t have it in you to complain. His footfalls are quiet on the carpet as he pads over to the record player and starts fiddling around.

“What are you doing?” you hazard after a moment.

“I can’t tell you,” he says. “Just hang on a second–– this is gonna be romantic as shit.” You let out a little giggle through your tears, and he grins over his shoulder at you. Leave it to Bradley to make you laugh when all you want to do is crawl into a hole and never come out.

A little flash of blue catches your eye as he finds whatever album he’s been searching for, but you don’t get a good enough look to suss out what it is. Finally, he drops the needle, and you hear the opening notes of No Woman No Cry. The organ plays softly, and you sniffle as a fresh wave of tears hits you. Bradley holds out his hand. 

“Dance with me?” You wipe your eyes and nod, shuffling into his arms. He presses a kiss to the crown of your head and draws you in, settling you against his chest with a hand at the nape of your neck. Relief floods through you at the warmth of his touch, the slow and comforting beat of the music, the sway of your bodies.

“I love you,” you mumble into his chest.

“I love you too, baby. I’m sorry you had a bad day.”

“It’s much better now.” That makes him smile. The rest of the song plays out to comfortable silence as you rock back and forth together. It’s a longer cut–– the live version Bradley is playing is a little more than seven minutes–– and eventually, you find that you’re cried out. As the song ends and the crowd on the recording begins to cheer, you tilt your chin up to look at him.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

“Hey, anything to see my girl smile.” And you do, tilting your head down bashfully. 

As the cheers fade, the next song on the record begins to play and the plucky guitar of Could You Be Loved fills the room. Unable to help himself, Bradley begins to bob along with the rhythm. He withdraws a little from the embrace and takes your hands, bouncing your arms back and forth. You feign a pout, but it’s useless. As usual, Bradley Bradshaw is sunshine, fending off the gathering clouds until all you can see is him. You relent and begin to match his movements and he breaks into a beautiful, enormous grin.

As you dance late into the night, you remember that this is what it’s all about. That no matter how awful your day is, you have someone to come home to that knows, without fail, how to lift you up.

[pedrospatch]

we need you

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: Afraid of failing the two of the people he cares about more than anything, Joel decides you and Ellie are better off without him.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. SET IN JACKSON. takes place during Kin. arguing, angst. helpful to know reader was not present when Joel and Tommy talked in the garage. NO mentions of age, reader has no physical description.

word count: 1.6k

a/n: welllllp i don't know about you guys, but i am DEAD inside after tonight so to cope i am going to write a little drabble. already put it in the warning/tags section, but once again, just to be on the safe side of things: potential spoilers, proceed with caution if you do not want the newest episode spoiled!

“Just what in the motherfucking hell was that, Joel?” You nearly growled, bursting through the door of the bedroom that he’d chosen to occupy for the night. Having heard the way he’d spoken to Ellie—not to mention, all that he had said to her even after her heartbreaking confession to him, her unspoken cry for him not to abandon her, all you could see in your mind was the color red. Sure, you and Joel had been through your fair share of bullshit over the years, disagreements that caused friction between the two of you weren’t all that uncommon seeing as the two of you shared similar personality traits to each other, stubbornness being one of them. But you could not, for the life of you, remember an occasion where you’d been this angry with him, this fucking livid. As you watched him sink down onto the bed without a word, your hands curled into fists at your sides. You knew it would only make matters worse, losing your temper, but you weren’t all too sure that you could contain it this time around.

The blood in your veins was bubbling, boiling hot underneath your skin.

“Are you going to fucking answer me or what?” You prompted, a cool edge to your tone despite the heat radiating throughout your body. “You’re really trying to hand her off to Tommy?”

Joel sighed, shaking his head. “You weren’t supposed to find out like this.”

“Find what out, Joel? That you went off and made a decision, and a really fucking dumb one at that, without even talking to me about it first?” You crossed your arms over your chest, glaring at him. Despite how incredibly furious you were, the sadness was heavy inside of your chest. Tt was as if Joel had forgotten the fact that for the last few months, Ellie had been under your care too, and you had every right to be a part of any decision that he made regarding her and her well-being. It hurt you to your very core that he’d done this without talking to you first, and it hurt you even deeper to know that Ellie had known about this and she’d kept it all to herself all evening.

She’d come home from the movies and when you offered her dinner, she refused to eat and stomped upstairs, locking herself in the bedroom. You’d chalked it up to nothing more than a typical teenaged girl simply having a mood swing. After all, it hadn’t exactly been the best day for Ellie. She’d arrived in Jackson and the first thing she noticed was how everyone in the colony looked at her, especially the children. She was different. She didn’t fit in, she stuck out like a sore thumb and you knew that had to have been hard for her. Not wanting to push her, you’d figured that she would come out of the room eventually and talk you about it when she was good and ready. But now that you knew the real reason why she had come home so upset, you couldn’t help but to feel guilty.

For hours, Ellie had been upstairs in that room knowing that Joel planned on dumping her on Tommy and you didn’t have the slightest fucking clue about what was going on until you’d overheard Joel and Ellie’s shouting match just moments ago.

“Joel.” You said his name in a tone neither of you recognized.

Low, venomous, borderline dangerous.

You were like a ticking bomb, seconds away from going off.

Joel narrowed his eyes at you. “She’s better off with Tommy, alright? And we both fuckin’ know that,” he said. “It’s the best thing to do for her. I’m doin’ it because I know damn good and well that if she stays with me, all I’m gonna do is have her fall into the wrong fuckin’ hands or killed.”

“You’re wrong!” You countered, dropping your arms away from your chest and back down to your sides. “Joel, don’t you dare fucking do this. Ellie doesn’t want Tommy, she wants you. She all but fucking said it right to your face just a minute ago!” You cried, pointing a finger towards the door of the room as if pointing to Ellie herself. “She admitted to you that she wouldn’t feel safe with anyone else, Joel. So don’t you fucking do this to her.”

He gripped the edge of the bed, his knuckles going ghost white. “She’ll be better off with Tommy,” he repeated himself. He paused for a brief moment, just long enough to avert his tortured gaze from yours as he said, “And so would you.”

Your mouth parted slightly in shock. “Fucking excuse me?”

“I can’t keep her safe. Hell, I can barely keep you safe! How many fuckin’ times have I almost lost you? ‘Cause I don’t move fast enough? ‘Cause I’ve made the wrong decisions? ‘Cause I’ve asked you to do somethin’ for me and turns out that I unknowingly sent you into the fuckin’ lion’s den?” He inhaled a sharp breath, and you could hear his voice breaking with each and every word that fell from his lips. “I’ve almost cost you your life how many fuckin’ times now?”

“Joel—”

“Tess died ‘cause of me.” He saw you open your mouth to protest and he quickly added, “You can sit there and tell me over and over that it wasn’t my fault ‘til you’re blue in the face, but let’s just fuckin’ be honest and tell it how it is, alright? I couldn’t get to her quick enough and now she’s dead. I won’t let you meet the same fate.” Joel reached up, raking a hand tiredly through his hair, mentally bracing himself for your reaction to what he was about to say next. “I think you should go with Tommy and get Ellie to where she needs to be. After that, you should—you should think about stayin’ here with him in Jackson. I probably don’t belong here, but you do.”

You let out a small, shaky breath of air.

“Who the hell are you to make that kind of decision for me?” You asked, willing yourself to keep yourself from crumbling into tears. “I’m sorry Joel, but you can’t make that kind of a choice for me. And do you want to know what else?” You didn’t even wait for him to respond. “You can’t make it for Ellie, either.”

“She’s fuckin’ fourteen years old—”

You took a step forward as you challenged him. “Do you really think that girl isn’t smart enough to know deep down inside what’s best for her? Tell me, do you really think that Ellie pulled everything she said out of her ass? Do you honestly think that she could ever trust Tommy the way that she trusts you?” You felt a warm tear slide down your cheek and quickly wiped it away before he could see it. “Ellie is young, but she’s not a baby, Joel. I get that sometimes we need to guide her through shit, but let’s be real. She is old enough to make decisions for herself. Maybe not all of them, but the decision that you’re trying to make for her right here, right now—it isn’t yours to make.” Another tear made its way down the side of your face as you whispered, “And the one you’re trying to make for me isn’t either.”

Joel hung his head, seemingly defeated. “Why can’t you see it’s for the best? Why are you makin’ this so hard?”

Willing your trembling legs to move, you slowly walked over to him and sank to your knees in front of him; although you tried to meet his eyes, he refused. “You care about Ellie. I know it, I can see it and I can feel it. For as much shit as you give her all the time, I know that she’s become so important to you.”

“‘Course she is,” he mumbled. “You’re both important to me.”

You reached for his hands, pulling them forward onto his lap. You placed your own hands on top of his, lacing your fingers together. “Then don’t fucking do this to us, Joel. Please. I’m already down on my knees and I will fucking beg and plead if that’s what it’s going to take.” You crouched down a little further, enough so that you could look up into his dark brown eyes. “Ellie wants to be with you, Joel. And I do too.”

Joel’s gaze glistened with tears that he tried, but failed, to keep from falling in front of you. “I’ll fail you, just like I’ve fuckin’ failed everybody else.”

“Joel, please listen to me. Hear what I am saying, for the love of Christ. We have come so far,” You said, firmly squeezing his hands in yours as if somehow that would snap him out of it. “Whether you choose to believe or not, we’ve only come this far because of you. You have done so much for us. It’s why we trust you, why we feel safe with you. Me and Ellie, we belong with you, Joel—not with Tommy, not with anyone else. We need you, okay? We fucking need you. Do you understand me, Joel?”

Joel exhaled the breath he’d been holding shakily, leaning down to be closer to you. Closing his eyes, he rested his forehead against yours as he tried to even out his breathing.

Rubbing the back of his hands with your thumbs in soothing circles, you lifted your head and lightly pressed your lips against his forehead.

“We’re going to finish what we started,” You murmured quietly against his skin, feeling a slight shudder rack his body as a single whimper escaped him. You squeezed his hands again. “Together, Joel.”

[tobifuyu]

Shopping with the Haitani Ran goes wrong!

RAN HAITANI x f!reader

Ran thinks you're too cute to be dressing this badly. He takes you shopping, finally gives in to his own desires and touches you in the dressing room. Chaos ensues.

cw: nsfw, mdni, smut, vaginal fingering, orgasm denial.

words count: 5,398

a/n: this is actually my first time writing smut, or anything at all, so bear with me. the one shot is part of a longer fic that I will start posting pretty soon, set in the Bonten timeline, I just wanted to put out something in the meantime, mostly as practice. english is not my first language! enjoy.

If you think shopping with a man such as Haitani Ran would be an enjoyment of sorts, well, you’d be wrong.

If your damnation could be encased in a day it would be today out of all of them.

Haitani Ran is already a handful as it is, put him in a store-filled street, already dressed to the nines and parading around like he owns the motherfucking moon and stars and what comes out is a big ass headache and a lot of self-deprecation.

In theory, the idea was not half bad. Ran knows a lot about this kind of stuff: fashion, styling, brands… at least more than you do, no matter how much you’d like to keep up. And the amount of money in his bank account is – well, still a mystery to you – you can only imagine a lot, considering what he is wearing and the place he’s dragging you to with a big hand wrapped around your wrist.

So in theory him helping you pick out a few pieces of clothing you could buy with your weekly allowance didn’t sound too bad. Considering how extravagant he and his brother are, you were expecting to head over to Harajuku, and maybe try to dig out something he could style for you from a cool vintage store.

You didn’t think he would bring you to a mall.

You don’t even think you’d be allowed in such a place, normally, not in the way you’re dressed anyway.

I mean, you did try your hardest to look somewhat presentable, knowing you’d be running around with the Haitani Ran, but with your laughable budget and a very confused sense of style, you look like Ran had just picked you up from the sidewalk like one of those lone puppies you’d see in a sad movie and brought you around to keep him company while squatting at his feet and wiggling your tail.

You’ve just always liked too many trendy styles, buying a few pieces here and there and leaving you with no basics and nothing to match them with, and so y ou look out of place, walking into a brand store practically hand in hand with one of the most handsome guys those judgy store clerks have probably ever seen, with a timeless and classy outfit that makes him look like he belongs there.

And most importantly, that he can afford it.

Maybe the only thing that makes up for it is his crazy two-toned braids. Doesn’t make him look nearly as bad as you, but at least you know how to use a toner.

He spends some time looking around the racks after shooing the shopping assistant who tried to approach the two of you away, and you trail behind him like – yeah, you guessed it – a lost puppy with eyes cast down, as if trying to disappear, maybe then they’d stop staring holes through your bland white cardigan that’s a little too big for your frame since you eyeballed its size and then found it too comfy to size down.

And that’s because you and fitting rooms just don’t click. You find the whole process a little too tiring, both mentally and physically.

Who enjoys spending that much time undressing yourself to wear clothes that have been worn by god knows how many others and have yet to see a washing machine, just to cry the moment you get them on because fast fashion sizes don’t fit people but want people to fit in them? Also having to recollect yourself and patch up your makeup while redressing as quickly as possible cause a line has already formed outside the door, you can hear them, and you can already feel their judging stares the moment you are gonna leave all the clothes you tried on with the clerk, nonetheless, cause everything looked like absolute shit on you–

Draining, that’s what it is.

But it’s dread that you feel creeping up on you while approaching the said fitting rooms with one of Ran’s arms now circling your waist, the other doing the most to hold up a bunch of clothes that you can barely make out but you know he has picked out, just for you.

“We can skip this part.”

You had tried reasoning, just to get hit with a “Skip this part my ass, there’s no buying clothes without trying them on. That’s how you end up with that cardigan. And I’m paying for this shit, so we’ll do as I say, princess.”

Ouch, what a little bitch.

Maybe you shouldn’t be feeling remorse, after he’s reminded you so kindly of why he’s decided to do this in the first place, knowing he wants to pull out his wallet to soothe his pretty eyes from having to see you dressed like a mess all the time.

But you’re better than this, so you decide you’ll only pick something you can afford.

He’s nothing to you but a new acquaintance, after all.

A means to an end, you like to remind yourself. You’re not using him, not a hundred percent at least, cause he’s getting your shining company in return. But yeah… you just need him to get to Manjirou. Nothing more. Nothing fun… you swear to yourself.

You’re doing Toman a favor, continuing Draken’s underground work now that he’s gone. You know Takemichi and sweet Chifuyu don’t add up to much when it comes to planning.

You’ve heard about Ran’s little fixation on you from the grapevine. His own brother had admitted to him relentlessly talking about you. And now, with Kantou Manji looming over the future of you all, you knew you had to get involved.

It has nothing to do with the fact that Ran’s lazy lavender eyes have had you in a chokehold from the very first time the two of you met, years ago.

He and Rindou wanting to fight you and your brother – only the latter, really – just to find out that you don’t back down from a challenge.

(From that day onward, if you were to ask Rindou, he would say that’s when his brother started talking about you.)

So you let him lock you in the fitting room, one of those cool ones with mirrors and lights all around you but, most importantly, a sturdy door.

One you know, in a store this expensive, no one will start knocking on if you take too long squeezing into one of those tiny dresses.

Not that it does anything to stop Ran once you’ve declared you’ve tried on the first one.

A pretty lilac piece, that would complement him and his eyes more – you mentally decide you’d like to see that – but you would look pretty (for once) standing at his side.

If it weren’t for the fact that it’s a tad too little on your frame, as expected, squeezing all the wrong places, skin spilling over and all that (you can’t possibly know he’s picked it a size or two too small on purpose).

Especially your cleavage, meaning this is all but a dress you could just wear to parade around the streets with a gang member. It would send the wrong message. And god knows what would happen if that message were to reach someone from Toman. A blond-haired guy in particular.

Shame on you.

But you can’t dwell on it too much, with Ran bursting through the door, then closing it behind his frame with all the nonchalance in the world, as if it isn’t quite scandalous the way you’re half clad and enclosed in a tight space with a man older than you (not by much, but still), in a luxury store, with clerks circling the both of you like hawks.

He approaches your body, and you can tell he’s making a decision his head while scrutinizing the dress, or rather you, from over your shoulder.

You’re facing forward and can feel the heat of his body approaching way before you feel his front touch your back, his hands momentarily settling at your hips.

They then move lower, trying to smooth the fabric of the dress as if it would make it fit better, and you feel a shiver run through your spine at the contact.

The tips of his fingers are cold where they brush your naked thighs, so you blame it on that.

“Looks perfect on you.” his warm breath hits your neck as he speaks with that low voice of his.

Focus, goddamnit.

“I hope you’re joking. I can barely breathe, and I think my ass might be hanging out.”

You can feel his body shake with giggles, and you know he’s trying to contain them for your sake, even though he’s never been the one to shy away from public shaming, especially when it comes to you. Sigh.

“Mh, I don’t know about that, but the front looks good.” His hands make a b-line for your waist, squeezing the fat there before moving upwards to rest a breath away from your tits. The dress is so tight you didn’t need to wear a bra with that. “Gosh, would you look at that? Fucking perfect.”

“Ran,” you warn him, you know he’s just teasing you again, or rather, testing you.

You meet his eyes in the reflection of the mirror, and you don’t want him to win one of the many little challenges he poses you with daily, so you hold his gaze, leaning the back of your head against his left shoulder.

He’s sure you’re the one tempting him at this point, deciding to play along in his little game that’s gonna ruin the both of you sooner or later, cause with that movement alone you’ve exposed your neck and cleavage like a white canvas, only his to paint.

“Fuck baby,” he groans and you feel yourself shivering once again, “You have no idea what you’re doing to me, do you? Or maybe you do, you little vixen.”

You laugh, “Is that all it takes to bring down the Haitani Ran? A dress that’s a little too small?” you want to hit his ego back, at least, for the way he’s making you feel.

So exposed and vulnerable.

And little, which you’re very much not, but the way he’s encasing you with his bigger body is making you look ridiculously tiny.

“Paired with these tits and hips yeah, might just be the one thing that’s gonna put an end to the Haitani’s reign.”

It’s mesmerizing, his tone of voice, the deep baritone laced with a hint of teasing and sass that drips from his lips like honey straight to your pliant ears and reverberates through your even more pliant body.

One of his fingers creeps up to the neckline of the dress and drags over its seams with such a delicately that you wouldn’t even have caught it if you weren’t so busy trying to follow his every move and breath, leaving the haze of his purple eyes that split second enough to record the very movement.

“Ran, I don’t think this is appropriate.” You try to hide your smirk as you say that, knowing that is not gonna stop him but rather rile him up.

He smirks back, grabbing you by the chin with his free hand so he can turn your head to face him. “Since when have you become such a prude, uh?”

“I have always been, you’re the one trying to taint my innocence, remember?”

You’re not completely joking at this point, he’s been trying to get a reaction out of you since you’ve started hanging out more frequently.

He knows you shouldn’t, but he’s adamant in getting you to admit he can rile you up just as easily.

A dark set of lashes shade his lavender hues as he stares down at you, pondering over what to do next without scaring you too badly.

“Can I kiss you?” There he goes, he just couldn’t resist himself, could he?

You just look so good, dressed in something he picked for you, standing in this tiny space with him draped around you. He wants to eat you up.

“No.”

Ouch. That hurts. How could you say no to him? Look at me, he thinks, and as if you can read his twisted mind, you do just that.

He is so irresistible, with one of his long braids slipping past your shoulder, hair tickling your skin the same way his hand is still doing over the hem of the dress. Pink full lips shaped in a pout you think he’s sporting more to get pity out of you rather than because he cares. But you’re a woman of great self-control.

Or so you thought.

“Just– you can touch me. To fix the dress.”

You two are so close, practically glued to each other, it’s not the first time it’s happened but your body still reacts like it’s being shocked every time he touches you.

And Ran thinks it’s more than he thought you’d allow yourself to go, so he does just that, to fix the dress, that is.

It’s to fix the dress that he grasps the fullness of both your tits in his big palms, no need to use one hand to hold your face to him anymore as you instantly rotate towards his frame to hide your face in the curve of his neck, soft lips pushed against his pale skin to muffle the sighs that you’re letting out at his bold move.

He doesn’t hesitate to squeeze them, pushing them up to prop the fat against the hem of the dress as if to make it fit properly, or as properly as the set image he has in his head, which is everything but proper.

“Fuck, you have such pretty tits.” He’s groaning in your ear at this point, enjoying the way you’re letting him touch you a little too much if the way he starts rubbing against you from behind is of any indication.

You can’t help your body from trying to mold to his touch, back arching and pushing against the hands caressing you over the skimpy fabric of the dress.

One of them is heading lower, running over the hills of your torso and hip before grabbing onto the flesh of your right thigh. The other keeps teasing you with precision and reaches over the hem to pull it down and expose your skin to the cold of the fitting room.

A perked nipple is encased by his long fingers, nails scraping over the bud to tease a soft moan out of your mouth. You grab onto one of his braids, slightly pulling before blindly looking for the hair tie. It’s removed with swift hands that you then run along its length to free it from the twists, so you can bury a hand at the back of his nape, pulling him towards you – as if he could get any closer – scratching the skin there as payback.

“R-Ran” your body is starting to heat up, the cold air surrounding the two of you doing nothing to cool you down. “‘Need more, please.”

“Since you asked so nicely…” At that the hand that has been massaging the fat of your thigh creeps under the bottom of the infamous dress, making you unable to see his next move even from the reflation of the mirror.

But you can feel him skimming over your panties with his fingertips, pressing against the wet patch that has formed there.

“You got wet just from this? Must be really desperate, uh. ‘ve barely touched you.”

What a piece of shit, you think.

But your body likes this side of his, the degrading and teasing, and it especially likes the way the pad of his finger is now pressing against your clit, unexpectedly making you let out a moan that you didn’t think you’d be capable of. Always the quiet one.

“Shh, you wouldn’t want them to hear us, now, would you?” He’s rubbing circles against the bundle of nerves, touching it just right, just like you would, alone in your room (while thinking about him, probably), making it hard to think or even remotely feel shame. “Maybe you’d like that? Mh? Want them to know making you feel good, right, pretty girl?”

When you don’t care enough to answer he pinches your clit over the wet fabric of your underwear, the whimpering noise you let out like music to his ears.

You just really want to feel his skin on yours, but too shy to ask for it you decide to do the next best thing. With the hand that is not too busy pulling the back of his head, you reach between your legs and push the fabric of your panties aside, exposing your pussy to the air without a care in the world.

If desperation had a face, at this point, it would most definitely look like yours.

“Ah shit, pretty-“

“Touch me, Ran.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. He finds your clit once again, not before running through the dripping folds and collecting the wetness with the pad of his fingers, just to rub it over your soft spot with careful precision.

His hand gives one final flick to your nipple before joining the other between your thighs, raising the lower hem of the dress to fully expose your wetness under the bright lights of the fitting room, just so he can take a good look in the reflection of the mirror.

You’re no saint, but also no one has ever touched you like this before, and the pleasure is pushing you to do things you probably would never even think of when the two of you are apart (but maybe you will, from this day forward).

That is why you reach down to grasp the wrist of his other hand, redirecting him to where you want to feel his touch, before slipping your fingers through his as if to show him what to do to you.

You feel his lips move against your ear before you register him talking, “Princess, you want my fingers? Hm?”

At that, you couldn’t nod faster, waiting for his touch to finally skim your opening, and once it does, you know he understands how much you need him, cause you see him raise his fingers as if to take a double look at the viscous liquid now wetting his skin. He rubs it over you then, spreading it on top of your clit to make his other hand work smoothly.

He stops right before he could slip in, making you whine in disagreement. “Need to hear you say it, baby.”

All these pet names are new to you, he usually sticks to one a day, trying them out on his tongue before throwing the chosen one at you with the most annoying tone he could muster to, simply put, annoy the fuck out of you, as he does with pretty much everything else.

But the way he’s saying them now, between rushed breaths and a voice so strained that nearly makes you believe he’s the one being played with, does unspeakable things to you.

So you give in like you’ve learned to do with him lately. “R-rannie, please, want you… to touch me.”

“What do you need me to do, pretty? Speak up, use your big girl’s words.”

“Need your fingers. Inside me.” You feel like the air in the dressing room is thinning out, and you need to get this done as fast as possible.

That’s until his pointer slips past your hole. The moment his other fingers resume their rubbing over your bundle of nerves, while he’s opening you up, that’s when you actually start praying for time to stop.

Maybe if his hands were to leave your frame now you would crumble to the ground and die. That’s a new fear you have just unlocked because you don’t think you could ever go back to how life was before he made you feel what you’re feeling right now.

Alive.

Like every nerve ending is tingling and responding to the sweet sounds he’s making, or maybe the ones he’s pulling out of you. You don’t know what makes you more turned on, the effect you have on him, or the grip he has on you.

He starts moving his lone finger in and out, gently, testing out how far he can reach before you clench around him in pain.

He rubs over the ridges of your walls looking for something, trying out different patterns, and bumping against the outside of your hole with the palm of his hand to stimulate all of you once he slips completely inside, reaching as deep as his long digit permits.

At first, it doesn’t feel like much, you can tell he’s an expert but he’s just getting to know you. You think the feeling of fullness alone is enough to get a kick out of you, as long as he keeps massaging your clit in a, now, slower motion, as if he has nothing to rush about, not one care in the world. But it creeps up on you when you least expect it.

You thought he oversold himself with that oozing confidence that he sports 24/7, but as he starts laying open-mouthed kisses over your neck, running up its column, until he finds your sweet spot nested just below your ear and right by your clenching jaw, so does his finger.

“Fuuck. Oh my fucking god.” you heave.

Yeah, his lips are a godsend, but the way he’s bumping against that one spot inside of you with the tip of his digit just now is downright delicious.

He builds up a rhythm then. Fucking into you with more force and confidence, not forgetting to hit that patch of skin even for a single time.

“You like that, uh?” he asks like he doesn’t know, pressing his mouth against the underside of your jaw to drag his tongue along your salty skin, moaning at the taste. He asks as if you’re not clenching around his finger like your life depends on it, as if you want to capture it and hold him inside you to never feel empty again.

He realizes you need more, and he wants to give you his cock. Wants to stuff you full to the brim, cause he can feel how greedy your cunt is, so he knows you would eventually take him all inside, no matter how big.

You’re thinking the same, imagining how good it would feel to have him fuck you against the mirror that’s fogging up in front of you. You’re seeing the moon and the fucking stars with the tip of his finger alone. You wonder if his cock is big enough to kiss that little spot just right with his leaky tip.

He leaves you little to wonder, with the way his hips are bumping against you from behind. You can clearly make out the size of his length, now fully erected, as it rubs against your ass.

“Ran, fuck, I need more!”

And you both know that, but he also knows how ridiculously tight you are, how much he would have to open you up to take his cock, how he might need to spend hours with his head between your legs, fasting on your wet cunt just to make you loosen up. He’d do that gladly, but not now, in this fitting room.

So he just joins his pointer with his middle finger, carefully trying to fit in a second one through your squeezing muscles.

“No, Ran-“ you’re ready to beg, get on the ground on your knees, and plead him to have his way with you.

This is so not like you.

Or maybe it was, all along. You just needed someone to free you at last.

“You’re not ready to take my cock yet.” His tone is firm like he’s trying to convince himself more than you. “I can barely fit two fingers in, pretty. You need to let me in, gonna make you cream around them, ‘kay?”

You swear the way he’s looking at you through the mirror alone is your undoing. You see his eyes running back and forth to your half-open ones, so you follow the gaze rolling over your exposed tits, heaving with your labored breaths, until reaching the apex of your thighs.

Two of his fingers are now plunging into your wet opening, the squelching sound being so loud to tint both of your cheeks red, and a ring of white collecting around the circumference of his digits, before dripping down your parted legs at the force of his thrusts. Your clit is still being rubbed raw, the intensity increasing with every passing minute, making you twitch in his firm grasp.

The whole picture is insanely erotic, something you haven’t even experienced in your fantasies yet.

It’s so intense that you feel your cheeks get wet from the unexpected tears now streaming down your face.

You’re a cryer, he’s elated.

You’re trying hard to muffle a scream, but Ran has you blocked in his grasp with both of his arms running over yours, so you have to turn and bite at the skin of his collarbone to do so, as you grip over his forearms, leaving behind the half-moon indentation of your nails.

He groans, letting his head lol back as you lick over the bruise; the skin has torn and you can taste the blood. As he speeds up the fingers that are massaging your clit, you realize that both of you might enjoy a little pain mixed with pleasure.

The overstimulation is so overbearing that you know you should’ve come long ago, but he’s taking you to such heights that you just can’t seem to let yourself go when alone in your bed you would have long given up and just taken a shitty orgasm as a win before retiring to sleep.

“Feel so- god, it’s so fucking good, Ran. Don’t stop, please please-“You don’t stop begging and he doesn’t stop thrusting, both his fingers and his hips behind your frame, chasing his orgasm against the plush of your ass.

He wants to pull his cock out of his pants and rub it against your skin. The dress has raised over the globes of your behind, he wishes he could just come all over it.

But he has no intention of ever slowing down his hands, not with the way you’re trembling against him, and not until you come, completely undone and fucked up from just two of his fingers.

You look so beautiful like this, with tears streaming down your reddening face, lips bitten, unfortunately not by him, and your cunt taking his fingers so well. Like the good girl he knows you are under all that sass.

He glances down at the scene one more time.

Your pussy is so pretty, glistening wet, he could finish right here and then.

He wants you to fucking come while screaming his name, no one else’s. He doesn’t care if they hear, he wants them to.

Ran wishes for more than just the clerks hearing you come undone for him.

At that thought something snaps inside of him.

“Who’s making you feel this good? Fucking tell me.” You snap out of the blubbering mess you’ve become, not because of the inexplicably angry tone of his request, but because he’s slowing down his movements and you were not expecting that.

Does he not know by now that you like his roughness? You need to come so badly.

“Please fuck don’t stop, please-“

“I said who’s making you feel this fucking good.” Ran doesn’t like to think he’s a jealous guy.

He’s The Haitani Ran, after all. There has never been any need for him to be.

But now that he has tasted heaven, here in this tiny dressing room with you, he doesn’t think he can stop.

He wants to make you his, and if that means he has to deprive you of your very first orgasm given by someone else so that you can come back running for more, so be it.

“You, Ran! Fuck it’s all you! You make me feel so go-” The slap that resonates in the small space it’s the thing that stops you from completing your praise.

Ran’s fingers have stopped moving inside of you completely, and his other hand has raised to slap your spasming cunt.

A scream of his name finally does rip out of your parted lips. There’s no way you could’ve avoided that.

And the new canting of your hips that are raising to chase a ruined orgasm is to little avail, you just don’t seem to reach the promised land.

Against all odds, Ran doesn’t resume touching you, even his hips are now resting firmly some inches away from yours, not even letting you feel him anymore.

He presses father light kisses from the column of your neck up to the side of your jaw, retracing the path he had run with languish before, until he can sweetly kiss your burning cheek as if to gently bring you down from the orgasm that never happened while he removes his fingers from inside of you, leaving you eerily empty.

“I- I didn’t come.” you’re still trembling at this point, but for a different reason. You think he might have mistaken any of your reactions for you reaching your long-awaited end.

You’ve heard some stories, you know some guys can’t even tell right from left when it comes to a woman's body.

But you’re wrong about him. “I know.”

More kisses are left on the side of your face, you’d think the gesture sweet if it weren’t for the ever-present grin you can feel against your skin.

“What- why?” the way you’re asking nearly breaks his heart, you sound so confused, broken. But that’s exactly what he needs, right? He needs to be the one to guide you.

“Because I’m not letting you come. You’re not my girl.” Your eyes are big like saucers, and you’ve turned your head to stare at him, he thinks this situation is so fun he could giggle.

“But I thought-“

“Just leave him, pretty girl. You’ve already forgotten about him, haven’t you? It was my name you were screaming, it was my cock you were begging for. Leave him, and come back crawling to me. Maybe then, I’ll think about letting you come.”

He takes some steps further away from you then, cold but still careful enough to make sure you won’t fall the moment he lets you on your own, bringing his soiled fingers up to his mouth. You watch in silence as he licks them clean. He’s making a show of it, engulfing the digits in his mouth and sucking around them as he moans. You’re so turned on you could die right there and then.

He then hits you with a “Fuck, you taste like heaven, he doesn’t know what he’s missing.”

Before diving right back in, licking the skin one last time for safekeeping.

And now, you don’t know what’s worse: the cheshire grin stretching the pinkish of Ran’s lips while he’s downright degrading you after depriving you of an orgasm and, honestly, your self-respect;

Maybe it’s the fact that sweet Chifuyu’s face had only flashed behind your eyelids at his mention, after you’ve probably done one of the worst things you could ever do to him, or in your life, really;

… or the fact that you had to walk out of there, and wait for Ran to pay for the stained dress, cause he wouldn’t let you leave without making a scene. Knowing damn well that everyone in the shop had heard the two of you and is now looking with a mix of: reverence towards Ran, and hatred for you, by all women and men who rightfully wished to be in your stand.

At the end of the day, you were right. Fitting rooms would ever only leave you a crying mess, with clothes too little to fit; and shopping with Ran Haitani was hell made on earth.

At least you were convinced this was gonna be the last time you would ever accompany him – anywhere, really – or so you thought…

[bugeater101]

Stop Hitting Yourself

Synopsis: After four years of high school, you were sick and tired of Yang Jeongin. However, your inexperience with relationships combined with his persistence have you questioning your feelings towards him. Now, in the final stretch of your secondary education, you've somehow been paired up with that brute in a project. Yet, your study plans in the library take a different turn when you let your curiosity (and his perseverance) get the better of you.

Content: bully!Jeongin x nerd!fem!reader, plus size!reader, virgin!innocent!reader (doesn't know anything besides basic biology), dom!Jeongin, big dick!Jeongin, Jeongin is a dumbass (also oscillates between like cold bad boy and golden retriever boy), hand kink, reader has small hands, Jeongin has huge hands (duh), enemies to lovers, school AU, the reader is a bit insecure and endures a lot of bullying by Jeongin (teasing, mocking, comments related to glasses, no other negative comments related to appearance), mentions of smoking, 0-100 kind of plot, groping, spanking, pain kink, oral sex (male!receiving), crying, degradation, slight size kink, public sex, unprotected sex (please where a condom!!), mentions of breeding, vaginal penetrative sex, a hella cute epilogue.

Word Count: ~16.9 k (I AM SO SORRY)

Author's Notes: This fic is for my lovely and patient followers and hte amazing anon who sent in this request! Also, even though this AU takes place in a high school setting, please note that both Jeongin and the reader are 18+ in this fic. Minors, do not interact! This work also follows a lot of stereotypes about like "nerds" and "bullies" but bear with me y'all. If you ever find yourself in a similar situation, trussss that it is not because the bully is harbouring some crush on you. This fic uses such dynamics to simply build towards the smut and power dynamics. To quote Tyler the Creator, "Hey, don't do anything I'm about to say." Also, I would eventually love to do another and much shorter part two, but that is an idea for another time. Thank y'all as always!

Taglist: @scribblemetae @mygsis, @9900z @taekbokki,@imtoooyoungforthisshit, @jihanlovic, @compersian

You had three goals once you entered high school: get good grades, stay out of trouble, and try to have fun.

Yang Jeongin, however, seemed hell-bent on destroying any semblance of peace in your life. In fact, you bet that his whole schedule was dedicated to manifesting your misery. Or, possibly, he just brought torment with him wherever he went.

Nevertheless, it was accurate to claim that his purpose (in your perception) was to make you miserable. For the past school year, you had seen more of Jeongin than you ever wished to: your schedules put him in at least two classes with you every semester for four years and you also lived relatively close to one another. So, your encounters were frequent, expected, and... "memorable", to say the least.

Every day since freshman orientation, you have been forced to acknowledge Jeongin's existence on a daily basis. Almost immediately, he adopted a particularly cruel stance toward you. When it all first started, his taunts were just for fun and to seek attention, to say the least. Now, he just seemed mean. Not to anyone in particular: Jeongin was just a generally disagreeable person, and especially to you.  And it hurt.

Obviously, it hurt, who would not be hurt if they found themselves in such circumstances?

It was embarrassing to admit it, but Jeongin's indifference toward you was often offset by your more "cordial" feelings toward him. Actual motherfucking cordial feelings. In other words, you had harboured a small, tiny, minuscule, microscopic crush on him that even his meanest days could not challenge. So, you've had a crush on Jeongin since you first met him and it has been the dumbest thing you've ever done.

You remember when you first saw him. It was orientation for high school, the first day of the semester. You were a freshman and he was too. However, your appearance alone separated you and him into two distinct social categories. Like the delinquents that were his so-called friends, he wore his uniform messily: tie loose, shirt untucked, sneakers, and messy hair. Everything he did was with an insufferable air of nonchalance and disrespect, almost aggressive in the languid, lazy movements he made. Even his walk reeked of a cockiness that altered the milieu of the room. You couldn't believe how intolerable he was, nor could you believe how your cheeks flushed at the mere sight of him. High cheekbones, a fox-like face, slender build but definitely on the muscular side. God, not to mention he was big. He was tall, at least taller than the other boys in your grade. His height alone made him stick out like a sore thumb, not to mention his clothing. He had immediately caught your eye and it made you sick.

And then there was you: you were just as out of place as he was, but for entirely different reasons. Your hair was proper, your glasses were well polished, and your uniform was always ironed. Of course, the uniform rarely fit properly as you were bigger. The shirt never buttoned right and the skirt was too short in the back, making you feel much more out of place than you would have liked. Other than your rather ill-fitting uniform, your propriety and intelligence made you the odd one out. You contrasted much of the student population in those respects, especially Yang Jeongin.

For lack of a better word, you were a fucking loser. And so was Jeongin. But at least he owned it. Maybe that was what you liked about him, that he knew he wasn't much and didn't have to prove himself through school or other activities. Either that or how fucking attractive his jawline was or his messy hair.

Jeongin and his friends managed to sit somewhat near you during orientation. He couldn't see you from his position, but you could see him. His confident stare, the flirtatious grin he flashed, and the troublesome giddiness in his eyes would normally make you well annoyed. But, with him, it was somehow different, like he wasn't just another stupid boy you couldn't wait to ignore and forget. God. It was like some trope where he was the bad boy and you were some know-it-all who was desperate for some freedom, which he could offer you.

The entire assembly went over your head as your eyes transfixed on the boy who sat in front of you with his giggling gaggle of friends and troublemakers. You swore he thought he was one of the cutest boys you'd ever seen.

That all quickly changed once you got to know him.

You only had two classes with him that year but they were unforgettable due to the sheer torture he put you through. He would tease you, take your notes, copy off of your tests, and sometimes right his name on your homework (and he would still manage to get shitty grades). Needless to say, your fondness for him obviously and quickly diminished.

Yet, you still knew that those feelings hadn't entirely disappeared. They were still there, just somewhere deep down. However, some nights, those feelings were quite shallow and you didn't need to search so deeply to find them, as if you could reach out and touch them with ease. It happened late at night and only in the shroud of darkness. Your head would either be too busy or too slow, as if the overbearing presence of thoughts or their complete absence somehow created a tunnel to your most shameful yet needful desires. Though you wouldn't like to admit it, at these moments you find yourself pining for him. And then you feel those feelings, the ones that you don't really understand but you're too embarrassed to even type the words into the search bar and figure out what's going on so you just deal with them. And then you spend the night lying in your bed, tossing and turning to your memories of Jeongin, wondering what he would be like if he were here with you now. 

Fuck. You need a boyfriend, or to at least get laid.

Yeah. You're inexperienced, but you know the basics. At least, you think you do. When it comes to Jeongin, all logic gets thrown out the window. You often find yourself wondering what you actually want to do with him: to kill him or… God, you couldn’t even think of the filthy things you wanted him to do to you. Maybe it was because you were too embarrassed to think such things, or maybe it was because you truly didn’t know what to think. Despite acing AP biology and understanding how everything physiologically works, your lack of experience has made you rather ill-equipped when it comes to anything romantic or "alleviating" those feelings you have when you think about Jeongin. Either way, your mind was blank when it came to him, especially those feelings that make you toss and turn and pray that weird giddy feeling goes away.

Now, after four years, you can practically taste your liberation from him. However, it's becoming increasingly difficult to ignore his teases. Not only is he becoming more annoying by the second, but it also seems like he is just getting fucking hotter. Especially when he magically starts paying attention in class and you finally have a chance to stare at him uninhibited, as if being free from his constant attention finally gives you a chance to admire him. It looks like you are staring off into space, but really you are studying him. His pretty face, how good he would look if he cleaned himself up a bit more, or even admitting to yourself how good he looks all scruffy. You would study his body, how slender he is, how you want to feed him good desserts, how you think he would be the type of boyfriend to never resist eating his partner's food. Then you would acknowledge how he keeps his nail beds clean. How nice his hands are, overall. How nice they would be to hold. How big they are, how veiny... how that insinuates he is big and veiny in other places. 

...Okay, so you weren't completely out of the dating sphere. You were naive, but you knew how everything worked. However, you also knew that there was more than just strange feelings and vaginal penetration and orgasms and pregnancy and yada yada yada: there was more beyond sex than just sex. But, of course, you never worked up the courage to simply type lewd searches into Google or bother to ask any of your friends about it. Except for the hand thing, which is just that: a hand thing. A thing you have for hands, Jeognin’s hands, and yeah. Just a hand thing. Nothing else. Yeah.

Anyways, you remained—more or less—in the dark about sex. Though you would like to know more, you know that you've only felt certain feelings towards Jeongin, and only him, of all people. For any logical person, it is better to bury those feelings deep inside than let yourself accept that they are awoken by a ghastly man who cares little for you or your well-being.

You'd rather stick to your studies, anyways.

Today, however, was a particularly irritating day. Normally, Jeongin enjoyed following you around, jeering rude chants at you with his friends (your favourite was the classic and unoriginal "Hey four-eyes!" followed by a chorus of giggles), or trying to wrap his arm around you as you walked down the hall. Every time, you brushed him off.  However, Jeongin's irritability was off the charts since he decided that today was the day to dress in a particularly irritating fashion. He had completely disregarded his school uniform altogether. Why did this of all things make you mad, exactly? Because he looked fucking amazing.

Wrinkled white shirt. Loose tie. And sweatpants. Not just any sweatpants, but grey sweatpants. God, it was like he was trying to annoy you. How could he look so good while wearing something so informal? He was borderline infuriating in his presence alone, now you had to cope with how his sweatpants left little to the imagination. Though you wished that someone would put a stop to this reign of terror, you knew that the school administration had completely given up trying to control him at this point. This institution had become Jeongin's domain and you were intended to suffer through it as well as your rage-based attraction to him. Nevertheless, you pushed those feelings below your impermeable layer of school-related anxiety and ignored them. You found this trick especially useful to you when he was your lab partner in chemistry last year. It is an especially useful tool now considering you were seated across from him.

While you tried to keep your eyes focused on the board in front of you and not on the hunk of the man to your left, the task immediately became easier once your teacher announced the first big project of the semester.

"This project will weigh at around 20% of your grade and will replace this module's exam." Sighs of relief passed through the class in waves, the whole class happy to know that they just have to make a powerpoint rather than study all night for a written test that they would likely fail. Peace, however, was momentary.  

"However,” your teacher continued, “since this project is a large amount of work, it will be done in groups of two." You gave a quick smile to your friend and desk partner to your right, who smiled back.

"The groups, however, have been randomly assigned." Your faces both dropped. Actually, everyone stopped smiling. Then, waves of groans moved through the class.

"Stop complaining," the teacher sighed, rubbing her eyes. "To create a conducive learning environment that limits your amount of fun, I randomly assigned each of you to someone in the class who you likely do not talk to. I will post the partners at the end of class and I suggest that you start working on the project ASAP and throughout the weekend because it's due in a week." Another wave of groans rolled through the class and was immediately followed by complaints, questions, exasperated sighs, and a particularly harsh exhale from you. You hated assigned group projects. Due to your reputation, you were usually expected to carry the project along with whoever you were assigned. You never really minded the work as long as you got to choose your partner. Essentially, if the partner was your friend, you would happily and easily do all the work. But now that the teacher has “randomly selected” your partners (she surely just put them through a random assigning program), you felt your blood boil. Jeongin, however, was surely silently rejoicing at the announcement of a group-based project: it meant that he could coast by like he normally did in group projects.

The rest of the class drudged on with great exhaustion. Everyone loathed the prospect of seeing who they were paired up with at the end of it. The worst thing was that it was the Friday of a long weekend. School was meant to be the last thing on anyone's mind until Tuesday came around. You all should have been blessed with the freedom of three days off and whatever it entailed: drinking, parties, staying out late, suspicious excuses given to your guardians, small friend groups loitering at the park at night, getting high then going to the 7/11, and hangovers that you thought were terrible but would seem like small headaches when you're 22 and trying to keep up with college-level drinking. This was what the weekend was for. However, this teacher obviously loved to ruin everyone's time and force them to study and work on this project. 

With the final bell, the teacher headed out first followed by a mass of same-dressed students who were eager to see the possible stranger that they would be paired with. Jeongin left first, keen to leave but also being able to leave easily as he had brought nothing to class. After a few minutes, you and your friend followed behind the crowd, watching the mass of students as they shoved to look at the list of partners on the corkboard. Some sulked away, others jeered as they had been blessed with the partnership of a friend. Jeongin was one of the first to walk away, smiling smugly and playfully shoving his friend as they sat idly by, waiting for their partners to come to them.

After a few minutes of struggle, you and your friend finally made your way to the list.

"Who'd you get?" You ask as she studies the list first.

"That kid that sits behind us," she says.

"Oh, that's good! His name is Seungmin, he’s sweet."

"Yeah, but..." her voice trailed off.

"But... what?" You inquired, her voice making you uneasy. 

"You're gonna... your partner... just, see for yourself." She steps out of the way as your finger traces down the list to find your name.

And there it is. Next to your partners. And, frankly, you can do nothing but slowly turn and look at Jeongin leaning against the lockers behind you.

He gives you a small smile and raises his eyebrows.

"We'll meet at 5 in the library! I'll see you then!" He states with a twisted grin. With those few words said, he and his friend saunter off, leaving you dumbstruck with your friend praying for your well-being beside you.

“Y/n,” she asked with a soft touch to your arm, “are you okay?” You gave a stiff nod as you watched Jeongin walk away. 

God. Those fucking grey sweatpants look so good on him.

---

"You're lucky that you know the librarian well enough that we can be left alone here," Jeongin teased, looking up at the high ceilings and clearly impressed by them. His arms hung low as he carried the stack of books he had slowly accumulated in his arms. Well, you place them in his arms, he just took them because he didn’t really know what to look for or how to study or what this class was even about. 

You guessed by his expression (and from your past four years of being his victim) that Jeonging had probably never even set foot in the library. In fact, he had little to no intention of doing so for his whole high school career. Yet, thanks to you, here he was.

"I don't 'know the librarian,'" you groaned. "I volunteer here. Some of us need extracurriculars on our university applications. I just have the privilege of going here enough that I get an extra key to help lock up." You placed the book you were carrying on the wooden table and Jeonin copied your action, dropping the stack of texts with a sigh.

“In other words,” Jeongin taunted, “you know the librarian well enough to come here after hours”. You shot him a look before turning to the mess of textbooks and binders in front of you.

"We wouldn't be alone after-hours if we had just started immediately after class," you stated angrily as you sorted the books into piles for you and him. "But somebody had to go smoke with his friends outside, so now we've had to come after hours to study."

"Just know that it was a really good smoke break," Jeongin replied with glee as you divided up his and your reading materials, placing the books with a hidden rage that only came from years of bullying or sexual frustration. Or, in your case, a horrid cocktail of both. After you were done, you took a seat on one side of the table and gestured for him to sit opposite you. He got the hint and sat, immediately flipping through his books and shuffling them around, not even trying to look busy. 

"All I know is that we're here, alone, with no one else around and that I could trash this place if I wanted,” he continued with an air of cockiness you wanted to destroy.

At this point, you were really starting to regret everything that has ever happened to you. Sure, having a key to the school's immense library was a bonus of being a diligent student: you knew you could always escape here and it was entrusted in your care. Many times you had retreated to this place in the hopes of peace and quiet from the troubles of school. It was your sanctuary.

Now, an early library closing, a nicotine addiction, and a late study session had forced you to bring him here.

"I know you won't do that,” you shot back, “and I also know that I could just lock you in here if I wanted for the whole weekend.” Your response made his eyes go wide with what seemed to be shock and worry. However, when a smile broke out on his face, you knew that he thought your threats were empty. 

"You're fun!" He cheered. 

"I will lock you in here, Jeongin." You restated in a serious tone which he didn't seem to take as seriously. "Now,” you continued, “get started on studying. We have a lot to do and I have no intention of doing it alone. You need to look through the blue book. Read sections 2 to 4 and take notes on anything related to the assignment. Check the study questions, too: there could be info in the answers that could help us out."

"I hate that you're making me work," he complained in an obnoxious tone that could only be embodied by a teenage boy who had never been put in his place. "Normally I do nothing and the person just lugs me along."

"Well, I'm tired of carrying group projects, so you have to carry your own weight," you sighed. "Now. Start studying."

Jeongin gave you an eye roll before quietly retreating to his book. The silence quickly engulfed the library and you flipped through your book, looking at where to begin and fearing how much you had to tackle. 

Although this was a less-than-ideal situation, it did have its perks. To be honest, you never knew Jeongin could be quiet. It was nice to take quick glances at him while he studied, his face contorted as he analyzed the text and focused on his work. Just these few moments of silence seemed to give you hope. Maybe you could make the best of a bad situation. Maybe you could use this time to make Jeongin shut up for a few seconds and let you study his handsome face before being rudely disrupted by whatever dribble he decided to shoot out. Maybe this partnering was a blessing in disguise.

Your hopes were ruined as the silence was broken.

"God!" Jeongin groaned, leaning far back in his chair. "This is so borringgggggg!" Your annoyance immediately returned to your body. He was hot, but god did he like to pester you.

"Please, Jeongin, read the passages, I beg of you," you groaned as you looked through the books to find out the sections you were meant to study.

"Ughhhh..." he sighed. Suddenly, he loudly arose, chair screeching back as he picked up his books.

"What are you doing?" You asked, annoyed and barely looking up from the books you were still sorting through.

"I'm moving next to you," he responded as he waddled towards you, moving like a child who was purposefully aggravating a parent just for the fun of it. 

"Please, God, tell me why," you groaned.

"Because I'm lost!" He sighed, "I'm gonna sit by you because I hate being this far away and this lost at the same time. You have to help me Y/N if you're gonna make me carry my weight on this project."

As he slid himself and his books beside you, you prayed to every God you knew of—Jesus, Demeter, Allah, YHWH—that you would be vaporized then and there.

There was no escaping this irritation. Normally, you'd parry any advancements Jeongin made. Oftentimes, you would even take a different path home or avoid certain wings of the school altogether just to get away from him. To be clear, Jeongin didn’t actually frighten you. You weren't scared of Jeongin, you were just horribly, dreadfully annoyed with him. 

However, today was not a normal situation. There was no avoiding him: you were stuck with this fucking idiot on a group project with no hope of deflecting his pokes or prods.

"Oh, wait, before you start reading you should fix your glasses. They’re falling." He mumbles, "lemme… lemme just..." he then placed his pointer fingers on the center of your lens and pushed them up, readjusting the frames but dirtying your eyesight in the process. You shot him an angry look as he giggled, hating the smudge on the glass.

"If you must know," you seethed as you wiped your glasses off and placed them beside you, "I never wear them to read and study—two activities I still hope to do, despite your presence."

"Ah!" Jeongin dramatically fell back on his chair and grasped his heart as if he had just been shot straight through it. "Words hurt, y/n! I can't believe you would say such things to me! How dare you suggest I distract you!" He cried with a great fabricated sentiment.

Again, you rolled your eyes at his giggles and flirtatious fucking smile that made him look so damn dreamy that it made you want to punch a wall.

"Jeongin, please let me get back to studying."

"Call me 'Innie,'" he responded coolly.

You let a beat pass as you tried to process what he just said.

"...What?!" You hissed at him. That certainly got your attention.

"Call... me... 'Innie.'" His smile widened and he leaned forward, his face inches from yours and moving closer as he enunciated each syllable with mischief. 

Part of you wanted to push him away. You wanted to leave the library, march straight home, and write a strongly worded email to your teacher telling her that, despite her requirements, you desperately wanted to complete the assignment by yourself.

The other part of yourself, however...

Shamefully, that part wanted him to lean in closer. It enjoyed his playful smile and tone, and thought about how wonderful it was that you two were together, alone, uninterrupted. It thought about all you could do behind closed doors. It thought about things that made you anxious and confused and, frankly, made you want to turn your brain off.

So, you agreed with the former part.

"Jeongin," you stressed, leaning back. "Please go back to studying. I don't have time to play your silly name games." His exaggerated groan to your response almost made you crack a smile. Almost.

"Come onnnnnn, Y/n!" He wailed, voice echoing throughout the archives. "You don't even have to say it in public! Please! Only once!" Suddenly, he leaned in again and his face was now mere centimetres from yours. His voice was hushed and his eyes had a strange look in them, something that was serious and tempting. It seemed like he was trying to be playfully urgent in his words, but his voice made each syllable come across as languid, as if he were edging you on, almost daring you to obey him.

 "Just say it to me. Now, in private,” he pleaded.

Uh oh. That part of your brain that you tried to ignore was coming at you with a vengeance. You hardly noticed that your cheeks were starting to burn. Gathering all control, you tried to put an end to this foolishness. 

"We won't ever be alone together after next week,” you replied calmly. 

"What... what makes you say that?" He asked with a discouraged curiosity.

"Well... I can't imagine you'd want to hang out after this... after all..." you trailed off.

"After all...? What?" He continued, "After all 'I'm the smartest person in the district and intend to graduate top of the class so I don’t have time to hang out and do scumbag shit with my bestie Innie?"

Okay. Maybe Jeongin actually could humour you. After all, that impression is spot on. The blush on your cheeks had cooled now, but you had not noticed: your mind was too busy malfunctioning over the fact that you were smiling at something Yang Jeongin said to you. Jeongin had genuinely brought a smile to your face, and he seemed to notice, too.

"Woah! There's your smile!" Jeongin jeered, "I've been trying to get you to smile for like three or four years! 'Bout time!"

And just like that, your smile had disappeared without a trace. Your facial muscles even relaxed immediately, feeling no lingering strain from the act. How dare a fucking man tell you to smile, and to try and say that he has been wanting you to do so for four fucking years after bullying you for those same four goddamn years?! You felt like your chest would explode.

"What?! Where did it go?!" Jeongin whined, defeated and pouty because of it. "Pleeasseeeeeee smile again, y/n! You look so adorable when you do! I mean, you always do, but your smile! And I know you need your glasses and you look so cute with them, but I can finally see your whole face without them! Come oonnnnnnnnnn! Smileeeeeeee!!!"

Woah. Okay. Those words had sent that stupid, gullible, optimistic part of your brain into a frenzy. However, you clenched your jaw and kept a steady breath. You couldn’t let yourself get carried away as you knew it was all just a game to him. Everything was a game to him.

If Jeongin was telling the truth and that he thought you were “cute” or “always looked adorable”, you would have truly allowed yourself to believe his words. You would have beamed knowing that he thought it was beautiful if you did or didn’t smile, unable to hold back a response to his affection. If he was telling the truth, you were even ready to blush, beg, plead, flirt—whatever it took to keep him talking about how pretty you looked.

Yet, you are a pessimist, through and through.  Before your imagination could run off with the idea that Jeongin’s words were honest and genuine, your heart twined knowing that whatever he was saying was likely far from the truth. What Jeongin said was likely rooted in some foolish, mean-spirited, and twisted way of teasing you. He always did something like this after annoying you: poke the bear then tell it how lovely it looks before it has the chance to chase him down. It was just like those boys in junior high who would yell across the class claiming that “his friend liked you" while the very same friend made disgusted faces. The boys would laugh then, as if the very idea of loving you was a joke. The girls, however, would share a solemn silence, a solidarity only experienced by the victims of female adolescence and the macabre.  A

After all these experiences, you knew two things: boys were assholes and they were bullies. And Jeongin was part of them. 

So, at this moment, you felt dizzy from the sheer humiliation of his words and your  bubbling hatred. You couldn’t believe that Jeongin had the audacity to tease you like this, to say you were pretty when you knew that he had nothing positive to say about you. Saying such sweet things to you with nothing but ill intent behind them made you want to tackle him. Fuck his good looks or his conceited yet insanely attractive attitude. 

So, instead of letting yourself be hopeful and toy with the idea that he may actually be saying a nice thing, you did what you did every time: move past it and try to suppress your anger.

Clearing your throat, you returned to your book.

"Affection and coquetry won't work on me, Jeongin," you stated, eyes burning into the pages to try and ward off the pain in your stomach from his words. 

"Oh, really?" 

God. When will he learn to give up?! He leaned playfully on his hand and swiftly placed his elbow on the table, simultaneously and seamlessly nudging your book out of the way with a coy smile. The act made you huff through your nostrils and dignify his presence with a glare. He didn’t even register the pain his words had caused you. 

"They won't," you respond emotionlessly. All your emotions, however, became quite clear as you pushed your book back to its rightful place and shoved his elbow out of the way in the process, making him hiss from the pain. "And I doubt anything you do to me would count as flirtation."

Jeongin's sour face from the ache in his arm quickly changed to a wide-eyed, agape look. Oh no. The face of mischievous curiosity.

"I take that as a challenge!" He boomed.

"Oh, God, please smite me now," you mumbled, anxiety and rage rising. 

"I just gotta figure out what you like about me and just really capitalize on it," he pondered aloud.

Well. That statement made you scoff.

"I like nothing about you," you dryly stated.

“Oh, come on!” He responds, hoping your words were of off-beat humour rather than born from frankness. Your annoyance was boiling over, unable to contain it.

“No, it’s true,” you stated with malice. “You tease me about my looks and try to make me feel pretty just to tear me down. It’s honestly sickening and, frankly, after four years, it’s kind of unoriginal, Jeongin.”

“Y/n, what?”

There was no humour in your voice in the next words you spoke, no inkling that what you said could be taken lightly. You had let yourself speak freely and felt the burn of horrid words as they dripped from your tongue. 

 “In fact, I would say I’d rather hate you. Extremely so.” 

Silence engulfed the room. Not even the squeak of the chair as Jeongin shifted could be heard. You glanced up at the boy beside you. Jeongin was still and silent: two things he never was.

"...What?" you asked, your words met with no response but the cold echoes of the library. 

“Y/n, how could you say that?” His voice almost cracked as he asked the question. You glanced up at him and caught his eyes. They were glassy, empty.

Oh no.

Oh no... that dreadful empathy inside of you made your heart ache and your stomach churn. How could you feel so horrible after saying one mean thing when he's been nothing but disrespectful to you for four years?!

"I, umm... I—I mean" you tried to defend yourself without seeming like an asshole, which was becoming increasingly difficult as your mind raced to fill the space. However, you realized you had nothing positive to say at all. “Ah, fuck it,” you whispered under your breath. “Jeongin, be serious. Why would I like anything about you when you are nothing but mean to me?"

"Mean to you?!" He spat back, breaking from his hurt trance and turning to anger, simultaneously exacerbating your rage. "When have I ever—!" 

"You've been mean since the moment we met!” You shot back, “"You taunt me, tease me, and even follow me when we run into each other. It is hard enough dealing with academic stress, then I'm paired with the bully that makes my life a living hell and—"

"Bully?" He repeated with some distaste in his mouth and a saddened look on his face. "Is that what I am to you!?"

"What else would I call someone who's followed me every day for four years and has done nothing but jeer at me with his friends?! It is hard enough wanting to please everyone and excelling at school despite what I tell myself. But then I get some guy harassing me every day like it's his fucking day job. What else would I call him if not a 'bully'?! What, Jeongin, what?!"

The library walls repelled your voices again and let its old age absorb the hateful things you spat at each other. Slowly, the sound waves dissipated and silence consumed the wooden room. As the quiet settled, Jeongin let a beat pass, nothing to be said as he, too, let your words sink in.

"I... I just wanted..." His voice was hard, stern at first. Then, he sighed, cleared his throat and darted his eyes away, tone changing to a nervous and humble one. "I just… I'm sorry, y/n. Please know that, okay? I never meant for it to be like that or to go this far or even in this direction. Please know that."

The library had never seemed so unsettling to you until this moment.

Your mind dissected his words, prodding them and pulling them apart and trying to find if he was being malicious. Strangely enough, his words seemed... genuine. 

Great. This meant two things: 1) that he was genuinely sorry after bullying you for four years, and 2) that, if you wanted to be the bigger person, you had to accept it. Worst of all, your brain came up with the perfect way to accept his apology and also humble yourself, and you really hated how perfect it was and how humiliating it would be. Sometimes, your really fucking hated how your brain worked.

"Innie,” you said softly, “Thank you.” 

Jeongin's eyes went wide, so wide you swore they would pop out. The gasp that followed made you believe that he would consume all the air in the room. 

"Say—say it again!" He stammered out excitedly.

"No," you replied as you cracked a small smile. "Take it as a peace offering. I, the person who spoke so ill of you, am extending an olive branch to you, the man who has wronged me."

"I understand so little of that metaphor but just know that I'm happy," he smiled. You rolled your eyes at his idiocy and smiled.

However, before you could conclude the discussion and finally, finally, finally, return to your book, Jeongin raised his hand in a half heart.

Hand. Jeongin's hand.

"What... what are you doing?" You mumbled out, studying his digits.

Pretty, big hand.

Fuck. Not these thoughts. Not now.

"C'mon, y/n! I'm making a heart for you to finish! As a peace offering or a tree branch or whatever you want to call it! Like this, yeah?" He demonstrated by making the shape with both hands, making a complete heart and showing it to you with a boyish grin.

Big, soft, veiny hands.

"Uh, y-yeah, Jeongin," your hand was shaking as you raised it to his own. Fuck, they were even bigger in comparison to yours. 

Hands. Hold. Touch. Big and veiny and... big...God, what well is big?

That fucking part of your mind needs to shut the fuck up before you lobotomize yourself with a #2 pencil. Luckily Jeongin’s giggles as your hands briefly met to form a heart between the two of you snapped you away from such thoughts.

"Guess we're friends now, huh?" You muttered, trying to distract your perverted inner monologue.

"Aw, y/n!!!" He boyishly cheered. His impish smile was contrasted by his low chuckle. However, your own joy was challenged when Jeongin quickly interlaced your fingers in his.

Oh no. 

My tiny hand in his.

"Wait, your hands are so small!"

So big... so big compared to me... so soft, so warm...

"Y-yeah, I've heard that before."

"They’re so adorable! My hands look so big compared to yours, yeah?" His other hand lightly traced your wrist before grabbing it and forcing you to spread your fingers to compare hand sizes.

So, so big. Could barely wrap my hand around him. Could barely wrap my hand around his—

“Wow you’re right,” you responded nervously. 

You started to feel that strange feeling, the one you only experienced in solitude in the dead of night, not sitting across from a man who may or may not be your bully anymore and is using you like a plaything. God, why did that thought make these feelings even stronger? You crossed your legs and hoped to squash the voice in your head.

"Like woah! I knew my hands were big but this is crazy!"

Don’t say it, don’t say it, don’t say it—

"Do you have anything else that’s big that I should know about?"

...oh fuck.

This library has gone through too many auditory extremes today. You know that this has got to be the loudest goddamn silence you have ever or will ever experience in your life. Both of your eyes were wide, your stare locked in with his as you sat engulfed in shock.

For the first time today, you felt just how hot your face was.

It felt like an eternity was passing within these seconds of horrifying, dreadful awkwardness. You prayed that once you would finally blink that he just be gone. Sadly, he still sat there, face unchanging and unforgiving.

His hands still held your own.

Breaking the silence, he let out the driest of coughs.

"Well, it's—"

"I-I'm sorry," you stuttered out. "I didn't mean to—"

"It's—It's no worries, truly," he stammered over. The silence came again, but less horrendous this time. Or maybe it was worse, you couldn't decide. All you noticed was the fact that his hand still hadn't left yours. 

Jeongin decided to speak again, quieter this time. His eyes were wide, but glancing around frantically, trying to search for the right words. A harsh blush was forming down his ears and hard turned his honeyed skin into a scarlet red. You were strangely comforted knowing that he was just as mortified as you.

"I-It's wrong you know." He hesitated to continue. You, however, were all ears.

"Jeongin," you said slowly, "whatever do you mean?" He sighed, embarrassment consuming him.

"My friends looked it up and... apparently nose length is a more accurate measure.... but... you know..." Though you were fascinated to learn about this new little tidbit of info and that Jeongin actually knew something, you were way too focused on what he wanted to say.

"But what?" you asked in a small voice. His palm was sweating against yours as heat radiated from him.

"Well, just that.. you know... it's not like a rule. There are exceptions. It's just like a theory, yeah?" You nodded, glad to understand what he meant by that. Yet, you swore, that as he finally dropped his hand, exposing your skin to the bitter air of the dusty library, Jeongin uttered a brief  "I should know." Though you wanted to poke and prod, you opted to just nod and turned with him towards the table, staring at the stack of unread books. 

“Anyways…” you said, breaking the silence, “let’s get started.” Still, you couldn't help but sneak quick looks at Jeongin's face, trying to decide whether or not his nose was longer or shorter than average.

This had to be your least productive and positively worst study session ever. 

"What section do I have to read again?" Jeongin asked.

Oh, thank God he said that. You much preferred harassing him about not paying attention than whatever the hell you just experienced.

"I told you," you sighed, flipping open his book and pointing at the contents. "These sections! 2 to 4! Please! Start!"

"But what if I get borreedddddd?" Jeongin groaned. There he was! There’s the annoying Jeongin you know. "I can barely see what you pointed at anyways! Can’t you just help me out?"

"Ohmygod," you muttered, tired but willing to do anything if it meant he shut up and study. "If I were to help you for a bit, do you swear to properly study and leave me alone after?"

"Pinky promise!" He smiled gleefully and stuck out his extended, large pinky finger. After staring blankly at the digit, you linked your smaller pinky around his and slung your head in defeat.

"Okay," you muttered. "Let's begin."

For a bit, this plan worked perfectly. After only 20 minutes, you read through section 2 together and helped point out the more important parts of the text. The 20 minutes were difficult, however. Being this close to him, being able to smell his cologne—which was nice and smelled expensive, contrasting his scruffiness—and brushed shoulders with him was almost too much. Wow. You really were touched starved. Nevertheless, your own lameness was virtually undetectable to you. You were more focused on how well Jeongin retained the information and how neat his words were. You guessed that his utter stupidity was most likely due to his inability to focus, which was still a struggle even as you helped him. Nevertheless, as you began section 3 and were about to return to your own work, you knew that he had already come a long—

"HOW LONG HAVE WE BEEN DOING THIS?" Jeongin cried.

Ah. There he is.

"Just a little more, Jeongin, okay? Please, just be bearable. I have my own work to do," you whined, stomping your feet from exhaustion. Even when he was trying to be polite, he still knew how to get on every one of your nerves.

"Can you please just keep helping me? Just this section and then I swear you can get back to your work?" He pouted. Was... was giving you puppy dog eyes?

You sighed. Again, defeated.

"Yeah, sure," you replied, "let's start here—"

"Y/n?" He interrupted. You rolled your eyes.

"Yes?" He let your snark reply hang before smirking.

"Come closer," he nudged playfully with a smile you would almost consider flirtatious if you hadn't been constantly reminded about his disobedient behaviour for the past hour.

"Why?" You asked genuinely.

"You're squinting! You said don't read with your glasses on but it's straining your eyes! Just..." he thought for a moment, glancing around. "Ugh, whatever! Here—"

Unexpectedly, his hands found their way around your body, slinking under your legs and around your back, sliding under your thighs and brushing the exposed skin.

"Jeongin! I can just put my glasses on—" you blabbered out nervously as he continued to lift you.

"Just come here, fuck!" He shot back, finally raising you from your chair and sliding you onto his lap.

"Jeongin!" You yelped.

Normally, anytime someone picked you up made you want to scream. This, however, this made you want to die.

As if by some magical swiftness, you had now found yourself sitting on Jeongin. Well, not on him. Just between his legs. His long legs were spread out, your thick thighs barely fitting onto the chair as he caged you. And he hadn't remembered to tuck your skirt in when you sat down, so now it splayed open. It had ridden up, exposing everything but your white cotton panties, and was surely flipped onto Jeongin's pants at the back. You just prayed he couldn't see anything. However, he probably couldn't considering how close he was. Worst of all, he kept you close by resting his hands on your hips, making sure you sat still. The pads of his long fingers held your tummy softly, dipping into the fat as his thumbs rubbed slowly up your lower back.

You swore you had never felt so warm in your life. As you broke out in a sweat, you feared that his wolfishly big hands were paired with a keen sense of smell.

"There!" He giggled, resting his chin on your shoulder and leaning his head against yours, studying the book with intentness that starkly contrasted the intimacy of how he held you. "Now you can see well!"

You opened and closed your mouth a few times trying to find something to say. Though his completely nonchalant demeanour was to be expected, you were still shocked but the literal position you were in. Not to mention the way his thumbs slowly drew circles on you while his hands shifted to hold your stomach. Your stomach for godsakes. How does he know exactly where to hold you to make you feel so secure and so goddamn embarrassed at the same time?! You pressed your thighs tightly together, trying to smother the weird feeling building between them that you tried so desperately to avoid. While you squished them your legs, your thighs were simultaneously crushed on either side by Jeongin's own, which were incredibly muscular: a feature you had never noticed until you were stuck between them.

"How..." you asked, "How did you do that? Aren't I heavy?"

"Am I complaining?" He asked back, a smirk in his voice. He wrapped his arms around your waist now, tugging you closer and pressing his chest fully into your back. "If you were ‘too heavy’, you wouldn't be sitting here right now, hm?”

"I-I suppose..." You start, not knowing what to say next.

"Now," he sighed with an air of exaggerated contentment, "if you want to finish this project sOooOOoo bad, then help me study!" God, how could he have you in the palm of his hand— literally— and still manage to pester you?!

"O-okay," you stuttered unsurely. "Well, let's start here and—"

"Mhm," Jeongin hummed, still massaging your fupa lightly and pressing his chest firmly against your back. You tried to burn a hole into the bookk—a feeble attempt at trying to distract yourself.

"A-as you can see," you coughed, "this section is more about analyzing the um..."—one of his hands started to rub lower—"the events t-talked about in the previous section a-and"—the other starts moving up, ghosting over your chest and playing with the top button of your shirt, leaving your tie untouched despite how you desperately wanted to loosen it—"t-trying to c-contextualize the previous section and… p-provide some background and… umm…."

"Gosh, y/n," Jeongin chuckled as his fingers rubbed the column of buttons, "I thought you were such a good student, but you seem so distracted. It's funny really."

Maybe he’s just distracted, you tell yourself, trying to reason what in the hell was going on. After all, he can barely sit still in class and often toyed with loose hems or drew on the margins of his papers. Therefore, it was perfectly reasonable to assume that he was just doing the same now: toying with your uniform as a means of distraction. He always played with you anyways, so it was safe to assume that it was some attention deficit that caused him to trifle with you. That's all it was. Or, at least, you prayed that would be the truth. As his hand fiddled with your skirt’s hemline and the other began loosening your tie, you were just hoping that this was all some absent-minded game for him. If that were the truth, then hopefully this dreadful pressure from between your thighs would disappear. It was building with every second and your panties were now so tight, so straggling, and so wet, latching onto your folds and aiding in your growing shyness.

"J-Jeongin," you began, "c-can you—"

"Innie, please, y/n," he teased in a low voice against your ear. "To you, it's Innie." Though you wanted to scream at him for uttering that petname again, you decided to push your pride aside. You needed him to stop, and you needed to utilize every tool in your arsenal to do so.

"I-innie," you stuttered out, shivering from the warmth that lingered on your ear from his breathy voice. "Can you please stop... you know... t-touching me?"

Again, Jeongin laughed. But, this time, it was drier, with less playfulness behind it and less mercy.

"Aw, y/n," he whispered into your ear, causing you to squirm a little, "I thought we were just having fun. Are you really getting all worked up over a few little touches? I thought you would like it more, you know, considering it's my big hands doing it." His last words were strongly enunciated by his hand tugging on your tie to gain access to your collar buttons. He started to play with them as you huffed, undoing them teasingly.

You were fuming at his words, knowing that: 1) he was just doing this because—at his core—Jeongin was just a fucking asshole, and 2) he was, sadly, correct. Still, you were determined to not let him know that he was right. Knowing him in the way you do, you couldn't let him take this victory

"I-is that really what this is about? Are you really hanging on to that! I had a lapse of judgment f-for one second and—" another button was undone and he began working on the next. After this next button, your bra chest would be exposed. It was only covered by an ill-fitting bra and you silently cursed your frugal self for not investing in better undergarments. Still, you continued. You had to. "I-I just fucking hate that you'd bring it up again! You just love to make fun of me d-don't you?! God, Jeongin, it is so typical of you to t-tease me like this and—Ah!" 

The sound of clattering buttons across mahogany and the sudden exposure to air frightened you. Jeongin, however, didn't seem to mind.

"I told you," he stated in a voice you had never heard him use before. "It's 'Innie'. Yes?"

Clearly, he had gotten sick and tired of you talking. He just wanted you to finally be quiet, much like how you wanted him to do the same. To accomplish this, his hands found the opening of your shirt and ripped the fabric open, scattering the last of your buttons, ruffling your shirt, and exposing your chest to him. In exposing you, Jeongin gained the upper hand. It was obvious that all pride, all power you had disappeared. However, his action had also done something else: the sensation you tried so desperately to conceal was making you hopelessly needy. You unconsciously began to twist your hips, rubbing your thighs together in hopes of eliminating the feeling.

The book in front of you was long forgotten.

"Yes..." you replied back in a small voice. "Yes, Innie. S-sorry." You could almost feel Jeongin smile behind you, but, if you truly could, you didn't notice due to his hands returning to their place on your collarbone and stomach. His fingers now languidly traced your clavicle while the other massaged your tummy, fingertips slowly digging into your skirt and pulling out the parts of your shirt that were still tucked in. 

"What a good baby," he chuckled, paying no mind to the nickname, though it made you redder than blood. "So fucking horny and no way to ask it. Such a fucking pervert. I bet you wanted this, didn’t you? You're even rutting back into me. Trying to get me worked up, hm?"

"No," you gasped with deep embarrassment, "never!"

"Tut tut, y/n," he tsked. "I know you're up to something."

"If anyone is up to something, it's you!" You protested. Your exclamations only made Jeongin laugh.

"Now, now," he giggled, "you wouldn't want anyone—say, a janitor or a lingering teacher—to hear us and come in? Wouldn't it be bad to see their star pupil being fondled by the school delinquent? Wouldn’t it be bad for them to notice that you liked it?"

Fuck. He knew how to shut you up. You turned your head to catch his gaze, shame and that peculiar feeling spreading all over your body into a delightful mix that only exacerbated your guilt. He knew he had you.

"That's what I thought," he laughed. "Now—"

Quickly, his hands moved toward your chest, dragged your bra down, and began to pinch your nipples, massaging your breasts and causing you to moan. Your hips increased their shallow rolls in an attempt to alleviate the pain. As you did, you felt what you could only suspect to be Jeongin's growing erection pressing into your ass. He definitely hiked up your skirt sometime before and was enjoying the sight of his clothed cock rubbing against your panty-clad behind.

"Innie! W-what are you—?"

"Oh, baby," he laughed and he rolled your buds between his fingers, making you whimper, "You say I'm distracting you from studying, but now your acting like such a little slut from only a few touches. You're so sensitive. I swear, you could be a virgin, hm?"

You dared not respond, only offering him a shy look as he continued to rub your chest.

"Oh," he giggled, "oh, of course you are. My sweet little goody-two-shoes hasn't had anyone touch her pussy yet, hm? My little virgin baby, yeah?"

"P-pussy?" you repeated, knowing that the word was dirty from the way it left a delictable taste in your mouth.

Jeongin mused, "My my, you are inexperienced." He let out a laugh that brought tears to your eyes, though it wouldn't be the first time he had made you cry. You were so frustrated and felt so strange and your panties were so wet and surely see-through and fuck! While your mind raged. Jeongin let one of his hands slip down your body and down your stomach, moving his other hand to grope the tit it had abandoned.

"Your pussy," Jeongin continued, ignoring your squirms and internal war, "is this right here."

Everything clicked as his fingers rubbed the damp white cotton into your pussy, rubbing up and down your folds with his middle and ring finger, slowly stopping to rub your clit and make your head spin. You glanced down, noticing how large his digits were and wondered how much he could stuff inside of you.

"Such an innocent fuck toy, never been used," he rambled, tongue licking the conch of your ear and making you whimper.

"J-Jeongin—I mean, Innie," you corrected. You could tell he was pleased by the way he hummed into your ears while he nibbled on the lobe, an action that should not make you want to moan as much as it should. "P-please stop touching me, it isn't appropriate.”

"But I thought I was helping you study, y/n," he pouted in a pouty tone, fingers never ceasing their motions. "Isn't this keeping me distracted? Isn't this helping you study? I need something to fiddle with, and you’re the perfect fucking stress toy for me." A particularly harsh rub into your panties and a tight grasp on your chest made you yelp. "Aren't you liking this, y/n? Liking me touching your soaking cunt? Fuck, you even soaked through your panties, how pathetic. " He spoke humorously through gritted teeth. He returned to slowly groping you, kissing down your neck loudly and rubbing his erection into your backside. You felt like you were going to explode. 

"You are, aren’t you?" he panted as he rocked back and forth into you, drooling down your neck. "I thought you were a better student than this. I thought you were such a good girl who was put off by teasing. What did you call me again? A bully?" He said the word with joking vehemence; teasingly but backed by a viciousness that made you crumble. "Would a bully do nothing but defend you for four years? Would a bully beat up any fucking nerd who insulted your intelligence? Would a bully praise you and call you pretty only to be given the cold shoulder just ‘cause you didn’t believe it? Fuck, I wonder what the school board would think if they saw you like this, being fondled by a fucking bully." His words turned to mush in your head, your brain frenzying at his confession and his touches. 

"Jeongin, please, I didn’t know! P-please, I just thought you didn’t l-like me, Jeongin. I thought you were m-mean and—ah!"

Your pleas were cut short as Jeongin stood up and shoved you forward, bending you over the table as his chair loudly scraped. He ripped—literally, ripped off your shirt at the seams, the sound filling the room along with your cries, with your bra being pulled off next. You were left in nothing but your shirt and tie: Jeongin wanted you to be at least a little dressed up for him when he claimed you. He grabbed your hair by the root and pulled your head up, making you release a sound that was a mixture of a cry and moan. The pain was unbearable, but the suffering mostly came from the absence of Jeongin's hands on you. At this point, you had realized that this feeling was some disgusting, perverted form of horniness directed at a man you hated. It made you feel dirty and desperate. But, most importantly, it made you feel in dire need of relief.

"I told you, y/n," Jeongin growled in that angry voice which didn't suit your impression of him, "that isn't my name." He released your hair and let your head fall to the table.

"I'm—I'm sorry," you begged as he moved the discarded books out from under you and threw them off the table. "P-please don't do anything mean!"

Funny. It was really funny to see you beg for him. It made him chuckle dryly before he hung himself over your back, once again pressing his chest into you—which you could feel was bare, meaning he must’ve removed it in the midst of things, leaving him in only his sweats.

"Oh, my innocent little baby," Jeongin panted into your ear, "you will be sorry." Jeongin's playful and perverted voice was matched by his hands slowly tugging down your panties, an action that caused you to chant a mantra of "no's" as your pussy was exposed to the cold air. Eventually, he had gotten impatient and tore the fabric up, an act that made tears fall from your eyes.

"Aw, don't worry, y/n," Jeongin humoured after seeing your lip tremble when he returned on top of you, caging you in and rubbing his clothed cock into your exposed cunt. "I'll take such good care of you after you learn a little lesson, yeah? Don't you just love to learn knew things, you fucking inexperienced little know-it-all?" You squirmed under him, begging for more and praying that he would give it to you. Yet, it seemed that patience offered itself to Jeongin when it pleased, and now he seemed to have all the time in the world.

Slowly, he rose his body from yours and rested his hands on your ass, rubbing the flimsy skirt and toying with your fat.

"Such a dumb fucking little virgin," he groaned as he let your pussy dampen the front of his sweats, pressing his throbbing dick into your needy cunt and making you whine. "Needs to learn a lesson."

Swiftly, his hand pulled away and slapped your ass.

"Innie!" You cried from the feeling, tears continuing to fall as his hand reached up and spanked you again, filling the library with lewd sounds to accompany your moans and his grunts.

"Say my fucking name again," he whispered with venom as he continued to spank you, enjoying how your ass reddened with each hit.

"Innie, Innie! Please stop!" You sobbed, making him laugh.

"Just—a few—more," he stated, marking every few words with a repeated spank. His other hand toyed with your ass, enjoying the softness and how your untouched flesh contrasted the growing blush on the other cheek.

"Y-yes—fuck! Yes, Innie!" You whimpered.

"God, such a fast learner," he grunted, continuing. "Aren't I helping you study, now? What if I helped you study every day, yeah? Licked your little cunt every time you got an answer right and then spanked you when you get one wrong? Maybe that'll help with your studying. Do you want a study buddy, y/n? Hm? Do you?"

"Yes, fuck I do!" You sniffled in defeat. "Only Innie, only Innie can teach me. Please!"

Finally, after a loud and particularly harsh spank from Jeongin accompanied by a satisfied grunt, he decided that your study session was over. He settled his large hand on your ass and rubbed the scarlet skin to try and coax you back down. Your back rose and fell while your knees buckled from the torture he had just put you through. You let out a sharp hiss and every time Jeongin's hand lovingly fondled the abused flesh. Jeongin, however, was beyond elated and relished your pain. In another demonstration of his strength, he flipped your body over like a ragdoll and pushed you onto the table so your legs hung over the edge. He then slotted himself between his legs and greeted your puffy face with a broad grin.

"Such a good little student for Innie," he teased. Pushing into you further, he let his cock press against your soaking cunt and further drench his sweatpants in your juices. The warmth of your bares chests pressing together made you smile while the squish of your breasts made Jeongin rejoice in being able to indulge in the plumpness of your body. He placed a layer of kisses from your forehead down your face, licking away your tears and shushing your sniffles.

"Did I do good?" You sniffled. Jeongin held his body over yours, blocking the light above with his broad, bare shoulders. He looked down at you with a mixture of emotions behind his eyes which were hard to discern, but were surely good-natured, regardless of his previous actions.

"Of course, y/n," he hummed, "so good." He let his hands roam up and down your bare thighs to reassure you, coaxing a smile out of you.

"Really?" You asked with a lightness you didn't expect as you reached up to cradle his face

"Absolutely," he chuckled while only moving to lay his hand over yours. He leaned down again and resumed his trail of kisses down your neck towards your chest. Your hands helped pull him down to you. You played with his thick locks before trailing your fingers down his back muscles. 

"Such—a—smart—and—pretty—girl,” Jeongin cooed between every kiss to your chest. Each kiss between his words only increased your sense of pride and the neediness between your legs. The feelings only worsened when Jeongin finally attached his mouth to your nipple while he groped the other, suckling on you with a ferocity you didn't expect.

"F-fuck," you mewled as spit trickled down your chest.

"Are you ready to continue our lesson?" Jeongin asked while moving to suck on your other breast. 

"Yes, Innie" you purred as you arched your back to meet his mouth. “Always ready for you.”

He chuckled and continued to satisfy you a bit longer, caught up in your moans and almost forgetting the pain of his erection as it desperately kneaded your cunt. Despite your small protests, he finally pulled himself away. Smiling at your pouty expression, he sauntered backward and stared at your limp body before speaking. 

"Stand up."

It was embarrassing how fast you rose to the ground. You were only focused on following his orders, obeying him, needing more and fearing that you would get nothing if you were disobedient. You barely even noticed how naked you were until you felt the cool air meet your spit-covered tits. Yet, when you moved to cover yourself, you stopped when Jeongin gave a look that said “I am not afraid to bend you over my lap and spank you again.” He smiled when you let your arms drop to your sides.

"She's such a good girl," he muttered aloud, reaching out to pull you forward by your tie. Your eyes were only on him and his sweat-covered chest and dishevelled hair and raw lips that kissed your body so perfectly.

He let his thumb slide up your jaw as he tugged you to him, hand sliding up your cheek and holding your face before tilting your head up. Then, as if the punishment didn’t happen, as if this annoying study session didn’t happen, as if these past four years were just a fever dream that you had finally awakened from, he leaned down and captured your lips in his. He kissed you—truly kissed you—for the first time, but, surely, hopefully not the last time.

When he finally broke away, he studied your soft eyes and offered a small kiss to your forehead, as if he were sealing you as his and promising that "Yes, I am sorry for the way things were. I'm sorry that what began as meaningless teasing just for fun turned into a fucked up crush. I am sorry that I haven't told you until now. I'm sorry that I'm such a fucking perverted loser that I couldn't just tell the beautiful girl that I had a crush on for four years that I liked her. I'm sorry that it took four years just to kiss you. I’m sorry I kissed you under such circumstances. Just know that I want you. I want you, so deeply and so passionately, so please just drop to your knees and fucking suck my cock and let me kiss you and fuck you and hold you and let me be yours and you mine." Instead of speaking the words he wished, he simply changed his stare and licked his lips, catching the lingering taste of you on them.

"Wanna learn something new?" He asked rhetorically, thumb gliding on your lower lip. You didn't even respond to him. Not a nod or a hum. You simply just allowed your mouth to open and have his thumb slip in, immediately rubbing the digit with your tongue and soaking it in spit. You didn’t want to respond or even acknowledge the act, not when you waited four goddamn years to suck his fingers. 

"I'll take that as a 'yes,'" Jeongin mused. "I think you can assume what I want you to do." In response, you just gave your head a slight shake, still warming his thumb with your tongue.

"Really?" He asked in a mocking voice that made you wildly embarrassed and red. "You really are just a dumb little toy waiting to be used. Such an eager baby that wants to learn, yeah?" This time, you gave him a slight nod. Your hand traced his abs and stroked each line, unsure of what to do but unable to remain still.

"Okay then. Guess I’ll have to give my baby step-by-step instructions, yeah?" he sighed. "Get on your knees."

Needless to say, you were shocked by the request. Though you were glass-eyed at this moment and almost choking on just the length of his thumb alone, you still had a working mind; one that was not distracted by Jeongin's eagerness pressing into your lower abdomen or how he looked at you or how much he wanted you or how fucking good his chest felt or how he shivered when your hand traced over his nipples. Despite all of this, you still had a conscience, and it told you to leave. It told you that this was an embarrassing turn of events that could only end badly and that you should run away, leaving him with his cock still hard and unsatisfied, then report him to the principal for bullying or public indecency or something! You knew that you should go.

Instead, you simply sank to your knees. You still suckled on Jeongin's thumb while he shakily exhaled a chorus of "you're such a good girl, such a good student, so smart, so sweet, so soft". Your hands trickled down his abs before rubbing the soft fabric of his sweatpants that you wanted so desperately to be removed. They hung off him proudly and lowly, kept up only by a measly tied knot and displaying his adonis belt that drew your eye line downwards. When you finally settled on your knees, your fingers and eyes traced down these lines and fiddled with the top of his sweatpants. Your fingers then traced lower until your hand palmed his heavy erection, unsure of what to do as you massaged the length. He was so stiff and long and big and—

Oh. He was big. Even in your inexperience, you knew it. It must have been a good few inches above average. You gulped at his size, in awe of his length that he was done so well to hide. 

"Remember what you said earlier?" He asked, removing his thumb from your pop mouth so he could cup your jaw. He tried to tilt your head up, but it was too difficult with your eyes fixated on the heavy, large bulge that protruded from his pants.

"C'mon baby, remember what you said? Use your big girl memory and tell me," he cooed. Your hands rubbed up and down his thighs while your hips rutted against nothing, the pressure between them building exponentially due to neglect. He tilted your head again, meeting your big doe eyes and forcing your focus away from his strained hard-on.

"Innie," you choked out, fingers teasing the hem of his pants. "Hands... so big... so you must be..." He let you trail off and allowed your faze to return to his pants as they transfixed on the prominent outline of his cock and the stain on the fabric right at his tip.

"That stupid fucking theory about noses being indicators of size," he continued with a smile on his face, "is just that: a stupid fucking theory."

As if answering your prayers, he used his spare hand to slip the knot off. Then, with a small tug, he slowly lowered his pants enough, just enough to let his cock slip out. In turn, you were blessed with the picture-perfect image of his cock.

"Don't I prove that what you say about big hands is true, y/n?"

You just gave him a dumb nod, too needy to formulate proper words. However, he didn't need you to speak: he knew he was correct.

You always had a thing for his hands, but they were nothing compared to his cock. But together, when his large hands held his immaculately big, veiny, pulsing dick made your mouth water and dribble fall down your lips. His tip was red and leaking precum, begging to be touched or fucked or given some goddamn attention. He offered himself a few pumps, hissing as his heavy erection dripped fluids that you tried to catch desperately on your tongue. It wasn't enough. You needed more.

"Innie," you mewled, catching his attention. 

"Y/n," he gasped as he stared down at your teary-eyed expression that was so cute and obviously needed to be rewarded.

"Please," you mumbled with embarrassment, "teach me." Your hand then went overtop of his and tightened around it, subsequently tightening the grip on his dick and making him moan a little louder than what he was comfortable with.

"Y/n, f-fuck," he whimpered as he pinched his eyes. With your eyes still transfixed on his hot tip, you pulled his hand off his cock and allowed both of your hands to hold him, heat radiating off of his length and precum coating your hands until they were glossy. You pumped it slowly, just as he did, mimicking the motion and unknowingly teasing him more than he would like.

"B-baby, please just suck it," he panted. You glanced up at him again and felt the drool pooling out of your mouth and collecting on your tongue. Then, with great hesitation, you pressed your tongue against him and licked up his slit, causing Jeongin to release a shaky grown that was soaked in pleasure.

"J-just like that—fuck!"

Your hands kept a steady pace while stuck your tongue out, giving him persistent and repeated licks. Each time you re-coated his cockhead in slobber and coaxed more profanities out of him. Still, you maintained a steady pace and dared not to increase your speed. You wanted to hear him beg and cry and whine like this forever.

"Fuck, y/n, take more of it in your mouth," he begged as his hands rested on your head and tangled in your hair. Yet, due to your dumb state and how good he sounded, you struggled to obey him

"Oh, right," he panted out, "you need to be shown how to do everything. My baby is just a little dumb student who needs to be taught. She needs to learn how to suck Innie’s cock like a good girl, right Y/n?" You simply hummed in response, continuing to pump and milk him. Jeognin’s hand found stability on the back of your head and balled your hair once again. The pull made you moan and the strain burned just as delectable as it did before.

"Now, open your mouth wide," he chuckled. You obeyed him like the dumb fucking slut you were and allowed your jaw to go slack, still rubbing your tongue on the underside of his tip and making him swallow back a moan.

"Good," he praised in a strained voice. "Now, take it." Suddenly, he pushed your head forward and forced your mouth to take his cock, gagging on his girth and soaking him in warmth. The intrusion made you hum loudly and for you to tighten your grip on his pulsing length Jeongin, on the other hand, was completely oblivious to your teary-eyed gags and continued to shove himself into you, inch by inch.

"G-good job," he whimpered in a low voice that he hoped he couldn't hear, "so warm." Though you could barely breathe and your mind was shocked by the act, you still felt yourself dripping onto the hardwood floor below you. Despite your confusion, your tongue and hands seemed to know what to do. As you gagged on him, the wet muscle rubbed up and down on any part of his cock it could reach while your hands pumped what your throat couldn't take.

"J-just like that," Jeongin hummed. He pulled your head back then and allowed you to take a deep breath in before pushing you down again. Shallow thrusts allowed him to push deeper into you and fluids to leak from your mouth onto the floor below you. Lewd, wet sound accompanied your gags, making Jeongin beyond elated.

"Y-You're the best student, y/n," he hoarsely whispered. "So smart and you've learned to let me fuck your mouth so easily. Such a fast learner, such a g-good, good girl for her Innie, yeah?" You could do little but hum along.

"Aw, does my baby want to breathe?" He asks through pants, to which you replied with an eager hum. He pulled you off his cock and you immediately gasped for air, hands leaving him to wipe the drool off your face and dry your tears.

"Better?" He asked, a mixture of sincerity and domineering sadism coating his voice.

"Y-yes, Innie," you responded feebly. He smiled at your answer.

"Good." He then changed his expression to a stern look and released your hair, letting you settle on your knees and take a few deep breaths.

"Next step," he began as he lifted his cock up and harshly grabbed your wrist to hold it up yourself. After placing the heavy cock in your hand, Jeongin then grabbed the other hand and forced you to cup his balls, unchanging in his expression or demeanour. He stared into you and you stared into him. He tutted and cooed at your expression which eagerly awaited instruction, begging to know what to do.

"Suck them. Now."

The order was processed in your head and left you spinning. Yet, you immediately obliged. After all, you didn't want to disappoint Jeongin. He thought you were a fast learner and he wanted to train his stupid slut as best he could. If you wanted him to be proud of you, then you had to prove him right. As such, your tongue left quick kitten licks his balls and the underside of his cock. Jeongin, through whines and moans, began to pet your head and encouraged you, s if he was begging instead of trying to dominate you.

"N-now," he stuttered out, "Pump me, fuck my cock with your hand, y/n." Your hand picked up a fast pace that glided over his slick cock and only deepened the desperation in Jeongin's voice.

"Shit.” He gaped at how well you did it, how well you obeyed him. You even began to take control, going back to suck his tip while your hands fondled the parts your mouth couldn't satisfy.

"M-missed the taste of my cock yeah? Missed how my pre-cum tasted on your tongue?" He rambled as you pumped him eagerly and sucked harshly. Sweat dripped down his forehead and a blush spread down his chest from you. He couldn't help but speak when he got like this: he praised everything you did and began to tell you everything he wished to say.

"Oh, y/n, I w-wished you knew why I teased you," he confessed through pants, "I wished you realized how much I like to annoy you, to get your attention, to tease you—mmh, fuck! All my friends know why I do it... every day they ask why I don't just go up to you and tell you why. But I could never seem to." Your mouth parted from his tip, your hand quickly replacing it, so you could properly look at the man who towered over you.

"Why... why didn't you do it, Innie?" you asked, voice still hoarse from when he made you take his cock. 

"Because," he gasped out as he tried to steady himself. "Because... I like to tease you, to make you notice me. I just w-want you to notice me, you sweet thing, and take care of me like you are now. And you know what? I think that—f-fuck—I think you like it when I tease you, too." He was not wrong, and the ruined floor with the clothes and books on it was evidence. But, you also knew that he was right because here you were, sucking his cock and balls and choking on it with the greatest pleasure. You wanted him just as much as he wanted you. You wanted him to do things to you that you were too embarrassed to think about even in solitude. 

You impatiently returned to his length, each lap of your tongue and stroke of your hand making his moans louder.

"Y/n," he groaned. "Y/n, y/n, y/n—" His voice got quicker as your motions increased in speed and determination. "Fuck d-don't stop, such a good girl! Perfect fucking mouth for me, perfect, so smart, such a tease—god!"

Suddenly, his hand pushed your head and his cock was shoved down your throat, mouth hugging him as his hips made shallow thrusts into you and gags erupted from your stuffed throat.

"Y/n, y/n, baby, y/n, swallow, swallow, please—" his chants were high pitched as he continued to rutt into your mouth, "—so tight so warm, I— I—I can't—hmph!" Jeongin pressed himself into you as far as he could while his hips twitched, causing you to choke but not dare pull away, not now, not when you were doing such a good job. Your mouth—reddened and swore from Jeogin's abuse—now leaked his cum that couldn't be swallowed.

"That—that, I—" Jeongin stammered unintelligibly. Ever the gentleman, Jeongin pulled you off his cock and watched the remaining liquid gush from your mouth. The cum trickled onto your tits and worn tie, making you squirm and for Jeongin to take a shaky breath.

"So, so precious," he muttered through exhausted pants. You stared up at him, coughing from the misuse of your throat and the need for air. Still, you felt strange: needy, unsatisfied, like you needed the same release Jeongin did.

"Innie, I need—"

"Please, rest, baby," he cooed, stroking your hair absent-mindedly as his still-hard cock pathetically dribbled out cum. You licked your lips at the sight: the taste of his juices still lingered on your mouth.

"No, no, I..." You pawed at his hands and gripped his wrists lightly. The act took him out of his trance and look down at you. You were sleeked in sweat and cum, your thighs were pressed together tightly and coated in slick. You bounced with impatience, wanting more and more and not knowing how to ask for it. However, Jeongin may be stupid and a jerk, but even he slowly pieced together what you wanted.

"Y/n, you—"

"Innie," you urged as you started to pull him down towards you. As you pulled him lower, you laid on your back, bringing him down with you. "Innie, please."

"Y/n, you should rest—" Jeongin tried to argue while he sank to his knees and placed his palm on the floor to steady himself.

"No." When he tried to argue again, you placed your mouth on his and pulled him fully on top of you on the library floor. When your lips finally parted, Jeongin stared at you with hopeful eyes.

"Please," you sobbed. You grasped one of his hands and slowly guided it down between your bodies, rutting against it as soon as it was close enough to your cunt. "Innie, please make it go away."

Jeongin smiled. Who was he to say no to you?

His hand immediately found your clit and began rubbing tight circles on it, making you writhe and whimper.

"F-Fuck, it feels so good," you mewled.  Your pussy was gushing from the contact and it only became wetter when Jeongin licked his cum off of your chest. Bite marks and bruised skin were left behind in their stead, eager lips nipping at untouched skin. Though you hated being marked up and worried that it would show, you couldn't protest. Not when it felt this good, not when he was doing it.

Jeongin relished touching you, as well. He rubbed his cock onto your thigh while whimpering into each kiss. It was as if kissing you brought him to life, as if all of those years of teasing and picking on you had been worth it because he could fucking finally express his passion for you in a way that satisfied you both. Ever since he first saw you in the tight, ill-fitting uniform, he knew he wanted to be yours. Soon that feeling developed into the perverted dire need to bend you over the nearest surface and fuck you from behind. Now, as he was kissing down your chest, and fingered your perfect, tight hole, he knew he was so close to what he wanted.

"Fuck, I," he gasped out between kisses, "I can't." Unexpectedly, he sat up and fully slotted himself between your legs. Before you could protest, however, you found your knees pressed to your chest, your skirt bunched around your waist, and Jeongin was rubbing his cock through your folds.

"Jeongin!" You yelped.

"J-just the tip," he whined. "Innie is gonna put just the tip in and then he is gonna take such good care of you. He just needs the tip, just a little bit, just needs to feel his precious little baby, just needs the tip just—hmph! Fuck! Y/n, baby, t-take it."

Even if it was just his tip, you knew you were too tight for him. Just his cockhead alone was stretching you out. But, the pain, just like how he pulled your hair or spanked your ass or choked you, was amazing. Though you protested, it was all just for show: to rile him up or to maintain some semblance of propriety. Truly, you never wanted him to stop.

"I-Innie! It's too big! I can't— I can't it's too big— fuck!" You stammered as continued to push himself into you, filling you with more than he had promised. Your voice made him whine and push his face into the nape of your neck. Immediately, he began to nip and kiss your neck in a feeble attempt to control himself. Yet, as he plugged you, he knew that he couldn't resist. You just felt too good, too sweet, too soft, too warm, too wet, and too perfect to just put his tip in. With every shaky breath, he tried to control himself, but he just couldn't. After only a few seconds, he began to stuff you full.

"Innie! What are you—"

"It's j-just the tip, just a little more." His muffled stutters vibrated against your skin, "I just n-need you, just need my g-good little baby to fuck this cock and be good for Innie and take what I give her. Let me fuck your perfect cunt and fill your pussy with my cum. You'd like that, to be filled with my c-cum?" Jeongin was almost fully inside of you and viciously rubbed your clit with every centimetre. You had never felt so full in your life.

"C-cum, Innie's cum?" You repeated naively.

"Yeah, just my cum. Only mine, only Innie's. You're m-mine, just mine only I get to fill this with my cum. Yeah?" He rose and looked down at you, lips ghosting over yours. As he stared down at you, it was hard to pinpoint what he felt. Sure, there was the deliciousness of corrupting your naivety, being the first one to fuck your cunt, and how every inch that entered you made you moan louder and with more desperation. However, at that moment, as he glanced down into your eyes which were always so sweet, he was overcome by the dire need to protect you. He wanted nothing more than to love you and have you as his, more than he'd ever wanted before. His cock eased into you, your breasts were covered in his slobber, you had swallowed his cum, his dick was twitching from overstimulation, and all he could think of was how lovely you looked.

"Yes," you sniffled, "only for you, Jeongin, my Innie."

"Oh, y/n," he panted. His lips captured yours and kissed them softly, contrasting the quick friction against your clit and the stretch of your cunt accommodating his cock.

Then he pushed himself into you, impatience getting the best of him.

"Fuck!" You both whined at the same time: Jeongin from the feeling of your tight cunt hugging him so well, and you from how you were filled to the brim with him. His hands moved to your inner thighs, spreading them to allow himself to rest between them and hug his waist. He eagerly gripped the soft flesh to try and control himself. Softly, his thumbs rubbed your skin and he let out strained moans. Your eyes were pinched shut and, with your legs free, you wrapped them around his torso and pulled him into you. As you did, he pushed a little deeper, only a little, but you rejoiced in the sensation. You feared that if pulled out of you, you would crumble. It was all too much too soon, too fast and too good to let it end too quickly. Clawing at his back with tears streaming down your cheeks, each breath brought you closer to him.

"It's too much... Innie I-I can't I—"

"Please, please, y/n." The desperation in his voice made your eyes open and stare at him. His face had reburied in your chest and it took everything in him to look up at you. As soon as you saw the look on his face, you knew that it was too much for him too.

"Let me make you f-feel good," he panted as he pressed his forehead into yours, "j-just a little, just take it, p-please." He didn't wait for your response as he pulled out a little, clamping his eyes shut from the feeling of dragging his cock out of you and hissing to refrain from immediately pounding back into you.

"Shit, it f-feels so good," you sniffled as he eased back in.

"Yeah? I told you. S-such a d-dumb baby, so dumb for my cock." His voice made you whine and your hands go up to knot themselves in his hair, pulling it slowly as his hips found a peaceful rhythm that contradicted the merciless lust it made you feel.

"So dumb," you mindlessly repeated, "such a s-stupid fucking baby for Innie." Your words hitched as he made a particularly harsh thrust into you. 

"Innie,” you asked in a small voice, “d-do you like it when I say that?"

Jeongin panted, trying to control himself, "Y/n, I—"

"You like to know I'm dumb, yeah? My stupid little pussy n-not know how to handle your big, veiny fucking c-cock?"

"Fuck, please, don't edge me," he strained through gritted teeth and with fingers dinging harshly into your thighs.

"T-teach me, teach me to how to fuck your cock." 

He didn't intend to pick up the pace as quickly as he did. Nor did he mean to make his thrusts so harsh with such a lack of control that you moaned with each push and pull of his heavy dick. But, when it came to you, he couldn't control himself.

"I'm—gonna—fill—you—with—my—cum," he growled as he pistoned into you. His hands moved to your outer thighs, occasionally spanking them and enjoying each jiggle of fat with every thrust into you.

"Fuck, slow—please s-slow down," you sobbed as your tits dragged across his chest, your overly sensitive nipples. Jeongin, however, just chuckled, his laughs dying out quickly as they were replaced by quick breaths. His eyes became dark again and his grip on you tightened, sweat mixing with your own as precum made a white ring around his cock.

"Just know that it's gonna spill out of you, that I'm g-gonna fill you up every day and keep you stuffed with it," he whimpered as his hips rolled faster, making his eyes pinch shut. "So warm inside of you, leaking out and just waiting for me to stuff it all back in and cum again and again and again and again."

"Innie, it's too much, " you responded dumbly. Jeongin didn't care. He just loved to hear his petname come out in little whimpers. His eyes opened again slowly, taking you in. Fuck, you looked so cute and fucked out, so close yet still begging for more.

"What's my name? Say it," he demanded with a stern glare.

"I-Innie..."

"Say it again—fuck, say it again, baby," he gasped.

"Innie!" You responded on command, like a dog being asked to bark.

"F-fuck, please, y/n, one more time just once more please!" He panted as his cock dragged and drove into you at an unforgiven pace.

"Innie, Innie fuck me, please baby, Innie, fuck!" You whimpered

"Fuck, it makes you blush. Getting all embarrassed and flustered... I make you blush, huh? My pretty baby, my innocent y/n, so cute—shit!" Jeongin's voice suddenly caught in his throat as he felt you tighten around him. While his veiny cock pulsed with each thrust, your warm cunt throbbed as you felt that strange feeling build and build inside of you. One of his hands moved back to your neglected clit and started to circle it quickly, making you pant like the needy bitch you were.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck—ah! Y/n, baby, s-stop clenching or I'll—I'll—"

"Innie," you sniffled softly, your voice soaked in desperation. "P-please, make me cum. P-please, for me? Please!" You couldn't believe the words that left your mouth. Neither did Jeongin.

"Y/n, I'm—fuck—I'm gonna—" his thrusts became sloppy and your jaw went slack as you felt lust building to an inordinate degree.

"I'm gonna— Innie— fuck!"

"Y/n, my baby, my sweet b-baby I— cum, cum!"

"Innie!"

Your cunt began to pulsate and your back arched. The feeling was unimaginable, like nothing you could ever describe. It came over you quickly and suddenly, in a tremendous wave that you wish would last forever. Jeongin, in a brief moment of clarity, pulled out of you and rubbed his soaking cock quickly, letting out occasional and short grunts as he fucked his hand. Then, his hips stilled and cum began to spill out of his tip, coating your stomach and cunt in his cum. Yet, you hardly noticed: you were too-fucked out to care.

Riding your orgasm, you sank to the floor and Jeongin collapsed on top of you. Both of you took deep breaths and he dropped his head against yours, eyes shut in ecstasy. His hands lazily dragged up your body before resting on your face. He pet the sides of your jaw and drew your eyes open to meet his. Seeing your eyes was like seeing a home dock in a storm. He pressed his lips into yours and stole your breath away again.

The kiss—unlike the moments leading up to it—was slow, soft. It took its time and ended only when you two were satisfied. After being brought down to reality, Jeongin pulled away and brushed some hair out of your face.

"Y/n," he softly said.

"Jeongin, Innie," you said back, twirling with his sweaty locks and massaging the nape of his neck.

"We..." he panted out before taking a look around, "We gotta clean this place up and get the fuck out of here."

You stared at him in awe before cracking a smile.

---

You felt weird walking in with Jeongin and his gang on Tuesday. Gang? Maybe like "gaggle of friends that constantly annoy you but you are now stuck with and quickly learning to love." Needless to say, it felt like all eyes were on you. Actually, it was true. Teachers, students, faculty, everyone: no one could believe that the top student was now walking hand-in-hand with someone who held the reputation for being the school's worst student.

Despite being an outspoken and confirmed hater of Yang Jeongin, here you were: walking in next to him, with his arm slung around you, and blushing at his cute jokes. God, when did Jeongin become cute?! What a horrid thing to think, let alone believe. Yet, you knew it. He was cute. And now, the whole school knew that you thought so. Or, at least, that's what your giggles insinuated.

Maybe you always thought he was cute and now you allowed yourself to believe it, like those intrusive thoughts were actually right all along, and, yes, you did actually think he was incredibly sweet and handsome, and likely the best boyfriend. It's only been four days but he already has promised to walk you to and from school every day and has dates pre-planned with you up until graduation. He hasn't told you about the latter part yet, but he will soon enough. He just needs to wait until you're a little more comfortable with him before he confesses how much he absolutely adores you.

Being an "it" couple was not on your goal list for high school. Come to think of it, being stared at when you walk with your boyfriend and losing your virginity to him a mere four days before in the school library was not on the list either. Oh, how plans change. Somehow, however, you didn't mind the stares. Though most were shocked at how Jeongin had bagged the school's nerdiest (and hottest) girl, how that girl—who hated the man—now gleamed at him with adoration, and how they ever managed to get together in the first place, the most shocking element was the fact that your uniform was not up to code. Every day for the past few years, you were a picture-perfect student with pressed dress shirts, even ties, and cleanly pleated skirts. Now, your tie was loose and you were even wearing a hoodie—fuck, his, hoodie?! Jesus.

As you walked to class, you couldn't care less. Jeongin escorted you to first period, giving you a sweet kiss on the cheek and almost smiling at how cute you looked all wrapped in his hoodie. Your fellow students—hell, even the teacher—seemed bewildered by the interaction.

You, however, barely acknowledged them. You just noticed the man in front of you in a light that was so starkly different from the past four years.

"Got everything, yeah?" He said with a straight face.

"Yes, Innie," you smiled, making him glance away.

"I told you—" he started in a voice that was a little too loud, making him dart around to see if anyone was looking his way. And, of course, everyone was looking at you two because how could they not? The eyes on him made him uneasy, but when he turned back to you, all those uncomfortable feelings disappeared into nothing. He licked his lips anxiously and leaned in, adopting a hushed voice to try and retain a morsel of privacy. "I told you not to call me that in public, baby," he blubbered, "it ruins my image. Please, baby."

God, was he blushing? Fuck, he was perfect.

"Okay, Innie," you teased, making him ever redder. You stressed his nickname and relished in his embarrassed demeanour.

Huh. Maybe Jeongin had been right all along: teasing was fun, especially if it was done on the person you liked the most.

"Promise me you'll go to class, okay? I'll see you in last period, then we'll keep working on the project," you said.

"Ugghhghhhhh.." he groaned with a long-winded exasperation. "UGH... Okay."

"Great!" You smiled mischievously, "And we'll actually have to work on it. Unlike all those other times we... 'worked on the project' together this weekend."

"Y/n." His blush grew from his ears down his neck, still unable to make eye contact with you. You'd think that years of teasing you made him impervious to sly remarks, but when they're coming from you, well that's a different story.

"Why are you acting like this?! It was your fault in the first place!" You huffed with an air of playfulness. "I just wanna remind you that we won't be alone in the library this time!"

"Just... g-get to class, okay?" He stuttered, "I'll see you later, baby."  Extending his hand out in a half-heart shape, you completed it with a giggle, adoring how small your hands were compared to your boyfriend’s. Then, Jeongin softly wrapped his hand around yours and pulled you in, offering you a kiss to your forehead. When he pulled away, he readjusted your glasses as they had slipped down your nose bridge.

"Perfect," he said with a small voice. With a final giggle from you, he watched you go into class.

Now there was the issue of what to do with his day. Normally, he'd spend first period smoking outside with his friends, wait until second period for the cafeteria to start serving pizza, go to third just to eat, then go to fourth period just to see you.

Now.. fuck. He was actually going to class. He hated how you were already having an effect on his lifestyle, but rejoiced that you operated in a position that dictated his life. If he was to be controlled, he would want you to be the one pulling the strings. Jeongin seemed to see you for who you really were: determined, intelligent, and perfect to coddle. Looking at you even had an effect on him, one that he could now proudly display instead of hiding behind bullying and teasing (not to say he’ll stop teasing you anytime soon).

As he slung himself into his assigned seat for first period, his surprise was mirrored on the teacher's face. God. Despite having only a few days passed since you two got together, you were already changing him to a noticeable degree. Yet, it was for the better. And he smiled knowing that if he was changing, that it was for good and that it was for you.

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

A Fresh Start [17]

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Warnings: losing tempers, arguing, mentions of alcohol and a bit of binge drinking, angst, people getting drunk

Word Count: 15k (i am so so so sorry, i know y'all said you wanted long but this is probably insane. i just needed to end it in that specific place to get the theme i wanted to touch on finished😭 i think you'll like the content if you can bear through it lolol)

Summary: When you made plans for your future they never involved being hired by a Mandalorian to baby-sit his adorable, green gremlin of a child. However, after your life fell apart in the span of one disastrous night,  you found it to be the only feasible option you had left. Nevarro was a  far cry from Coruscant, but the thriving community turned out to be  exactly what you needed. Every day you spend in Nevarro you  fall more  and more in love with your new life, but when your past rears its ugly head you find that perhaps peace wasn’t meant  for everyone.

#17: CLOSE YOUR EYES, NER KAR'TA

"to be in love with you is to know that even on the days you make me so mad i could scream, i still want to kiss the hell out of your face." ⏤Beau Taplin. "it's the way you wrinkle your nose when you're disappointed in me."

a/n: y'all would not believe the trouble tumblr gave me in posting this smh anyways sorry again this is stupid long (i did warn y'all im a mouthy motherfucker) but hopefully it can make up for the absolutely heartbreaking episode we all suffered thru today :)

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“If I asked you to kick Karga’s ass, would you?”

“Without hesitation, ner kar’ta.”

You couldn’t help but snicker under your breath at his quick answer. Din was lying reclined in the cot beside you with Grogu napping on his chest. It was an entertaining contrast. The soft father rubbing his son’s back as the child snored while promising immediate violence at a single word from you. The awkwardness of yesterday morning seemed to have dispersed after your confession to him. Add to that the fact that Nima was sleeping in a medically induced coma on the cot you sat on the edge of, and you were on cloud nine. There was still a ways to go and you hated that your close friend⏤ your family⏤ had been injured in such a traumatizing way, but her arm would be saved.

The bacta tank had healed what it needed to. It fixed bone, muscle, and tissue nearly 80%. You didn’t want to risk letting the tank manage the injury to the full 100%. Repairing hand injuries was a tricky thing simply because the tendons and muscles in the hand were so complicated. You’d rather set her hand the old fashioned way⏤ make sure she didn’t lose any function. Nima would be devastated if her dexterity was compromised. Her job, her passion, relied on her hands.

“Anything else I can add to our to-do list today other than fighting the High Magistrate of Nevarro?” Din asked with a hum.

You grinned at him. “I’ll let you know if I think of anything.”

Din nodded his head once. Your eyes glanced down at the hardware holding Nima’s hand motionless so it could heal properly. You had already adjusted them, applied a healing paste, then wrapped it, but you couldn't help but re-check your work over and over again. Your obsessive behavior came in handy when Karga had stepped in ten minutes or so ago to check in on Nima. Though his ‘checking in’ had turned into offering you a job once more. It seemed like every type of denial you had he had a counterpoint.

Your main one being that legally you weren’t allowed to practice medicine. You still had a license because the trial questioning whether or not you were ethically to blame for Soran’s death had ended in your favor. However, one stipulation⏤ which had come from a psychological evaluation the hospital made you go through after you were attacked⏤ was that until Kurt’s trial was over you shouldn’t be in the position of making medical decisions. It had been something you were more than happy to abide by as you ran from your life.

Karga’s cheeky reply had been that he was the High Magistrate and as such he could allow you to do anything you wanted to do. Especially if that thing you wanted to do was be his city’s physician. 

A thought formed in your mind and you huffed out a sigh. You could see Din tilt his head toward you in question. You faced him, “Would I be crazy for considering taking Karga up on his offer?”

“I wouldn’t say crazy.” Din replied. “But why? I don’t want you to feel obligated because Karga won’t leave you alone.”

“It’s not that.” You said. The thought grew in your mind, a chaotic frenzy that wouldn’t leave you alone. “If I hadn’t been here, Nima would’ve lost her arm. She might have even died. I stopped that.” Din remained silent and let you think aloud. “I can keep making that difference. I have to. If I don’t then… If something terrible happens then isn’t that my fault?”

Din sat up, holding Grogu to his chest so the boy didn’t fall, “No. No, it’s not. Thinking like that, taking on that guilt, isn’t healthy.” He threw his legs over the side of the bed so he was sitting up and facing you. “Don’t make a decision based on guilt, ner kar’ta.”

“I guess you’re right.” You mumbled.

He stayed silent for a beat before reaching a hand out to you. You stood and took the singular step that would get you close enough to settle your hand in his. Din pulled you forward so you stood between his legs. The cot was on a lower setting which left you staring down at Din while he was forced to tilt his head to stare up at you. 

“Take guilt out of it. Pretend like you’re one of many that Karga is trying to hire for this job.” Din said. You lifted the hand Din wasn’t holding so you could scratch Grogu’s head. His mid-afternoon nap would be over soon and he’d be awake and bouncing off the walls with energy. “Would getting this job make you happy?”

You pondered over the question. There was a thrill in medicine. One you quite enjoyed when you weren’t forced to care for the people who meant the most in the world to you. Plus, thinking long term, you couldn’t be Grogu’s nanny forever. It wasn’t feasible. Not that you wanted out of their lives. You were so entangled in the web of their lives that that was hardly an option anymore. But, if you wanted a real relationship with Din one day, you couldn’t be his employee. You’d have to find a different way to make credits and support yourself. 

“I think so.” You nodded.

“As long as you're happy, then I think you should do it.” Din replied, but the sigh he released didn’t match the approval of his words. “I just don’t want you to make yourself sick with stress.”

“Worrywart.” You teased. Din chuckled and the rumbling in his chest must have roused Grogu. The boy began to rub his face against the metal he was lying on sleepily. You ran a finger alongside his ear. “Hi, baby boy. Was buir too loud? Did he wake you up?”

Grogu mumbled, then turned with outstretched arms. Din lifted him as you reached out. When you pulled the small child to your chest he leaned his head against your shoulder but you knew he wasn’t sleep based on the way he let his small fingers rub against your shoulder back and forth⏤ just like you and Din would do to him. Grogu was mumbling soft words you didn’t recognize.

“Mhmm, tell mama all about it.” You hummed.

Din’s hands had rested on your hips when he didn’t have Grogu to hold. His thumbs tracing circles over your shirt right above your belt. He nodded, “Do you want children of your own one day?”

Your eyes widened in surprise at his sudden question. It was the last direction you expected this conversation to go. Your jaw popped open slightly. “Uh, wh⏤what?”

“Just curious.” Din shrugged nonchalantly.

To be honest, you had never given it any thought. That was a future decision for future you to make. While in training, you told yourself it wouldn’t be something you needed to even think about until after training was over. Then when you were working in the hospital, you told yourself you needed to get settled in your job first. Finally, your life spiraled apart and during the last year that was hardly something that was on your mind. It was funny that you went full circle and all of that led you to standing in Nevarro’s clinic thinking about a future with children of your own. 

Taking care of Grogu was an experience that had given you more factors and variables to consider, but still you weren’t sure what to say. You shook your head and spoke the truth. “To be honest, I haven’t thought much about it.”

“You’re so good with Grogu, is all.” Din replied.

“What about you?” You paused. “Er, that’s not what I⏤ Obviously you already have a child. You have Grogu.” Din chuckled at your babbling. “I meant, would you want… more?”

Din tilted his head and a very casual nod. “I think so. I like the idea of a big family.”

“Do you have siblings?” You asked suddenly. “I’m realizing just now that I don’t know a lot about your life before Nevarro⏤ other than Grogu and the bounty hunting.”

“No siblings.” Din shook his head. “Not by blood at least. After I was brought in by the Mandalorians, as a foundling, I grew up with a few other kids I considered to be siblings on Concordia.”

“Wait, you were a foundling? Like Grogu?”

“Yes.” Din nodded. “I was born on Aq Ventina, but when I was young… My town was destroyed in a Separatist attack. Battle droids destroyed everything. They… I lost my parents. I would’ve been killed myself if a Mandalorian hadn’t saved me.”

You stepped around him so you could sit down on the cot beside Din. He followed your movements with his t-shape visor. You lifted the hand not holding Grogu to settle on his knee. “Din, I am so sorry. I had no idea, I⏤ I wouldn’t have asked⏤ I shouldn’t have asked⏤”

“It’s alright, ner kar’ta.” Din chuckled and set his hand on top of yours. “I knew you didn’t know, but I wanted you to know. Besides, I started this line of questioning.” He squeezed his fingers around your own. “I know you said you were from Naboo. Can you tell me more? Do you still have family there?”

You fell into a casual conversation with him telling him about the family you still had there. Sharing a few memories that couldn't help but slip out when they came to mind. You felt bad that you were talking about happy memories when Din had just admitted to a tragedy, but he continued to ask question after question leading you into them. Which led to him sharing a few memories of his own from both worlds that he walked. Din lingered on a story about his parents⏤ a happy one he held close to his heart based on the soft tone he spoke in.

“How much do you remember of them?” You asked.

“Enough to know they were good parents.”

“I’m sorry you didn’t get to spend more time with them.” You replied softly.

In response, Din lifted the hand on top of yours to bury it in the hair at the nape of your neck. He leaned you toward him and set his forehead against yours. The two of you only remained that way for a moment before Grogu sat up and rested one hand on your cheek and the other on his father’s.

“Skraan.” He blurted. Din and you broke apart, laughing, but Grogu was solely serious as he repeated himself. “Skraan, skraan, skraan.”

Din knew what he had to do. The part he was struggling with was the how. Oddly, in his mind, the first step was going to be the hardest bit. Steps two through whatever included taking the N1 out to Mandalore, find the living waters, bathe in said living waters, bring back proof to the Armorer, be redeemed in the eyes of his Covert, return to you as a full fledged Mandalorian rather than Apostate, and request to court you properly. Simple. Easy to remember. Din didn’t even need to write it down. However, step one involved telling you that he was leaving Nevarro and that was going to be tough.

At first he thought he’d just bring you with him, but then you told him you wanted to try being Nevarro’s physician. Din couldn’t pull you away from your home right as you had grown comfortable enough with your past to retry medicine. So, that was out. Then, when he had worked up the courage to say good-bye, Cara quit. That one had caught Din off guard. It happened days after Nima’s accident. Cara claimed she got an offer to be part of special forces with the New Republic⏤ an offer she couldn’t turn down. She even took the time to remind him that this was never a permanent thing anyways. 

However, Cara left in the dead of night without even taking the time to wait until Nima woke up. Din didn’t believe that was a coincidence. He was more than familiar with the concept of running from emotions. When Nima finally did wake up, the look of heartbreak on her features when he had to answer her question of where Cara was had been tough to handle. Din reminded himself that his plan was not the same as Cara’s. He was not leaving you to stay away. Din was not running from you. If anything he was running to you. He just wanted to be the very best version of himself before propositioning you, and Din wanted to do this right.

Before he left, he was going to explain this to you⏤ in great detail. And, if you truly meant what you said about allowing him to uphold his Creed, you’d understand. Din repeated that to himself over and over again like a mantra.

Regardless of how that played out, Din was stuck. It was one thing when he was leaving Nevarro short one marshal temporarily. Now the city would be missing him and Cara, and in good conscious he couldn’t let that be.

Mayfeld, hands laced behind his head as his feet were kicked up on his desk, called out. “Come on, Mando. What? You don’t trust me to hold down the fort while you’re gone?”

“Exactly.”

“Uh, ow.” Mayfeld complained. “You could’ve at least pretended to think about it before answering so fast.”

Din chuckled under his breath. Honestly, his relationship with Mayfeld had come a long way. How he felt now was a stark difference in comparison to how badly Din wanted to shoot him in the face when they first met. After what happened on Morak, after revealing his face in front of Mayfeld, Din truly respected the man⏤ trusted him. The truth is he would never forgive himself to leave Mayfeld here to deal with all the responsibilities alone. That wasn’t fair to his friend. All those facts didn’t deter Din from mocking and mildly bullying the man though. That was much too fun to give up.

“I have a friend flying in today to baby-sit you.”

“Nice. Got me a nanny too?” Mayfeld replied. “Hope she’s as pretty as yours.”

Din knew the man was only trying to rile him up, and he technically had picked the exact topic that could do it. But, Din didn’t take the bait. He shrugged. “He’s not really my type, but I’ll let you make the call on that.”

“Alright. So I’ll be the Marshal, and he’ll be my Deputy?”

“No. He’ll be Marshal, and you’ll still be Deputy.”

Mayfeld dropped his feet off the desk, hands falling to his side, and his jaw popped open in shock. “Hold on! The new guy gets to be Marshal before I do?? You’re just gonna promote him over me? Immediately.”

“Exactly.”

The man scoffed in response and crossed his arms like a petulant child. It reminded Din of the way Grogu would pout when you told him you couldn’t snack on cookies or cakes right before dinner time or when Din would wrestle a full sized critter out of his son’s mouth before Grogu could swallow it whole. Mayfeld shoved up from his seat to cross the room and pour himself a cup of caf. Din stayed where he was⏤ leaning against Cara’s old desk.

“You tell your girl that you’re leaving yet? Or is that still a secret?”

“I’m going to tell her.” Din said firmly.

Mayfeld slurped out of his mug, purposely trying to annoy him, “You said that four days ago, then three days ago, then two⏤”

“Keep talking and I’ll demote you from Deputy.”

“Is there even a level below deputy??”

“I can make one.” Din replied dryly. A wide grin crossed Mayfeld’s face and Din shook his head with a grumble. “Today. I’ll tell her today.” Mayfeld just stared at him from above the rim of his mug. Din pushed off the desk. “I’m going to do it.”

Mayfeld shrugged in response and Din resisted the urge to throw something at the man. He huffed and turned to leave. Mayfeld called out behind him, a teasing comment, and Din threw him a crude hand gesture over his shoulder causing the man to burst out in laughter. 

It barely took him any time to get from the station to the clinic. When he stepped through the front doors he was greeted by Aayla and one other worker he wasn’t familiar with. The Twi’lek waved him in and hit a button on the desk to unlock the backroom doors. It was the sound of your voice that greeted him first.

“⏤and if you pull those staples out, you’ll be dealing with me.” You stood at the end of a bed with your hands on your hips and your face drawn in concentration. Aayla had found and wrestled you into a white coat when you started and Din would be lying if he said he didn’t like the look on you. Din especially liked watching you take control of a room. You could command a scene with voice and stare alone, and Din really, really liked watching you do it.

“Baby girl,” A vaguely familiar voice chimed and Din frowned at the nickname, “Dealing with you would be my absolute pleasure.”

Din stepped further into the room to see that a worker from the hanger, a Trandoshan man he couldn’t recall the name of, was sitting on a cot with a long cut from wrist to elbow. A line of staples was holding it closed. Din crossed his arms and tilted his head. “Yeah? How about dealing with me?”

The Trandoshan looked to him at the same time you did, and he found it comical how different the reactions were. Your face split into a bright, gorgeous smile while the hangar worker stiffened up and averted his eyes.

“Well, hi there, Marshal.” You cooed and stuck your hands into the pockets of your white coat.

“Do we have a problem?” Din asked, trying to keep the amusement out of his voice.

You turned to look at your patient and raised an eyebrow in question. The Trandoshan glanced at him before looking back to you and shaking his head rapidly. You nodded and reached out to set a hand on Din’s forearm. “I think we’re okay here.”

“Can⏤ Can I⏤?” The worker pointed to the door.

“Yupp. Keep it dry. Come back in a week, and I’ll see if you’re healed enough to take the staples out.”

The Trandoshan jumped up but paused when he realized he was going to have to pass Din in order to get out. Even though Din was technically blocking the way, he kept his position so the man was forced to squeeze around him. When the man was finally out, your laugh filled the air and Din sighed in admiration. You shrugged, smile still in place, “That was kind of fun.”

“How’re you doing?” Din asked.

“I’m okay.” You nodded and then scrunched your nose once. “It’s so weird. I’m still not used to this, but at the same time I am?” You motioned around yourself. “It’s familiar, but it’s not. Am I crazy?”

Din shook his head, “Of course not.”

“Hmm,” You took a step closer to him so you had to lift your face to meet his visor, “I think you’re biased.”

He grinned under his helmet then shrugged. “Maybe.”

“So, what can I do for you, Marshal?”

“Have you had lunch yet?” He asked, and you shook your head in response. “Can I walk with you to get some? You aren’t busy are you?”

You shrugged out of your white coat and tossed it onto a cot. “That’s the beauty of working for a man who is super desperate to keep you around. I can do what I want.” Din chuckled and followed you out of the room. As you passed the front desk, you called out, “Aayla, I’m going. Just call me if any real emergencies come in. Okay?”

“You got it, doc!”

As you both stepped out, Din offered you his arm and you slipped yours through it. He nodded back toward the clinic. “Who is the new girl?”

“Miriam.” You answered. “Aayla is training her to work the front desk so I can train Aayla. She’ll be able to help me with little stuff. I think she’s got a lot of potential.” Din nodded toward a stand merchant who greeted him first. “We’ll be able to see more if I have an assistant, but we still can’t do any routine kind of work. Karga still needs to get another physician to work that side of things.”

Din hummed. “I hear he’s working on it, but I’ll… encourage him to work faster.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it.” You shook your head. “I can be plenty annoying on my own. You should’ve seen how much I bothered Admin back in Coruscant when I wanted them to buy the emergency department a whole set of ultrasounds.”

Din could imagine the scene and he wished he could’ve seen it. He’d have to make sure he had a front row seat for when you began to hound Karga for this. Without even discussing it, it seemed you both had the same sandwich place in mind⏤ the one that sold the cookies Grogu liked. Din didn’t bother ordering for himself. He wasn’t overly hungry. He mostly just wanted to spend time with you and make sure you took a break to eat. Din watched as you greeted the owners by name and after ordering your food you ordered a pack of cookies for Grogu as well. He could barely even pay attention to the conversation at hand because he was so busy watching you.

Even when the owners offered you the meal for free as a thank you for taking the job in town, you insisted on paying the full price. As you walked out, you frowned at him. “Are you sure you don’t want something to eat?”

“I’m fine, ner kar’ta.” He replied. Din planned finding a bench where you could sit and eat⏤ you had commented about how much you loved the current weather this morning⏤ but the sound of his communicator made him groan.

“What’s going on?” You asked.

Din lifted his vambrace to see he was being hailed to the hanger. “Oh. I have a, uh, friend visiting today. He’s here early.”

“Really?” Your eyes widened.

“Yeah. I’m sorry. I have to go meet him.”

Din had begun to pull his arm away, but you kept your grip around it and briefly bit down on your lower lip drawing all his attention to the shape of the lips he loved so much⏤ the lips that haunted his every dream. You pleaded, “Can I please come with you?”

“You want to?” Din was surprised.

“Yeah!” You bounced in place. “I’d love to meet your friend. I mean, if that’s okay?”

“Always. You should start eating while we walk.” Din nodded.

You snickered. “Okay. Bossy.”

Din’s eyes snapped to you, and he chuckled. The two of you changed direction toward the hanger. 

It wasn’t like you weren’t going to meet Cobb Vanth eventually.

The week had gone shockingly well. Better than you could’ve hoped, but then again your expectations were incredibly low. Working in the emergency clinic was actually enjoyable. Karga had tried to rope you into doing everything, but you put a hard stop on that for obvious reasons. Nevarro was still relatively small so when it came to emergencies⏤ there really were not many emergencies. Only a patch up job here and there like with the Trandoshan this morning. Again the bar was low considering you started this job with Nima nearly losing her arm.

Nima had been doing very well physically, but, as much as she tried to hide it, emotionally she had taken a toll. You weren’t sure why Cara left so abruptly. Din and you had talked about it in depth one night after dinner and he seemed to think it was because she had cared too much for Nima too fast. The only opinion you had on the matter was that Cara had certainly gotten on your bad side. You were loyal to your oldest friend and it irked you beyond belief that the once deputy of Nevarro had left when Nima needed her most.

“Where’s your friend from?” You asked as Din and you neared the landing pad.

“Tatooine.”

“Ah, my neck of the woods.”

Din chuckled. “Were you even there long enough to call it your neck of the woods?”

“I lived in Mos Espa for at least half a year. In Tatooine years, that feels like a decade.” You replied and the laugh that left him made your cheeks warm. 

He glanced over at you, your arm still looped through his, “What made you choose Tatooine, anyways?”

“It’s kind of a depressing answer. Definitely a mood killer.” You winced. Din’s feet came to an abrupt stop and he turned so he was facing you entirely. You should’ve guessed he’d have that kind of reaction. You shook your head. “I took care of a patient who said Mos Espa was where lowlifes and runaways escaped to when they had no other world to call home. So…” You shrugged. “I went to Mos Espa.”

“Ner kar’ta⏤”

“I don’t feel that way now. A lot has changed, and I’m not the person who initially fled to Tatooine,” You said quickly, “But you asked why I went, so I said.” With your next words, you kept your voice low so only he could hear you. “I promise I’m okay, Din.”

Din gave you a curt nod. With an amused shake of your head, you slipped your arm through his once more and tugged him toward the landing pad. The Mandalorian warrior let you drag him along, and you could’ve swore he was dragging his feet on purpose to make it more difficult for you. The chuckle that left his helmet confirmed this for you. 

“How long is your friend staying for?” You asked, and Din stayed quiet. “And is his visit a social call? I imagine he’s heartbroken being away from the sands of Tatooine.”

Din’s feet came to a stop once more, but this time it came as a surprise. You paused with him and gave him a curious look. He tilted his head. “About that, I wanted to talk to you about⏤”

“Mando!”

You and Din both turned at the voice. Walking in your direction was a very familiar face. Cobb Vanth? The marshal of Mos Pelgo was a far way from home, but he looked no different than the day you last saw him. His signature red scarf around his neck acting as a homing beacon for your eyes. Vanth’s eyes were initially focused on Din, but then they dragged over to you and he shook his head in surprise.

“Little lady!? Is that you??” Vanth grinned. 

Din and you both snapped to look at one another again rather than the new arrival. At the same time, the same words left your lips. “You know Cobb Vanth!?”

Vanth spread his arms out as he continued to approach, a large duffel bag hanging from his back, “Well, ain’t this a surprise!”

The shock wore off and it finally occurred to you that Cobb Vanth was here. Right here, right in front of you. You let out a laugh and rushed to meet him halfway. He greeted you by wrapping his arms around you in a tight grin⏤ a laugh leaving him as well. What felt like another lifetime ago, you had met Cobb Vanth on your arrival to Tatooine. Though your plan had been to settle in Mos Espa you had accidentally ended up in Mos Eisley. In an attempt to get from one place to the other you got lost in the desert briefly after the land speeder you rented ran out of fuel halfway. It had been your fault for trusting the man you got the speeder from. Rather than dying you were saved by the man you were now hugging. Vanth had even been kind enough to get you to Mos Espa eventually.

You pulled away from Vanth. “It’s so good to see you! You look great.”

“Oh, I know, darling.” Vanth winked. “But still not holding a flame to you.” You chuckled and a hand settled on your shoulder. Din had walked over and you took a step back so you stood right beside him. Vanth motioned to the Mandalorian. “You never told me you knew Mando.”

“I didn’t back when I was with you, Vanth.” You glanced between the two men. “How do you guys know each other?”

Vanth readjusted the bag around his shoulders. “Now that, little lady, is quite the story.” He continued on talking about how Din came looking for a Mandalorian and found Vanth decked out in Mandalorian armor. He followed it by describing how Din ended up flying into a krayt dragon to kill it from inside out. A detail you did not love to hear. “We’ve been best buddies since. Right, pal?”

Din didn’t respond. You were still in awe at the coincidence of it all. You missed your Mandalorian by literal months. Din had swung through Mos Pelgo right before you had. What would’ve happened if you met him then rather than now? 

“Mando?” Vanth questioned. Waving his hand once in front of the helmet. “You alright?”

“I’m fine.” Din replied and you wondered where the tension in his voice had come from. You slipped your arm around his once more and he seemed to relax marginally. He cleared his throat before nodding. “How was your trip, Vanth?”

Vanth’s lips stretched back out into a charming grin. “Hey, I can’t complain. Gotta say Nevarro looks better than I thought it would. I’m excited to explore it.” He chuckled. “The weather ain’t too bad either. I was worried I’d miss that desert air.”

“Don’t worry. These lava plains are plenty hot enough.” You replied. “How long are you here for?”

“Suppose 'til Mando here gets back.”

It took a second for the words to register in your mind, but Din picked it up much faster based on the way his entire body tensed once more. Until he gets back. Gets back? You slowly pulled your arm away from so you could turn and look at him. Before your hand could fall away entirely, Din caught it with his own⏤ holding it against his arm. 

“Wait⏤”

“You’re going somewhere?” You furrowed your brow in confusion. He hadn’t mentioned anything about a trip. Din paused and somehow his hesitance irritated you. “Where?”

Din sighed. “Mandalore.”

Your eyes widened, “Manda⏤ The Mandalore that may or may not be poisoned still?”

“Um. Yes.”

“Okay.” You replied. “Alright.” You pulled your hand out from under Din’s hand and shot Vanth a quick, firm smile. “It was really good to see you, Vanth. Welcome to Nevarro! I guess I’ll be seeing you around.” Din took a step toward you, his nickname for you leaving his lips, but you took a step back. “I need to get back to work, but I’ll see you at home?”

You didn’t give him the chance to answer and turned to leave. If Din called out after you, you didn’t hear him. Your footsteps were rushed as you tried to wrap your head around the information you had just learned. Were you angry? Maybe. It wasn’t a clear cut anger though⏤ it was muddled. There were too many other emotions swirling in your head, but the main one that started to push to the front was disappointment. Every time you thought you understood where you stood with Din it seemed like something happened that made you question it all. Had he just planned on leaving the planet without telling you? Or maybe he wanted to wait until the last second and just wave to you as he took off, or hang a note on the fridge for you to find the morning of. Even if you weren’t in this weird back and forth romantic thing with him, as someone who literally lived in his home and helped care for his child you were incredibly involved in his life. If you were a team, then you needed to know the plan.

More irritation boiled up in your blood, and you found yourself changing direction from the clinic to a familiar house. Your fist was banging on Nima’s door before you fully even registered what it was you wanted to say. Nima opened the door, in her pajamas, and your eyes glanced at the metal brace surrounding her right arm out of habit. 

Nima deflated and whined, “Please, please, please, please tell me you’re here to clear me for work.”

“No. Two more weeks. I’m not changing my mind on that.” You replied and she groaned. “I’m here because apparently Marshal Mando is leaving the planet and hired a replacement marshal but didn’t think to tell me any of this.”

“Come on in. I have alcohol.”

“I told you! I told you⏤ didn’t I tell you??” Mayfeld cried then spun to look at Vanth who was leaning against the wall. “I kriffing told him. Days ago.”

“Please stop talking.” Din groaned as he hung his head back while slouching in the seat. Din thought that the worst part of learning you and Vanth already knew one another would be the tight hug you literally ran to give him. Vanth had pulled you up off your toes in the hug, and the primal side of him yearned for a fight. His hand literally twitched toward his blaster⏤ his kriffing blaster. As if he was going to shoot down his good friend Cobb Vanth who left his town to do him a favor. 

Din had a problem. He was a problem. Growing up the way he had, with the losses he faced, he tended to be possessive of what he considered his own. Din liked to think over the years he had gotten good at reigning that behavior in. He didn’t shoot Vanth, after all. Still, that side of him didn’t hesitate in rearing it’s ugly head in moments like when he watched Cobb Vanth hold you for what he considered to be a second too long. It wasn’t until your arm slipped through his, a soft smile on your face, that he felt the logical side of him slip back into control.

Then, of course, it all went downhill when Vanth accidentally admitted the thing he had yet to tell you. Watching that smile fall off your features, feeling you try to slowly pull away, felt like he had taken blunt force trauma to the chest. It physically hurt and left a raw, aching wound and it only got worse as he watched you walk away. Din put the pain pretty high on the list of ones he experienced, and this was coming from someone who had a job that led him to be stabbed repeatedly. 

“I am sorry about that, Mando.” Vanth spoke up.

“It’s not your fault.” Din straightened his posture and shook his head. “I should’ve told her ages ago. That’s on me.” Vanth had apologized to him multiple times during the walk from the tarmac to the station. He’d do so between asking questions about the town that Din was supposed to be giving him a better tour on. Din rested his elbows on knees. It dawned on him that there was a question he hadn’t asked in his distress. “How do you know her?”

Vanth crossed his arms. “It was a couple months after you left, actually. She got lost between Mos Eisley and Mos Espa.” Din’s eyes widened at the thought of you getting lost in that Maker forsaken desert. Vanth chuckled. “Her land speeder ran out of fuel. It was by pure chance I ran into her. She stayed in Mos Pelgo for a few days then I took her the rest of the way to Mos Espa. We stayed in touch though⏤ here and there.”

Briefly, Din wondered what his life would’ve looked like if the two of you had been in Mos Pelgo at the same time. It was a curious thought but he knew both of you had been different people at that time. Even if it, in the great scheme of things, wasn’t that long ago. Less than a year. Then again, as quickly as you had wormed your way in his heart he couldn’t imagine meeting you months ago would’ve been that different. Din sighed and stood, he grabbed a holopad off the desk remembering that despite his dilemma in breaking your heart today he still had work to do. 

“Yeah.” Vanth hummed. “Little lady and I didn’t see each other often, but she’d visit me or I’d visit her for the occasional hook up.”

Din’s head snapped to glare at Vanth and, in an attempt to ensure his hands were free, he slammed the holopad back down onto the desk⏤ ignoring the tell tale sound of cracking glass. Vanth’s lips curled up into a mischievous grin and Din was half tempted to drag him back to the tarmac and ship his ass to Tatooine. Mayfeld burst into laughter and Din just shook his head.

“Sorry, brother.” Vanth chuckled. “I saw how up in arms you got out on the tarmac. Couldn’t help myself.”

“Hilarious.” Din replied. 

Eventually, Mayfeld and Vanth wandered out so the newest temporary marshal could get acquainted with the town and meet Karga. It gave Din a couple of hours to work though he spent most of it internally spiraling over the moment your entire face fell. He hated that he had been the cause of that⏤ just because he had been too scared to fess up. His communicator began to go off and Din answered it.

“Hi, Marshal?” A woman’s voice said. Din confirmed who it was. “This is Ms. Wynn, I’m in charge of Grogu’s class. Everything's still fine, but class ended about twenty minutes ago and I haven’t seen you or Soran. Is everything alright?”

Din shoved up from his desk’s chair. “I’ll be right there.”

On his way out the door, he called Aayla at the clinic to see if you had just gotten caught up with a patient, but the woman claimed she hadn’t seen you since he took you out for lunch. The clinic had been quiet otherwise. Din’s stomach churned uncomfortably as he hurried to pick up his son. Were you alright? Or were you so upset that you refused to even care for Grogu? Din knew the moment that thought crossed his mind that he was wrong. Regardless of how upset you were with him, you’d never take it out on the little boy. Din just hoped you were okay.

You narrowed your eyes at Nima as she downed the last of her beer, “Is this all you’ve been doing all day? Drinking?”

“Well, I can’t work, so…” Nima shrugged. When she offered you a drink you had turned it down, technically still on shift as the physician, but she hadn’t stopped from drinking herself. You had come here to rant about Din, but as it turned out you both had plenty to complain about. For hours, you and her had sat on the back porch of her house . The last thirty minutes or so you were trying to pry information out of Nima about how she felt about the Cara situation, but the mechanic would simply shrug it away. You knew she was hurting more than she claimed though. “Do the skies look gross to you?”

“What?” You blurted and slumped down in your seat.

“The sky. It looks…icky.”

You peered up best you could, and in her defense icky was probably the best word. The day had started clear, but the sky now had a greenish tinge to it. It reminded you of the beginnings of a storm, but you couldn’t see any clouds. You leaned out further to look and by doing so it gave you a clear view of Nima’s kitchen through a side window where you saw a clock resting against her wall. 3:37. Dank farrik. You jumped up.

“Karking⏤ Grogu!” You panicked. Shit, shit, shit. “Stop drinking, Nima.”

She mumbled a confirmation that you didn’t firmly believe then started sprinting back to the center of town. You had never, ever been late to pick up Grogu before. Guilt gnawed at you imagining Grogu looking for you in a crowd of parents and not being able to find you. Maker, how could you lose track of time like that? You got to the school in record time to find that all the kids were gone. Ms. Wynn was cleaning up around a room and she said Din had come and picked him up about ten minutes ago. 

As much as you wanted to avoid Din for a little while longer, you needed to see Grogu so you could apologize to him. On your way in you passed Mayfeld and Vanth who were standing in the lobby. They both raised their hands to greet you and you blew past them without preamble. You were a woman on a mission. 

“Grogu?” You called out, searching the room. Faintly, you could hear Grogu calling back to you and he waddled into the room a second later. You breathed a sigh of relief and knelt down to scoop him up into a hug. “I’m so sorry, baby. I am so, so sorry.”

“No sorry.” Grogu hummed giving your cheek a small pat making you chuckle.

The sound of a throat clearing had you glancing up to see Din leaning against the doorway that would lead back to his office. You were in an odd position because you were still upset at him from leaving you in the dark, but you were also ashamed and embarrassed at missing Grogu’s pick up time.

“Hi.” You mumbled awkwardly.

“I’m sorry.” Din blurted. Your eyes narrowed. Was he not going to address the ‘you abandoned Grogu’ thing first? “I should’ve told you sooner that Grogu and I are going to Mandalore.”

You slowly stood up with the cooing child in your arms. “You and… You’re taking Grogu?? To Mandalore??” If he heard the rising anger in your voice, he didn’t show it. “The planet that, again, we don’t know is even habitable?”

“Of course. Where I go, he goes.” Din shrugged nonchalantly. You blinked once, and Din finally seemed to catch onto at least one of the thoughts you had. “I want you to go, but I can’t pull you away from Nevarro. Not when you just started working in the clinic, and if I did choose to leave Grogu here that would just be added stress for you.”

Right. Because worrying about Din and Grogu on some wasteland of a planet wasn’t a stress factor. You locked your jaw and let out a slow breath through your nose. The boy in your arms seemed to latch onto the tension faster than his father did based on the worried looks he was bouncing between the two of you. Finally, you found your voice, “I forgot Grogu at school. I lost track of time. I⏤”

“It was an accident, I know. I’m not mad.” Din said calmly. 

He wasn’t mad. Din wasn’t mad, and somehow that made you even angrier. A part of you wondered if he was purposely not showing any anger in an attempt to keep you from being angry. One mistake for another mistake. Tit for tat. Maybe he was trying to make up for the fact that he knew he upset you, but you hated the calm demeanor he still seemed to carry. It occurred to you then, that you wanted him to be angry. You wanted to argue. The Mandalorian in front of you was the picture perfect example of composure and it pissed you off.

“You’re not angry.” You enunciated each word.

“Of course not, ner kar’ta.” Din shook his head. He drifted closer. “We should talk more about this trip⏤”

“Why?” You shrugged and pasted a large smile on your face. If he wanted to be composed then you’d be composed too. “I should check on the clinic one last time before heading home. I’ll take Grogu with me. Get as much time with him as I can before you boys go on your little adventure.”

Din shifted his weight from one foot to the other, a nervous tic you usually only saw at home, “Yeah. I might be late getting back. It looks like there might be a volcanic ash storm rolling in soon. Nevarro hasn’t seen one since before the guild left here.”

“No problem.” You said. “I’ll see you at home.”

Din began to take a step toward you, but you turned on your heel to leave with Grogu. You knew you were being petty, but right now you didn’t really care. If the two of you were playing mistake for mistake then this seemed fair too. You were petty to him and he didn’t tell you that he planned to leave you alone on this planet without him or Grogu. Tit for tat.

Din watched you leave with the sinking feeling that the interaction between the two of you had not gone well. Mayfeld stepped in with an incredulous look while Din continued to just stand with his arms crossed over his chest.

Mayfeld scoffed and motioned behind him, “How in the hell did you make it worse?”

Din mumbled a string of curses in every language he was familiar with and pushed past Mayfeld to leave. The man fell into step beside him. As much as he wanted to chase after you, he needed to help get the city prepped for the oncoming storm. Mayfeld, never able to take a hint, shook his head, “I mean, geez Mando. How is it you can string up a quarry in seconds, but can’t figure out how to apologize to a woman?”

“Where is Vanth?” Din asked, ignoring Mayfeld’s own line of questioning.

“Walking your girl to the clinic then home.”

Din locked his jaw. That was good to hear. He wanted to be the one to walk you and his son back to the safety of your shared home, but considering the circumstance he was just glad you weren’t alone. Din ordered Mayfeld to take the eastern side of the city and warn all citizens to bring in or tie down their outdoor belongings while he took the west. 

He didn’t get it. Had you wanted him to be angry at you? Din was a little peeved, it’d be a lie to say that he wasn’t. He had to leave work to pick up Grogu despite you taking on that responsibility this morning. Since starting at the clinic, you and him had taken turns, but Din liked to know beforehand so he wasn’t just up and leaving the station. If an emergency happened, where you were needed with a patient, that was more than understandable, but that hadn’t been the case. You had just lost track of time. A very human mistake to make, and honestly it was your first when it came to Grogu. So, yes, Din was a little peeved, but he wasn’t angry.

Din pushed it out of mind. You knew the truth, and he could better explain himself tonight when he got home. Right now, he needed to focus on the task at hand. 

According to Karga, the volcanic ash storms were quick but deadly. The closest volcano would spew out a hot and devastating breath of ash. It’d roll over the city, blanketing everything in darkness, but it usually was blown away and gone in a matter of hours. Din had heard plenty about them, but they had never occurred while he was planet side. As long as there was proper prep to begin with then it should be a smooth transition. Karga, ever the planner, had built the city buildings with proper metal shields to roll down over windows and doors in the case of a storm. Everybody would stay indoors for a half a day, and then they’d spend the rest cleaning up.

Din wondered if his helmet was equipped to withstand the ash. It should be. The beskar and his flight suit would keep the hot ash from burning his skin, and if his helmet worked correctly then the filter should keep out most of the dangerous ash. He only wondered in case he needed to venture out to save a citizen or two. They were making the rounds to tell everyone that staying indoors was an order, but Din knew with his luck one or two people would ignore the warning.

It took hours to ensure the entire city was ready to be locked down and make sure that Vanth found his place and that it worked for the man. Din had simply housed him in Cara’s old place. It was still furnished and it wasn’t like Vanth needed anything permanent. The storm was still being estimated at being 24 or 36 hours out. It would give Din, Mayfeld, and Vanth time in the morning and afternoon to run through the city once more for final checks.

“Hey,” Din called out as he stepped into the house with a sigh. When he rounded the corner he noted that you were in the kitchen alone and cleaning up. He glanced around, “Grogu?”

“Bathed and in bed.” You replied without missing a beat. “It’s late.”

“Yeah, sorry, getting the city prepped took longer than I thought it would.” Din groaned. “How was⏤”

“I have leftover dinner for you.” You interrupted him and motioned to the stove. “But I figure you’ll want to clean up first.”

Din nodded in relief, “Thank you.” You gave him a tight nod, a smile that didn’t reach your eyes painted your lips, and he paused before heading back to the shower. “Hey, you’re not going to bed are you? I wanted to talk.”

“I’m not going to bed.” You shook your head.

“Good.” Din turned and hurried off. From the moment Vanth let slip that he was leaving, Din had been craving to sit down next to you and explain everything. He wanted to take your hand in his and reassure you that everything was going to be okay, they wouldn't be gone long, and it killed him to leave you behind. Din wanted to explain that he was leaving to find redemption and revenge. Though, he wasn’t quite sure how you’d handle that information.

As Din washed the day off of him, he wondered how you’d feel about that? If he told you the absolute truth that he planned to find redemption in part so he could court you. If he told you that he planned on tracking down Daelar to rip the man’s throat out. He wasn’t positive how you’d handle either fact, but he was positive that he needed to tell you. Din was human, he made mistakes, but he made it a mission in life to not make the same mistake twice.

After getting dressed, Din carried all his armor, sans his helmet, into the room to set aside. He paused long enough to check in on Grogu and tuck the blanket thrown haphazardly around the hammock around the boy’s small body. “Nuhoy morut'yc, adi’ka.” Din readjusted the stuffed frog in Grogu’s hammock with a smile and left the room as quietly as possible. A nervous energy settled along his skin and he rolled his shoulders once, “Ner kar’ta?”

The kitchen was empty and Din titled his head in confusion at the finding. His eyes landed on a plate of food waiting for him on the island counter and drifted closer. Sitting beside the plate was a small note with the most passive aggressive of all smiley faces he had seen drawn.

‘Went out with Nima. Don’t wait up’.

Din aggressively tore his helmet off and the only thing that kept him from slamming it onto the counter was the knowledge that the sound would wake up Grogu. His nervous energy melted into irritation. Sure, he hadn’t clarified that he wanted to talk when he asked if you were going to bed, but Din knew his intentions had been clear. That’s why you had deliberately answered his question in such a specific manner. His hands clenched and unclenched as he took a slow and steadying breath. 

He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t. Din repeated this under his breath in an attempt to convince himself of it.

It was funny. The last time you sat in this cantina with Nima, in these exact chairs, the two of you had also been talking about Din. The subject last time was how awkward it was to tiptoe around him in his own home. Mashal Daddy, is what Nima had called him last time.

“Marshal Dickhead.” Nima scoffed before taking the shot in front of her. She pushed your shot glass closer to you and you tossed it back as well. The liquid burned the entire way down and you grimaced. It had been ages since you drank to this degree⏤ you were a light weight now. “That’s what he is.”

You shook your head. “No, he isn’t.”

“Okay, I need you to work on your shit talk.” Nima pointed at you. “Defending the person you’re complaining about is kind of redundant.”

You tapped your glass and the bartender wandered back over to pour the both of you another shot which you took without hesitation. Nima tried to get them to pour another, but you shook your head and ordered two mixed drinks instead. At least those had something other than straight liquor in it. 

“I’m pissed at him, but I don’t wanna shit talk him.” You replied.

“Then what do you want to do?”

“I don’t know.” You sighed. “I want to fight.” Nima gave you a questionable look and you shook your head. “Not physically. Maker, I don’t have a death wish.” Picking to tussle with a Mandalorian could possibly be the stupidest choice in the galaxy. “But I want to argue with him.”

Nima narrowed her eyes. “Why?”

“Because I⏤ I⏤” Your words got caught in your throat and you tried to wash it down with a large swig of your drink, to no avail. It was dumb to want to argue, wasn’t it? Couples tried to avoid that. Not that the two of you were an official couple. You groaned and buried your face into your hands⏤ already feeling dizzy from the drinks. You wanted him to be upset with you, to feel comfortable enough around you to show that he was upset. Up until now, the two of you hadn’t had any real arguments. Sure, there were little tiffs here and there about nothing important, and it typically always ended with Din conceding the point with a shrug. Despite what most people seemed to think, you knew that towering wall of beskar had emotions. He had a lot of kriffing emotions, and you wanted to see all of them. Even the negative ones. 

“I think I get it. The ‘wanting to argue’ thing.” Nima said softly. You lifted your head to look at her and she gave you a small smile. The Twi’lek reached out to set her hand on your shoulder with a comforting squeeze. “You want to have hot, angry make-up sex.”

Despite the sullen thoughts weighing you down, her words made a loud laugh slip from your lips. Nima look affronted that you were laughing at her theory, but you just shook your head and let the laughter die down to chuckles.

“I was serious.”

“I know you were. That’s why it’s funny.” You replied and took another sip of your drink. “But, I think I want to have not angry sex with him before I go for the other stuff.”

Nima’s eyes widened, “Wait, you guys haven’t⏤” You shook your head. “What the kriff are you waiting for!?”

“I don’t know.” You admitted. It was a fair question. “I think we’re going slow.”

“But, why?” Nima replied. “It’s obvious the two of you wanna jump each other’s bones. Half the city thinks you’re already married to him.”

You furrowed your brow, “Yeah, why is that? I get that the evidence stacked against us is damning, but to just assume we’re married?”

“Oh, I’ve been telling everyone the two of you are married.” Nima replied.

“What? Why??”

“I don’t know.” Nima shrugged. “Seemed fun. Figure it’ll be true one day.”

You scoffed, “Well, it won’t be if he disappears on the cursed world of Mandalore.” 

The words fell out of your lips with more pain than you meant to convey. Nima’s face fell and you lifted your drink to knock back the rest of it. That was a possibility, wasn’t it? Din and Grogu leave you to never return. Then what? You live in the house you shared with them alone? Listening to the ghostly echoes of where they used to be?

“Shots.” Nima called out to the bartender. “We need more shots.”

The two of you were four more shots in when a familiar face wandered toward you. Vanth leaned against the bar on your other side with a smile that you could tell was concerned. “Hey there, ladies.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, buddy!” Nima drunkenly lifted herself from her seat, nearly toppling over, and pointed at Vanth. “We aren’t interested. She’s married,” Nima pointed to you then pointed back to herself, “And I like pussy.”

Vanth’s eyes widened and you dragged her back down into her seat. “First, stop telling people I’m married. Second, stop announcing to the bar that you like pussy. And, third,” You motioned for Vanth to take a seat beside you which he did, “This is Cobb Vanth. He’s a friend from Tatooine and the replacement Marshal while Di⏤ Mando is gone.”

In your own tipsy stupor, you had nearly said Din’s name aloud. Luckily, Nima was too gone to notice and Vanth didn’t seem to care. He leaned over to over his hand in greeting. “It’s nice to meet you…?”

“Nima.” She replied curtly and held her hand out like a queen offering it to a peasant. You rolled your eyes, but Vanth just changed the position of his own hand to take hers with a small shake.

“Nima.” Vanth said. “Can I buy you two drinks?”

“I insist you do.” Nima nodded and pulled her hand away.

You chuckled with a shake of your head and tossed back the rest of the one in front of you so Vanth could get you a fresh one. Nima was babbling about something mechanical that you couldn’t follow along with and directing her words to anyone who glanced her way. 

“I’ve already apologized to Mando, but I feel like I owe you an apology too.” Vanth said. “I’m sorry about what happened on the tarmac.”

You snorted. “It wasn’t your fault for assuming Mando wasn’t keeping secrets.”

“I don’t know if I’d call it a secret.” Vanth shrugged, catching the bartender’s eye and holding up three fingers. He turned back to you. “I think the poor guy was just scared.”

“Mandalorians don’t feel fear.” Nima blurted out from behind you, apparently a part of the conversation now.

You shook your head. “I don’t care if he was scared as long as he tells me that he is.”

“Fair request.” Vanth shrugged. The drinks were brought over and you took a small sip of yours. The tipsy buzz floating in your skull was slowly shifting to just plain drunk, and a sadness crept in alongside it. You suddenly wished you were at home curled in bed⏤ curled in his bed. Listening to the soft snores of both him and Grogu. “So,” Vanth’s voice snapped you out of Din’s dark and safe room and back into the noisy cantina, “Where does that leave the two of you?”

“She’s dropping his ass.” Nima barked.

“Nima⏤” You whirled on her.

“You don’t need him! He’s abandoning you!” Nima cried and you took in the way her lower lip quivered for just a moment. “We don’t need either of them! They can⏤ They can go explore the kriffing galaxy or join the New Republic’s special forces team or whatever it is they want to do! We don’t care. We’re better than that. We don’t need them.” She turned and shook her head before taking a large sip of her drink. “I’m better off without her.”

You reached out, wordlessly, and pulled her hand away from the glass so you could hold it. Nima tangled her fingers with yours and squeezed once⏤ hers eyes glistening with unshed tears. You knew she had taken Cara’s departure worse than she wanted to admit. Nima was right. She didn’t need Cara. Nima was strong and beautiful and smart and incredible. Cara had been a friend but she had also been a bump in the road. She left selfishly when Nima needed her most, but Nima was going to rise above it. However, she had been wrong about you.

You did need Din. That’s why the thought of him leaving Nevarro was so jarring and painful. Coming here had been a way to escape your past and hide out, but you had never expected to find someone who would grow to be so important. Honestly, it was a bit scary if you thought about it for too long, but the truth was that you needed Din in your life. Him and Grogu. Without them, you’d have a gaping hole in your heart and you weren’t sure there was anything else in the universe that could fill that. Din hadn’t fully explained his reasoning, you hadn’t given him the chance, but you knew he wasn’t leaving you. Nima had been blindsided by Cara and left with nothing. Maybe it would’ve taken him forever, but Din wouldn’t leave without saying good-bye and you knew⏤ deep, deep down⏤ that he’d fight tooth and nail to return to you. 

“I’m sorry to ruin your night, Vanth.” You said, “But I think we’re gonna call it quits.”

“Don’t be silly.” Vanth shook his head. He tossed back his drink before rising himself. “I’ll walk you ladies home.”

You gave him a thankful smile knowing you were in no state to navigate to Nima’s house in the dark, put her to rest, then find your way back home yourself. Vanth chose to help Nima walk considering you had at least a little better control over your legs. The three of you stumbled out of the cantina into the warm night air⏤ it was time to go home.

Din didn’t have the time to put all his armor on, it was nearing one in the morning when his communicator went off, so he had simply thrown on the upper half of his flight suit, gloves, and boots. It left him in one of the more ridiculous outfits he wore considering his sweatpants did not match any item he adorned, but he just needed to get the door.

When he swung it open, Vanth stood on his porch with you in his arms sleeping soundly. He nodded toward your figure, “She was wide awake when we dropped off her friend, and was doing decent on the way here, but by time I reached the end of you street she was dozing off on her feet.”

“Thank you.” Din mumbled. He was quick to step forward and take you into his arms⏤ not enjoying the way you were snuggled into Vanth. Though he did appreciate the man bringing you home. “I really do appreciate this.” You shifted so you could bury your head into the crook of his neck and Din sighed. “Was she… How was she when you found her at the cantina?”

Vanth didn’t answer at first. He stared at Din for what felt like a long moment before looking at you then back to him again. Vanth chuckled, “I know I’m new to town, brother, so take this with a grain of salt.” He shook his head. “But it’s obvious she cares about you as much as you care about her. A fight now and then is normal, but don’t let it go on for too long. You don’t get time wasted back.”

“Thanks for the tip.” Din mumbled. 

Vanth gave him a quick nod before turning on his heel and leaving. Din shut the front door with his foot and carried you through the quiet house until he reached your room. The thought that you spent the night drinking until you were too inebriated to get home yourself bothered him more than he wanted to admit. You were a grown woman who could do what you wanted, but you had gone to specifically avoid talking to him. He found that incredibly annoying. 

It was like you were purposefully trying to rile him into lashing out, and that’s the last thing Din wanted to do. Din had a temper, but back during his bounty hunting years that was easily handled. He’d get angry, he’d go hunt a quarry and burn that emotion right out of himself. Now, he was in a setting where he didn’t have an outlet and he worked hard to keep that temper under wraps. Din had lashed out at Karga a time or two since his arrival, but that was expected and Karga was no stranger to his anger. 

Din settled you on your bed and began to carefully take off your boots followed by your socks and pants. He kept his gaze off your lower half as his only goal was to make you more comfortable. He stood and pulled your covers up to tuck you in. Din paused for a moment before pulling his helmet off and tucking it under one arm. He ran a hand through his messy hair and sighed. Maker, you were driving him up the wall. You had no idea the kind of fire you were playing with. It’s not like you were in danger, Din would tear his own heart out before hurting you, but he didn’t want to yell at you. 

“Ni aalar sha yaim ti gar.” Din sighed aloud. A reminder. He leaned forward to press his lips against your temple. Din would not lose his temper with you because he could not afford to lose you. He turned off your automatic alarm sitting on the night stand by the bed and wished you the same farewell he had to Grogu earlier in the night. “Nuhoy morut’yc, ner kar’ta.”

The headache you woke up with was nasty, and you swore in that moment to never drink again. Probably a fruitless promise to yourself, and not the first time you had claimed it, but right now you were miserable. You groaned and rubbed your face in your pillow before sitting up with a grunt. There was a weird amount of sunlight in your room and not just in ‘my poor hungover eyes are overly sensitive’ kind of way. You rubbed your face, glancing around, and it was then you realized the alarm sitting by your bed was off.

“Shit.” You breathed and jumped out of bed. The sheets tangled around your lower leg and you hit the floor with a curse. First you forgot to pick Grogu up from school and now you’d be late to taking him to school. Maker, you were so stupid. As reliving as it had been to drink and talk to Nima last night, it hadn’t been worth it for this. The speed in which you got dressed was startling and you burst into Din’s room to find it empty.

Your hungover brain realized much too late that this could’ve been bad if Din were in here with his helmet off. “Grogu??” You hurried out of the room and into the hall. When you stepped into the kitchen you were met with the smell of food and the sound of babbling. Grogu sat in his high chair eating with his father right beside him dressed and ready for work. “Grogu.”

“Ma!” Grogu greeted briefly before diving back into his food.

Din turned to stare at you and you rubbed your face in embarrassment, “I’m sorry. I don’t know why my alarm wasn’t on.”

“I turned it off.” Din shrugged. “Vanth brought you home late. Figured you needed to sleep in.” Din rose from his seat and began to try and clean Grogu up from the mess he had made of breakfast. “You’re fine. I can take Grogu to school this morning.”

“What?” You gaped in disbelief. 

“What?” Din echoed. 

“You hired me to take care of Grogu while you worked and I am failing at that right now.��� You spat.

Din scoffed. “Failing is a bit dramatic. You made a mistake. It happens.”

“I show up passed out from drinking on a work night, and your response was to tuck me in and turn off my alarm??” You said as your voice began to raise. “Seriously??”

“Wasn’t a work night.” Din replied calmly. “I wasn’t on schedule.”

You groaned in frustration, “That’s not the damn point, Din!”

“Then what is the point?”

“The point is you’re supposed to be upset! You’re supposed to be angry!” You snapped. Grogu cooed nervously from his seat and you bit back as much of your anger as you could. “It’s a normal human response. Why can’t you just admit that you’re angry at me!?”

Din set his hands on his hips and shook his head. “Why do you want me to be angry at you so badly?”

“Because I want you to be human around me!” You snapped.

Din stiffened, and as much as you hated the way you worded that, you thought maybe it would be the line that pushed him over the edge. Instead, he just gave you a tight shrug. “Sorry. I didn’t realize I wasn’t being human around you.”

“Really?” You laughed in broken disbelief. “You’re not even going to react to that shitty thing I just said?” Din remained silent. “Whatever. I’m taking Grogu to school.”

“You don’t have to do that⏤”

“Actually, I do.” You replied sharply and scooped the boy up from the chair. Grogu reached up to set a hand on your face and you sighed⏤ momentarily finding peace. When your gaze lifted up to spot Din once more the peace fell away. “It’s my job. Remember? Might as well do what I was hired to do while Grogu is still in Nevarro.”

Din didn’t respond. He stood stock still. Enough so that a stranger could walk in and confuse him for a droid. On your way out, you scooped up Grogu’s bag by the door and hurried out. There was a sharp, acidic tang in the air that greeted you and you flinched at the smell. The sky was uglier than it had been yesterday, but you were already late so you pressed on. 

The entire rushed walk to school, you spent it apologizing to Grogu for yelling at his father in front of him. You shouldn’t have lost your temper in front of the child. As if he understood the situation entirely, Grogu babbled along with you and continued to give your face small pats of reassurance. Right outside of the school, Ms. Wynn stuck her head out to greet you.

“Hey, Wynn. I am so sorry about yesterday and for being late this⏤”

“Hurry, get in.” She grasped you by the wrist and tugged you inside. She shut the door tightly behind you and you glanced around the room to see all the children being kept busy by the other school workers. You gave Ms. Wynn a confused look and she sighed. “The storm is coming sooner than everyone thought. The watch people are estimating it to hit city center in the next twenty minutes or so. You can’t be outside.”

You shrugged, “I can get to clinic in fifteen.”

Grogu wiggled and whined in your arms so you set him down so he could run off to play with his friends. Ms. Wynn shook her head. “No. It’s not worth the risk. Volcanic ash storms are incredibly dangerous. The entire city is locking up right now.” You still thought you’d be able to make it, but before you could argue further your communicator began to beep. “I’ll let you take that. I need to start class.”

You nodded and watched her walk off before activating your communicator. “Hello⏤”

“Ner kar’ta?” Din’s voice crackled to life⏤ panic evident. “Where are you and Grogu??”

“At school. Wynn just locked us in for the storm.”

“Good.” You heard Din breathe out a breath of relief. “Just stay there until the storm passes. It should be over by this evening.” There was an awkward pause of silence before he cleared his throat. “If you need anything, call me. Please.”

“I will.” You replied. Then added, “You’ll be safe at home, right?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” You hummed. “I’ll, uh, talk to you later.”

The call ended miserably and you wandered to the side of the room where you could drop into a chair. The good news was you wouldn’t have to worry about Grogu like some parents probably worried about their kids. Minutes later, the sound of strong wind and debris rattled the metal sheet covering the window you sat by. It made you jump in alarm and you silently thanked Wynn for stopping you.

That had come much sooner than twenty minutes.

You had to applaud Ms. Wynn and the other workers for their tenacity. The storm outside sounded miserable and terrifying, but the kids seemed nonplussed by it with the way the teachers distracted them. Around the end of the first hour, Aayla contacted you to ask about a few people who had wandered out into the storm and then stumbled into the clinic. Most of the injuries had been superficial⏤ the exposure short term as they came from nearby buildings. You walked her through how to mix some paste for burns.

It was during the second hour that the patients got too complicated for Aayla.

“I don’t know what to do, Doc.” Aayla’s voice shook. “I keep having him use his inhaler, but after a few minutes he ends up needing it again.”

“I’m worried he’s scorched his lungs. His asthma making it that much worse.”

“Do I mix a paste? Or⏤ Or make a solution?”

You sank in your seat. It was a solution that needed to be made, which you trusted Aayla to do, but that fluid then needed to be aerosolized. That way the patient could breathe it right into his lungs. Working with the machine that did so was tricky and even you weren’t the best at it. You hated the idea of getting Aayla to attempt it only to make a mistake and take on that guilt herself. She was still new to medicine. That kind of guilt shouldn’t be weighed on her conscience considering she hadn’t been trained for this.

“What’s his oxygen status right now?” You asked.

“It’s in the mid-80s and that’s with an oxygen mask on.”

Dank farrik. He might not make it to the end of this storm. The patient could crash much sooner than that. You gave Aayla a few orders to keep the man stable then pushed to stand. You caught Wynn’s attention and the woman drifted closer after helping a child with a small task. She gave you a warm smile, and you returned a skeptical one.

“Hi. So, I need a jacket, scarf, and some sunglasses.”

Wynn warned you against your idea, but you were dead set. You had no choice. So, ignoring her advice, you pressed on. You soaked the scarf in cold water then wrapped it a few times around your mouth and nose to use as a makeshift filter. The glasses would hopefully at least protect your eyes a little, and the jacket was to cover up the remainder of your skin. You were thankful you hadn’t worn shorts today. 

You had traveled to the back door to leave that way none of the ash would slip into the same room as the kids. It would take you 15 minutes to get to the clinic. It was now or never, you supposed.

Din was furious. His temper running hotter than the volcanic ash whipping around him. As it turned out, his helmet would keep out the dangerous conditions surrounding him. Grogu’s teacher had reached out to him to let him know that you had traveled out into the storm to reach a patient. She had done so to ensure that someone else was aware of the situation. Din had thanked her before rushing out himself. 

He asked one thing of you today. One. 

He just wanted you to stay inside the kriffing school with Grogu. It wasn’t asking a lot considering the literal fire and ash raining outside. It was common sense for someone to stay inside. Din was literally just asking you to follow common human survival instincts, yet you still left. You left, not protected in beskar as he was, but rather dressed in a wet scarf and jacket. As if that was going to help a karking thing.

Din tried to hail you over the communicator but it never got through. He told himself it was because of the storm. If even a little ash got into the communicator it’d glitch. That had to be it. Din refused to believe anything could have happened to you. Still, fear mingled with his rage, but he chose to ignore that for the time being.

Black and gray wind swirled around him, whipping his cloak in every direction, as flickers of burning ash drifted in the air. It was so thick that he could barely see a few feet in front of him. If he wasn’t careful, he could step right over you on accident and not even know it. The thick ash was beginning to settle on the ground in thick piles like the snow of Hoth. When he reached the clinic doors, he saw the metal shutters were down. Din didn’t hesitate to slam his hand against the metal as hard as he could.

If nobody opened the door soon he’d break through the shutters. Sure, ash would collect in the clinic lobby, but he’d deal with that problem later. Luckily for everyone, the shudders cracked open and Din quickly slipped through. Miriam, the new girl, had opened the door for him. Din didn��t mean to blow her off, but he sped past her. She was clever enough to open the second set of doors without him having to have asked. 

Inside the room, were a few people sitting on the cots or against the wall with a pink paste rubbed into splotches on their skin. Aayla stood in front of an older man who was struggling to breathe. A nebulizer, the same kind of machine that blasted a mist of medicine for Grogu, was being held up in front of his mouth.

“Where the kriff is she?” Din snapped.

Aayla nervously stiffened in place. She pointed out of the room, “There’s a small break room down the hall. She’s⏤She’s in there.” Din spun to leave, but Aalya called out to him. He nearly ignored her until she spoke again. “I think she’s more injured than she lets on. There’s some leftover pink paste from the last batch for her skin burns. Right now, she’s using the other nebulizer.”

Din huffed out a small thanks before snatching the jar off a side table and following her instructions out of the room. He wasn’t familiar with the back halls of the clinic, but he didn’t need any more clues to find you. Halfway down the hall he could hear a barking cough. Din picked up his pace then threw the break room door open hard enough that it slammed into the wall.

You startled where you were sitting at a table with a nebulizer mask held in front of your face. Your eyes widened in surprise and you opened your mouth to begin to say his name only for you to begin coughing violently. Just for a moment, his anger subsided. Din hurried over and set a hand on your shoulder to evaluate your injuries.

“Injuries. What’s wrong?”

“Just⏤ Just some burns.” Your voice was hoarse. “Worst of it⏤,” You began to cough again, “Lungs. In my lungs. Medicine will help.”

You took a few more deep breaths of the nebulizer and Din let his eyes trace your exposed skin. There were patches of mildly burned skin on your hands and on your forehead and upper cheeks. The pattern made it clear to see the shape of the sunglasses you had worn. Din tore off his glove and threw it aside rougher than he intended. Your eyes widened but you didn’t say anything. Din dug his fingers into the paste and began to rub it over every single burn he could see on you⏤ no matter how small. 

When he was appeased that he got every single injury, Din shoved the jar aside angrily and huffed, “Are you out of your damn mind?”

“No.” You replied. Your voice already sounding better. “It’s not like I had a choice.”

“Excuse me?” Din narrowed his eyes at you.

“I had a patient who needed me.” You shrugged. Then, you had the audacity to roll your eyes and mutter under your breath, “Just relax, Din.”

Din pushed to stand so fast that the chair he sat in went sprawling back and you jumped at the sound. He set his hands on the table and leaned toward you. “Relax? Did you just tell me to kriffing relax??” You stared at him silently, and Din took a step back with a shake of his head. He scoffed. “Relax.” Din felt his blood boiling under his skin. “Bic ni skana'din.”

“Din⏤”

“No.” Din snapped. “You’re going to sit there, and you’re going to listen to me.” He leaned in once more. “You wanted me angry? Well, now I’m angry! Dank farrik! What the kriff were you thinking!? I told you to stay in the school. I made myself very clear.” He slammed a hand down onto the table in frustration. “Do you realize how badly that could’ve ended?!”

You set down the nebulizer mask, “Din, I had to⏤”

He reached out to snatch the mask from the table where you set it and forced it back into your hand. Din shoved your hand up so it was holding the mask by your mouth once more. “No, you didn’t. Those patients look fine in there.”

“The old man wasn’t.” You snapped back with a glare of your own. “He might not have made it till the end of the storm.”

“Was there a chance he could’ve?”

“I mean, I guess, but there was just as equal of a chance that he wouldn’t. I⏤”

“Then that’s the risk that gets made.” Din yelled. “You don’t risk your life like that ever again. Do you hear me!?”

“I’m a physician!” You cried. “What would you have me do, Din? Risk him dying⏤”

“Yes.” Din reached out and wrapped his hand gently on the side of your face. Din was breathing hard, his rage making him shake, but he kept his touch soft as he forced you to face him. “That’s exactly what I would have you do. I don’t give two shits about him, but you I can’t live without, ner kar’ta. Is that not clear to you!?” 

You shook your head. “You don’t mean that. You wouldn’t risk him dying.”

“Wouldn’t I?” Din let out a harsh laugh. He wouldn’t risk one of the citizens of his city dying. In your shoes, he probably would’ve done the same thing⏤ but that wasn’t the point. Din sucked in a sharp breath trying to get back to the point he was making. “If I tell you to stay put, in order to keep you safe, you will listen to me. Do you understand?” Your eyebrows furrowed deeper and Din understood the immediate distaste for his words, but he didn’t care. “I said, do you kriffing understand?”

The nebulizer stopped on it’s own and you tossed aside the mask before standing up with a scoff, “I understand, but I’m not promising you I won’t do the exact same thing again.” You tried to walk around the table, out of his reach, but Din mirrored your movements and met you on the other side to block you in. You shook your head. “This is my job. Helping people is what I do. I’m not going to put people at risk just because you don’t trust me to be competent enough to succeed.”

Maker, you were the most frustrating woman⏤ Din’s hands found his hips as he leaned into your space. “You think it’s a trust thing?” He barked out an angry laugh. “All it takes is one mistake, one miscalculated step, and that’s it. It’s not about competence or about trust. It’s about gambling, and I’m not going to let you gamble your life away for a stranger.”

“As if you’ve never gambled your life for a stranger before?? I highly doubt that.” You spat. “Din, you’re a good man and if you think⏤”

“No.”

You narrowed your eyes. “What?”

“I said, no. I’m not.” Din said through clenched teeth. You were going to be the death of him. He was vibrating with frustration. Fear grabbed control of him at the realization that this was who you were. You were good, to your core, and this was going to keep happening. It was clear on your face that you didn’t believe his words. You weren’t getting this, and Din wasn’t good enough with words to get you to. Resolution settled in his mind, determination, and his next words came out in a low growl. “Close your eyes.”

You blinked almost owlishly. “Huh?”

“Close your eyes, ner kar’ta.” Din demanded, his hands traveling to his helmet without pause. Your eyes widened in alarm before shutting tight. It scrunched your features up. Din tore his helmet off and slammed it onto the table before closing the space between the two of you.

Din had never kissed someone before, which seemed ridiculous considering the other acts he had performed, but the idea of it seemed easy enough. His hands found your jaw and he tilted your head up enough that he could press his lips firmly against yours. Din held them there until he felt your entire body slowly relax. He pulled back just a bit and opened his eyes to see your features had softened though your eyes remained closed. Din’s nose brushed against yours, unable to bring himself to pull away from you any further. He mumbled the next words out, exhausted, but tightened his grip around your face in hopes to get his message across loud and clear, “I am not a good man. I’m a selfish man, and there is nothing I wouldn’t do⏤ no line I wouldn’t cross⏤ to keep you and Grogu safe.” Din leaned his forehead against yours and sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I kissed you without asking permission. I just… Ner kar’ta, I cannot lose you and I didn’t know how to…”

“It’s okay.” You mumbled. “I‘ll forgive you on one condition.”

“And that is?”

“Kiss me again.” You breathed. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling yourself up to your toes, and Din didn’t hesitate to meet you halfway. His lips pressed against yours once more, but this time it wasn't so simple. It was messy, for lack of a better word. Your lips moved against his, furiously, and Din mimicked every action. It was as if the anger of your argument had shifted and transformed into this moment right here. Teeth clashing against teeth, tongue pressing against tongue. The kiss was desperate and felt like a battle. You versus him in a competition to devour the other, and Din was never one to back away from a challenge. 

He hooked his arms under your legs, lifting and turning, so he could set you on the table. Din’s hands shoved aside the nebulizer machine that sat in the way and he heard the device clatter against the tile floor. He’d buy the clinic a new one. Din pressed into you forcing you to either catch yourself by reaching back or continue clinging to him. You chose to keep your arms around his neck, wrapping around even tighter, and Din had to readjust and wrap his arms around your waist to keep you both from collapsing onto the table.

Din took a chance by nipping on your lower lip and the moan that left you was the perfect reward. He licked into your open mouth, a similar action you had done to him, and it deepened the kiss once more. Finally, breathlessly, Din was forced to pull back just enough to get air. You were panting as well⏤ the only sound in the room being the heavy breaths you shared between one another and the howling storm outside.

“I’m sorry I forgot to pick up Grogu.” You said and the disappointment in your whispered words made his chest ache. “I’m sorry I left last night instead of staying to talk. I’m sorry for yelling at you this morning.”

“No, I’m sorry.” Din replied. “All of this could’ve been avoided if I had just told you about Mandalore. I also promise to get more angry at you if you promise it’ll always end like this.” The soft, breathy laugh that left your lips was like a reassuring melody. You were safe. You were in his arms. You were okay. Din let out a breath of relief. “Ner kar’ta…”

You tilted your mouth against his to let a soft kiss linger against his. The exact opposite of the kind of kiss the two of you had shared. You sighed, “Why did it have to come to this? Why wouldn't you just admit you were upset with me?”

“I… I was worried about scaring you away if I lost my temper.” He admitted. “Things felt so good between us, so perfect, I didn’t want to ruin it.”

“Telling me how you really feel is never going to ruin anything, Din. I want that. I want to know what you’re thinking.” You replied. “Fighting isn’t always a bad thing.”

Din pressed his lips softly against yours once⏤ twice⏤ three times. “I can see that.” Maker, maybe taking his helmet off was a bad idea. After getting to feel your lips against his it was going to be twice as difficult to maintain his control. “I need to put my helmet back on, ner kar’ta.”

You chuckled and set a soft kiss against his cheek before releasing him. Din took one more second to stare at you, unhindered by his visor, and he loved the way your lips were swollen from his. He grabbed his helmet and tugged it back on. When it was back in place he let you know. It was cute the way you peeked out of only one eye, just in case, before letting both open. 

“I think I’m ready to talk about Mandalore now.” You shrugged. “Unless, you have something better to talk about?”

Din chuckled and gave you a small shrug. “We can talk about how you were my first kiss, if you’d like.”

“I am?” Your eyes widened. “Seriously?” He nervously gave you a small nod⏤ face burning under his helmet. “Oh man, I am so sorry. If I had know I would’ve⏤ would’ve⏤ I don’t know. Been gentler?” Din laughed at the concern drawn all over your face. Your lips twitched up but you gave him a small shove. “I’m serious! Maker, I was basically going for your tonsils…”

Din lifted a hand to hold your chin. “I’m not complaining.” He leaned his cold forehead against yours. “And by the way, I am proud of you. I’m so proud of everything you do. I… Can you promise to at least call me before you do something risky?”

“Yeah.” You nodded. “I can promise that.”

Din would take the victory where he could.

mando'a translations:

Nuhoy morut'yc, adi’ka

Sleep safe, little one.

Ni aalar sha yaim ti gar

I feel at home with you.  

Nuhoy morut’yc, ner kar’ta.

Sleep safe, my heart.

Bic ni skana'din.

Expression of being angry or repelled, i.e. ‘that really ticks me off’

@aheadfullofsteverogers @yyiikes @kneelforloki @c-ms1ut @sgt-morgan @luthienaliceisilra @fawn-kitten @missbabyjay @coldlamaspersonspy @dilfsaremyfavourite @jamesbuckybarnes @yorkeylover @teawrites01 @emily-roberts @djarinxore @impala1967666 @shelbyteller @faithrenner @dindjarindude @dankfarrick29 @rh1nestonecowg1rl @garbo-lesbo @anythingforattention @tearfulsolace @onceinamando @catharinaroxastovaova @uwu-i-purple-youu @modiddys-blog @harriedandharassedd @stagerightlauren @mini-bees @xxinvisblexx @adoringanakin @sagegreensensei @spidey-3 @sydney-1209 @thepascalofus @hrtsforpascal

[musinghotline]

THE BLACK PARADE : Sentence Starters

Sentence starters from the My Chemical Romance album The Black Parade. Change as needed.

THE END.

"Come one, come all, to this tragic affair."

"You might wake up and notice you're someone you're not."

"I'd encourage your smiles, I'll expect you won't cry."

"When I grow up, I want to be nothing at all."

"Save me!"

"Get me the hell out of here!"

"Too young to die, my dear."

"If you can hear me, just walk away."

"You can't save me!"

DEAD!

"Did you get what you deserve?"

"I'll be here waiting, babe."

"Have you heard the news that you're dead?"

"No one ever had much nice to say."

"I think they never liked you anyway."

"Wouldn't it be great if we were dead?"

"Is this the most the both of you can give?"

"If life ain't just a joke, then why are we laughing?"

THIS IS HOW I DISAPPEAR.

"Drain all the blood and give the kids a show."

"There's things that I have done you never should ever know."

"Without you is how I disappear."

"Tell me if it's so- that all the good girls go to heaven."

"Can you hear me cry out to you?"

"I'm just a ghost."

"I can't hurt you anymore."

"You wanna see how far down I can sink?"

THE SHARPEST LIVES.

"If I crash on the couch can I sleep in my clothes?"

"I'm drunk, I suppose."

"If it looks like I'm laughing, I'm really just asking to leave."

"You're the one that I need, I'm the one that you loathe."

"You can watch me corrode like a beast in repose."

"I've really been on a bender and it shows."

"Why don't you blow me a kiss before she goes?"

"Give me a shot to remember!"

"You can take all the pain away from me."

"Your kiss, and I will surrender."

"The sharpest lives are the deadliest to lead."

"Drop the dagger and lather the blood on your hands."

WELCOME TO THE BLACK PARADE.

"Would you be the savior of the broken, the beaten, and the damned?"

"Will you defeat them, your demons? And all the non-believers, the plans that they have made?"

"One day, I'll leave you- a phantom."

"Sometimes I get the feeling she's watching over me."

"Though you're dead and gone believe me, your memory will carry on."

"We'll carry on."

"Your misery and hate will kill us all."

"Take a look at me, 'cause I could not care at all!"

"Do or die, you'll never make me!"

"The world will never take my heart."

"Go and try, you'll never break me!"

"I won't explain or say I'm sorry."

"I'm unashamed, I'm gonna show my scar."

"I'm just a man, I'm not a hero."

I DON'T LOVE YOU.

"Don't ever think I'll make you try to stay."

"I'll be off to find another way."

"You're still a good-for-nothing."

"Better get out while you can."

"I don't love you like I did yesterday."

"Sometimes I cry so hard from pleading."

"So sick and tired of all the needless beating."

"Baby, when they knock you down and out, it's where you ought to stay."

"Another dollar's just another blow."

"Fix your eyes and get up."

"When you go, would you have the guts to say 'I don't love you like I loved you yesterday'?"

HOUSE OF WOLVES.

"I know a thing about contrition because I've got enough to spare."

"You haven't got a prayer."

"Come on, sing the praise."

"We've got innocence for days."

"Well, I think I'm gonna burn in hell!"

"Tell me I'm an angel."

"Tell me I'm a bad man, kick me like a stray."

"It's a compliment, I swear."

"You better run like the devil, 'cause they're never gonna leave you alone."

"You better hide up in the alley, 'cause they're never gonna find you a home."

"I've been a bad motherfucker."

"Tell me I'm a bad, bad, bad, bad man."

CANCER.

"Turn away..."

"If you could, get me a drink of water."

"Bury me in all my favorite colors."

"I will not kiss you, 'cause the hardest part of this is leaving you."

"Turn away, 'cause I'm awful just to see."

"Know that I will never marry."

"We're counting down the days to go."

"It just ain't living."

"If you say goodbye today, I'd ask you to be true."

"The hardest part of this is leaving you."

MAMA.

"We all go to hell."

"We're all gonna die."

"Stop asking me questions, I'd hate to see you cry."

"When we go, don't blame us."

"We'll never let you go."

"When you go, don't return to me, my love."

"We're all full of lies."

"We're meant for the flies."

"Right now, they're building a coffin your size."

"You should've raised a baby girl, I should have been a better son!"

"If you could coddle the infection, they can amputate at once."

"You ain't no son of mine."

"For what you've done, they're gonna find a place for you."

"Just you mind your manners when you go."

"It's really quite pleasant, except for the smell."

"If you could call me a sweetheart, I'd maybe then sing you a song."

"There's shit that I've done with this fuck of a gun."

"You would cry out your eyes all along."

"We're damned after all."

"Raise your glass high, for tomorrow, we die!"

SLEEP.

"They're- they're these terrors. And it feels as if somebody was gripping my throat, squeezing."

"Don't you breathe for me."

"I'm undeserving of your sympathy."

"There ain't no way that I'm sorry for what I did."

"How could you cry for me? 'Cause I don't feel bad about it."

"Shut your eyes, kiss me goodbye, and sleep."

"The hardest part is letting go of your dreams."

"A drink, for the horror that I'm in."

"Three cheers for tyranny, unapologetic apathy."

"There ain't no way that I'm coming back again."

"The hardest part's the awful things that I've seen."

"Sometimes, I see flames, and sometimes I see people that I love dying."

"Just sleep."

"I can't ever wake up."

TEENAGERS.

"They're gonna clean up your looks, with all the lies in the books."

"The drugs never work."

"They got methods of keeping you clean."

"They're gonna rip up your heads, your aspirations to shreds."

"Another cog in the murder machine."

"Teenagers scare the living shit out of me!"

"They could care less as long as someone will bleed."

"Maybe they'll leave you alone, but not me."

"You're never gonna fit in much, kid."

"We'll make them pay for the things that they did."

DISENCHANTED.

"I hate the ending myself, but it started with an alright scene."

"It was the roar of the crowd that gave me heartache to sing."

"It was a lie when they smiled, and said you won't feel a thing."

"If I'm so wrong, how can you listen all night long?"

"Will it matter after I'm gone?"

"You never learned a goddamn thing."

"You're just a sad song with nothing to say."

"If you think that I'm wrong, this never meant nothing to you."

"I spent my high school career spit on and shoved to agree."

"Bring out the old guillotine, we'll show 'em what we all mean."

"Just go, run away."

"Where did you run to?"

"Go find another way."

FAMOUS LAST WORDS.

"I know that I can't make you stay."

"Where's your heart?"

"There's nothing I can say to change that part."

"Is it hard understanding I'm incomplete?"

"A life that's so demanding, I get so weak."

"I am not afraid to keep on living."

"I am not afraid to walk this world alone."

"Honey, if you stay, I'll be forgiven."

"Nothing you can say can stop me going home."

"I'm so weak."

"There bright lights have always blinded me."

BLOOD.

"I can't control myself because I don't know how."

"They love me for it!"

"Honestly, I'll be here for a while."

"Give them blood, blood, gallons of the stuff."

"Give them all that they can drink, and it will never be enough."

"They can fix me proper with a bit of luck."

"The doctors and the nurses, they adore me so."

"It's really quite alarming, 'cause I'm such an awful fuck!"

"I'm the kind of human wreckage that you love."

[megamindsecretlair]

Ur MM fic was soooo good!!! Pls write more of him I beg😭🫶🏾

A/N: no need to beg, you know I got you anon! Make sure to show some love to @planetblaque and @soft-persephone for their MM fics!

Leaving Me Sleepless

Pairing: Neighbor!Mother's Milk x Neighbor!Black!Fem!reader/plus size reader

Warnings: 18+ only. MINORS DNI. You are in charge of your own reading experience. Age gap, more so late 20s/early 30s, but can be read however. Dom Mother's Milk, Cursing, PIV, SMUT, FLUFF, fingering (fem receiving), oral (male and female receiving), D/s elements, Sorry if I missed others. Season 1 MM, no spoilers for the show. Divorced MM. Brat reader. Corruption kink if you squint. Possession Kink. Size kink.

Summary: You were ready to start a new chapter of your life, moving into your first house all by your lonesome. Done with waiting on others to get their lives together, you were finally pursuing the life you wanted. You had everything planned, until you didn’t. 

Marvin comes to your rescue, turning a stressful day into something sweet and full of laughs. An easy friendship builds between you. Only you can’t wait any longer to see if this is one sided. You decide to start toying with Marvin, just to see how long it would take him to break.

AO3 Link

Word count: 10,515k

A/N: I don't know what it is about this man. But enjoy my brainrot! Love him dowwwnnn. Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, reblog, or unhinged ask.

It wasn’t your intention to toy with your hot neighbor, Marvin. When you moved in, you were prepared to do it all yourself. You got a moving company to help you pack up your shit from your ex-boyfriend’s house. You successfully transferred your utilities to your new place, leaving that broke motherfucker with no power for a weekend. You were on top of it. 

Okay, so not everything was so smooth. You got a flat tire on the freeway, the moving van wrote down your address wrong, and when you arrived at your new place, no moving truck to be found, you had a breakdown about it. To be fair, it was a hard and emotional day. This was the first time you bought a house, did it by yourself, and you were nervous as hell.

Your family wasn’t the most supportive. They kept asking you if you were sure you were ready and what were you going to do with that big house to yourself? As if finally having some alone time and gaining safety for the first time in your life was a bad thing. So not having the moving truck at your new place was like an ill omen. 

You started to doubt yourself. What would you do with a house to yourself? You were responsible for everything now. It was on you to take the trash out, keep up with the lawn and maintenance, cook meals, wash your sheets. The pressure of your decision crushed you to pieces until the dam broke and the tears were falling like crazy.

You hadn’t called the moving truck just yet. You needed time to break down before you pulled yourself together. You were a strong, independent woman and you were going to be okay. Like you always were. 

Marvin was just getting home from wherever he spent his time and saw you in front of your new place, standing on the curb and trying hard to hide your crying. You only had a few bags in your car, essential things you knew you didn’t trust with the movers. Smart thinking, but it wasn’t a bed. It wasn’t cookware. It wasn’t anything you needed to have a successful first day in your new place. The sun was losing its heat, traveling across the sky like the moon was on its heels. 

Marvin called out to you, walking up like he would single-handedly solve all of your problems. He wore a white T-shirt with the Wu Tang symbol on it. Medium wash jeans and white sneakers. He wore a gold chain as well, complimenting the golden hue of his skin. 

He also had a thick beard on his beautiful face. Neat and well-trimmed. But his eyes were the kindest you’d ever seen. In just a few minutes, it’d be easy to fall into the brown depths and never come up for air. 

You swiped at your eyes and smiled at him. “I’m okay, I’m fine!” You said, waving him off. Why was it that fine ass men always popped out when you looked like hell? You were currently wearing raggedy blue sweats with mysterious stains all over, some from bleach, paint, or whatever other dirty job needed done. Your lavender shirt had seen better days, the graphic on it cracked and nearly faded away. Your tennis shoes were peeling in one corner, but these were your most comfortable and didn’t want to give them up.

And ugh, your hair. You looked tore up from the floor up and you did not need your neighbor meeting you like this. Why couldn’t he catch you on your way out to the club or out to eat with your friends? You had a new, gorgeous leopard print dress in your moving van, with sexy three hoop gold earrings that were calling your name. Fuck me heels that made your ass look amazing. Why couldn’t he meet you then?

“Is everything alright? Are you sure?” He asked. 

God, that voice. You smiled and nodded, clutching your phone for dear life. He needed to move away, now. You wish the neighbors were out when you were scoping the house. If you knew he looked like that, you would have never shown up like this. The embarrassment was killing you. 

“I’m okay, Mr…?” You asked.

He smiled. “Call me Marvin, please,” he said. 

You introduced yourself. Sexy name matching a sexy man. He was so damn broad and thick. Just how you liked ‘em. But no, no, you promised yourself to focus on you right now. On getting this house set up exactly how you liked it. You weren’t going to have a traditional housewarming party. You weren’t going to invite all that negative energy into your new place. This new period in your life was about you, getting your mental stronger, your life together. Focus on your goals and finally getting started on your lifelong dreams. Nowhere in that plan you dreamt up with your best friend did it include a man. 

“Are you sure there’s nothing I can help with?” He asked. He sounded and looked so sincere, that your shoulders slumped and you sighed, looking down the street like it would magically conjure the moving truck. 

“It’s silly,” you said and rolled your eyes, waving away his concern. 

Marvin smiled and tilted his head. “Try me. You’d be doing me a favor actually. I only had plans to go inside, grab a beer, and pig out. You’d be saving me from getting fat and lazy,” he said, patting his stomach. That smile.

You couldn’t help but giggle, checking him out. And letting him know that you were checking him out. “There’s no chance in hell you’d end up fat and lazy,” you told him. He chuckled and rubbed his beard, his thumb swiping at the corner of his mouth. 

“You never know. These things add up. And you’re changing the subject,” he said. 

You sighed and suppressed a smile. Fine. Fine. You broke down and told him the whole ordeal. That you were moving in and waiting for your truck. Marvin cursed softly, excusing his words, and asked for the number to the movers. 

He used his own phone to call them, getting in their asses about taking advantage of you. They knew exactly where your house was and if they weren’t here in thirty minutes, giving you a steep discount for their actions, then he’d report they ass on their website, on social media, and anyone else who’d listen. 

Your mouth dropped listening to him. He was in complete control, not taking an ounce of slack from the movers. All of your interactions with them had been cordial, but there were enough times where you thought you were on them too much. You were trying to escape your ex’s house before he came home. You felt like a screaming harpy, telling them to move their ass. 

A little bass from a man and suddenly they could hop to. Fucking pigs. When Marvin was done, he smiled. “There, they’ll haul ass now. I’m sorry they did that to you,” he said.

You waved him off. “No way, you’re my hero. I would’ve been arguing for an hour to get them to show up with enough daylight to put things where I need,” you said. The relief you felt was almost indescribable. All thanks to a friendly neighbor. With no wedding ring, you might’ve observed.

“You wanna come inside and wait? I mostly have beer, but maybe some juice? Water?” He asked.

You bit your lip, feeling awkward and gross but he was just so helpful. You didn’t want to give that up just yet. “Are you sure I wouldn’t be a bother?” You asked.

“I promise,” he said. 

You nodded. Well, fuck it. You followed him to his place, stepping inside his place hoping for the best. You were blown away actually. His place smelled amazing, light like lemon and something breezy or tropical. 

The place was spotless, not a cushion out of place. His living room was nice and spacious, with a thick rug underneath the couch and coffee table. You sat down while Marvin went to grab you some water. 

Marvin asked you questions about yourself and you asked him questions about him. You found out he was divorced, amicably, and they shared a beautiful daughter together. He worked with inner city youth at a detention center, keeping knuckleheads from making dumb ass mistakes. 

The more he talked, the more you started to see a clearer picture of him. He paid extra care to cleanliness letting you know that he’d never, ever tolerate being in your place. You weren’t a slob, but you weren’t Johnny on the spot either. Sometimes dishes piled up or you lounged in bed all day. You could already see and hear the arguments, the disgusted looks, the pot shots. 

You subtly sighed. Too bad. He’d make someone a fine ass husband one day. While you talked, the moving van showed up in record time. You tried saying bye to Marvin, but he insisted on staying to make sure the movers didn’t try to get over on you again.

Thanks to Marvin, the movers moved the heavy shit where it needed to go and brought your boxes to the rooms they were assigned to. You had more than enough time to unpack what you needed tonight, clean out the bathtub and kitchen, so that you could bathe in your new place and cook in your new place. 

You offered to cook something for Marvin, but he excused himself, saying he took up enough of your time. He hoped you had a good night and now that you were neighbors, he told you not to be a stranger. He was like a buff fairy godmother and you couldn’t stop thanking him as he left.

“No thanks, necessary. I’m just glad I was around. Did you get a chance to change the locks yet?” He asked.

You shook your head. You hadn’t even thought to do so. “If you buy some new locks, I can install them for you. Get some with a longer latch,” he said.

You stared at him blankly with an adorable smile on your face. “And that means…?” You asked. 

Marvin chuckled. “If you like, I’m free tomorrow and we can go to the store. Get some things to make sure you’re safe in here,” he said. He stood in the doorway, framed by a darkening sky. The white shirt glowed against his skin. He looked like an angel. Or maybe that was just your thinking because of how incredible he was. 

“I’ve taken up enough of your weekend,” you said, looking down and playing with invisible lint by the door. 

Marvin waited until you looked back at him to smile. “You can’t be a bother if I volunteer. Here, take my number, and if you need anything, just call or text. No matter the day or time,” he said. 

You took his number and gave him yours, giggling to yourself. “You don’t like me being here all by my lonesome, do you?” You asked.

He chuckled and nodded. “I know, I sound like an old-fashioned old man. You can absolutely take care of yourself. But I’m around, okay?” He asked.

You nodded, thanked him again, and finally let him leave your stoop. You closed and locked the door behind you, leaning back against it, and squealed to yourself. He was an impossible dream. An angel. A hero. Your savior. You’d still be outside crying your eyes out while the movers hemmed and hawed about your most precious possessions. 

You daydreamed for a few minutes, letting the crush finally take over. There may never be a future, but he was sweet. And fun. And so caring it hurt. 

You threw on some tunes and started dancing around your space, getting the essentials cleaned up that day. You started in the bathroom, the one place you refused to let get dirty. First, because it grossed you out and second, because you liked taking relaxing baths with candles and music. 

And so on it went. Marvin did take you to the hardware store the next day, being patient with you and explaining why you needed this or that. Some of the items you genuinely did know about, but he was so adorable explaining things to you. He was patient, never acted put out, and never made you feel dumb for asking so many questions.

Perhaps it was then that it all started. Acting ditzy whenever he came around. Not enough to be obvious. But just so helpless unless he swooped to the rescue. And you always thanked him by calling him your hero, heaping praises on him, and making sure to grip his thick biceps and looking into his eyes as you expressed your gratitude.

As the weeks and months passed, you fell into an easy friendship with him. Your work hours aligned with his, sometimes arriving home at the exact same moment. Intending to just catch up for a few minutes, there were times you almost got sick standing outside in the cold air with him talking. 

If he “happened” to make extra food, he made sure to bring it over and he promised that you were doing him the favor. If you “happened” to make extra food, you returned the sweet gesture, passing the same dishware back and forth. 

You always texted first to make sure he didn’t have company. One day, he laughed riotously and told you that he wasn’t seeing anyone. And his friends weren’t the “come over and hang out” type. 

“And you talk about me being in a house all by myself,” you scolded him playfully, and made sure to drop by just because. You told yourself that you were just being harmless, just making sure to repay him for being so sweet to you as a neighbor. 

You weren’t sure when the teasing started. Whenever you talked to Marvin, it seemed like you were having a different conversation with your bodies. He made you warm all over. His presence and his smell already drew you in. But his protective nature and sense of humor made sure you were downright smitten.

You touched his arm or hand whenever you could. He’d find ways to step closer, or place his hand on the small of your back as he moved around you in the kitchen. Whenever you’d join him on the couch watching sports, you began to sit closer and closer together, thighs pressed together, and bumping shoulders. 

But he never picked up on your hints. You weren’t even sure what kind of hints you were throwing out there so you couldn’t entirely blame him. You had a feeling that he just wouldn’t accept your place. It was why you were usually at his place and not the other way around. Did you want him to kiss you? Grab you? Snatch you up? 

There were plenty of times you daydreamed about having your wicked way with him. What he’d look like when he let himself loose and grabbed you like he didn’t want to let go. Maybe he wouldn’t be into someone younger? 

There were quite a few years separating you, but hell. The dating pool was ass nowadays. These men acted like they had no home training. Like they thought the best jewelry, cars, and clothes were enough to snare a woman but their dick game was just as terrible. A bunch of pretty packaging on trash.

Marvin looked like he’d fuck well. He moved precisely, taking care to make himself as un-intimidating as possible, as welcoming as possible. Sometimes you stared outside of your window when he got home from the gym. His dick bounced in his gray sweatpants, letting you know that he had more than enough equipment. But you were confused, lost, wondering if you just liked him because he made you feel safe when no other guy ever did. Not even your own dad.

Yeah, yeah, daddy issues. Whatever. You made sure to back away from Marvin when things sort of took a turn. You weren’t sure what was wrong with you. So it was best to back away and stop sending so many mixed signals. Besides asking Marvin to fix little things around your place. You made sure to clean up first.

One night, however, you were restless. Sleepless. You had opened your blinds in your bedroom, opening the windows as well to let in some cool air. You were unbearably horny. The porn and smut books weren’t cutting it. You threw on some sexy music, grabbed your favorite drink, and danced around your place in your panties and nothing else. Why not? You’d never done such a thing at your previous addresses, never feeling safe to do so. 

You were feeling mighty good, teasing yourself, letting the anticipation build up before you broke out your Black Noir dildo, when you turned around. Marvin had entered his own bedroom. All this time, you didn’t know your bedrooms faced each other. 

He had turned on his light, moving around his room. And the pervert in you watched. And stared. He took off the black shirt he had on, moving on to his pants. You looked away before you became too big of a pervert. But…it did give you a naughty idea. You dimmed the lights a little lower and continued dancing around your place, keeping your back turned to his window.

It may not work…but…you felt sexier. More alive. More naughty. Whether or not he actually saw something, it was enough to make you want to unplug your dildo and go to town right then and there. To imagine Marvin kissing all up and down your body, worshiping you. To get a sneak peak at the dick in his pants. You just knew he knew what to do with it. Felt it all over. 

You were lost in your daydream, you turned around to grab your drink. You looked across the way at Marvin who seemed to be spazzing out. He was windmilling, stepping backwards, and you giggled as you pretended not to notice. 

Interactions after that were…interesting. Marvin couldn’t look you in the eye after that. You’d ask and poke and prod, and he’d laugh it off, giving you some excuse about not being able to sleep. You pouted and continued to rely on him for little things. The sink wasn’t working? Call Marvin. Door was stuck? Call Marvin. 

Every time, you walked him to the door asking if there was anything you could help him with and he’d only tell you he was happy to help, bid you goodnight, and then entered his house. The little minx in you couldn’t let it go. Had to see how far you could push him and what he’d do if he snapped.

You were thoroughly in love with your sweet neighbor and you wanted to torture him right out of his pants. Your bed was against the wall, opposite the door, so your windows were on the left. From what you could puzzle out, Marvin’s bed was similar. So if you happened to lay on the bed and pleasure yourself, there would be no mistaking what you were doing. 

So you did just that. The first time, you were nervous as hell. You waited till you texted Marvin good night, that you were going to turn in early. He bid you goodnight and then you waited. Waited for him to enter his room and move around the space. All you saw was a dark shadow, but you knew that he was up here for you. Or you wished for that to be true in either case.

You had your own lights dark enough to not see anything, but dim enough to not mistake it for anything else. And you pleasured yourself with your vibrator, imagining that Marvin could see everything and was wishing it was him. You pictured him sitting in the window, rubbing his sweaty hands on his pants, trying to resist touching himself. But the urge was too strong. Dick straining against his pants. So he’d take it out just to hold it. Just to relieve some of the ache. 

But then he’d see your legs moving, your hands going in and out, rubbing across your titties, and he’d know. And he’d groan. That sexy, deep, needy rumbling like he just couldn’t help himself. He’d start slowly, just absently touching himself. Stroking himself to the image of you pleasuring yourself and knowing that he could do it better. 

“Oh god, oh god,” you whined in the empty room, soft R&B music and the low vibrator the only sounds in the room. You wished it was his heavy breathing. His moaning in your ear. Was he a moaner? Did he moan while he was deep in it? 

Your clit throbbed so you pulled the Black Noir dildo out of you and rubbed it against your clit. You moaned, breathing heavier. You pictured Marvin holding it there, torturing you. Just because he was sweet didn’t mean he couldn’t be mean sometimes, right? 

The vibrations against your clit was torture and you held it there. Your hands weren’t yours anymore. They were guided by a phantom Marvin. For all you knew, he could be fast asleep at the moment. But to you, he was right in the room with you. He was holding the dildo against your clit and commanding you to hold it. 

A dildo didn’t faze him. He knew women needed something extra to take them there. He was not intimidated by a vibrating toy when he knew his dick was everything you’d ever need. “Please,” you moaned, unable to help yourself.

Your belly twisted, clit throbbing painfully. Your thoughts were completely focused on phantom Marvin, picturing his shirt off, his powerful thighs exposed. You were no better than a man in the 18th century. A little bit of ankle and you were feral for Marvin. Overcome with thoughts of him. 

You were about to cum so you plunged the black dildo into your sopping wet pussy and dialed up the vibrator. You screamed as you came, possibly calling out his name? You weren’t sure what you were saying as you had the most powerful orgasm of your life, back bowing off of the bed, legs shaking. 

When you were done, you blinked into your dark room, staring up at the ceiling. Fuck. That was intense. And wrong. And so right, it hurt. You could learn to pick up after yourself some more, couldn’t you? Because if your fantasy was even a fraction of the real thing, you needed to fuck Marvin Milk. 

Obviously, you had to consult the Council. Your circle of close friends that you trusted to tell you the truth. To see if you were tripping or if you should pursue this thing with Marvin. 

“Girl, hell no!” Your friend, Story, exclaimed on the phone. You were currently on the phone with the Council, pleading your case. 

“If his game is anything like the pics you sent, I’m honestly surprised you not knocking boots already,” your other friend, Yalonda, said. 

“To be fair, she wanted to spend this time focused on her, not a man,” her last friend, Jayne, said.

“Right, thank you!” You said. You were currently making spaghetti, stirring the noodles and trying to gauge if they were done or not. You wanted to stop tossing noodles against the wall, but hell, how else were you supposed to tell? 

“And who said focusing on Marvin is not focusing on herself? Part of self-discovery is exploration. Need I bring up Voldemort?” Yalonda asked, earning a circle of disgusted groans.

“Chile, that man dead as far as I’m concerned,” Story said.

“Raggedy bitch,” Jayne chimed in.

You chuckled, loving your friends more and more. “I don’t think I can play with this man like that, ya’ll. He sensitive,” you said. 

There was a chorus of teeth smacking and grumbles. “But is he not grown? Like if you laid it out, would he not understand?” Story asked. 

You sighed. Would he? You’d known him plenty of months, but you hadn’t gone deeper into either of your pasts. Because he was just a neighbor, really. But a neighbor you had so much in common with. You genuinely liked spending time with him. You loved his sense of humor, loved that he was so giving. You were a homebody, preferring to be in your own space and alone, rather than snuggled up underneath someone else. You got the sense that Marvin was the same. Preferring to keep his own company.

“You know how men get in they feelings when women treat them like bitches. Like shit, we took a page out of your book, playa! We trynna get like you and now it’s a problem,” Yalonda said.

“Preach! Speak on it!” Jayne said. 

You giggled. “No one’s saying I got to marry the man. But I don’t think it’d be as casual as I’m picturing,” you said. 

“There ain’t a casual bone in your body, honey. And that’s okay! You can still focus on yourself while getting dicked down,” Jayne said. 

“But if Marvin come around talkin’ ‘bout he wants a relationship, now is she wrong or is he?” Story asked, taking the words right out of her mouth. 

On and on it went. The decision was always left up to you, but still. You valued their input and it helped you realize that you cared about Marvin. Cared about how he took care of you. You didn’t have to blow this out of proportion. You could start light. There was a possibility that Marvin would be just fine with a casual affair. He had a life, you had a life, you were both adults. 

“So what you gonna do?” Story asked. The line buzzed with bated breath from your friends. You stirred the meat, adding a teensy bit more oregano, when you sighed.

“I’m gon’ fuck that old man,” you said.

You pulled the phone away from your ear as the girls squealed, gassing you up. Reminding you that you were hot as hell and it was your divine right to fuck that old man. You giggled, now needing their help. You knew how to get guys interested, but with an older man like Marvin, you didn’t know what it would take. It was your first experience taking an older man seriously. 

Would your usual tricks work? No. With the Council’s help, you figured that you’d have to go through with torturing him out of his pants. 

You started the torture by ditching your comfortable, “let’s be friends” outfits and traded them for “Whoops, a little too tight” clothing. Lots of shorts. Lots of tank tops. Your first act was to make sure that you were outside, watering your grass, wearing short shorts and flip flops, bending over unnecessarily, waiting for Marvin.

Marvin arrived home just in time and got out of his car, his lips pressed together in disapproval. “Hey!” He called out. 

You waved to him, your shirt lifting and giving him a peek at your body. He walked up his driveway, stopping to look over at you. There was a short concrete wall separating your properties, no taller than your ankles. You sauntered over, and grinned at him, taking your hand off the trigger.

The nozzle dripped with water and you collected the drops, rubbing it into your neck and chest. “Whew! It was hot as hell today, huh? Did you make sure to stay hydrated?” You asked.

Marvin swallowed and his eyes seemed unfocused, looking down somewhere on your body. You wish you knew where. Was he an ass man? A breasts man? You needed something more from him to guide you in the right direction. 

“I should be asking you that,” he said, a smile crossing his face. 

You waved him off. “You’re too sweet to me, Marvin,” you said. 

He chuckled. “I promise I’m not,” he said. 

You engaged him in more innocent conversation, telling him about your job, and he told you about his day. You reached out and squeezed his hand. “You’re so cool for what you do, Marvin. It takes a strong man to see what you do and still show up for those kids,” you told him.

He had the most adorable look on his face. You wondered if people praised him enough. Thanked him enough for everything that he did. You let him go and grinned. “Anywho, I should let you get inside and rest,” you told him.

He looked like he wanted to tell you something, so you looked at him and tilted your head. “Have a restful evening,” he said, nodded to you, and then turned around.

You bit your lip, watching him walk away, wondering if you didn’t have to torture him that long before he caved. He looked like he was torturing himself enough. Your core heated up, picturing him being just as smitten with you. Just as in lust. If he was rubbing himself raw in the shower to images of you in his mind. 

You turned around and finished watering your lawn, heading back inside for the next phase of your torture. 

You spent the week being mysteriously busy. Marvin had slowed inviting you over so you used that time to make yourself as unavailable as possible. A little toxic, but you got yourself dressed up and took yourself out as if you were going on dates. You managed to leave sometimes, just as Marvin was arriving home. Sometimes you’d wave, sometimes you pretended not to see him.

Friday night, you waited to leave in that leopard print dress you had, fuck me heels making your ass look fantastic. You heard his car pull up, saw the lights move across your living room. You waited a beat, then exited your home.

“Hey!” Marvin called. You pretended not to hear. You tapped away on your phone, giggling and smiling at nothing, as you made your way to your car, pulling up your strapless dress. 

Marvin’s shoes crunched on your grass as he crossed your lawn, calling your name with a little more bass in his voice. You turned to him, a sweet smile on your face, and you watched him approach. 

“Got another date?” He asked. 

You bit your cheek to keep from smiling. “Marvin! You’re so sweet to worry! Yes, I’m going on another date. Do I look good?” You asked. You twirled, taking your time to show him every possible angle. 

“Dressed like that?” He asked. 

“You don’t like it?” You asked. You pouted, playing with your matching clutch bag. 

“Whoa, hey, you look amazing. I just…” he trailed off, looking at your outfit. You let him, smiling to yourself, but then cleared your throat.

“You just…?” You prompted.

“I don’t want to overstep my bounds. I just hope these men are nice to you,” he said.

You giggled. “I’m not,” you said and continued to giggle. At Marvin’s confused face, you stopped and shrugged. “Obviously, I would like a nice man. But the dating scene sucks. You should be lucky you swore it off. These people out here are animals. And I appreciate you looking out for me. But a girl’s got needs, you know?” 

“Needs?” He asked.

You nodded. “Oh yeah. All this hard work getting my place together. All the bullshit at work. I need to take the edge off too, you know,” you said. 

“So the…” he started but then stopped. 

“The what?” You asked, blinking innocently at him. 

Marvin shook his head, rubbed his beard. “I’m overstepping, I’m sorry,” he said. He smiled. “Have a great night. Let me know when you get home safe and sound, okay?” He reached out and rubbed your elbow. 

You deflated against your car, watching him walk away. What the hell was it going to take? You got into your car with a huff, all dressed up with no real destination in mind. Fuck it. You called the Council and decided to go clubbing. If you weren’t really going to fuck someone tonight, you can at least show off your outfit. Because you looked fucking amazing. 

You spent the night putting Marvin from your mind. You danced, you flirted your way to free drinks, you babysat Yalonda, poor thing never able to keep up with ya’ll. When you made it home, all the lights were off in Marvin’s place. You threw him a middle finger as you let yourself into your place, wondering if all this effort was even worth it. If Marvin even wanted to have sex with you. 

You spent the weekend in your feelings, moping around your place. You didn’t know what it would take to get Marvin into your pants. What were you missing? Why was he not interested? 

After spending Saturday moping, you finally decided to wash the grime of the day from you. You went to turn your shower on, but nothing came out. The pipes groaned, a strange knocking sound, but no water. You huffed, checking for possible culprits. Your sinks still worked, but not your shower.

You groaned, cursing the shower head from here to kingdom come. You didn’t want to call Marvin for this. You wondered if Story or Jayne would let you borrow one of their men to come fix it. You went to your room in search of your phone, when you remembered that it was Story’s anniversary and Jayne’s husband was sweet but useless as hell when it came to handy work. 

You stomped your foot, pouting, giving in to the temper tantrum coursing through your body. Your pride didn’t want to let you call Marvin for something so stupid. If he wasn’t interested in you, why didn’t he just say that? Why didn’t he shut your ass down? Why did he allow you to develop this stupid crush on him? 

You really wanted a shower. You didn’t do anything all day, but you couldn’t relax without a bath. It was the one first-world problem you didn’t want to have. You liked ready and easy access to hot water. And now you didn’t have it. And it was probably too late at night to call anyone else.

You stomped your foot again, walking into your living room and taking a peek behind your blinds. Marvin was watching TV in his living room like an old man. You smiled, despite yourself. There was nothing sexier than a man who was comfortable in his skin and in his own company. 

You sucked your teeth and finally dialed his number. You were in booty shorts and an oversized T-shirt. Not completely sexy, but not bad either. You held the phone to your ear while you scurried to your bedroom.

You may not be powerful enough to torture him out of his pants, but maybe direct seduction would work. You thought over every conversation you had with Marvin, every little self-deprecating joke he uttered, and wondered if he thought you wouldn’t be interested in him? 

If he thought he was too old, too old-fashioned, or “overstepping his bounds”. Who the fuck even said something like that? Men who thought no one was interested in them. Poor baby. This was your last chance. If being direct didn’t help, then he was either gay or still hung up on his ex-wife or simply didn’t want you. 

The phone rang a few times in your ear before Marvin’s rough voice picked up. “Hey, what’s going on?” 

“I’m sorry to bug,” you started and Marvin chuckled. 

“Didn’t I say you never bug?” He asked. 

“Yes, but…”

“No buts. What do you need?” He asked.

Was he aware of how hot he was? Did none of the women in his life give him a fucking clue? Four little words out of his mouth, in his sinful deep voice, was enough to make you moan. Was he that blind? 

You sucked your teeth and groaned. “My shower isn’t working. And feel free to say no! It’s just…” You paused to look through your lingerie. You didn’t want anything too revealing, like this was all a set up. But you wanted something that showed you meant business. None of what you owned fit the bill. You were used to younger guys. You wanted to get in, run their hands over your teddies or panties, and then get down to fucking. No foreplay. No talking. 

“Just what?” Marvin asked. Was it your imagination or did his voice get rougher? 

“It’s just, I get a little crazy about my showers. It relaxes me. Calms me down. I can’t live without taking a nice, long, hot, relaxing bath or shower,” you said. You shimmied out of your shorts and went to remove your oversized Tupac shirt when it dawned on you…you didn’t need anything fancy with Marvin. The point of direct seduction was to be direct. 

Marvin chuckled softly. “Say no more, sweetheart. I’ll be right over with my tools,” he said. You said goodbye, but your pussy throbbed with his endearing words to you. He’d never called you such a thing before. You stood in your bedroom, momentarily dazed. You wanted to be his sweetheart. So damn badly you could taste it. 

The doorbell rang, pulling you from your thoughts. Shit. Shit. You picked up your shorts off of the floor and threw them in the laundry basket, along with the clothes from the famous chair. You pushed it into your closet and then hurriedly walked to the front door, eyeing your surroundings.

Not the best, but luckily, you hadn’t left too much chaos in your wake getting ready this past week or moping today. You opened the door, grinning at Marvin. His eyes dropped to your legs for a moment before he looked back at you, smiling. 

You opened the door further, waving him inside. He stepped in, head on a swivel. You wondered if he had a military background. Safe inside, you closed and locked the door. “Thank you for coming over. You sure you weren’t busy?” You asked.

Marvin shook his head. “I’m an old man. All I do is my job and go home. I must seem pretty boring, huh?” He asked.

You shook your head. Feeling nervous all of a sudden. You’ve seduced men before. It was a thrill every time. But this felt different with Marvin. Felt different because he meant more to you than any of those other flings. You wanted to please him. It shouldn’t be a radical concept but it was. 

“You are the opposite of boring, Marvin. In fact, I think you’re pretty special,” you said.

Marvin laughed and shrugged his shoulders, walking deeper into your home. The kitchen was just in front and you prayed that he wasn’t looking at your dirty dishes. It wasn’t a lot, but it was enough to make you cringe. 

“I’m surprised you’re home on a Saturday night. Why aren’t you out on a date?” He asked.

You didn’t answer, forcing him to turn around to you. You were still leaning against the door, your head tilted towards him. “I haven’t found what I wanted,” you said. 

No games. No tricks. No attitude. You walked towards Marvin, okay sauntered, and when you got within his personal space, you looked at him. You locked eyes as you grabbed the toolbox out of his hands. You placed it on the nearest end table, taking his hands and leading him to the back of the couch. 

“What do you want?” He asked, eyebrow lifted, a scowl on his face. Did he really not have a clue? No idea of what you were feeling? This whole time, you thought you were a neon sign. Professing how much you wanted to fuck him. How badly you wanted to be wrapped in his arms. Underneath him. Welcoming him into your body. 

He wore another music shirt, N.W.A splattered across his chest. Gold chain gleaming in your warm lighting. Dark sweats. Dark shoes. He looked good enough to lick on. What a great idea, actually. 

“You. I want you,” you said. You stared into his eyes, sinking slowly to your knees. 

“What are you doing, sweetheart?” He asked. He tried to bend down, hands flying to your arms to lift you. You resisted, hands moving to his pants. 

“I’m telling you that I’m crazy about you and that I found a great way to thank you,” you said.

“Thank me?” 

“Yup. Thank you for welcoming me to the neighborhood, being sweet to me on my worst day, and becoming the best thing about my day, talking to you,” you said. 

Marvin relaxed against the back of your couch. “You don’t have to thank me for that,” he said.

“I know. I want to. Please, Marvin? You’d be doing me a favor,” you said. 

Marvin rested his hands on the back of the couch, so you began to tug his pants down. He wore nothing underneath, his thick dick bobbing up and down once freed. He was huge and growing by the second, as he stood at attention. 

“What kind of favor?” He asked. He sounded less unsure and more amused. So you leaned forward and kissed the tip of his dick. 

“I cannot scratch this really particular itch I have. I’ve tried ignoring it, I’ve tried pleasing myself. And nothing worked. Not even picturing you using my vibrator on me,” you pouted, licking his tip. 

“Don’t tell me that,” Marvin groaned. 

“Don’t tell you what? That I masterbate? Or I do it with your name on my lips?” You asked.

Marvin groaned and tapped the back of your couch. “I didn’t think you’d want this from me. That dress the other day made me want to drag you back inside the house,” he said.

You chuckled, pussy clenching at his confession. So he did like you! Really liked you! 

You gripped his dick, moving your hands softly up and down since he wasn’t properly lubed up yet. He groaned, looking down at you. 

“I wanted you to,” you said. 

Marvin chuckled. “I’ve wanted you since I saw you crying outside your house. I wanted to do anything to make you smile,” he said.

You sighed and rested your forehead against his thigh. “Don’t tell me that. Don’t be cute right now,” you said. 

Marvin laughed again and his dick bounced. You looked up at him. “I’ve pictured you on your knees too. Felt like a pervert, stroking to the pics you’ve sent me,” he said, referring to the innocent selfies you sent him, trying to cajole a few out of him. Something to keep you going in between spouts of seeing him. 

“You’ve jerked off to me?” You asked. 

Marvin nodded. “Did you intentionally masterbate in front of your bedroom window for me?” He asked.

Your thighs tingled. He had been watching! The confirmation of it made you clench even more, wanting so desperately to rush this. To speed things along. To pounce on him and not come up for air. 

You nodded. “I hoped you were watching,” you confessed.

Marvin smirked. “Is that right?” He asked.

You nodded and went back to nuzzling his dick. The sweet musk of him. He kept the hair here nice and trimmed, just like the rest of him. You were a little intimidated by it, but you were willing to try. 

You opened your mouth and suckled the head. Marvin groaned, his hand flying to your hair but then backing away. You chuckled. “You can play with my hair,” you told him.

Marvin’s hand went back to your hair, scratching lightly. Your eyes rolled and you went back to suckling him down further. Damn. No one’s ever done that for you before. It activated your demon brain, taking off the kid gloves. 

You sucked him down in one fell swoop. Marvin moaned, grabbing your hair and yanking painfully. You kept going, slobbering on his dick. Playing with his dick. Toying with it. Unleashing all that pent up horniness, disgusting daydreams, and filthy fantasies your mind had cooked up over the past few months. 

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck,” Marvin moaned. He gripped your hair tighter and you moaned, panties getting wetter by the second. You planned to ease him into this. Get used to the idea that you wanted him worse than an addict wanted a drink. Then you would ease him into your filthy mind. The way you turned into an absolute horn dog when you wanted someone. 

You didn’t know what it was. Only that once you were locked in to someone, you burned bright and fast. You were into it all. Being dominated, being controlled, being at the mercy of someone else. It didn’t always work out well. Some men were just too weak to fit the bill. 

But you needed to put it on Marvin. Needed him to know how serious you were. How this wasn’t casual to you. And you hoped it wasn’t for him. Because he was already sending hella signals that he was into you, that this wasn’t small. And you feared that once you got a taste, you wouldn’t be able to stop. Would cross oceans of time to get back to him and his glorious dick.

Your slobber dripped down your chin as you spat on it and then sucked him back down. The chorus of curses raining out of Marvin’s mouth was like music to your ears. The subtle praise was successfully turning your mind to mush. 

“Fuck, I’m ‘bout to bust, sweetheart,” he groaned.

You renewed your efforts, gripping onto his thighs and sucking him down as far back as he would go. You slowly withdrew his dick from your mouth, feeling every vein and the edge of his mushroom head. Fresh precum leaked into your mouth and then you swallowed him all again. 

“Shit,” Marvin said. “So fucking beautiful with my dick in your mouth,” he moaned. 

You moaned around his dick, looking up at him and repeating your efforts. Getting faster and faster until Marvin gripped your head on either side and moaned. Cum pulsed into your mouth and you drank greedily. His dick throbbed, more leaking out. You suckled that down too. 

“Oh shit, oh shit,” Marvin groaned. You slowly withdrew him with a pop and licked the corners of your mouth. 

Marvin was sweating and his chest was heaving with his breaths. He stared at you like you were otherworldly. Something conjured from his mind and made flesh. You loved that look in his eye. You grinned and nuzzled his balls. His slick dick smeared across your face, but that was okay. You couldn’t stop touching him, being near him, pleasuring him. 

“Stand up,” he commanded. You used his thighs for support as you stood up and shook out your aching legs. Your focus had been on making him cum in your mouth so you ignored your body’s protests. Now that you were back to the land of the living, your check engine lights came on. 

Your feet burned with static as feeling returned, your knees groaning, and your thighs slightly shook. You used the end of your shirt to clean off the rest of your mouth, the saliva and cum you didn’t get to. 

Marvin grabbed you by the elbow and shoved you down the hallway. You giggled from the way he manhandled you. He tossed you onto the bed and then went to work taking off his shoes and clothes. Fully naked before you, you sat up on your elbows to take in the full view of him.

Fuck, he was perfect. His body was thick in all the right places. Round belly but there was muscle underneath, arms big enough to crush melons, thick waist, and big sexy thighs. His sexy brown skin only seemed to shine brighter in your room. No shadows to hide behind, he was hands down the finest man you’d ever seen naked. 

Marvin grinned at you and pushed your shirt up to expose your panties. He pinned your legs apart, staring at your clad center. He got to his knees, pulling your leg over his shoulder. “All this time? You’ve been teasing me on purpose?” He asked. 

He pressed a thumb against your pussy and you moaned. The sensation was too much to your oversensitive clit. You squirmed on the bed and all he did was press a thumb there. Either you were just that horny, or you were that horny for Marvin. “Y-Yes,” you moaned, when he pressed his thumb in again. 

“All the dresses, the dates, the intentional innuendos. You wanted me jealous, didn’t you?” He asked. He moved his thumb all around your pussy. Down the seam, down the sides of your panties, towards your entrance.

Your breathing increased, heart jumping in your chest. You were thoroughly turned on. Thoroughly ejected from your brain and into fantasyland. “Yes,” you moaned. You needed more. You needed him to move your panties to the side. 

“Please, Marvin,” you begged.

Marvin pushed his nose into your pussy and took a deep breath. “Such a brat. Why should I reward you for being so bad?” He asked. His thumb pushed past the seam of your panties, pressing into the sides of your pussy and you moaned, pushing your hips down in an effort to get him where you wanted him. 

“I’ve been good, I swear,” you said. 

“You let those other men touch you?” He asked. His warm breath fanned across your sweat-slick thighs. 

You never went on any dates and you wondered if you should fess up to that. However, there was a feral, animalistic glint in his eye that was turning you on even more. “A little, there was some kissing,” you said instead of the truth. 

Marvin closed his eyes, jaw flexed, and then used his free hand to wipe his face. “What else did you let them do?” He asked. 

His thumb played with the seam of your pussy but he didn’t push in further. Your essence pooled out of you, enough to let him slide without issue. But you needed him to touch your pussy. To stick a finger in, something. He was being so mean. And god, you fucking loved it. 

“That’s it, I swear,” you said. Marvin looked at you, his eyes intense. You nodded. “I swear.” 

Marvin removed his thumb, pressing it to his lips and suckling on your slick. You watched his eyes close, a low hum escaping him. He leaned up and then moved your panties to the side, tongue darting out to lick up from your pussy to your clit.

“Oh shit!” You screamed. His tongue flicked your swollen clit, causing some type of vibration that made your eyes cross. 

“No one else touches what’s mine, understand?” He asked.

“What’s yours?” You asked. Marvin bit the inside of your thigh and you cried out. 

“No one else touches what’s mine. Including you,” he said. He backed up his words with his tongue and lips, zeroing in on your clit and suckling hard. 

You back bowed off of the bed, but you had no room to move. Marvin had you completely trapped and under his mercy. He licked and sucked, making out with your pussy or feasting on an entire meal. You grew wetter from fresh slick and his spit, suckling on you messy and loud. It was lewd, listening to how wet he made you. How turned on he made you. 

“Oh, fuck, Marvin,” you groaned. 

Marvin hummed greedily, still eating you out. He focused on your clit, bringing his hand up to dip into your weeping hole. His hand slipped in easily, messily. You clenched around his finger and moaned. 

Marvin added a second finger, testing how much you could take. It’d been a minute but Black Noir’s dildo was oversized, playing up the stereotype. You were over Vaught for that, but shit, it was the only one close enough to satisfy your sexual appetite. So with two of Marvin’s fingers down to the knuckle, it wasn’t the biggest you’d ever taken. Still.

He knew how to explore with those fingers. Moving them in all kinds of different directions. Your moans and groans changed depending on what he was doing. And fuck if that wasn’t the point. He found exactly what got you going, what got you whimpering and clutching onto him, and your nails digging into his scalp. 

Marvin moaned into your pussy, flicking his tongue across your clit. “I’ll prove that I’m the only man you need,” he said. He went back to suckling and then switched up again, rubbing his fingers against a tiny nub inside you. You exploded. Shattered. Broken into tiny, jagged pieces that scraped your vocal chords as you screamed out your release. 

Marvin continued to eat you out, and rub against that nub. You went from one powerful orgasm to the next. Your leg shook on top of his shoulder. You made all kinds of unholy, unhinged sounds as you flopped on your bed. 

You whimpered as you came down from the second one. Your bed was soaked beneath you. An entire puddle. “You made a beautiful mess, sweetheart,” Marvin said, sounding awed. Sounding reverent. 

Your pussy clenched at his praise. Like that was all he wanted and you granted it to him. You whimpered again, shaking with aftershocks of your orgasm. You thought you were good at sex. You thought you knew how to put it down. Marvin was insane. He was in another league and it was making you feel a little insecure. 

But then Marvin started kissing your thighs as he stood up. He helped removed your panties and then yanked you up by the shirt. You giggled as you fought with the big shirt, wishing you had opted to wear something easier to remove. Marvin giggled too, breaking the intense persona he adopted.

Freed, cold but welcome air hit your hardened nipples. Marvin kissed all over your big belly, all over your rolls, dips, and hips. He moaned after every kiss, like each new space was more delicious than the last. 

“Fuck, you make me feel so good, Marvin. So fuckin’ good,” you panted. You were out of breath. Overheated. He made you feel like you could walk barefoot on the sun and not get get burnt. 

Marvin groaned, kissing up to your chest. He took his time, suckling one nipple into his mouth and then turning his attention to the other. Your knees snapped to his waist, holding him in. Your pussy began throbbing again in record time. 

“Fuck,” you moaned.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, sweetheart. Can you give me one more? Can you make another mess for me?” He asked, kissing each question into your chest. 

You shook your head. Hell naw you couldn’t give him one more. Was he crazy? Another one? He wanted another one after that previous explosion? You wouldn’t survive it. 

“Where’s your toy?” He asked.

“What?” You asked, fresh dread making your heart sink. 

Marvin got up from the bed and went to your nightstand, opening it and finding his prize. He chuckled, flipping it around while he found the on switch. The dildo started vibrating and he looked from it to you.

“This what you into, huh?” He asked.

You giggled and shook your head. “I know they’re trash but they sure know their client base,” you said. 

Marvin nodded and stepped close to you. And yes, his dick was bigger. Of course it was bigger than the toy. You were out of your league in more ways than one, but he’d been nothing but gentle with you, even while he was doing his own brand of torture. 

He brought the dildo to your clit. You began to moan, pushing against the toy. It was on the lowest setting but it was like heaven against you. You were too sensitive as it was. Marvin played with your essence and the toy, swirling the tip around your clit.

“So fuckin’ beautiful,” he said. “You don’t know how many mornings I woke up, humping the shit out of my bed, trying to hold onto my dreams,” he said. 

Oh shit. Marvin’s words went straight to your heart. Why did he have to be so….him? So open, so caring, so filthy? You were going to collapse from it all. 

“Marvin, please,” you whined. Your voice shook. Body so warm and sweaty, mind gone. He broke you down in more ways than one and you once again marveled at him. 

“Is this what you do when you masterbate? Tease yourself? I bet you do,” he cooed at you. He turned up the vibrator, the vibrations more intense and making your teeth chatter. Your toes curled, trying to stave off another orgasm. You weren’t joking. You were really going to collapse from this one. 

“Hey, look at me sweetheart,” he said. Your eyes turned to his and he smiled. “You’re okay. You can let that shit go. I know you like to tease yourself. Play with yourself. ‘Cause you know exactly what turns you on, huh?” He asked.

You nodded, staring into his eyes. You were struggling to breathe but it grew easier focusing on him and not the fact that you were getting ready to combust. “And I can’t wait to get to know every spot, every moan, everything that makes your eyes roll,” he continued.

“Oh, shit, Marvin, Marvin,” you said, words rising with your panic. You were just there, just at the precipice. Your nails dug into his arm but he showed no indication that it hurt him. He was indestructible. Your hero, your savior. 

Marvin leaned in, arm flexing with supporting his weight on the bed. He suckled a nipple back into his mouth, teasing it, rolling it between his teeth. The bite of pain sent a ripple down to your pussy and you throbbed. 

“You’re a brat but you know when to give in, don’t you? There’s only so long you can tease yourself before you get greedy, huh? ‘Cause your spoiled ass always gets what she wants. Go on and let that shit go,” he cooed.

Marvin turned the setting up to its highest setting, pressing it firmly against your clit. You came immediately. Black spots winking in and out of your vision. You broke down, atom by atom, bit by bit, conceptual thought by abstract thought, and there was only you, him, and the intense pleasure he wrought out of your body. You screamed to the ceiling, screamed to heavens, screamed to anyone who was near enough to hear that you were cumming and cumming hard enough to see stars. 

Marvin distantly moved around you, doing something. You weren’t sure what. You were starting to calm down, feeling the fresh pool of wetness leak out of you. “Fuuck, you’re soaked, sweetheart,” he said.

He came back into your field of vision, lining himself up. Oh, he went and grabbed a condom. What a beautiful man. You pushed against his chest, arm too weak to really stop him. “Slow, baby, please,” you huffed. 

Marvin chuckled and pushed against your hand. “You’ve already taken everything so well, sweetheart,” he said and kissed your forehead. 

Your mind emptied out with a feral moan and Marvin pushed into your warm pussy. He groaned as he made contact. “Fuck, you’re good and wet baby. Look at that, slid right in. ‘Cause you take everything so well. So fuckin’ beautiful. So fuckin’ perfect,” he moaned. 

The praise was snatching your soul. Marvin grunted with every slip and slide of him inside you. Your legs locked around his waist, some primal muscle memory locking him in. Trapping him in. Keeping him connected to you while he fucked you.

You gripped onto his shoulders, scratching him. He groaned and began fucking you harder. His big, meaty palms grabbed your hips and slammed you into his dick. He was so big. He stretched you to your limit. But all the preparation made sense to you now. There was no way you could take him unless you were properly wet. 

Wouldn’t be a problem with him but you made a mental note to buy some lube. Possibly two bottles because you couldn’t imagine having this much patience again. You’d want to climb on top of him any chance you got. 

“Fuck, Marvin! You’re so big!” You screamed. And this time, you weren’t trying to hurry the man along. You were dead serious, praising him for what God and genetics blessed him with. Your ass smacked on his thighs, dick burrowing deep inside. 

“Fuck you feel good taking this dick,” he moaned. One of his hands moved to pinch a nipple. He held on while he fucked you hard, headboard clapping against your wall. 

“Shit!” You screamed, once again creaming on his dick. You hadn’t even felt this one coming. It snuck up on you, robbing you of breath and thought. 

Marvin groaned, slammed in a few more times, before shooting into the condom. You felt his dick pulse with each shot of cum and you moaned, clutching his body to you. He slowed down, breathing heavy in your ear. His sweaty body felt cold on yours and yet the heat of him was enough to scald. 

He stood up, slowly withdrawing from you. You groaned as he worked himself out. You rolled to one elbow, huffing with the effort. A thick wad of cum was at the tip of the condom. Marvin smiled at you. It was devastating. It broke your heart. 

You were lost in it completely as he took the condom off and disappeared to your bathroom. You heard water running and then he was back with a washcloth, cleaning up between your legs.

You felt so cherished and taken care of. Where had he been all your life? Moving next to him was the single greatest idea you’d ever had. Fuck every doubt, every regret, every night you spent wondering if this was the right move. Marvin just proved it was.

After cleaning you up, he got rid of the rag and then helped you stand up. He stripped your bed, and then found new sheets in the cabinet you told him about. In record time, he put new sheets on and then was pulling you back down, embracing you from behind.

You snuggled into his warmth, yawning, feeling safe and warm and madly in love. He was never escaping you. Never getting rid of you. Dick could absolutely change a woman’s tune, got damn. 

“I got one more question before you fall asleep, sweetheart,” he said and kissed behind your ear.

“Hmm?” You asked, no energy for anything. You were falling asleep fast.

“Did your shower really go out?” He asked.

“Uh-huh,” you agreed and then you were fast asleep to the sound of Marvin’s chuckles.

There's more! The Secret Mother's Milk Files

Taglist:

@planetblaque @chaos-4baby @00aijia00 @amethyst09 @ciaqui

@we-outsiiiide @browngirldominion @iv0rysoap @thecookiebratz @harmshake

@judymfmoody @multiversefanfics @tvchi @twocentuar @soft-persephone

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@avoidthings @sunrisesfromthewest @westside-rot

[bengals-barnesbabe]

Pairing: Joe Burrow x Singer!FemReader

Summary: Summary: Occurs directly after the events of Operation Tiger. In which everyone gets hit with a dose with karma?

Chapter 18: Run Joey Run

#Track9 Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Warnings: 18+, language, overprotective brother, gossip.

Word Count: 3.7k

Part 2 🖤

.❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

‘Georgia’s so fucking predictable,’ Malik thought while flipping the last pancake onto his iHop-worthy plate of breakfast. He rolled his eyes at the hard downpour outside the kitchen window, then placed the hot pan in soapy water. 

“We’ve never been good, so I don’t know why you have to have a damn fit every time we lose a game.” He grumbles while drizzling an unhealthy amount of ‘maple’ syrup on his plate.

Once he’s satisfied with the amount of sugary goodness, he takes his plate, sits in his father’s favorite armchair, and turns on the television. A broadcast about last night’s game immediately draws his attention, Malik’s never been the biggest fan of football but he shares the same level of competitiveness as the rest of his family, so he enjoys a good game. In his opinion what happened last night was truly unfortunate to watch. It’s one thing to watch your dad try and coach his favorite team from his living room, but being there and watching them get pummeled by one of the guys he met just the day before- especially when he raved about the guy the second he left. It was a special game, to say the least.

His favorite part was just watching his favorite sibling fall harder and harder for the guy. Not that he’d ever say it to her face, but he liked Joe before he even stepped into the house. He saw them pull up from an upstairs window and it wasn’t just the level of chivalry he showed her that impressed him but the pure and beyond obvious adoration he had for her -the girl that once tortured him because he ate a chicken nugget that wasn’t his. He knew his big sister was a good judge of character, more times than not, so he was hopeful for the outcome of their love story.

“It smells like something burnt in here.”

Malik stabbed his short stack and groaned as the door slammed shut. “Why are you back? Y/n is not here, go away.” 

Riana cackles as she snatches a strip of bacon off his plate and then sits on the couch farthest away from the 21-year-old. “You should be nicer to your guests Malik. Mama Mina said I could stay as long as I wanted.” She smiles biting into his food.

“Hey! She said nothing about taking my food, this took me forever!” He scolds, and in return, she pouts and makes a crying gesture with her hands.

“Whatever.” He shakes his head, grabs the TV remote, and changes the local news to ESPN. 

“Ugh, you didn’t get enough of that last night?” Mars rounds his chair with two water bottles from the fridge and sits with the other girl.

“I’m sorry, is this not my house? Last time I checked you lived down the road.” The older girls giggle and watch the boy fidget in his seat.

“Yeah well, it would be your house if you got a job to pay for some of the bills, but last time I checked Y/n helps out more than you and she lives in Louisiana.” 

Just as Malik’s about to reply to his loc’ed-ness monster sister-like nemesis, a new story about the game perks all their attention.

“I love watching players find their footing in the league. Joe Burrow last night was phenomenal.  Sure, are the Falcons ragdolls, yes, but the Bengals ran them in the dirt like it was nothing.”

“You know he’s a showboat, right? Burrow had to show off for the pretty girls in that stadium.” 

“Hey if my model girlfriend were in the stands, I’d play my ass off as well.”

“And a beautiful one at that, Megan Claire was in his eye line the entire night. They seem like a great couple.”

“Some even caught them leaving later than usual, but that’s enough about that for now.”

Malik was the first one out of his seat with his fists clenched and a scowl burning on his face. “Who the fuck is Megan Claire and where is that stupid motherfucker at?” He turns his scowl towards the girls and watches as they scurry off the couch.

"Malik calm down. I'm sure there’s a reasonable explanation for this." Mars expresses only slightly panicked but still fumbles with getting her phone out.

The young man's breath picks up as he paces the living room. "Did I not just spend an entire weekend watching him and my sister play house?"

"What's taking so long, why isn't she picking up?" Mars groans.

"Maybe because it’s 10 am," Riana mumbles earning a glare from her.

"Fine, how about you try- since you know every fucking thing." Riana rolls her eyes and makes the call.

"Someone tell me what the fuck is going on!"

◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡

Meanwhile at the Hilton...

After a very successful night, most of the Bengals players went out to celebrate, engaging in the city’s nightlife. Their most important player, well he spent his night a bit differently.

While Ja'Marr and Tee were having fun and getting drunk, Joe decided a quiet dinner with his special girl was more than enough fun for him. Little did they all know, that no one would be able to tell the difference in their mornings by the way they spent their nights.

Chase and Higgins were rudely awakened by intense headaches and sensitive senses, while Burrow had to listen to ridiculous shriekings from alarms- or what he thought were alarms.

Joe wanted nothing more than to shove his face in his soft pillow and catch more zzz, but the noise didn't stop. He didn't remember setting an alarm for the day since he was very content on having a well-deserved lazy morning, so when he had to stretch farther to reach the device it didn't concern him as anything that important. In an attempt to turn off the horrid noise, he answered the call and dropped the phone next to his pillow.

The quarterback began to slip back into Dreamworld until a woman's voice came blaring through the small device. "Y/N YOUR NEW BOYFRIEND IS A MANWHORE!"

Joe's soul practically jumps out of his body as he gazes at the phone realizing it was a FaceTime. What the hell.

"Ri, give me the phone. That is not how you start a conversation." A softer tone, belonging to the nicer half of the duo he had recently met, said.

Joe half-assly cleared his throat to gain their attention. "Look I don't know what is going on, but I'm not a whore."

"Don't play dumb with us Burrow." Mars' previous tone grows harsher.

"I can promise you there are no games here, just a very tired Joe, who would like to go back to bed." He yawns turning onto his back.

The video on the phone begins to jolt from person to person as someone else tugs it in their direction. "Listen here jackass."

'Huh Malik does not seem happy.'

"Who the hell is Megan Claire and why are you cheating on my sister?" Joe's face falls at the accusation from the young college boy and he faces the camera.

"Woah he even wakes up hot."

"RiRi!"

Joe chuckles, "I'm flattered but taken."

"Answer the question second string."

“After last night that comment was uncalled for. Megan’s an ex from a while back and I’m not cheating on Y/n.” He rakes his fingers through his hair and takes a glance at the figure sleeping soundly next to him. "I'd have her vouch for me, but I'm not waking her up."

“You’re lying! Every single media outlet is talking about Megan repping your jersey last night and you looking in her direction the whole game!”

Joe rolls his eyes and gives the boy a second to calm down. "Malik, who's phone did you call?"

The brown-eyed boy just shakes his head. "That has nothing to do with it! You could've snuck into the room and pretended that you'd been with her the whole night.

"Malik I don't know what else to tell you. I haven't seen Megan in over a year, I didn't know she was at the game and I was out with your sister all night." He sighed just as the figure next to him began to stir.

"Fuck what time is it?" You slowly lift your head out of the layers of pillows and comforters to see a blurred version of your boyfriend with your phone in his hand. "Babe, what's going on?"

"Tell my sister the truth!

“Oh, just your brother accusing me of cheating two days into our relationship.” You reach over your nightstand for your glasses. Once they're settled on your face, Joey pulls you closer to him.

"Malik, what the hell is going on?"

"I'll tell you what's going on. You're being played. The entire time he was trying to get in with you, he's had another bitch repping his famous ass name."

You roll your eyes and scoff at your incredibly naive little brother. "Oh yea, and what credible ass sources did you hear that bull shit from."

"It's all over social media duh." He smirks glaring at Joe.

"Malik you need a fucking media literary class if you believe every fucking thing you hear on social media. Have you seen a single picture of them attached to those damn articles? No. Has either of their media teams come out and said to leave the matter alone? No. Why? Because it’s BULLSHIT. Have I, your older sister, given you any sign that he'd done something wrong or found out some big secret of his? Hell no. Which means you need to hop off your fucking high horse and apologize for going off for some dumb ass shit."

Malik's face falls as he takes it all in. He clearly didn't do much thinking after hearing the news. "I'm sorry guys. I swear I was just trying to protect you, but I know that I took it too far too fast."

"Malik, I understand why, and it’s incredibly sweet of you to defend my honor, but you need to fact-check with the people that matter before losing your head."

He nods his head, "I promise to always check with you. As long as the model's not a problem, I won’t be either."

Joe snorts Malik and hands the phone to one of the girls. "She was definitely a problem a couple of nights ago."

"Let's not bring that up again." You groan.

"Yeahhh, let’s not talk about that." Riana dryly chuckles while biting on her nails. Your brows furrow as the phone's yanked out of her hand revealing an also nervous Mars.

"Guys, are you okay?"

The dark-skin girl lets out a sigh. "We have something to tell you, but you can't get mad."

"M, don't do it."

You lean back into your boyfriend and watch the same confused look form on his face through the camera. "Don't do what?" He inquired.

"I'm so sorry I let her rope me into this. It was supposed to be innocent, just to help speed things along. Then I saw what she wrote and we couldn't go back. It was all one big misunderstanding-

"Oh my god, Y/Bff it can not be that bad. Just calm down and say it." She pursed her lips and frantically nodded her head. "Girl, it’s okay."

"Claire wasn't the one sending those messages, we were."

You blinked at your long-time friend. "Come again?"

"Someone..." She points to Riana. "Came up with the brilliant idea to pretend to send Joe messages as his ex so you'd be jealous and act on your feelings for him."

Your jaw drops and Joey grabs the phone. “Are you fucking kidding me? You did the fucking opposite of helping. I had the whole thing planned out then your stupid messages made everything I was saying sound like utter bullshit!” You slowly stroke his unoccupied arm as a means to calm both him and yourself.

"Listen, we were only trying to help. You guys were starting to seem hopeless from our view- we didn't want you to be only friends forever." Riana began.

You just shook your head in disbelief. "Fucking bitches!"

"Y/n come on, if it wasn’t for us you wouldn't be in the same damn bed right now!"

"Oh fuck you, do you know how that shit made me feel? That was the dumbest fucking thing you've ever done to me and if I remember it was YOUR friend that caused my fear of relationships with men. I can not believe this was all your fault." She freezes as you remind her of that day, her face pales and her eyes no longer on the screen.

"I told you it was a stupid idea, but no... we were doing what's best for her. Look where we are now."

Riana didn’t acknowledge the other girl as she shook her head in shame and defeat. "Y/n, I never thought about how it could affect you in other ways. I'm so sorry that I reminded you of that night."

Your eyelids drooped and you palmed your face. "Fuck I never should've brought that up. Now I'm sorry, that was never your fault. Guys like that act on their own accord, you were trying to do something nice.”

“No, I completely understand why you would go to that. You worked so hard to get through that then even more therapy after Miles. I know you wanted to take your time and I should've respected that.” She sniffled.

“Ri, you’re my girl. I know you had the best intentions-

“Oh my fucking god.” The two of you stop as the phone is ripped out of Riana’s hands.

“Ok we get it, Ri messed up. You took it too far. We’re all fucking sorry. It’s done, stop apologizing! Damn.”  You press your lips together to suppress your laugh.

“On that note, we are done here,” Joey says taking the phone from you.

You look up at him and snort. “Babe for real?”

“Yes, say bye.”

“Wait so you forgive us for meddling right?”

“Riana please!”

“I just wanted to know-

You can’t help the belly laugh that erupts from within you as he ends the call and tosses the phone to the other side of the room. “Well, that’s a great way to wake up.”

Joe snorts. “I can list a hundred better ways right now.” Then pats your hips. You turn to face him in his lap, and hook your arms around his neck.

“And what sorts of ideas are you concocting Mr. Burrow?” Your eyes meet his blues with a certain flare to them. “Joey..” 

“Huh?” His gaze goes down to where your shirt ends and exposes the bare skin of your thighs.

“My eyes are up here.” You tap his chin, his steamy eyes following your finger.

“Yep so are your lips.” You snort at the way his pupils were so blown. 

All you did was sit there in his shirt and you had his full attention. Not even just now, last night it didn’t matter how dim the lighting was or how good the food was; all that mattered to him was you. The waiter sat you at a table next to the window, the chairs were across from each other, but he couldn’t take the distance and moved yours so you both had an amazing view. The night sky was incredible from up high, but he only had eyes for you. 

“I feel underdressed, this place is so fancy. If I’d known we’d be going out I would’ve packed a nicer outfit.” You looked down at your light blouse and dark jeans.

“You look beautiful.” His eyes sparkled with adoration. “My plan was for them to deliver to our room, but I thought this would be better. I called and asked if could just be us, they actually set the whole thing up. Suckers for romance.” He smiles and takes your hands.

“I wanted to show you how serious I am about you. I know I did the whole speech, but actions speak louder than words right?”

You blinked as a small smirk formed on your lips. “Did you just quote Jonathan Larson in Tick, Tick… Boom!” His gaze fell to your joined hands as his cheeks shifted to a deeper pink

“You put it on a few times at my place, I might’ve picked up on it.” He chuckles then brings your hand to his lips. You bite your bottom lip as your smile plumps your cheeks.

The evening was wonderful, you enjoyed your food, got a bit tipsy, and fell asleep to the ending of Iron Man 3. 

“What are you thinking about?” Joe must’ve noticed the wondrous yet blissful look in your eyes. You smiled and pecked his lips.

“About how beautiful last night was and about how much of an amazing boyfriend I have.” His cheeks pink up the same hue as last night.

“I only had to wait a few years to secure the woman of my dreams.” 

“Stop you’re gonna make my cheeks hurt.” You giggle as he pulls you in so you’re chest to chest. A groan escaped his lips as your French tips threaded through his hair before massaging his scalp.

“Never, I was told to never let that smile leave your face. So you’re stuck with me, baby.” He nips your nose making you scrunch, then captures your lips with his. His touch was searing yet so careful, bred from passion and caution. His tough fingers kneaded your plush thighs like the most delicate of doughs. His wandering tongue encouraged your soul to float away into his sea of want and open up a part of yourself that had been closed off. Your soul wanted nothing but the ability to submit to the man who had won your heart before letting it be known. Too bad the moment was interrupted by a knock on the door and the call of ‘room service.’

“Fuck I forgot about breakfast.” He panted against your head, you pecked his forehead and shuffled off his lap.

“You know if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re trying to woo me.” He shrugged as a grin curved up his fiercely pink swollen lips.

He opened the door wide enough for a cart to roll in, the smell of fresh coffee and pastries filling the room. “Oh, you can woo me all you want.” The tray covers are lifted to reveal an assortment of different fruits, muffins, and savories. Your eyes gravitate to the crispy potatoes, Joe’s one step ahead of you and places a tray on your lap. You lift its covering and practically melt at its offerings: a small bowl of melon balls, a vegetable omelet with bacon on the side, and a side of perfectly crisp potatoes with fluffy white insides. 

“So, how is it?” You look up from your potato heaven at him handing you a cup of coffee. You take a sip and moan at the taste of the Colombian coffee. I think I need to marry this guy.

“It alright,” you sigh. He looks at you puzzled. “It would be better if my quarterback was next to me.” 

He lets out a breath and smiles. “Always keeping me on my toes aren’t you?” You blow him a kiss as he brings the rest of the spread over and takes his rightful spot next to you.

As you’re enjoying your breakfast, you switch on the TV and find a broadcast about last night’s game. While Joe’s more fixated on his protein-packed meal, the rate at which your fruit makes it into your mouth halts at the headline on the screen.

You let out a loud gasp to gather your boyfriend’s attention. “Oh no, Joe Burrow and his girlfriend, Megan Claire, were seen leaving last night’s game around midnight!” Joe looks up for a moment and rolls his eyes before diving back into his eggs.

“Wait, if you left at midnight, then who did I have dinner with at 10? Who are you? Oh my god, I went on a date with an alien impersonating my boyfriend so he could go have sex with his ex under the bleachers.” You hold your heart and fake sob. “How could you do this to me?”

“You’re ridiculous.” He chuckles reaching over to his bedside for his phone. You shake your head and cover your sobs. 

“I can’t believe this is happening.” The words are muffled but clear enough for him to catch on video along with his laugh from the other side of the camera.

You whip your head up and sniffle. “I just knew that the big-time hunky quarterback would never go for a small-town girl like me. I was never meant for this life, I should’ve never put in that transfer to that Ohio clinic.” 

The phone in front of Joe’s face falls and shows his furrowed brows and curled lips. “What did you just say?”

You purse your lips to hide the smile forming on her lips. “Nothing..”

Joe moves the plates in between you and slides closer to you. “Baby, are you moving to Cincy?”

“What? I have no idea of what you’re talking about, I said nothing about Cincinnati.” You shake your head, albeit unconvincingly because before you know it, he’s on top of you with his strong hands tickling your sides. 

“Come on babe all you have to do is be honest and I’ll stop.” You thrash around full belly laughing until your core begins to burn. “Ok ok ok, I did it!”

He stops, letting you catch your breath and pulling you forward. “Now was that so hard?” You scrunch your face and lightly shove him. He just smiles and pulls you closer.

“For your information, Joseph, that’s why I got to your place so early. I had an interview with a clinic and they gave me the job- a promotion too.” You flip your imaginary ponytail since your hair is safely secured underneath your bonnet. 

“Baby that’s fucking amazing. Wait- you did this before we got together. Did you just expect me to let you move in with me?” He smirks and wiggles his brows.

“If you want, I could go to Ja’Marr’s.” You test looking at him from under your lashes.

“Nope, I’m shipping all your stuff to my place immediately.” 

You wink and peck his lips. “Good, now past the fruit please.” Joe takes a grapevine from his platter and feeds it to you like a pharaoh.

“Oh, I could get used to this.”

꘎♡━━ ۵ ━━♡꘎

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

A/N: Cute and sweet, my brother came up with the title lol. Chapter 19: #WalkLikeThis will be posted in a few days. Taglist: @light-yagami-l

<<< Part 1 | Next Ch. 19: WLT >>>

[kiddbegins]

Talk to Me - Will Halstead

Requested: yes

Word count: 479

Warnings: mention of a big car accident but like, barely

A/n: sorry it’s short I didn’t wanna give a whole spiel about her job etc yeah

Masterlist

[“i swear that if you don’t get down here and let me take care of you i will make your life hell!”]

Will Halstead was a stubborn motherfucker. He always has been, always will be. At work he didn’t stop his ideas from happening just because someone said no. He did what he had to.

At home he stuck his ground if he had an idea on what to have for dinner or what movie to watch. More importantly, he didn’t drop it when he could tell you were having a bad day. When he could see the frown tugging on your lips.

In fact, everytime you pulled away from him, instead retreating to the balcony to your apartment with a mug in your hand that once had hot chocolate in it but was now empty.

He hated not being able to hold you. To be able to tell you it would be okay. He knew being a firefighter meant seeing hard things. He’d seen his fair share of things in the ED and that’s not even the scene of it all.

“Baby, please talk to me.” His hand just lightly graced the sliding door’s handle, a worried look on his face. You simply waved him off, your mind farther away than usual.

After some crazy person drove the wrong way onto the highway and caused a huge pileup, you saw some shit you couldn’t get out of your mind. Your chief had called that shift quits and sent you home early. Not even making it through the night.

Will sighed heavily, leaning his head against the glass, his frustration at being shut out overtaking, “Y/n, if you don’t come in here and let me take care of you I’ll make your life a living hell.” He grumbled, poking his head through the door.

Lightly you smiled, knowing it was barely visible as you stood, going over to the taller man. “Will, there’s nothing you can do. But I love you for trying.” You spoke softly, arms going around his waist.

“Please let me try. You can talk to me. Cry on my shoulder if you need to. Just please, stop bottling it up before it gets out of hand.” He brought a hand to your cheek, worry flushed in his eyes.

You felt it in his touch, how gentle his fingertips felt on your skin, how he leaned his forehead just slightly against yours.

Honestly it made you feel horrible. Were you wrong for shutting him out? It’s not like you don’t talk to the chaplain once or twice a week, (more if needed). But maybe leaning on him wouldn’t be too horrible.

In the midst of your thinking, tears had sprung to your eyes, daring to fall as Will gave you the softest look known to man kind. “Baby..”

“It was horrible.” Your voice low as a sob was choked out, falling face first into Will’s chest as you finally let go of everything you’d been holding in.

If you liked this, apply to Will's tag list here :)

Tags: @winchesterszvonecek @thebewingedjewelcat @everything-fandom @mrspeacem1nusone