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wintersera · 1 year ago

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forever mine || alpha!karina x omega!reader

notes: AGAIN sorry for the delay anon but here’s the request!! fun fact i wrote this while listening to the super mario galaxy ost 😭

cw: OMEGAVERSE, alpha karina, omega reader (obvs), maybe rina is a little possessive, use of toys, biting, scratching, g!p rina, creampie, breeding kink

wc 2.2k

your alpha girlfriend was so sweet and caring, the best alpha you could ever wish for. unlike other alphas, she was never too aggressive with you, rather, she was too careful with you- biologically she should’ve been treating you like you were her toy for breeding, but i guess not. nonetheless she was still a great alpha girlfriend.

—

fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK

first of september- the first ever day since you’ve forgotten to buy your heat suppressants since you started dating jimin. your stomach drops as your pheromones begin to waft around your workplace filled with pure blooded alphas.

shit shit shit i’m dead, oh i’m screwed what do i do? ohhh god what do i do?

it was sorta stupid. yeah- an undercover omega in a job filled to the brim with hardworking alphas. you were doing a great job of convincing everyone that you were just a simple beta. that’s how you landed your job in the first place, but now because of this one stupid mistake, you were bound to lose your job.

“guys…” head manager, a very big alpha man in your words, spoke up. his head tilting and nostrils flaring as he’s looking around the office, confusion on his sharp features “…are you smelling that?” with the attention drawn on your floral scent, you begin to panic as the other alphas begin sniffing around too.

ough,, how do you get outta this situation fast “i think i’ll head out early guys. whoever has their heat is driving me insane it might trigger my rut” how bad of a lie was that. it didn’t matter anyways, dashing out the room with your blazer and bag in, hand rummaging around your trouser pockets as soon as you make it out of the building.

“jesus christ jimin pick up please, please” walking, no- sprinting to the direction of your apartment. you knew your heat was gonna hit you badly. you’ve been taking suppressants for years so having a full blown pheromone disaster for the first time in years was going to be crazy. people were looking at you like you were crazy, but you’d rather have many people look at you weird than have your scent imprinted on the damn streets.

“what’s up?” thank the lord, she answered her phone just in time.

fumbling for your keys trying to shove it into the door lock, you sigh with a heavy breath “uh,, um jimin i’m going into heat- i already feel funny” unlocking the door, you fling yourself into the apartment, slamming the door shut with a loud bang.

“what do you mean going into heat? did you not,,, oh well shit okay give me a few minutes” hanging up the call.

not so much to your surprise, slick was coating your cunt like crazy. to the point where it started to go through your trousers and down your legs. the need you had for your girlfriend was so unbearable.

in a haze, you wobbled to your shared bedroom and grabbed one of her used shirts. her clothes smelt so good, the lingering scent dripping from her clothes was enough to make you keel over and plop onto the bed. you felt yourself getting slicker, your needy cunt needing your alpha to come over and fuck you silly was growing stronger each second she wasn’t in the room with you.

taking matters into your own hands because you couldn’t wait any longer, the feeling of your heat coiling in your stomach was too much. your brain was giving into your biological urges and you needed to get off now or you’d suffer. grabbing a pile of jimin's clothes and making somewhat of a nest on the bed, you surround yourself with the scent of freshly ground coffee. quickly taking off every single piece of clothing, getting right back up to open the box of toys you kept just in case a moment like this ever happened- searching for anything, any toy, that could satisfy you while you wait for your alpha.

whereas jimin on the other hand was worried sick. throughout your two year relationship with her she’d never seen you in a proper heat. like yeah, the heat suppressants and scent blockers helped quite a lot so you were never heavily affected by the symptoms. of course omegas would usually never get this horrible desire to mate this early into their heat, but unfortunately for you, you did have this raging urge to mate so early.

you weren’t so very conscious, you were starting to feel groggy, a feverish high temperature when you touch your head began to appear. this heat was kicking you in the ass and you couldn’t take it anymore- taking the vibrator in your hands and placing it on the highest setting, your hands make there way all the way down to your throbbing clit “a-ah, hnnng jimin come quick…”

so so desperate for her, you pick up your phone hoping that she would answer your calls “please- please pick up jimin”

“i’m almost home baby, do you need something or…”

“just hurry up i’m begging you to come home pleaseee” and who was she to deny your request. stepping on the gas faster knowing that her precious little omega was in need of her alphas presence. she could here your desperation deep within your voice.

“don’t worry i’m about to park soon, just wait for me okay” jimin, knowing how she acted during your very suppressed heats, believed that she could never submit to her instincts since she has never done so when it came to you. that quickly changed as she opened the door, the scent of roses attacking her as she stepped inside. it was a thick scent, it stuck to everywhere and it didn't help that you couldn’t open the windows in time, now your walls were coated in this thick floral scent.

it took jimin a lot of willpower not to give into her urges right there. she felt her rut kicking in and it made her growl in discomfort. never feeling this way in a while, because she took rut suppressants since the two of you started dating, she started growing hazy much like you did. she was a pure blooded alpha which didn’t help either, the intensity of your heat did rounds on her and she had strongest urge to mark you up.

you could hear her footsteps grow louder and louder, her low growls could be heard with the door still shut. quite impressive. she didn’t even say anything when entering, taking off her work clothes only leaving just her boxers on, the line of her hard cock showing through made you whimper out loud. your slick was practically drooling out from your pussy.

in her eyes you were nothing more than a snack to be devoured. her red eyes peered down at you like you were some sort of prey, and you must admit that pure blooded alpha jimin was really arousing to watch. pheromones in the room were strong as hell, your thick sweet floral scent mixing with jimin’s freshly scented coffee smell made a delicious combination. the scent alone driving you two mad.

she went to sit on the bed, still peering at you meek little body. with hunter like eyes she stared you down and licked her lips, “sit up omega” obeying your alpha like the good little omega you are, you sit up from the nest of clothes.

she could hear little puffs of air pour out of your lips, stifling a chuckle as she watches you struggle to sit up straight and look at her straight in the eye. hooking you up with ease, jimin had your body pressed up against hers, sliding one of her hands in between your thighs opening them up with a strong grip “you look so needy for me” a second goes by and she’s shoving you back into the pillow.

“fuck” jimin whispered “how do you smell so good” nuzzling into the crook of your neck, “you smell so tempting, fuck, i can’t-“ she gave your thighs a firm squeeze, exhaling shakily “you need to take me right now, i can’t take it anymore. i need to feel your tight cunt around my cock” her voice low and coarse. in a flash she slipped her cock into your dripping heat, mewls threatening to escape your mouth.

if you weren’t too dazed and horny you would’ve been saying how you’ve waited for this exact moment. jimin didn’t spend anytime fucking around with foreplay, she went straight into pounding your slicked up hole with no mercy. everything she did set your body ablaze, her hands were touching every single inch on your body and it felt so fucking good.

like a ravenous animal she attacked your neck, licking, marking, biting your throat all whilst groaning. her animalistic mind wanting to show that you’re her omega and nobody else’s and by that she had to litter you with marks of any kind, purposely rubbing her scent to mark you as her omega.

every thrust made your back arch slightly off the bed, hitting all the spots you never knew could feel good because of how nice she usually fucked you. you felt how fast and precise her movement was, and it was heavenly.

as your back arched closer to hers, she shifted even more closer to you, practically pinning you onto the bed by hooking both of your legs above her broad shoulders. hitting even deeper then she previously did before, you felt the tip of her cock graze your cervix “mmfh, fuck, fuck- my baby feels so fucking good” saying all that while she’s harshly sinking her teeth into your shoulders.

“s’too much,, ah- jimin, g-good” her urges began to flare up, the only thing on her mind was to mark you up for good. like she was oh so desperate to keep you as hers.

pulling her cock out, in between breaths she instructs you “turn around. y/n turn over for me.. need to- need to fill you up“ taking your legs of her shoulders and flipping you over with ease, again with her predatory gaze, she stares right at your exposed ass in which tempted her to completely destroy you until you can’t stand anymore, leaving you in a state of vulnerability so that she can take care of you.

her alpha instincts were indeed controlling her every movement, the loving and caring alpha you knew was gone. all was left was a dominating alpha who wanted to fuck you till you were filled up with her cum, even if that means you’ll bear her pups.

returning back into your needy cunt, she moans even louder, louder than you’d ever heard. “omega- omega fuck, i’ll mark you. you’re mine, mine only. mine,,, shit you’re mine forever” relentlessly pushing your head into the pillows, her thrusts became frantic and desperate- her movement erratic and messy, it made you love her even more. her alpha side was making you wetter and wetter, bedsheets were covered with your slick.

your moans were insanely unholy. you were screaming and clawing onto whatever you could grab hold onto. her dick growing larger than before and that's when the both of you knew that she was about to knot into you. grabbing her arm for moral support, you dig your nails harshly into them leaving a few minor scars.

right now you looked so fucked out. you were crying, drooling everywhere all while you were screaming out her name. jimin took her time to place a generous amount of bites and hickeys all over your back too. you know… for extra measures of course.

“aah fuck, pleasepleaseplease alpha cum- cum in me” you sobbed out.

“bout to- gonna,, augh fuck cumming” one final harsh thrust into your cunt and her knot swelled as she spilled every ounce of cum into your hole. your cunt clamping down on her as well, essentially locking the two of you. whilst she knotted into you, she swiftly leaned to the back of your neck and inserted her teeth. it hurt a lot, the feeling of her sharp canines sent your nerves on fire, but only a second later and it felt almost orgasmic.

finally she had marked you, but now you were stuck like this for a while. her knot being large enough to just be stuck in this position. both of you were lowkey back into consciousness, the alpha side of her dying down a little bit and the subby omega side of you dissipating.

after a couple of minutes of basking in your orgasm, her knot went down eventually. it was just enough so that you could move slightly which inevitably caused her semen to seep out of your cunt.

“aaah~ can’t… believe.. i… marked.. you..” catching her breath through each word she managed to muster up “that means you’re mine.. forever, right?”

aww big dom alpha jimin was gone, but your cute puppy of a girlfriend was back. you turn around with her cock still in you and see her smiling right at you, her big puppy eyes beaming with glee.

“yeah.. forever”

#wintersera #omegaverse smut #aespa smut #g!p aespa #karina smut #aespa x reader smut #aespa karina smut #aespa x fem reader smut #g!p karina #yu jimin x reader smut #karina x fem reader smut #kpop smut #girl group smut #kpop girl group smut #fem!reader

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awkward-walking-potato · 3 months ago

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My Kitty Cat

Logan was stalking through the mansion, his usual gruff expression firmly in place, when he heard it—my voice, calling out from down the hall.

"Hey, kitty cat!" I called, the grin on my face audible in my tone.

He stopped dead in his tracks, his hands balling into fists at his sides. I didn’t need to see his face to know the reaction I’d get; it was the same every time.

“Stop calling me that,” he growled without turning around, his voice a low rumble that might’ve scared anyone else off. But I wasn’t anyone else.

I jogged up to him, barely able to suppress the laughter bubbling up inside me. Logan might be a terrifying sight when he was angry—adamantium claws, unyielding muscles, that perpetual scowl—but I’d long since learned that my teasing barely scratched the surface of his temper.

“Oh, come on, don’t be like that,” I said, stepping into his path. “You know it’s just a little fun.”

He stared down at me, his blue eyes narrowing into slits. “You call this fun?”

I reached up without hesitation, my fingers diving into the thick, unruly mess of his hair. “Sure do,” I said, giving one of the tufts a playful tug. “Look at these little cat ears. They’re practically begging for a petting.”

Logan batted my hand away, his expression darkening further. “I’m not some damn pet,” he snapped, his voice dripping with irritation. “And I ain’t your toy either.”

“You could’ve fooled me,” I shot back, smirking. “You’re always lurking around, giving me that brooding look. It’s like you’re begging for me to come over and ruffle your fur.”

His jaw tightened, the muscles in his neck flexing as he ground his teeth together. For a moment, I thought I’d actually pushed him too far. Logan was all about control, about keeping the beast inside on a leash, and I didn’t want to be the one to make him lose it.

But then, instead of the explosion I was half expecting, he just let out a sharp exhale, his eyes flicking up to meet mine.

“You really get a kick outta this, don’t you?” he said, his voice softer, but no less dangerous.

I blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in his tone. “What do you mean?”

Logan’s gaze bore into me, and I felt the usual confidence I had around him waver. “This whole thing. You messin’ with me. Callin’ me kitty, actin’ like I’m some kinda joke.”

The playful smirk I usually wore around him faltered. “Logan, I’m not—”

“You like pokin’ the bear,” he interrupted, stepping closer. “But you’re playin’ with fire, darlin’.”

My breath hitched at the way he said it, the low rasp of his voice sending a shiver down my spine. I’d never heard him talk like that before—like he was barely holding something back.

“I’m just teasing,” I said, my voice coming out quieter than I intended. “I didn’t think you minded…”

“Yeah, well, maybe I do,” he growled, leaning down so his face was inches from mine. “Maybe I’m tired of you always treatin’ me like some kinda joke.”

There was a challenge in his eyes now, something fierce and untamed. I should’ve backed off, apologized, but instead, I found myself drawn in, unable to look away.

“I didn’t mean to—” I started, but he cut me off with a low, frustrated sound, a noise that sent a flush of heat through me.

“Enough,” he said, his voice rough. “You’re done messin’ with me.”

Before I could respond, before I could even process what was happening, Logan’s hand shot out, grabbing me by the back of the neck and pulling me to him. His lips crashed against mine in a kiss that was anything but gentle—possessive, demanding, and utterly consuming.

I gasped against his mouth, my hands instinctively gripping the front of his shirt as he pulled me closer, like he was trying to erase any distance between us. The kiss was fierce, a clash of teeth and tongues, and for a moment, all I could do was hold on and let him take what he wanted.

When he finally pulled back, both of us were breathing hard, our foreheads pressed together as we stood there, the tension between us crackling like electricity. His eyes were dark, wild, as he looked down at me, his hand still fisted in my hair.

“Still think it’s funny to call me kitty?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly.

I stared up at him, my heart pounding in my chest, every nerve in my body on fire. “Maybe,” I managed to say, though my voice was shaky. “But I think I like this better.”

A rough chuckle rumbled out of him, and he shook his head, his hand loosening its grip but not letting go entirely. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?”

I grinned, finally regaining some of my composure. “So I’ve been told.”

Logan’s eyes softened just a fraction, his thumb brushing over my cheek. “You keep pushin’ me like that, and you’re gonna get burned.”

I tilted my head, my grin widening. “Maybe I like a little fire.”

He huffed out a breath, somewhere between exasperation and amusement, and released his hold on me. “You’re playin’ a dangerous game.”

“Good thing I like to win,” I shot back, stepping back but still feeling the heat between us.

He shook his head again, but there was something different in his expression now—something softer, maybe even affectionate, buried under all that gruff exterior.

“Guess you ain’t all that bad,” he muttered, as if admitting it was some great burden.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” I said, feeling a strange warmth spreading through me at the admission.

Logan gave me one last long look before turning to walk away, but I didn’t miss the slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. And as I watched him go, I couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, all that teasing had finally paid off.

Because the Wolverine might not like being called kitty, but Logan? He sure didn’t seem to mind me all that much.

#marvel imagine #x men imagine #wolverine imagine #wolverine x reader #logan howlett imagine #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett #wolverine one shot #wolverine #deadpool imagine

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papaya-twinks · 3 months ago

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red hot chilli 🌶️ - l.n - part 2

Warnings: slight obsessiveness, kinda stalking, swearing

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

other parts

“Ah, there you are, Y/N,” a voice said behind Lando, and he looked up, seeing his friend Carlos standing behind him. Carlos knew who you were? Lando was not about to ruin any chance he could possibly have with you in front of Carlos.

“Lando, this is my little sister, Y/N,” Carlos said, his familiar Spanish accent seeping through as Lando’s eyes widened. Sister?! Oh fuck…out of all the girls Lando decided to have a major ass crush on, it just had to be Carlos’ sister.

“Less of the little,” you said with a click of your tongue, snapping Lando out of his thoughts about you. It seemed to all be coming back…the crush he’d had on you when Carlos was in McLaren…how could he forget you so easily?

Well, it was hardly his fault. After all, you had had your nose buried in a book half the time, and all he could ever see was whatever renaissance book cover you had up. It was cute, to him, how you always had yourself buried in a book.

“Yeah, we, uh, we’ve met,” Lando said, his hand scratching on the back of his neck. “Yeah, he walked into a pole,” Alex giggled from behind you as Lando shot her a glare. “Too busy staring at something else,” she continued with mock wistfulness in her voice.

“Do shut up,” he mumbled to himself, shaking his head as he ran a hand through his perfect, chocolate curls. “Well,” Lando said to Carlos with his usual, lopsided grin, “I best be off now. Need to walk my sunflower,” Lando mumbled, trying not to seem suspicious and failing miserably.

And so, with a sheepish and half-apologetic smile to you, he left, speed-walking his way down the pit lane and towards his motorhome. Oh fuck….no, he could feel his old crush coming back…but was he entirely against it? Not at all.

As much as Lando wasn’t entirely alright with the idea of you being the sister of his best friend (and on-track rival), it made finding your socials much easier. Stalking? Exactly the word. In Lando’s mind (more to convince himself this wasn’t a bad thing), it was just ‘researching’.

y/n.sainz

Cute. Lando was sitting in his room, the curtains drawn closed, his laptop perched on his lap. He’d changed out of his team polo and into a comfy plain white t-shirt and light grey joggers. “Wow…” he muttered under his breath as he scrolled through your profile.

There were hundreds of photos, some of you with your books, some of you in front of beautiful pieces of renaissance art (though Lando found you a hundred times prettier). Chewing his lip, he clicked the bright blue ‘sign up’ button in the corner, and entered his email.

How the hell could he message you out of the blue and say ‘Hi, I’m Lando Norris’? Absolutely not. In the box labelled ‘first name’, he entered the name ‘Luka’, and left the surname blank. It was the first name he could come up with.

Tapping his fingers onto the keyboard, he waiting so few seconds for the app to load, and then stared at the new, blank account. He changed the default profile picture to one of a cute puppy he found online (girls loved dogs, right?).

Luka: Hi! Is this Y/N?

Lando had formulated a plan - in which he would pretend he was looking for a Y/N he’d ‘met at a club’, and he’d ’accidentally’ messaged the wrong girl. Lando’s breath hitched for a second as he saw three pale grey dots appear on the bottom of the screen. And then…

Y/N: Hi! I’m busy right now, but I’ll get back to you soon!

…an automated message. “Fuck,” Lando cursed to himself, he should’ve known! You were a gorgeous girl, of course you’d have hundreds of guys (and probably girls too), trying to get into your DMs.

He was damn lucky you hadn’t tuned off your DMs. All he could do was stare at the message and hope maybe you actually would reply and wouldn’t shut him off as some guy who wanted to try their luck with you. And then another message…

Y/N: Hi, this is Y/N, how can I help?

Wow. How the hell was Lando in awe of a damn message? Everything about you was so fucking hypnotising, and Lando couldn’t deny that he loved it. He did. It was enchanting…god he was falling for a girl he’d seen for a few seconds…plus the years of McLaren before.

Luka: Hey, I’m looking for a Y/N I met at a club, is that you?

“Please, please, please don’t block me…” Lando thought to himself, hoping you wouldn’t. He hadn’t through that through. What if he messaged you and you just blocked him? Fuck!

Y/N: No, I haven’t met a Luka at a club anytime soon, sorry!

Luka: ah that’s shit, sorry to bother you

Y/N: it’s totally fine, it’s nice to finally have someone who isn’t sending dick pics or something haha

Luka: don’t worry, haha, I’m not here to do that!!

Y/N: thank god, finally haha :)

Luka: well, it’s nice to meet you y/n :), your photos are rework pretty btw

Y/N: you as well, and thank you!! your puppy’s really cute too :)

There was this fuzzy little feeling inside of Lando, one he couldn’t quite place as he bid you goodnight, telling you he’d message you again the next day. Like butterflies were fluttering round his body.

And so he closed his laptop, going to bed instead, trying to keep you out his mind. When he’d see you next? He didn’t know, he didn’t care either. Well he cared, yes. But he knew he could talk to you…even if you weren’t there in person.

How he wished you’d come to the next race in Japan…and then all the other races…and he’d charm you so well…make you his. In less than a day, you had already sent Lando into a feral spiral, his mind thinking over nothing but you and your pretty face.

There was a part deep down inside of Lando that felt a little…guilty for doing this. Like he was tricking you and making you think he was someone he wasn’t…but the feeling of desperation was overtaking it way quicker than Lando ever wanted.

And, well…Lando wasn’t sure if it was desperation. The more he stared at your photos, the more he became hypnotised, fixated on one thing. You. This was desperation. No. This was an obsession.

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando x reader #lando norris smut #lando norris imagine #f1

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slowbison · 1 year ago

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request/fic idea:

reader jokingly puts a bell on miguel o’hara since he approaches so quietly and tends to startle you and the other spider-men. he tolerates your humor for a bit since it increases the work morale

little did he know that the bell will be jingling all night as you fuck him mercilessly

a/n: my mind loves miguel as a cute cat with the little bell on him, but he’s also a good puppy too. hope this was to your likings regardless.

i also turned this into a lil fic, hope ya don’t mind, stranger. >;]

Bottom! Miguel O’Hara x Top! Male Reader

words: 2.7k

warnings: praising, feminization, anal sex, butt plug, smut

The room was dark and slightly cold when you opened your eyes. You were in a bedroom, specifically Miguel’s bedroom, looking down at the other man softly sleeping, wrapped around your arms. It was one of the many shared things you do, alternating between realities of sharing apartments, much less beds. Though you were more so in his than your own due to the man’s unhealthy work balance.

Carefully peeling your arms off, you reached into the dresser of the nightstand, ever so slightly opening it to avoid making loud movements. Reaching in, you pulled out a collar and deliberately grabbed around the little bell to suppress any possible noise.

You quietly moved to lay on top of him, adjusting his head as you tried to slip it under him to correctly put it on. Deep in concentration, you steadily lifted his head careful to-

“What are you doing?”

A mistake, you should’ve used a distraction.

You froze, hearing the man underneath you sigh, opening his eyes. You locked eyes and began an intense stare down, not willing to move a muscle and Miguel solemnly staring hard into your eyes with a tired expression. What felt like passing years to you, as you both refused to break eye contact was only a minute before Miguel clicked in annoyance. Face contorting in slight anger.

“Eres tonto, I’m not a fucking dinosaur, I can see you.” He gritted between his teeth, eyes changing into daggers. Sensing that you couldn’t fool him any longer, you quickly put on the collar around him before he could react fast enough. He grabbed your arms just as you buckled the collar, locking it around his neck. Miguel bared his fangs at you, bringing you closer to his face.

“Tell me right now what this is or I’m throwing you out the damn window.” He hissed. You brought your hands up, ultimately surrendering because he will actually throw you out, he’s done it before when you kept pestering him while he worked. Pushing random buttons and obnoxiously loud chewing, he swiftly picked you up and threw you out an opened window, shutting it closed behind him. You brought gifts and apologized for three days straight before he allowed you near his home again.

“Calm down love, just wanted to surprise ya with a gift” You grinned, reaching out to push the little bell, giggling as it rang leaving a little to be amused expression drawn on the other man’s face.

“Your gift is essentially a cat collar. I’m not wearing it.” He deadpanned, moving to remove it from his neck. You quickly stopped him and jabbed a finger at his chest.

“Hey, this is what you get for sneaking up on me for the past week!” You huffed, giving him an accusatory finger as the other man swept a hand down his face.

“No, I haven’t been. Give me one good example” He sighed, leaning against the bed frame, crossing his arms waiting for your so-called proof.

“Oh, you want an example huh? Let me give several actually.” You said, clearing your throat as you began. Miguel groaned.

“First, I was making dinner two nights ago and you just stood right behind me! No, hi, hey or honey, I’m home!”

“I called for your name and you didn’t respond, so I went to check.” He defended.

“And that gives you the right to give me a heart attack?”

Miguel grumbled and turned his head to the side, mouth frowning. “I ain’t done mister,” you said, grabbing the side of his face to turn back to you. “What about the countless times you scared everyone by spawning out of thin air?”

“I didn’t spawn in, I walked in and if you all couldn’t react to that then get back to training.” He stated, raising a brow. You could feel yourself losing and grabbed your phone off the nightstand, flipping through photo albums, determined to show evidence.

“Look, you photobombed a group picture then disappeared when we checked behind us and reappeared in front!” You exclaimed, showing a photo with you along with a few other spider people posing and a tall dark blue figure standing at your side. The next picture was everyone turning their heads back to look at you, with the last picture being Miguel’s body covering half of the frame while everyone scrambled to leave or falling to the ground — the latter being you.

Miguel let out a chuckle at that before resuming his usual stone face demeanor. You gave him an incredulous look, smushing up his face with your hands.

“You owe me one Miguel and this is an easy way to pay me back, yes?” You smiled, watching the man huff.

“This is unprofessional and you’re only doing this because you find it funny.” He jabbed, moving his hand to feel the collar around his neck, ringing the bell accidentally.

You grinned at the frown on his face, “Maybe I do, maybe I don’t, but are you going to wear it?”

Miguel rolled his eyes and grumbled at the thought of actually going through with it, but after a few kisses and gentle petting, he ultimately agreed to wear it. You cheered and got out of the bed to get ready, excited for what’s to come while Miguel slowly trudged behind you, hand on the collar.

You had to split off from the man once you both arrived at headquarters due to patrolling your own world for any crime activity and helping a group of spider folks with tracking an anomaly. While you were searching for the anomaly, you fell into a conversation with them and they couldn’t help, but stir thoughts about Miguel that you’ve never really considered.

One spider spoke of how hilarious it was that you managed to convince Miguel to wear the collar. You laughed along with that, but the other spider said that if you could get away with putting a collar on him, what else is stopping you from putting him in more get ups. After that you fell quiet, thinking of several more ways the collar could complement.

Miguel always had nice slim hips, perfect to grab and keep steady as you plow him to oblivion. Thighs that were always so firm yet quivered under your touch as he tried helplessly to continue riding your cock after cumming numerous times before.

You could feel yourself heat up at those thoughts, a burning desire to see his delectable thighs wearing something… with lace, a nice matching bra that would drape across his chest. Your mouth starts watering at the idea. The cute little collar bell would still be on him as you fuck him stupid. You could feel yourself get light headed at the thought, but turned out to be a robotic tentacle hitting you, attached to the anomaly, Doctor Octopus in the wrong reality.

Feeling annoyed and frustrated that your daydreaming was so rudely interrupted, you jumped into the now ongoing battle with the other spiders. Determination to quickly capture the man and return back to Miguel with reinvigorated vigor. You were just really horny.

The fight had lasted quite awhile as the Doctor threw several citizens that required you to slow down and rescue, making you even more tense. A few concerns were voiced with your fellow spiders by your “enthusiasm” before silencing their worries as you trapped the mad scientist against a wall with your webs, tentacles incapacitated alongside. Finally glad the fight was over though a coiled knot still burned within you.

The others had decided to take over of putting the Doctor in a trap box while you left to return to Miguel’s apartment. He had sent you a text earlier while you were fighting that he’s continuing his work from home and not totally because he was hiding from Peter, who kept taking several pictures of him.

Slipping through the door, you stalked down into the hall searching for the man. Then you heard it, a soft ring coming from his studio room. You watched as he tinkered with a piece of equipment, lips pouting and face scrunched. He had changed from his suit to a more comfortable set of clothes, a loose tank top and sweatpants. From his side you could see a perky nipple begging to be sucked, coupled with some markings across his chest.

He gave a quick glance up before double taking at your disheveled appearance. You looked like a starved man that just found the most juiciest meal in the desert after a year.

Miguel audibly swallowed and lowered his gaze further down, landing at your cock straining in your pants. He gently set down his device, padding his feet softly on the floor as he walked up. Before he could say anything, you pushed him against the wall and attacked his lips. Bell ringing as you throw yourself against him, grinding onto his hardening dick with your own, groaning at the feeling.

He tried to match your intensity, running his hands through your hair, pulling you deeper into the kiss but turned into a sloppily making out with teeth gnashing as you both continued desperately kissing. You ran your hands across his sides, tracing the muscles down his spine and slipped under the waistband of his pants to grab a handful of his ass, giving it a firm squeeze. A low whine escapes his lips at which you devour, motivating you to draw even more from noises from the man.

Kneading the mound in your hands, you hoisted him in the air, grabbing onto his thighs and making your way into the bedroom. Miguel always had a thing for you display’s of strength, especially when he’s put into a chokehold as you plowed into him or fucked him in the air — both times cumming incredibly quick.

Reaching the bedroom, you shimmied the door open and laid him down on the bed as you began frantically taking off your clothes, not wanting to separate from his body for long. Miguel followed suit and stripped himself of his tank top and sweatpants. Just as he was about to rid himself of his collar, you reached a hand out to stop him.

“Keep it on for me love, want to hear it going crazy while I fuck you.” You purred, Miguel’s face flushed out of embarrassment before nodding.

You were immediately back on him, latching onto one of those delectable nipples while the other toyed with nub, swirling and pulling it around your fingers.

Miguel keened at the feeling and pushed your head closer to his chest, watching as you left dark marks. Switching nipples, you slipped your hand down and wrapped around his leaking cock laid against his stomach. Running a thumb at the top of his cockhead and your fingers following, smearing the precome over his shaft. The pressure of Miguel’s orgasm began to build within him as he rutted desperately into your hand, chasing after the rush.

Miguel could feel himself starting to lose it, breathing stuttering and digging his nails into your head. “Ah- please mi vida, more, need to feel you in me.” He begged pitifully.

Releasing a piece of his meaty chest from your mouth, you met the man’s lust filled eyes, one’s where you could feel yourself pulled in. Then you heard it, the bell that was the center of your desires, thoughts of the man wearing god knows what with it came flooding back to you. Lacy lingerie, a cute cow costume, or maybe a maid wearing a bell. Mouth watering at the thought of fucking him in such outfits spurred you on.

“Of course darling, anything for my good boy who’d do as I say, right?” You cooed, digging into the nightstand for the half empty bottle of lube. Adding a generous amount on your fingers and his fluttering hole, easing one finger in gently.

Miguel closed his eyes at the intrusion, whining from the sensation and spreading his legs more. “Yes, anything for you, please keep going,” he panted.

“So good you’ll wear anything too, yeah?” You said, adding another finger, curling and twisting inside him.

Miguel huffed and visibly made himself relax as you stretched him out, groaning as you slipped a third. “Sí, te necesito en mi por favor” he whined, fucking himself on your fingers to prove a point.

“My baby is so impatient” you chuckled, removing your fingers from his puckering hole and lathered yourself with some lube. Tutting his hips wider for you, teasing him by rubbing the tip at his entrance. “Maybe I should get you a maid costume and teach you some manners.”

Miguel whimpered at your teasing, frustrated by your actions yet intrigued by your words. He never put much interest in wearing anything during your love making, but the implications of what you’d do to him rushed to his dick.

He was about to reply when you made your way inside him, groaning at the tightness and warm heat. Any words that were to be said, gurgled in his throat and a drawled whine emitting instead. You began to slowly thrust into him, peppering his chest with kisses.

“Fuck, you’d look so good in some lace too. Don’t you think, love? You always make anything look good on you baby.” You complimented, kissing and marking the side of his neck. Miguel whined and threw his head back, bell ringing as the force of your thrusts increased.

“Get you a matching collar and fuck you with it on. You’d look beautiful, shit.” You groaned feeling him tighten on your cock as you continued your barrage of compliments.

“You like that baby, my good boy, want to dress up all nice and pretty for me?”

Miguel struggled to formulate a reply, every word on his tongue came out too fast or went higher in pitch, coming out as a moan or whine. From the few things you could pick up from him were lost behind a language barrier, slurring his words and opting for just expressing himself with his body by matching your thrusts with his grinding. He could feel his orgasm building up quickly and wanted to beg you to slow down, but refused to end your onslaught on him. Letting a broken sob as he clamped down, doing his best to be good for you and wait for his orgasm.

Sensing his thighs quivering, and desperate attempt to bring you closer to the edge. You cooed into his ear at how proud you were of him for waiting and you’ll fill his cunt with your cum. “Doing so good for me darling, gonna come in that perky ass of yours.”

Miguel sobbed, mouth hanging open as he tried to plead with you to let him cum, body trembling underneath you. “You can cum baby, fuck, going to come soon” you groaned, chasing after your own orgasm using Miguel’s tight hole. The bell continued its frantic ringing that was drowned out by the sounds of your fast thrusts, hard slaps filling the room. Miguel cried out as he came, splattering over his chest, reaching up to the bottom of his chin.

He collapsed into the bed but still clenched, letting you use him for your own pleasure. You came soon after that, cum gushing into him before leaking around your cock, onto the sheets. The bell’s ringing had come to an end, only softly chiming whenever Miguel moved though the man seemed exhausted to consider doing that.

You slowly pulled out and watched your cum drip out of him, Miguel whined at the feeling of being empty. Moving to the nightstand, you grabbed one of the man’s butt plugs and sealed your cum within him. The man softly groaned before settling back down on the bed. You chuckled at his display and stood to get a warm rag from the bathroom to clean you both, removing the collar from his neck.

After that, you were both too tired to change the sheets and pushed it for your morning version problem instead, nuzzling a tired Miguel on your chest who softly spoke to you. “So, you want to tell me what that was.”

“Believe I said it all love, you’d look amazing in some lingerie. Maybe some costumes here and there as well.” You muttered, combing your fingers in his hair.

Miguel bit his lips, a faint blush dusted his face.

“One time… I’ll wear it for you once.” You grinned at his response.

“You’ve got a deal, love.”

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diamonddaze01 · 5 days ago

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Haiiii it's me again! Yes me the one who requested for jeonghan drabble. I wanna tell you that you wrote it so beautifully. The last part hit right into my heart. You conveyed every emotion so perfectly. I loved it!

I wanna request for another jeonghan drabble no. 70. Make them be rivals yk enemies to lovers. I love that trope. Oh and if you make jeonghan jealous in that fic it'll be sooo good!

Lastly love you <3333

sore memories

pairing: jeonghan x reader | wc: 1.3k prompt: "I didn't realize I needed your permission." au: college au | warnings: mentions of sex a/n: hello you are so so sweet! thank you for coming off anon to introduce yourself! I hope you love this as much as mafia!hannie

The party was alive with music, laughter, and too many faces you didn’t care to remember. Somewhere in the haze of flashing lights and sticky floors, you were trying to lose yourself in the evening. The guy in front of you—tall, generic, and charming enough—was speaking, but you weren’t listening. Not really.

Not when you could feel Jeonghan’s gaze burning a hole in the side of your head.

He leaned casually against the far wall, a picture of ease, holding a drink he probably wasn’t even sipping. His dark hair fell just enough into his eyes to look unintentional, and his lips curled in that signature smirk that could both captivate and infuriate. You hated how often it did the latter.

And, like clockwork, it started again—the simmering irritation in your chest, the sense that wherever Jeonghan was, peace was not. It always came back to this—the constant back and forth, the verbal sparring that sparked every time you crossed paths. You’d known Jeonghan for years, and if you could go back and change one thing, it would be meeting him.

It had started your first year of college, at a party much like this one. Jeonghan had been a stranger then, someone with an effortless charm that made people gravitate toward him. He’d introduced himself with that smirk of his, cocky and self-assured in a way that should’ve been a warning. Instead, you’d found yourself drawn to him, his easy banter and sparkling eyes too intriguing to resist.

By the end of the night, you’d ended up in his bed, tangled in his sheets and his laughter. For a fleeting moment, it had felt like something real.

Until you woke up the next morning to find the bed empty. No Jeonghan. Just a hastily scribbled note on his pillow.

“Thanks for the fun. See you around.”

The humiliation had crawled through your chest like a slow burn, leaving behind a simmering anger that hadn’t dulled with time. You’d told yourself it didn’t matter, that he didn’t matter, but the sting of his absence—and that damned note—had never quite faded.

It wasn’t just the note, though. It was the way Jeonghan acted after, like nothing had happened. Like you were just another face in the crowd. The way he leaned into every conversation with a smirk, always teasing, always too close. Like he enjoyed watching you bristle.

And now, years later, nothing had changed. Except maybe everything had, because the resentment wasn’t enough to drown out the spark that flared every time you locked eyes with him.

You looked away, focusing on the man in front of you. He was tall, his voice smooth, but the words might as well have been water hitting glass. You nodded along out of politeness, sipping your drink and willing yourself to stay in the moment.

But Jeonghan was watching. You could feel it—the subtle weight of his gaze, like an itch you couldn’t scratch.

And, inevitably, he approached. You didn’t notice him at first, too caught up in pretending to care about whatever the guy was saying. But then came the unmistakable sensation of being under a spotlight, the air around you shifting with his presence.

“Having fun?” His voice was warm honey with a razor’s edge.

Your grip tightened slightly on your cup as you turned to him, your smile thin. “I was.”

Jeonghan chuckled, a low sound that sent an unwanted flicker of heat through you. His eyes roved over you briefly, his gaze lingering like he was assessing your armor. He tilted his head toward the guy who had already started to drift away. “That guy,” he said with mock interest. “He your type?”

You let out a sharp exhale, already bracing for the inevitable headache. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t,” he replied, his smirk widening just enough to betray the lie. His eyes sparkled with something teasing, as though you were his favorite game to play. “I just didn’t peg you as someone who’d settle for boring.”

Your jaw clenched, your nails biting into the plastic of your cup. “And you would know, wouldn’t you?”

For a brief moment, something flickered across his face—too fast to name but heavy enough to make you pause. Then it was gone, replaced by his usual nonchalance. “Touché,” he murmured.

He stepped closer, and you fought the instinct to take a step back. He had a way of closing the space between you with casual arrogance, like the mere act of breathing the same air was his right.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Jeonghan pressed, his voice soft but insistent, his dark eyes locking onto yours.

The irritation bubbled over. “I didn’t realize I needed your permission,” you shot back, your tone sharp enough to cut.

His smirk faltered, just slightly, and you caught the faintest hint of something raw in his expression. His fingers curled around the rim of his cup, tightening before he exhaled slowly. “You don’t,” he said, his voice quieter now, steadier. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to pretend I don’t care.”

For a moment, the noise of the party faded, the world narrowing to just the two of you. You opened your mouth to retort, but the look in his eyes stopped you short. There was something unnervingly honest there, a vulnerability that threw you off balance.

“You don’t get to do this,” you said finally, your voice quieter but no less pointed. “You don’t get to act like you care now.”

Jeonghan ran a hand through his hair, a frustrated motion that sent a few strands falling messily across his forehead. “I know I screwed up,” he admitted, his shoulders dropping as if the weight of his words was too much. “That night—I left because I didn’t know what else to do. I woke up, and it scared the hell out of me how much I wanted to stay. So, I ran. And I’ve regretted it every day since.”

The confession hit like a punch to the gut, your breath catching in your throat. Your fingers tightened around your cup, and you looked away, your vision blurring slightly as the memory of that morning resurfaced.

“You left a note,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jeonghan’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, his jaw tightening. “I know,” he said, his tone softer now, tinged with guilt. “It was a coward’s move. But believe me when I say, it wasn’t because you didn’t matter.”

Your eyes flicked back to him, searching for any sign of insincerity. But his body betrayed no games, no walls. His hands fidgeted with his cup, his posture slightly tense, and for the first time, he didn’t seem so untouchable.

“Why now?” you asked, your voice cracking slightly despite your best efforts to stay composed. “Why are you telling me this now?”

His lips parted, his tongue darting out briefly to wet them before he answered. “Because I’m tired,” he said simply, his shoulders squaring again as if he’d made some unspoken decision. “Tired of pretending I don’t care, tired of seeing you with guys who’ll never know you the way I do.”

His gaze burned into yours, unyielding, and you hated how much you wanted to believe him.

“Say the word,” Jeonghan murmured, his voice softer now, almost pleading. He stepped closer, his hand brushing yours lightly, sending a jolt through your skin. “And I’ll walk away. But don’t tell me you don’t feel it too.”

You swallowed hard, the words lodged in your throat as your chest tightened. Your gaze dropped to the floor, your heart warring with your pride.

“You don’t get to break my heart twice,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

The faint tremor in your words made his expression crumble, his hand reaching out hesitantly before falling back to his side. “I won’t,” he said, the conviction in his tone catching you off guard. “Not this time.”

And for the first time in years, the walls you’d built around yourself began to crack.

send me an ask for my drabble game!

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runariya · 1 month ago

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Will there be a chapter or a few scenes from jk’s pov? I’m really curious about his thoughts regarding all that’s happening right now and also curious about what drew him to oc in the first place considering he always loved taking risks and she was always the opposite in this regard, at least during their relationship.

not rly, tho I do accept drabble requests for my fics...speaking of...

The one where JK and OC start dating 💕

word count: 1.800 (lol)

Jungkook has been thinking about you for a long time now, ever since the day you first met. It’s been over a year of friendship—late-night talks, binge-watching shows, sharing food, and sometimes just sitting in comfortable silence. The kind of moments that shouldn’t feel like anything special but, with you, feel like everything.

It’s funny, though, how even after all this time, you still make him nervous. Not in the awkward way he might’ve been when you first met, but in the kind of nervous that gets under his skin, makes his a little breathless, and his hands fidget whenever you’re close.

He can remember the exact moment he fell for you, though it sounds ridiculous when he plays it back in his head. You were so helpless—just sitting there in your car weeping in the narrow side street—but something about the way you looked at him after he knocked on the window, the way you started laughing right after, it hit him all at once. He felt it deep in his gut, this certainty, like he just knew. That’s what love at first sight was.

And then came everything after, everything that followed. You, with your carefully planned out life, your sensible decisions, the way you always thought things through, never acting on impulse or emotion. You, who double-checked the train schedules and had contingency plans for things that probably weren’t even going to happen.

He should’ve found that frustrating, annoying even, given how opposite you were to him. Jungkook, who lived for the rush of spontaneity, the thrill of last-minute decisions, the way his pulse would pound when he went just a little too fast on his motorbike or tried something new on a whim.

Yet, instead of being frustrated, he found himself drawn to it. You calmed him, steadied him. Being around you was like catching his breath after running for so long, realising he didn’t need to be running at all. It was unexpected, the way you settled something inside him without even trying.

It hit him hardest when you agreed to join him on that hiking trip. You, who preferred to stay home on weekends, your idea of fun involving quiet nights in, agreed to hike up a mountain with him. It wasn’t anything crazy, not by his standards at least, but it was out of your comfort zone. And you went for it. You even laughed at yourself when you stumbled over a root, swore under your breath when the trail got too steep, but you kept going.

Jungkook remembers how his chest had felt thifht that day, but not in the way it usually did when he was out chasing that rush of adrenaline. It was something so much more beautiful—a thrill of a different kind, realising how much he wanted you in his life, in all of it.

And now, after over a whole damn year, here he is, sitting across from you in a restaurant he had chosen for both of you, pretending everything’s normal. You’re talking about your day, about work or something—he isn’t really paying attention because his mind is occupied with what he’s about to do. His heart is pounding so hard, he swears it’s audible, the rush of blood in his ears drowning out the noise of the restaurant and your soft voice.

This is it. He’s going to ask you out. Properly. Not in the casual, hey, want to hang out again tomorrow? way that he’s done for the past year. This time, it’s going to mean something different. This time, he’s going to make it clear that he wants more.

His palms are sweating, his fingers tapping anxiously against each other, and he can’t help but glance at you every few seconds, wondering if you notice. If you can tell that something’s off. But you seem so at ease, so content in your world, sipping your drink and smiling at him like you always do. You have no idea how hard it is for him right now.

He takes a deep breath. Just do it, Jungkook. Stop overthinking it and just ask her. It’s not like he hasn’t faced worse than this, right? But that’s the thing—this is worse.

Because with you, there’s so much more at stake. If you say no, it’s not just his pride on the line. It’s everything. It’s the friendship you’ve built, the trust, the comfort, the late nights and lazy mornings spent in each other’s company. He can’t lose that. But he also can’t go on pretending that this isn’t killing him inside.

He clears his throat, but his voice cracks a little when he speaks. Smooth, Jungkook.

“So, um, I’ve been thinking.” His words are awkward, clumsy even, not at all how he imagined this going in his head. You look up at him, eyebrows raised, and now he’s lost track of what he’s supposed to say next. Great.

“About what?” you ask, voice calm, eyes curious, completely unaware of the internal battle he’s waging right now.

He swallows hard, fingers fidgeting with the napkin on his lap. He can feel the adrenaline kicking in, his body reacting the same way it does when he’s about to take a leap from a cliff into the ocean, except this is so much more terrifying.

“I’ve been thinking about… us,” he stammers, and instantly regrets the vagueness of his words. Why does he always make things harder for himself?

You blink, head tilting slightly as if you’re trying to figure out where he’s going with this. “Us?”

“Yeah. Us.” He breathes out heavily, raking a hand through his hair gelled hair and regretting it right after. “You and me. How we’ve been, y’know, friends for a while now…and how we spend so much time together.”

You nod slowly, still looking at him like you’re waiting for the punchline. And honestly, he’s starting to feel like he’s delivering one too.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is, I don’t just want to be your friend anymore,” he blurts out, wincing slightly at how blunt it sounds. He didn’t mean for it to come out like that.

You freeze, your fork hovering mid-air as you stare at him, eyes wide. The shock on your face is evident, and he can’t tell if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

“What… what do you mean?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jungkook’s heart feels like it’s about to burst out of his chest. He takes another deep breath, trying to steady himself. There’s no going back now.

“I mean…I lo…like you,” he says, forcing himself to meet your gaze. “I’ve liked you for a while now, but I didn’t want to ruin what we had. You’re important to me, and I didn’t want to mess that up, but…” He pauses, running a hand over his face. “But I can’t keep pretending I’m okay with just being friends when I want more. I want us to be more than that.”

Your silence is killing him. You’re staring at him like you’re trying to process his words, and for a split second, he wonders if he’s just made the biggest mistake of his life.

“Jungkook…” you start, your voice soft, but he cuts you off before you can say anything else.

“I know you’re not the kind of person who takes risks,” he rushes out, “and I know I’m the exact opposite of that. I’ve spent my whole life chasing thrills, doing things on a whim, not thinking about the consequences. But you… you make me want to slow down. You make me want to be someone better. Someone you can rely on. I don’t want to keep living the way I have been. I want something real, something that lasts. And I want that with you.”

You’re still silent, but your eyes have softened, and that gives him hope.

“I know I’m not perfect,” he continues, his voice so much quieter now. “I know I can be reckless and impulsive, and I know that’s probably the exact opposite of what you need. But you balance me out. You make me see things differently, make me realise that not everything has to be about the next big adventure. I want to settle down with you. I want us to build something together. I want kids and a home, and all the things I never thought I’d want until I met you.”

He’s laying it all out there now, heart on his sleeve, and it’s terrifying. He feels exposed, vulnerable, like he’s dangling over the edge of that damn cliff and waiting for you to either pull him back or let him fall.

You take a deep breath, setting your fork down, and Jungkook watches as your expression shifts. For a moment, he fears the worst—that you’re going to tell him you don’t feel the same way, that you’re going to ask if you can just stay friends. But then, you speak.

“I didn’t know. I had no idea you felt that way.”

He bites his lip, nodding. “Yeah, well… I’m not exactly great at showing it.”

You look down at your hands, fingers fidgeting with your cutlery, and Jungkook feels the deadly weight of the silence settle between you. He’s about to say something—anything to fill the space—but then you look up at him again, and there’s something in your eyes that makes his heart stop, no, race and then stop again.

“I don’t take risks,” you admit, your voice soft. “It’s who I am. And I’m scared, Jungkook. I’m scared of what this could mean, of what could happen if things go wrong.”

Jungkook might faint, but he forces himself to stay calm, to let you finish.

“But…” you continue, your voice a little stronger now, “I’ve also never met anyone like you. You challenge me, push me out of my comfort zone in ways I never thought I’d be somehow okay with. And I… I think I like that. I like you.”

Jungkook feels like his heart might explode from the relief, the joy that’s flooding his system. He doesn’t think, doesn’t even hesitate before reaching across the table and grabbing your hand, his fingers wrapping around yours in a way that feels so natural, so right.

“You mean it?” he needs your confirmation.

You nod, your smile growing. “Yeah. I mean it.”

And just like that, all the fear, all the anxiety he’s been holding onto for so long, melts away. Jungkook squeezes your hand, his grin now mirroring your own. He can’t believe it. After all this time, all the wondering, the overthinking, you’re here. And he’s with you. And he finally can start living.

masterlist

taglist: @kookiewithluv , @closer-to-jungkook , @dreamcatcherluvr , @blueofocean, @leah-rose03 , @httpjeonlicious , @futuristicenemychaos , @cryingoverpixelsetc , @variety-is-the-joy-of-life , @kawaiiisstuff , @delusionalsnack , @jaykay-world , @kookie-vuitton , @https-mei, @daisies-and-dandelionpuffs , @avawants2havefun , @kawaiiisstuff, @ancagab16 , @lovingkoalaface , @lachimolalajeon , @jkslvsnella , @asimuss7 , @elinaki92 , @minghaosimp, @whoa-jo , @jaytheatiny , @winterbeartaehyungbestboy

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bananababblegigglemuffin · 29 days ago

Text

Night Time

Note: fluffy smut not really smut. bTW LOGANS PERSPECTIVE

The room was hushed, save for the faint whispers of the television playing Moulin Rouge. It was three in the morning, yet here we were, wide awake. I could feel the warmth of your body against mine, each breath bringing me closer to peace — or as close as I’d ever get. Insomnia was second nature to us both, though for different reasons. My mind often drifted to battles and old memories, while you, love, seemed to be up for an entirely different reason. A reason that, right now, was wrapped around my waist.

"So, sweetheart, what’s got you so giddy tonight?" I teased, nudging you slightly, hoping for one of those infectious smiles that lit up even my darkest hours.

“Well, Lo,” you began, a mischievous glint in your eyes, “I went shopping today with Jean and Storm. You should’ve seen the dress I found. It’s this amazing burnt orange tulle dress — the perfect shade for fall! But I don't have anywhere to wear it…”

Ah, your voice had that lilting disappointment, the kind that made me want to punch a hole through anything keeping you from your happiness. But this was a problem I could fix. “Well, Bub, how about I take you out this Saturday?” I offered, hoping to see that look of surprise in your eyes.

“THIS SATURDAY? YES PLEASE!” you almost squealed, practically bouncing in place. It reminded me of a kid in a candy store, and I couldn’t stop the grin spreading across my face. Watching you light up like that was damn near one of my favorite sights.

“God, that means I've got two days!” you gasped, pulling yourself off my chest, looking as though you were about to pull off some high-stakes operation. I propped myself up, watching you dart across the room with all the energy of a firecracker. You opened the closet and then cast a glance back at me, that sly little smirk of yours.

“I know that look, babe,” I chuckled. “Of course I want a show! I’d be a real hoser to decline, sweet cheeks.”

You slipped on the dress and twirled around to show it off. I wasn’t prepared for what I saw. The dress was perfect — understated up top with full sleeves, its burnt orange color dotted with delicate purple flowers that practically screamed autumn. But it was the bottom that took my breath away. You looked like some kind of goddess, moving like a whisper across the room.

“Give me a 360, babe,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. You turned, and that’s when I saw it — the low, daring U-cut in the back, held together by barely-there crisscross laces. My breath hitched. You were a vision, and the cool room air only enhanced the way your skin glowed.

“Oh, goddess, you've got me weak in the knees here," I murmured, my voice a little rougher. "Come back here. I need to worship you.”

You giggled but obliged, slipping out of the dress and crawling back into bed, pressing yourself into the white comforter like an angel. My hands found your bare back, fingers trailing patterns along your skin. I was lost, drawn to your scent, breathing it in as I nestled into the curve of your neck. I brushed over you, feeling every little reaction beneath my fingertips. “Lo, you’re so nice,” you murmured, and I couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped.

“I’m nice to you, love,” I whispered, more truth than any promise I’d ever made.

"Okay, enough of that. Let me help you this time," you said, pulling yourself up and straddling my back before I could argue. You settled yourself just right, leaning down and pressing your hands against my shoulders, kneading with a surprising strength. I could feel every curve of you, and it was enough to make me bite back a groan.

“Turn over, wolfie,” you giggled, a sparkle in your eye as you leaned in. I gave a little grumble. "Baby, you don't have to do this," I insisted, knowing full well how stubborn you could be. But you'd made up your mind, and I knew resistance was futile.

I turned, letting you position yourself above me, and couldn’t help but feel the warmth of you as you applied lotion, massaging my shoulders, working your way down to my chest. Your touch was slow, deliberate, and I was practically melting into the bed beneath you. I could feel every bit of you pressing against me, warming me, leaving me in a state I could barely describe.

You moved slowly, massaging my biceps, and even my hands, taking your time as you knew well how to do. My hands slid up to your waist, resting there, simply feeling the rhythm of your movements. The closeness, the heat, it was everything I’d ever wanted and never thought I’d deserve.

Then, just when I thought I’d have a moment to breathe, you shifted, sliding down a bit lower, your hands exploring down my abs. “Sweetheart, this is supposed to help me sleep,” I muttered, feeling the low rumble of laughter in my chest. But you just smiled that mischievous smile, your fingers never slowing as they traced the lines of my chest, inch by inch.

Your fingers teased at my skin, each stroke soft but intentional, a reminder that you knew exactly how to drive me wild. Every touch felt like a jolt of electricity, something I could feel down to my core. And when you met my eyes with that sly grin, that sparkle of confidence, it nearly undid me.

My breath hitched as you leaned forward, lips grazing my neck, barely a whisper against my skin. The world outside was silent, but inside this room, it felt like we were galaxies away, locked in some kind of cosmic, timeless dance. I wrapped my arms around your waist, pulling you closer, feeling every part of you pressed against me.

“You’re really trying to get me into trouble, aren’t you, sweetheart?” I muttered, grinning as I tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. You just giggled, your cheeks flushed with that look of mischief that was so perfectly you. “You’re the trouble, Logan,” you whispered back, running your fingers over the scar on my shoulder, tracing its path, knowing it like a map you’d memorized.

There was something about these late hours, these shared, stolen moments. The way you looked at me, the way you didn’t shy away from any part of me—the rough edges, the scars, the parts of me that even I couldn’t stand. With you, it all seemed to fade into the background, replaced by a warmth that ran deeper than anything I’d ever known. I tilted your chin up, meeting your gaze, and in that instant, I felt completely bare—no defenses, no walls. Just us.

“Do you even know how dangerous you are, darlin’?” I asked, running my thumb across your cheek, brushing against that soft, flawless skin. “You’ve got me wrapped around that little finger of yours, and you don’t even know it.”

You just smiled, your hands slipping into mine, fingers intertwining. “You’re my dangerous one,” you whispered back. And then, in that calm, quiet moment, you leaned down, pressing your lips to mine. The kiss was soft, unhurried, the kind of kiss that felt like it could last forever. I could feel every ounce of your love, your care, in that single touch.

Our breaths mingled as the kiss deepened, the world outside fading even further. I ran my fingers along your back, trailing down your spine, feeling every shiver, every response. The connection between us was undeniable, electric, like a fire that refused to be put out.

“Sweetheart,” I whispered, voice rough with emotion. “You’ve got no idea what you mean to me, do you?”

You pulled back slightly, eyes meeting mine with that gentle, unwavering look that somehow held the entire universe. “I think I do,” you replied softly, your voice a gentle hum against my skin. “I know, Logan. And I’m not going anywhere.”

We lay there, entwined in each other, wrapped up in the warmth of our shared space, of the peace that somehow seemed to exist only in these quiet, stolen moments. You tucked your head beneath my chin, your arms draped around me, and I held you close, feeling the steady rhythm of your heartbeat against mine.

Eventually, I felt your breathing slow, your eyelids fluttering closed as sleep finally began to take hold. And for once, the nightmares seemed far away, held at bay by the warmth and comfort of having you by my side. I let myself drift off, holding you close, knowing that whatever battles lay ahead, I’d face them with you.

As sleep took its sweet time arriving, I held you close, feeling your breathing slow against me. The quiet warmth of the night wrapped around us, and I ran my hand along your back, tracing gentle patterns like I was memorizing every detail. You looked up at me, a sleepy smile dancing on your lips, and it was like seeing sunlight after a long winter.

“I wish we could stay like this forever,” you murmured, eyes half-closed, your voice barely more than a whisper.

“Darlin’,” I replied softly, brushing a kiss against your forehead, “I’m not going anywhere.” The way you nestled into me, resting your head in the crook of my neck, made me wish I could somehow hold on to this moment, freeze it in time. The world felt perfectly right with you beside me, like every broken part in my past had finally found its place.

You were playing with the edge of my shirt, a small, absentminded gesture that felt so intimate. “I think you’re my safe place, Lo,” you said softly, your fingers tracing small circles on my chest. “No one’s ever made me feel like this.”

It was a confession that hit deeper than anything, a truth spoken in the small hours of the morning. I didn’t have the words to answer, so I wrapped my arms around you a little tighter, letting the silence fill with everything I couldn’t say. With you, it was more than love; it was peace, something I hadn’t thought I’d ever have.

We lay there together, breathing in sync, the stillness of the room pressing in like a comforting blanket. The flicker of the television cast a soft glow over you, and I reached over to brush a strand of hair from your face, just so I could see you more clearly. The gentle light played on your features, illuminating that spark in your eyes, and for a moment, I forgot about everything else.

I brought your hand to my lips, pressing a kiss to each of your fingertips, feeling the soft warmth of your skin. You let out a small laugh, that soft, delicate laugh that had the power to make the hardest parts of my heart melt. "Logan," you whispered, voice light and full of affection, "what did I do to deserve you?"

It was a question that I often felt myself asking. "Sweetheart, I think I’m the one who's undeserving here," I replied, pulling you even closer, savoring the feeling of you against me. "Every time I look at you, I know I’m the luckiest damn man alive."

You tilted your head up, eyes meeting mine with a look so full of love it almost hurt. Slowly, you brought a hand up to my face, your thumb brushing over the rough line of my jaw. There was something in your gaze, something that made me feel like you saw right through me — the scars, the history, the hard edges — and somehow still loved every part of it.

We stayed like that, wrapped up in the quiet comfort of each other. And even as the hours stretched on, I didn’t feel tired. I could’ve held you there forever, listening to the soft rhythm of your breathing, the gentle beat of your heart.

After a while, I leaned down and kissed the top of your head, breathing you in like you were the last bit of oxygen I needed. “You know,” I murmured, resting my cheek against your hair, “I used to think I’d be alone forever. But you—well, you changed that.”

You looked up at me, eyes bright despite the soft haze of sleep. “Logan,” you said, a little smile tugging at the corner of your lips, “you and me, we’re not alone anymore. We’re a team, remember?”

“Yeah, darlin’,” I replied, feeling something warm and steady settle deep within me. “We’re a team.”

And in that small, quiet moment, with the early morning light just beginning to creep in, I knew that whatever the future held, as long as I had you by my side, I could face it. This was what I’d been searching for all along — not just love, but a home. A place to rest, to finally be at peace.

Holding you close, I let myself drift, your warmth anchoring me to something real, something good. This, right here, was everything I ever wanted, wrapped up in the arms of the only person I’d ever let myself truly love.

end.

author: i hope some of you liked reading it! please do comment and reblog, it means the world to me

#wolverine x reader #wolverine smut #hugh jackman #logan howlett #logan howlett smut #wolverine #logan x reader #logan wolverine #james howlett #james logan howlett #logan 2017

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crushpunky · 2 months ago

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rafe and toxic!reader run into each other at a party

making out/allusions to smut, but nothing really...

She should’ve expected him to be there, it being a Friday night and a drug-filled party and all. Yet, when she finally laid her eyes upon Rafe Cameron, some drunk, Kook chick clinging to his arm, she couldn’t help but feel drawn to him despite the company she had brought along with her. The boringly mediocre company she had brought along with her.

Topper was fine. A textbook “nice guy”, mind-numbingly average in every sense, and above all, a stupid boy. A stupid boy that just so happened to be one of Rafe’s closest friends. So, when Rafe decided to chat with his ex Sofia again, y/n had no choice but to “hang out” with Topper. Her hands were tried, truly.

“I got you something to drink.” Topper said, finally tearing y/n’s eyes away from the way Rafe smirked at the chick on his arm. Talking with Topper was like stabbing a fork in her eye repeatedly, every mention of golf or football making her want to scream until she remembered the way Rafe looked at Sofia as he leaned across the bar, tipping her a crisp twenty dollar bill before walking back to his seat as if nothing had happened. Like he hadn’t just practically eye-fucked his ex right in front of y/n.

Y/n took the drink from Topper and, without a word, downed it before handing the empty cup back to him. Topper scoffed, looking down at the cup before looking back to y/n whose eyes remained fixed across the room.

“Do you have any coke?” Y/n said, finally making eye contact with Topper for the first time since they had arrived at the party.

“No… Rafe probably does though.” Topper said slowly, causing y/n to roll her eyes. Of course the one thing Topper was good for he couldn’t even do.

“Let’s dance.” Y/n said, grabbing Topper’s hand before pulling him into the sea of dancing bodies. The base pounded as y/n pulled Topper closer, the two of them swaying chest to chest, their faces inches apart. Y/n glanced towards Rafe, allowing herself to grin as she noticed his gaze stuck on her, a scowl on his face.

“Touch my ass, Top.” Y/n whispered into Topper’s ear, looping her arms around his neck. A shocked reaction crossed Topper’s face before he rested his hands on the swell of y/n’s ass, pulling her even closer to him.

“Damn… you’re so fucking hot.” Topper said, his warm breath hitting her neck. Y/n grinned, running her nails along the nape of his hair.

“I know.” Y/n said, moving to kiss Topper’s jaw, her hands continuing to trail through his hair… just like Rafe always liked. She could feel Topper’s grasp on her tighten, resisting the urge to gag as she worked her way down his neck until she was suddenly pulled back.

“What the fuck—” Topper was cut off as Rafe pushed him to the side, dragging y/n away with a bruising grip on her arm.

“Rafe, let go of me!” Y/n shouted at him as he pulled her up the stairs of the house, shoving couples making out in the hallway out of his way as he went. Rafe stopped at one of the doors, banging his fists against the wood. It swung open to a scrawny boy, his eyes wide in terror at the site of Rafe Cameron in front of him.

“Get the fuck out.” Rafe said, his jaw tense as the boy quickly scurried away.

“What are you doing—” Rafe pulled y/n into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her, his hand still on her arm. She struggled for a second, shaking out of his grasp as he locked the door behind them.

“Cut the shit. I’ve fuckin’ had it.” Rafe said, stepping closer to force y/n against the door, his face seething with anger.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Y/n said, her eyes locked on Rafe’s, her tone even.

“Seriously? Topper? I didn’t know you were that fucking pathetic.” Rafe scoffed, running a hand through his buzzed hair.

“Oh I’m sorry! I’m not the one so fucking horny he can’t help but eye fuck his ex-girlfriend— Pogue ex-girlfriend, mind you— right in front of me!” Y/n retorted. Rafe rolled his eyes, pushing away from her.

“Seriously? That is what this is about?” Rafe couldn’t help but chuckle, causing y/n’s face to grow hot with anger.

“Yes, Rafe, that is exactly what this is about.” Y/n crossed her arms in front of her chest.

“I was being fucking nice. Chatting with a bartender.” Rafe stressed.

“Yeah and I’m having a blast with your dumbass best friend. Don’t lie to me.” Y/n scoffed. Rafe Cameron was a lot of things, “nice” was not one of them.

“You’re insane, y’know that? Psychotic.” Rafe seethed, placing his arms to the sides of y/n’s head, caging her in against the door.

“And you’re not?” Y/n questioned with a tilt of her head, a small smirk forming on her lips. They stared at each other for a moment, their angered, flushed faces communicating thousands of words in the silence.

“Fuck.” Rafe swore before he jolted forward, slamming his lips against y/n’s. She moaned, quickly snaking her hands around his shoulders as she leaned further into the kiss.

“You’re so annoying.” Y/n muttered between kisses, their lips, teeth, and tongues swirling together messily. Rafe removed one of his hands from the door, sliding it around her body, pulling her closer to him.

“You’re so annoying.” Rafe said, pulling away for a second, before pressing his lips to her jaw.

“Fuck you, Rafe Cameron.” Y/n groaned, running her nails through his buzzed hair.

“Mmm don’t you worry, baby. We’ll get there.” Rafe grinned as he trailed his lips further down her throat…

#obx #obx au #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x toxic!reader #toxic!reader

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djarins-cyare · 6 months ago

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Never Look Down

Part 2: Maia’s (Your) Morning

← Part 1 | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Prompt: “I don’t know what’s happening but I love it.”

Summary: Din has been ignoring his crush on Grogu’s babysitter for a while now, with varying degrees of success. But after a misunderstanding leads to some revelations, there’s no denying things any longer. Sometimes you just need to look at things from a different perspective.

Rating: Mature (18+)

Pairing: Din Djarin x Original Female Character (for his POV scenes) / Din Djarin x Reader (for her POV scenes)

Word count: 7,830

Tags/warnings: POV switch, hangover hell, light angst, confessions, even more references to erections, some swearing, references to sex, kissing, reference to fellatio, a lot of fluff, Reader has a name (and a job and an inkling of a backstory). Regarding her prior bad relationship, I don’t want anyone to be triggered by an assumption, so please note she was NOT in an abusive situation. Her former partner was just a drug-dealing douche.

Author’s note: I finished something new! [*cries in disbelief*] 😭. Thank you so much for your interest and support! 💖

READ ON AO3 (author’s preference)

Tumblr version ahead if you prefer…

You wake up somewhere dark and soft. It takes you several seconds to realise where you are due to the throbbing ache in your head that’s screaming for focus.

You’re in Din’s bed.

Oh fuck.

Well… more like no fuck. A shameful absence thereof.

Slowly, memories of the previous night drift to the surface of your foggy brain, each one deepening your embarrassment until you’ve reached the pitiful depths of utter humiliation. It cuts deeper than your hangover, which includes a pounding headache and a bruised shoulder (how did that happen?), yet is almost trivial in comparison. Kark, you drank – and said and did – a lot more than you should’ve.

Babysitting Grogu is not your primary source of income. In fact, you have a contract with Karga for city planning and infrastructure upgrades. But that’s just building holos, presenting them to the High Magistrate, and then outsourcing the work upon approval. It’s sporadic and flexible, leaving you with plenty of hours to kill. You took this part-time job to keep yourself busy, but you’ve come to enjoy hanging out with the little guy and his bafflingly sexy father. Both are good fun, have always been friendly and welcoming, and you’re fond of their company. Who are you kidding – you’re profoundly attached to them both. Plus, Din has taught you to use a blaster, helping you feel safer and more self-reliant now you’re free of your ex’s ‘protection’. The extra credits are merely a bonus, and you’d do this for free if it came to it.

Well, not this. Not turn up drunk, pass out in your boss’s refresher, then misread a gesture of kindness as a sexual advance. And you just had to fucking let your thoughts spill out, didn’t you? Shit, you basically told him you think he’s a virgin! Sure, you’ve wondered, but you’ve never drawn any conclusions, so why did you have to vocalise those thoughts as if you had? You’ve been so careful to avoid suggesting his commitment to his creed might be impeding anything fun. So what if he can’t eat with you or sleep with you – that’s his choice. He probably thinks you’re judging him now. You shouldn’t have opened your mouth, damn it!

Of course he rejected you.

How could you ever have thought Din would want to be with you after everything you did last night? There are so many reasons for him to have walked away like he did. Not only did you fail to provide trustworthy childcare, but you also vomited in his toilet and were a drunken burden on him after he’d had to go out on a job. Then you assumed he wanted sex, implied he might not have the requisite skills, stripped naked, climbed under his sheets, and stole his fucking bed for the whole night.

You’re a disgrace. The regret burns in your chest, branding you from the inside out as the fool who pushed a former bounty hunter too far.

Plus, you work for the guy, so that’s surely a factor. Your role here is simply to take care of his kid. At least it was. And, of course, he’s never shown any interest in you. In fact, whenever you’ve wondered if the two of you are having ‘a moment’, he’s always run away.

Why did you have to make an already bad situation so much worse by revealing your desires? You were coping fine with your self-imposed celibacy. Sure, it was frustrating, but you were surviving. Repressing your libido around him was working for you.

As much as you want to hide beneath the blankets and avoid the fallout, you know you can’t stay in Din’s bed forever. Even though it’s soft and warm and smells like him – fresh yet with a hint of spicy musk. You really can’t.

Fumbling to activate the lamp, you drain the water on the nightstand, noting your clothes strewn across the floor. Thankfully, they don’t smell of alcohol or vomit (at least you’re a tidy drunk), so you get dressed and stumble to the refresher. More memories return at that crime scene, adding to your shame spiral and giving you a likely reason for your bruised shoulder.

Din has left his ultrasound cleaner out of the cabinet, which has to be a suggestion that you use it, and you can take a hint. You recall complaining that your mouth tasted like bantha balls, and accepting his pity is the lesser evil. Though it’s far more than you deserve, it’s also far better than this flavour.

You gladly let the vibrations clean your mouth and then rinse away the residue, feeling much better for it. It’s not enough to ease your thumping headache, but it’s a start.

You can’t hear any noise from upstairs or across the hall, so you wonder if your hosts are still asleep. It’s clearly past dawn since daylight is spilling down the staircase, but it could still be early. Maybe you can just slip out unnoticed? You debate checking on Grogu first. Din probably slept on the couch, though there’s a cushioned chair in the kid’s room that he could’ve used.

Guilt and concern make you check on your charge despite the risk of waking a metal sentinel. But you’re surprised to discover an empty room. That means they’re either both upstairs and being quiet, or they’ve gone out. You’re hoping for the latter. Zandi insisted you meet her for lunch, but part of you wants to run straight to your friend’s place and cry about what an idiot you’ve been. Hmm, no. You should go home for a shower first. Not that it could wash off the disgrace, but it might ease your aching head, at least.

You dart across the hall for your shoes, straightening out your boss’s sheets before you leave (a token apology, if anything). Catching sight of a comb on top of his dresser sends another type of guilt burning through you. Stealing his bed was already an invasion of privacy, but learning about what he hides beneath the beskar feels worse. You anxiously smooth down the blankets, flick off the lamp, and tiptoe up the stairs.

Thankfully, you find an empty living space, lit by sunshine so bright that you realise it’s already mid-morning. Din must have taken Grogu to school.

There’s no sign of your glowrod, but you don’t care. He can keep it. You shove on your boots with as much haste as you can manage and fly to the exit, darting through. Kriff, it’s so blinding outside that you have to turn your back to the sun or risk your hangover increasing tenfold.

Just as you’re gulping lungfuls of fresh air and keying in the lock code to secure the cabin, you hear him.

“Feeling better?”

The Mandalorian steps out from behind the cabin, and you wonder if he’s been waiting to ambush you. Damn it, you should’ve known. Bounty hunter.

You can’t look him in the eyes. Well, the visor, really. Either way, you fix your gaze on the porch. You’d normally come out with something playful and witty, but today, your brain gives you nothing except wry honesty.

“The hangover and torturous headache are nothing compared to my embarrassment,” you answer sheepishly. “I am so sorry about last night.”

You don’t specify which part because you mean all of it. Drinking to excess and throwing up in his home, as well as climbing into his bed, stripping off, and assuming he would fuck you, then commenting on how you thought he couldn’t fuck you. You’re sure you’ll never live down this shame.

Din doesn’t respond to your apology, but he steps forward, a wall of beskar and muscle blocking you from leaving the porch. He leans past you – so close he almost traps you against the door – and reverses the lock code you just entered.

When the door behind you swishes open again, he gestures inside with a nod. “We gotta talk.”

Oh, frotz, this is bad. This is so so so bad. He’s normally relaxed and happy around you, welcoming (or at least tolerating) your friendly jokes and nicknames. But right now, he’s all stiffness and silence, thumbs in his belt and elbows out wide, staring you down as if you were prey. He is not happy with you. You’ve fucked up bad.

You’re going to lose your job. It’s not a substantial source of income, but you’ll lose your bonding time with the kid and the friendly teasing thing you’ve developed with his dad. You won’t get to watch how strong and beautiful this warrior-turned-father is anymore, how soft he is with Grogu, despite his hard beskar shell. There’ll be no more shooting lessons. He’s going to tell you how offensive your remarks were last night… kark, what if he has a duty to punish anyone who disrespects his creed? Is it disrespectful to suggest he can’t have sex, though? Maybe the offensive thing was you throwing yourself at him. Or perhaps he thinks you’re hideous and finds the idea of having sex with you offensive. Whatever the case, he’s going to—

“Maia….”

Hearing your name growled through his modulator snaps you out of your spiralling thoughts, and you realise you’re just standing there gawking at him in the doorway.

Suddenly, you feel meek in his presence, which has never happened before. Even when you first met, he was careful to make you feel safe and welcome. This menacing demeanour is new.

“Please,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “Can I just go home?”

Din looms closer like a rancor threatening its prey. “This won’t take long,” he insists.

With widened eyes, you shrink back toward the scene of your crimes, your near freedom now a fool’s delusion. He walks forward as you step backward across the cabin’s threshold, maintaining the proximity – a fateful dance that promises a morning even more tragic than the night before.

“Sit,” he commands, gesturing to the couch. He watches you perch yourself where you’re told to and then nods, appeased by your obedience.

A heavy silence clouds the room as your soon-to-be-ex boss flicks on the caf maker and heats the beverage while you quietly unravel on the couch. You’re not even sure what this is. It feels like he’s about to punish you (and not in a good way), but you have no idea how. Is he going to yell at you? Torture you with some kind of ritualistic Mandalorian justice? Or is he just going to describe how disappointed he is, fire you from this job, and threaten to roast you with his flamethrowers if he catches you anywhere near Grogu?

Whatever’s about to happen, you’re zealously ignoring the part of you that’s low-key turned on by how dominant he’s acting this morning. You can’t examine that right now.

After a minute or two, Din brings a cup to the couch and perches beside you, performing an awkward shuffle as he angles his body toward you. Still unsure how to act, you remain facing straight ahead, watching him in your peripheral.

He’s fully armoured this morning, his movements determined but stiff, and you recall how fluidly his body moved when he was just down to his flight suit. When he swept you into his arms, cradled you against his chest, and carried you to his bed…

No! Bad thoughts! Now is not the time for those because you’re about to receive the worst reprimand of your life (and you work for Karga!).

But your brain won’t stop replaying the memory, leading you to a distracting notion. He keeps his armour on the shelves in his bedroom – you saw it there last night. That means he must have come in to grab it this morning while you were sleeping. Damn, he’s stealthy! Though, to be fair, you were utterly passed out.

Wait. You woke up fully covered and tucked in. You don’t recall falling asleep, but you do remember arranging the blanket for optimum cleavage display. Kark, you really hope you snuggled down properly in your sleep. Because if not, there’s a chance that he opened his door to an inadvertent boob extravaganza, and he covered you up for the sake of your dignity. Fuck! How much shame can you suffer in a single morning?

He still hasn’t started talking, so before your thoughts ricochet in yet another distressing direction, you prompt, “You, uh, said we need to talk?” It’s probably best to confront your impending doom so you can run home and scream into a pillow.

Din huffs a little. “We do. Doesn’t mean I know how to start.”

Hmm, well, he doesn’t seem too angry, at least. Perhaps there won’t be any Mandalorian torture-based vengeance after all.

You don’t have the energy to play ‘guess the punishment’, but maybe you can stave it off if you beg for mercy. “Okay, then let me start. I said and did some monumentally stupid things last night, and I understand if you can’t forgive me and never want to see me again. But I just need you to know how truly sorry I am and that I really didn’t mean to offend you, and if I could—”

“Stop apologising,” he interrupts, shaking his helmet.

His order startles you into silence. It was insistent, but he didn’t sound angry at all. In fact, there was an undertone of something else. Almost the amused side of frustrated. What the kriff is happening?

Din sighs and tilts his visor toward his lap, then seems surprised to realise he’s still clutching the caf he made but clearly can’t drink in your presence. He silently offers you the steaming cup, and after a beat, you accept it, staring at it just as he did.

Never has a cup of caf received as much scrutiny as when two parties are unsure how to vocalise their thoughts.

“I made it for you,” he offers. “Thought… with the hangover….”

“Thanks,” you mumble, unsure what else to do or say. This isn’t going as expected at all, and your confusion is only growing. Is he doing some kind of bounty hunter ‘killing with kindness’ act?

This is absurd. You just need to get him talking, accept your punishment, and then you can escape.

“Um,” you begin, and his shadowed visor fixes on you again, unsettling you further. “If… if you don’t want to hear my apologies… what do you want to talk about?”

Your reluctant host forces out his response like it’s stuck inside his throat. “I want… I wanna ask you… some things. And I need you to answer honestly.”

Your stomach churns with nerves. He has questions? He must want you to explain what you said. He’s going to make you relive it – not by telling you how offensive you were, but by making you deconstruct your own comments and actions.

Kark. It’s a punishment, alright.

But if the penalty for your folly is the discomfort of explaining yourself, you can deal with that. This is a man you’re used to teasing, and he sounds just as unsure about what to say here as you are. So, you need to gather your confidence and endure whatever awkwardness this brings up.

You square your shoulders and lift your chin. “Okay… ask me.”

“You’ll answer? Honestly?” There’s an edge of desperation in Din’s voice from which you intuit his real meaning. You need to check any joking at the door.

Well, your current embarrassment level is sky-high, so whatever he wants you to respond to or admit surely can’t be much worse. You’ve already laid yourself (literally) bare for him. “I will. You got a slice of my inner dialogue last night, so I might as well continue the honesty.”

“Good… thank you.” He releases a profound sigh, a rush of static through the vocoder, and appears to gather himself for his first question. “Why do you think my creed means I can’t…?” He trails off, but you follow his meaning and match his heavy sigh.

“I don’t really think that,” you assure him. “Honestly, I’ve never known what to think, which means I’ve made no assumptions either way. But I guess… my drunken brain felt it was… safer to err on the side of caution when addressing it out loud.”

You’re not in the least bit surprised that he’s starting with this. If he is a virgin, you’ve mocked him, and if he isn’t, you’ve no doubt hurt his pride.

When he doesn’t respond, you suggest, “If that’s your first question, it sounds like you’re worried I’m judging you, so let me reinforce what I just said. ‘No assumptions’ means ‘no judgments’. But if you want to clarify things, I can promise you that whatever the truth is, I still won’t judge you.”

The importance Din is giving this topic is by far the biggest clue to the likely truth. No virgin would question you in the way that he just did. If they mentioned it at all, they’d probably just insist it’s not a topic for you to concern yourself with and never speak of it again. But inviting him to confirm his expertise gives him an easy way to lay the matter to rest. It’s also the kindest thing to do in the wake of your drunken foolishness.

He nods a fraction, accepting the premise, pausing while he chooses his words. “My creed doesn’t impose any rules relating to that, only that I cannot remove my helmet. And… some people kind of, uh… they get off on the mystery. So I do pretty well when I need to… blow off some steam.”

Huh. That was surprisingly direct (for him). You can’t help but smile, wondering if your delight stems from finally having proof that he isn’t without experience or that this discussion (so far) isn’t about how badly you fucked up.

Hoping to conceal your thoughts and keep the focus on him, you instantly slide back into teasing mode with a new nickname and a vague compliment of sorts. “Super Stud! You’re very discreet.”

“That’s the idea,” he confirms, ignoring his new moniker. “Although it’s by no means frequent, and since I got Grogu, I haven’t had….” He clears his throat. “Time and opportunity are rare.”

As much as you wish Din would choose to ‘blow off some steam’ with you, all you hear is a chance to atone for last night’s thoughtless actions. “I can take care of him while you go have some fun…?”

A massive scoff comes through the vocoder, and he shakes his helmet widely. “No, Maia, that’s… that’s not gonna work.”

But you persist, desperate to make amends. “Oh, come on, Metal Man, you deserve a break. Isn’t there anyone on Nevarro you can call for some fun?”

He sighs. “I have… options, yes.”

You furrow your brow at that. “So why did you say time and opportunity are rare? If you’ve got options, why don’t you just get your shiny ass laid while I do what you pay me for and take care of—”

A distinctly peeved huff crackles through the modulator, and you instantly fall silent. You forgot you’re not supposed to be teasing. Nor is it clear yet whether you still have a job. Foot, meet mouth.

He curtly redirects you. “Next question.” You assent with a nod, but when he continues, his tone is suddenly guarded and awkward. “Last night, you said… you suggested… that you and I might… blow off some steam.”

Fuck, this is the part you were dreading, and your pulse picks up. He seems nervous. Is that good or bad? Well, it’s better than angry and scary. You try to freeze your movements to avoid either wincing or looking too eager, nervously awaiting his question.

“Was that… because of the alcohol? Or… something, uh… real?” All you detect in his voice is discomfort, so you can’t tell which option he hopes for.

You sigh and take a careful slurp of the scalding hot caf to buy yourself time. It’s hard to answer because there’s a lot at risk. If you’re too honest about your feelings and Din doesn’t feel the same way, your relationship might end – professional as well as personal.

But once again, the fact that he’s asking suggests your answer is important to him, so the odds are likely in your favour. If he wasn’t attracted to you, surely he’d play it down and give you a way to save face. Just say he knew your silly drunken advances were simply an extension of your usual urge to tease and meant nothing, and that he forgives you for them. Surely he wouldn’t ask if they were ‘real’.

The concept sparks a tiny flame of hope in a dark and dusty corner of your mind, a pinprick of light to chase away the fears you walked in here with.

However, you can’t be too hasty or draw conclusions without facts. Though this isn’t going as dreadfully as you feared it might, the sensible option is to avoid getting your hopes up. He asked you for honesty, so you’ll give him that, but you decide to err on the side of caution again. An assumption against any interest on his part shouldn’t be offensive.

“It wasn’t… totally the alcohol,” you confess cautiously, and you see his body instantly tense up. Is that a positive reaction? “I’ve been trying to remember exactly what I said to you. I told you it was a ‘dream’, right?” Din nods once. “Well… that’s true. I admit I’ve had some daydreams about the idea. But it felt… safer not to mention it. Last night, you made it clear you weren’t interested in me, and you’ve never given me any reason to think otherwise, so I—”

“I did no such thing.”

Shit. The anger you were afraid of is finally colouring the Mandalorian’s tone, and he leans forward with his vehement denial.

What did you say wrong? Did you tease too soon with the new nickname just now? Shock and confusion contort themselves across your face, and you shrink backward.

He almost growls at your retreat, and the creak of his leather gloves as he clenches his fists has you bracing yourself for trouble. You honestly can’t tell if you’re turned on or terrified.

Before you can decide, he declares, “Last night, I had to walk away from a beautiful naked woman in my bed because she’d been drinking, and I would never do anything without full consent. I did not make it clear I wasn’t interested in you. Fuck, Maia, I have dreams about you too. All the time.”

Your mouth hangs open in surprise. Even knowing it was vaguely possible, you weren’t ready for that response.

He has dreams about you too!

Now that he’s confessed what got him so worked up, you see him make a visible effort to calm down.

His next words are much softer, soothing your prior unease, though your heart continues to thump from his admission. “Time and opportunity are rare because you’re Grogu’s babysitter, and that kid loves you. When he’s not with me, he wants to be with you. He only goes to school twice a week. That’s not a lot of time or—”

“—or opportunity,” you finish. “Okay, I get it. Why didn’t you say anything before? We could’ve been blowing off steam on schooldays for months already, but I had no idea. I would’ve climbed naked into your bed way sooner if I’d known.”

Din groans, a low and sinful rumble, and you wonder if you shouldn’t have put those images in his mind.

A deep breath later, he answers, “My son is my priority; his needs come before mine. He needs a good babysitter more than I need a good… uh….” He trails off and clears his throat. “And last night was the first time you’d ever said anything. I had no idea either.”

“But, but…” you stammer. Okay, so you’ve been keeping it to yourself, but you’re surprised he didn’t pick up on your attraction at all. “I’m flirting and checking you out all the crinking time, Metal Man. I thought bounty hunters were observant?”

He hums as if he’s flattered by your admission. “Teasing me is not a sign of anything on its own. And I’ve never seen you look anywhere other than directly at my helmet. You would’ve noticed my interest otherwise.” You furrow your brow slightly, not following, and he shakes his head in frustration. “You never look down.”

You look down.

Holy mother of meteors…

That is one obscenely snug flight suit and one fucking impressive erection.

Granted, you’ve noticed he’s been wearing the loose flight suit pants more often. In fact, you’ve missed being able to check out his toned ass in the closer-fitting ones. But since you can’t see where he’s looking, you’ve always been careful to keep your roving eyes chaste whenever he’s facing you. And, kriff, you never figured the reason for his wardrobe change was to hide this glorious attribute.

“Wow,” you breathe, unsure of what else to say. Suddenly, the volume on your headache reduces, and your lust levels shoot up. It’s so….

Din fidgets slightly, perhaps on edge because of your sudden scrutiny. Oops.

You revert your gaze to his visor, chancing some levity to ease the tension. “If I wasn’t fighting a skull-splitting hangover, I’d have a whole host of new nicknames for you already. Something about being as hard as beskar or carrying a concealed weapon… ugh, gimme a day, I’ll come up with a winner.”

His chuckle suggests the ice between you is now well and truly broken. You knock back the rest of your caf in the relaxed pause. It’s still hotter than you prefer, but perhaps it’ll quell your desire.

He lets you finish before breaking the easy silence. “Another question before you go, if it’s okay. Maybe a couple more, depending on how you answer the first one. I’d rather not leave this topic hanging now that we’ve addressed it.”

“Sure.” Right now, you’re willing to give this man whatever he wants.

“Okay. There’s another reason I walked away last night – besides your drunken state. It’s why I haven’t mentioned this before.” He swallows and inhales shakily. “You told me that your last relationship was terrible. And the fact that you chose to celebrate its end tells me you value your freedom. On my side, my relationships are rarely meaningful or long-term. So it might seem easiest to keep things casual.”

He pauses, but it’s unclear whether he wants your input. You can’t tell where he’s going with this, so you give him a one-shouldered shrug.

He leans forward and rests his vambraces on his cuisses. “If Grogu wasn’t around, it might be. But casual never ends well, and I will not threaten the bond you two have just for something meaningless. For the child’s sake, we gotta be sure where we stand before we… act on any of this. I can’t do casual with you, Maia. So the first question is: are you interested enough to try something… meaningful? Because if you’re not, we gotta bury this.”

He’s right. You start to understand why he got so worked up at your admission that you’re attracted to him for real. It complicates things.

He’s asked a logical and vital question, and you take a moment to give it due attention. Whatever happens, this cannot threaten your employment. So where are the lines?

You’ve felt something for Din from the start, and your attraction has only grown. That line is already blurred, and it hasn’t threatened anything, but it helps you see what he’s getting at. Your attachment to him and Grogu has become far more profound than you expected, so you couldn’t do casual even if you tried. It could only harm your bond with the kid if you tried to repress that attachment and keep things casual with his father.

Simply put, your feelings are already meaningful, so whatever comes next must be too.

Strangely, that doesn’t scare you. Your prior experience was poor – both oppressive and neglectful – but you were a displaced teenager on a new planet looking for protection when you got into that. Din is nothing like your ex, and this couldn’t be more different. You have faith in this man and, thus, faith in your answer.

“I am,” you confirm with a smile. “Are you?” He’s already confirmed he won’t do casual, but you need his agreement to start something meaningful.

He swallows, then echoes, “I am.”

A thrilling but weighty moment passes as you both digest this, just staring at one another in the wake of your mutual confessions. The air feels charged with promise. You can almost taste it.

It’s hard to judge how long has passed when he speaks again. “Second question. Did you use my ultrasound cleaner?”

Well, that’s a non sequitur. You have no idea how this query relates to your previous answer, but you nod nonetheless.

“Great. Come with me.”

He stands and leads you downstairs, stepping into his room and tapping on the main lights. When he sees that you’ve made his bed, he hums happily.

You’re quiet but hopeful, the heady feeling of promise that consumed you last night slowly filling you up once more as he turns to face you and beckons you closer.

“We should take this slow,” he starts. “You’re hungover, and I want you to feel comfortable when we….” He nods at the bed, oddly still reticent to describe the act.

“When we fuck.”

Din releases the cutest whimper and tugs at his pants. “That is not helping me with this problem. If you keep talking like that, I might not be able to resist,” he warns.

You scoff. “Shiny, are you really trying to threaten me with sex? Kriff, please tell me you didn’t use this tactic on any bounties back in the day.”

“No, I did not. And I’m trying to save that until your head doesn’t hurt,” he sighs. “But… question three. Before you go home, can I… kiss you?”

Your eyebrows shoot up as surprise and desire collide and carve a messy path through your chest, sending your heart tumbling into a double-time beat.

“Are you…” You’re not quite sure how to phrase your query, still chagrined by last night’s verbal blunders. “Is that some kind of metaphor? Does ‘kissing’ mean something different for Mandalorians with the whole helmet thing? Because if we’re just gonna thumb wrestle or something, I’m still in, but it’s kind of weird to call it kissing.”

He chuckles, and it eases your worry. “We do have a kissing substitute, but no, in this case, I meant what I said. I just gotta turn the lights out so you can’t see me when I remove my helmet. If that’s okay.”

All of your fears and concerns melt away with his answer. Gone are your worries about your budding romance having awkward or difficult restrictions, replaced by a certainty that you can handle not making eye contact. If observing that single caveat allows you to be with this man, you don’t even consider it a sacrifice.

Well, if he brought you down here to ensure it’s dark enough, you can help with that. You saunter to the door and touch the control to slide it closed, blocking out the sunshine filtering down the stairs, and then you turn to him with a smile. “It’s very okay. I’m not leaving here without a kiss, Din.”

He sucks in a modulated breath and doesn’t move for a second. “You… used my name.”

You know you’re allowed to – he’s told you that many times – but you find the nicknames help to maintain a friendly distance. Treat him as a friend, not as a lover. Except now things are changing.

“I thought I’d practice,” you explain. “I’m guessing that when we do get in that bed together, you’d prefer I scream out your real name instead of ‘Shiny’ or ‘Beskar Boy’.”

He groans sinfully again and reaches for you, fixing a glove around your wrist and tugging you to stand beside the shelves he stores his armour on. “Don’t move,” he instructs. Then he releases your wrist and taps a button on his vambrace, and the lights very slowly fade out until the room is darker than the void between galaxies.

Suddenly, sensations are everything. You can detect the warmth of Din’s body so close to yours, though you’re not yet touching. You hear him breathing more audibly than usual, a gentle but slightly stuttered hiss through the vocoder. You feel the air swirl around you as he raises his hands to his helmet…

The rhythmic thump of your heartbeat quickens, and despite your lack of sight, it’s as if the events occur in flashes between the beats. The absence of sound as you hold your breath. The gentle rustle as he slides off the metal helmet. The muffled clang when it hits the shelf as he lines it up. The scrape of the edge as he pushes it home. The nervous breath he releases in the subsequent silence, reminding you to exhale too.

Then he’s reaching for you, and your mind goes blank as his hands find your hips, closing the distance further. It’s not close enough to feel his arousal against you, although that’s probably wise. But if you weren’t still harbouring a headache, you’d be unable to resist pressing forward and seeking the impressive bulge you admired upstairs. Instead, you lay your palms on his cuirass and slide upward, burying your fingers in his cloak. That’s as high as you’ll go until you know what’s allowed.

One of Din’s gloved hands engulfs the nape of your neck, and you love how he’s controlling this, moving you in the dark to where he wants you. You can tell he’s leaned in closer by the sound of his breathing – more audible without the beskar barrier. Then there’s a sense of warmth on your skin as he brings you close enough to nuzzle at your hairline, gently at first, until you register the distinct press of his nose against your temple.

You feel it just before he speaks, his breath tickling near your ear as he opens his mouth to husk smooth, unmodulated words. “Go easy on me; it’s been a while since I’ve done this.”

Fuck, his voice is gorgeous. It resonates through you like a rumbling storm, drenching you with wanton promise, unleashing a different wetness upon you. If there were any frequency that could subdue your headache, it would be his soft and smoky timbre.

“Oh?” It’s all you can manage; a single syllable of surprise at his admission. He seems so confident.

“Mm,” he confirms, brushing his lips softly near the corner of your eye, and you detect some stubble around them. “Before we swear the Creed, we spend a while doing the things we’re taught to avoid after. I’ve only used this loophole once since then. So….” He trails off and presses a gentle kiss to the crest of your cheekbone, warm lips on soft skin, and you melt in his arms.

You want to assure him that he’s nailing it, preparing you so perfectly that he seems like an expert kisser, no matter how little practice he’s had. You want to thank him for deeming you worthy enough to use this rare loophole and express your stunned gratitude at the privilege he’s allowing you. But the notion of speaking confounds you, and all you can do is lift your chin and indicate your willingness to do this.

Din gets the message.

You can sense his nerves in the way he cautiously presses his lips against yours. But in the millisecond it takes to register a connection, your body reacts before your brain and electricity shoots through your nerve endings. Instantly, thousands of perfect explosions stud your skin, making you shiver in bliss.

He’s sweet, gentle, respectful… and it’s good. But it’s a little chaste for your liking, and you can tell he’s holding himself back. He needs to let go, so you emit a low hum of pleasure, which spurs him on and increases his fervour. You gently part your lips, and he gets the hint and takes the lead, deepening the kiss until your tongues meet – a touch that halts the spin of the whole galaxy around you.

Then he lets go. It’s as if he’s suddenly remembered how to breathe after holding his breath for decades, and oh, how utterly starved of oxygen he’s been. This kiss is feeding him, keeping him alive. His tightened grip, the tremors of lust you detect running through him, the way he almost whimpers into your mouth… it’s assertive and adorable in equal measures.

You can feel his inexperience, but you let him lead anyway. He gets lost in the sensations a few times, his rhythm faltering, but he corrects himself and responds keenly to your subtle signals of what’s good. It’s not long before you’re locked in a perfect moment, sharing an exquisite kiss with your ideal man.

When you part, it’s by mere centimetres, and you’re so full of happy chemicals that your hangover is barely a niggle at the back of your brain.

“I think that fixed my headache,” you purr against his lips. “I bet I could even thumb wrestle you now….” You have no clue what you’re implying, but you’re low-key horny, and openly flirting with him for once is fun.

Din’s unmodulated chuckle is the cutest thing you’ve ever heard. “Well, I was aiming for ‘mindblowing’, but I’ll take ‘headache-fixing’,” he jests, bantering right back for once. You can’t help but close the tiny distance to steal another lingering yet closed-mouth kiss, eager to show him just how addictive his efforts were.

Once again, your lips barely separate, lingering close. “Oh, it’s blown alright – completely offline. Probably why it doesn’t hurt anymore.” A salacious idea comes to you then, and you voice it a hair’s breadth from his mouth, knowing he’ll refuse but wanting to show you’re willing. “Maybe now it’s my turn to blow something of yours….”

The sharp gasp he sucks in and raggedly exhales indicates he’s just pictured your suggestion and played the image to its fruition. In the pitch-black room, you can pick up on his obvious arousal through sound and touch – the almost-groan he swallows, the twitch of all the muscles in his body as he reins himself in.

There’s a pause as he considers your proposal, and you can tell he’s waging a war with himself to refuse. You’ve put him in a difficult position. But this new closeness allows you to upgrade friendly teasing into full-on flirting, and you can’t resist.

It takes longer than you expect, but Din finally releases a shuddering breath, swallows, and presses a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth. Then he rasps, “I would enjoy that very much, but it’s not why I brought you down here, mesh’la.”

Mesh’la? Who the fuck is that? You stiffen in his arms, unable to process the idea that he’s just said someone else’s name during an intimate moment. Even if it does sound similar enough to yours that you could maybe understand the slip, how could he—?

“Maia,” you correct pointedly as your thoughts spiral, pulling away slightly, your stomach suddenly in knots.

He tightens his hold and hurriedly assures you, “Hey, no, it’s not— mesh’la means ‘beautiful’ in Mando’a.”

There’s a tense pause, and then you murmur, “Ah,” embarrassed and glad you didn’t instantly flip out at your incorrect assumption, then suddenly flattered by the compliment. As you fall back into his embrace, your sluggish brain gives you nothing more, too confused by the pelting of emotions you just received in quick succession. Perhaps it’s best to adopt Din’s usual policy of silence.

But he saves you from your chagrin and redirects you to another topic. “Final question. Can I make you dinner one evening this week? We agreed we’re aiming for something… meaningful here. Getting physical right away is not the best way to achieve that.” He squeezes your waist with the hand that’s remained in place throughout. “As much as I’m looking forward to that part.”

A sweet smile is your reply, though you realise he can’t see it in the dark. Luckily, it’s followed up by the return of your vocabulary. “Dinner sounds good. Grogu too?” You love the little womp rat, but this sounds like a date, so you’d rather it wasn’t crashed by a decades-old toddler.

Din hums as he follows your thought process. “The kids at his school keep inviting him on playdates and sleepovers. The parents seem like good people, so I’m sure we could arrange something both he and I would be happy with.”

You nod. “Then I look forward to our first date.” You can’t imagine how a dinner date will work with a guy who can’t show his face, but at least now you know there are loopholes. Perhaps he has another for eating together.

“Me too… mesh’la Maia.” You hear his slightly cheeky but utterly earnest tone, and you can’t help grinning. How apt that he should give you a nickname just when you decide to start using his real name.

You want to kiss him again, but since you pulled away a little, you can’t judge where his face is anymore, and you’re not sure if you’re allowed to touch him to locate it. “Another kiss before I leave, gorgeous guy?” (Two can play the nickname game, and you started it).

“Always,” Din agrees through a chuckle, bringing you in close again with the hand on your neck, finding your lips and pressing something firmer, more resolute there. You open eagerly for him and revel in the thrust of his tongue against yours. He’s settling into it now, more confident in himself and his technique, while carefully heeding your responses.

You enjoy it while you can – the sensations, the taste, the warmth, the delicious calm energy that washes through you with his lips on yours, his tongue in your mouth, his hand on your neck. You commit the feelings to memory, unsure when you’ll get to do it again. You hope you won’t have to wait too long for your date.

It’s over too soon, but you accept that it has to be. As you separate, you attempt to lock in the memories of the features you’ve felt pressed against you – stubble, soft lips, a strong nose. It’s not much, but it’s more than you had before.

Din’s hand falls from your neck, and you bemoan the loss of heat and comfort, spiralling back toward your hangover from the heady heights of such an intimate moment. As you hear the scrape of his helmet on the shelf’s edge again, you panic a little and blurt out, “What’s your hair like?”

He freezes, and your panic swells for a different reason. Based on the comb you spotted on his dresser earlier, you’re confident you’re not asking a bald man to describe his hair, but perhaps it’s forbidden to ask.

“I-I mean, if I’m not allowed to know, then forget I asked. I just… now that I’ve felt your lips, it’s made me wonder about the rest. It’s fine if you can’t tell me, though.”

A few seconds later, the scrape of the helmet resumes, and he slides it into his grasp. But you don’t hear him put it on.

Din’s reply is a low whisper, and he sounds even more nervous than he was before you kissed. “You can’t see my face… but you can touch it. If you want.”

Oh. You wonder how many people have touched his face, which makes you hesitate. This feels more intimate than you should be getting right now. “Thank you. I think… just your hair today. I’ll explore the rest of you on our date, face included.” That promise wins you an eager hum.

Your hands remain buried in his cloak, so you slide one to the back of his neck and rake upward. A gasp escapes you as you feel soft strands, longer than you expected and curling slightly at the ends. You picture the cutest mess of unruly waves.

“Is it… what colour is it?” You’ve seen him without his gloves a few times – last night included – so you know his skin is a warm amber. But human genetics are so diverse that you can’t really assume anything about his hair based on that.

It takes a few seconds for him to answer, busy sighing in bliss and pressing his head into your palm like a tooka getting stroked. “Dark,” he replies simply. It’s unclear whether he’s hypnotised by your hand in his hair or he’s not used to disclosing details about himself. Both are fair excuses, and you have much more data than you did ten minutes ago either way. You’re convinced he’s gorgeous.

“Thank you, Din,” you offer as you force yourself to stop running your fingers through his silken waves and withdraw a step.

There’s a quiet rustle as he places his helmet back on and seals it. “You’re welcome.” It’s modulated again, but there’s something about hearing that metallic rasp that makes you smile. You just kissed the source of that sound.

With a muffled beep from his vambrace, the lights fade up again, revealing an impassive black T-visor. However, the armoured body below it somehow looks more relaxed and assured. Gone is the stiffness you felt in his limbs earlier, and though you wonder if a certain stiffness in his pants remains, you’re not about to start ogling him when you should be going home.

So you smile and suggest, “Walk me out?” and you’re rewarded with a nod.

When you exit the cabin for the second time in one morning, you feel like a different person. Though your foggy head throbs and your bruised shoulder smarts, your very essence sparkles with an energy you’ve never felt before. It flares with each lingering touch the Mandalorian bestows upon you, with every prolonged stare of his visor, and with his soft instruction to get home safe.

He’ll call you, he promises, slipping a new comlink into your hand.

When you exit the cabin for the second time in one morning, you feel like a better person. The girl who disgraced herself last night has gone, leaving a happier and more fulfilled version in her place. Even so, you’re sure glad that idiot version of yourself ran her mouth and became the catalyst for your new path with Din.

And you can’t wait to look down again. Maybe next time you’ll get to go down too.

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Get ready for more loquacious end notes…

Maia’s job was inspired by this scene from s3e5. She’s not a civil engineer, but, like, she could be that girl with the datapad – doing all the planning and building the holos while the engineer gets all the glory (can you tell I work in a support role??).

I originally wrote details at the end of part one of everything Din decided – that she must be attracted to him based on how she worded things, and that he’d talk to her to verify that and determine whether it was something she’d like to act on or just ignore. But I realised it was better for the story to leave his intentions a mystery (is the thing he ‘doesn’t want to have to do’ ejecting her from his life, or simply having a grownup conversation?), which hopefully lets you feel more of Maia’s fear here.

I feel like there’s a lot of scope for misunderstandings, not just because of Din’s helmet, but also because he can be socially awkward. So there he is, massively attracted to this girl who threw herself at him the night before but he doesn’t know what to say, so he just sort of gravitates towards her, tries to get close. Is he sort of flirting? Maybe. The ‘get in their personal space’ thing might work for him when he’s casually picking someone up. So his actions here are him trying to say with body language “I like you too, I want to get closer,” but she misunderstands because of her embarrassment, sees it as intimidation, and shies away – a response which makes him even more clueless about how to vocalise things.

I hope the switch from third person (she/her) pronouns in part 1 Din’s POV to second person (you/your) pronouns in part 2 Maia’s POV wasn’t too clunky. I know it’s popular in this fandom to use second-person pronouns (you/your) even when writing from a third person’s POV (Din’s), but I just can’t make myself do it. If he’s the one whose head we’re in, when he’s thinking about the woman he’s attracted to, he wouldn’t be thinking “damn, you’re hot”, he’d be thinking “damn, she’s hot”. I was taught that we should hear internal dialogue exactly as it would sound to the person thinking it, thus we should use third-person pronouns when inside his head. You/your is only for when we’re inside the reader’s head (second-person POV so second-person pronouns). And of course, I/me pronouns are used if we’re ever inside the author’s head (first person POV). I hope that explains the switch here. I swear I can’t help my annoying adherence to grammar rules – it’s just been drilled into me. I wish I could be more flexible sometimes, but unfortunately the autism always wins 😔

GIF made by me again, slightly less blurry this time.

Definitions: An ultrasound cleaner is basically a sonic toothbrush from Legends. Both Boba Fett and Jabba the Hutt kept a rancor as a rather scary pet. Caf, as you probably know, is the SWU’s coffee. Din (and Maia here) often calls Grogu a womp rat, a pest on Tatooine (proving Din has spent long enough there to pick up the local lingo, and Maia has picked it up from him). A tooka is an SWU cat.

As always, comments/kudos (AO3) and likes/reblogs (Tumblr) will inspire me to produce more things. I don’t have a Kofi because I would rather have your help marketing my stories than take your cash, so if you enjoy my work, please support me with kudos and reblogs. Thanks!

Honestly, I’m not altogether thrilled with this fic. I struggle with shorter (ha!) pieces because, as those of you who have read Be-All And Endor will know, I’m much more comfortable playing the long game and writing things where I can focus on character development, foreshadow future events, reference and call back concepts, and do a heck of a lot of worldbuilding. So to me, this feels like it lacks depth because it’s a very simple and straightforward concept that lacks a full-on conflict/resolution arc, and as a character study it’s nothing that hasn’t been done before. I’ve also been struggling to write something I felt was good enough to publish in the wake of Be-All. I don’t think this passes muster, but in the end, I realised I had to just post something – anything – simply to get past that fear of doing it. So I hope this was interesting enough to at least hold your attention! I suppose I could write a part 3 where they have their date and the smut happens, but to be honest, I have several other smutty fics in the works that have much better setups, so I think I should focus on those. I might come back to this one day, though.

Tags requested…

@aheadfullofsteverogers @alltheotps @axolotllover225 @burntheedges @copperhalfcent

@dindenimchicken @feekedbeat @foomoosworld @jude77 @penvisions

@pigeonmama @secretelephanttattoo @stagerightlauren @the-mandawhor1an @titlee78

I tagged those below in part 1 due to interest in my series masterlist and WIP snippets (comments/reblogs). Nobody told me off for my audacity, so I’m hoping you’ll enjoy part 2 also…

@604to647 @cheekychaos28 @djarinmuse @gingerlurk

@joelalorian @kyberblade @readingupsidedown @sunflowersunlight7-blog

@thefrogdalorian @whataenginerd @wrathkitty

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comfortzonequeen · 3 months ago

Note

Hi!! Queen, can you write something about Austin cheating on Kaia with reader while they were working together on something and add a little extra something idk like drama and jealousy and happily ever after. No hate to Kaia but like there's not a lot of work about JUST Austin you know?!

I saw that you were taking request so maybe you can write this or not its kool.

Thank you!!

Hiii love, your not wrong. So here you have it. BTW no hate to Kaia but... yh. Enjoy it as much as i did.

Summary: Austin falls for reader while working on a film and reader feels the same but refuses to act on her feelings because he is in a relationship so he takes matters into his own hands, consequences be damned.

Warning: Mentions of cheating, Break up, some online hate, slightly famous reader, fluff.

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Y/N L/N wasn’t exactly prepared for how quickly her life would change when she landed a screenwriting gig for a new, high-profile film. As a writer, she was used to the quiet, creative solitude that came with her work, but when she was asked to join the set of a romantic comedy she had co-written, everything shifted. She found herself surrounded by A-listers, and one in particular stood out—Austin Butler.

Austin was one of Hollywood’s most sought-after leading men, especially after his breakout role in Elvis. He had this magnetic charm, a quiet confidence, and a smile that made Y/N’s stomach flip every time he looked her way. He was dating model Kaia Gerber, and their relationship was constantly splashed across tabloids and social media. Despite this, Y/N couldn't help but notice how much time they started spending together, especially when working on the project.

It started innocently enough—late nights revising scripts together, grabbing coffee in between scenes, and shared laughs during downtime. But as the days turned into weeks, Y/N found herself drawn to him in ways she hadn’t expected. He made her feel seen, appreciated. And when they shared ideas, their connection seemed effortless, like they were in sync with each other’s thoughts. Austin, for his part, began to notice things about Y/N that he couldn’t ignore. The way her face lit up when she talked about her work, her laugh that was contagious, and the way she was always thinking of others. Slowly but surely, he found himself captivated by her, his feelings growing stronger each day.

But there was always Kaia. She was the shadow that loomed over their budding connection, and it made Y/N uncomfortable. Kaia wasn’t just some random girl—she was someone Austin had been with for a while, someone he publicly adored. Despite how close she and Austin were getting, Y/N wasn’t about to cross that line. She valued herself and knew she couldn't be part of something messy. However, Austin wasn’t so sure anymore.

One day, after a long day of filming, Austin and Y/N sat together in a quiet corner of the set, away from the hustle and bustle. It was one of those moments where everything felt more intimate than it should’ve been. Austin turned to Y/N, his blue eyes searching hers, and said, “You know, working with you has been the highlight of this whole project.” Y/N laughed, trying to deflect. “You’re just saying that because I keep giving you the best lines.” Austin shook his head, his gaze lingering on her. “No, I mean it. I’ve never connected with someone the way I do with you.” Y/N’s heart raced.

She could feel the pull between them, but she didn’t want to acknowledge it. Not yet. “Austin…” she began, trying to keep her tone light, “you’re dating someone. You and Kaia—” Austin cut her off, his voice soft but firm. “It’s complicated with Kaia. I haven’t been honest with myself, or with her.” Y/N stared at him, her stomach twisting in knots. “You can’t just—” “I can’t stop thinking about you, Y/N,” Austin interrupted, his voice tinged with frustration.

“I don’t want to lie to you, or to myself. I’ve tried to push these feelings away, but they won’t go.” Y/N looked away, her heart pounding in her chest. She wanted to believe him, but the guilt gnawed at her. “This isn’t right, Austin. You’re with someone.” “I know,” he admitted, his tone full of regret. “But I can’t keep pretending that what I feel for you isn’t real. It’s stronger than anything I’ve felt in a long time.”

Y/N managed to avoid Austin’s advances for a while, but it became harder each day. Every time she saw him, her resolve weakened. It wasn’t that she didn’t feel the same—she did, but the weight of guilt and the fear of hurting someone else held her back. One evening, after filming wrapped for the day, Austin showed up at her trailer. His eyes were filled with determination, his jaw set in a way that told Y/N he wasn’t going to let this go. “Y/N, we need to talk,” he said, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. She sighed, closing her laptop and standing up. “Austin, I’ve told you—”

“No, hear me out,” he insisted, his voice full of emotion. “I can’t keep pretending, Y/N. I broke up with Kaia.” Her heart skipped a beat. “What?”

“I told her the truth. That my feelings have changed. That I have feelings for someone else.” Y/N’s breath hitched. She hadn’t expected him to actually do it. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. “You… you broke up with her because of me?” Austin stepped closer, his eyes pleading. “Because of us. I want to be with you, Y/N. I can’t keep living a lie.” Y/N’s head was spinning. This was too much, too fast. She backed away, shaking her head. “Austin, you can’t just—”

“I need you to understand,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m willing to fight for this. For you. I don’t want to hurt Kaia, but I can’t keep denying what I feel.” Y/N felt her walls crumbling. She had been so strong, so sure of keeping her distance, but now it felt impossible. Austin was standing in front of her, pouring his heart out, and she was powerless against it. “I don’t know,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Austin stepped even closer, gently taking her hands in his. “I do. Please, Y/N. Don’t push me away.” And in that moment, Y/N’s resolve shattered. She couldn’t deny it anymore. The way she felt for him was undeniable, and as much as she hated the circumstances, she couldn’t fight it any longer. “I… okay,” she whispered, her heart heavy with both guilt and relief.

For a few months, Y/N and Austin kept their relationship private, not wanting to stir up any drama, especially with Kaia so fresh out of the picture. But the secrecy didn’t last long. One afternoon, Y/N and Austin met up with three of his friends for a casual lunch. It was meant to be low-key, just the five them, but paparazzi had a knack for finding them, especially since Austin was constantly under the spotlight. As Y/N and Austin walked side by side, their fingers brushing against each other, a paparazzi snapped a photo. The image quickly spread like wildfire on social media— Y/N and Austin looking cozy, with their bodies leaning in closer than two "friends" should be.

The rumors exploded. Headlines blared: "Austin Butler Moves On From Kaia Gerber—Spotted With New Girlfriend Y/N L/N ". The internet was divided. Some people were thrilled, shipping the new couple, while others were furious on Kaia’s behalf. Fans took sides, with some calling Y/N a homewrecker, others applauding Austin for following his heart. It wasn’t long before Y/N found herself the target of online hate. Her social media was flooded with comments, some cruel, others supportive, but it was overwhelming nonetheless.

Austin did his best to shield her from it, but there was only so much he could do. “We need to address this,” he told her one evening as they sat in her apartment, his arm draped over her shoulders. “The rumors are out of control. We have to make a statement.” Y/N sighed, leaning her head against his chest. “I don’t know if I’m ready for that.” “You don’t have to go through this alone,” Austin assured her. “We’ll do it together.”

After days of deliberation, Y/N and Austin finally decided to go public with their relationship. They posted a picture of themselves together on Instagram, captioned simply: “Sometimes love happens in unexpected ways. We’re happy. That’s all that matters.” The internet exploded once again, but this time, Y/N felt more prepared. Austin was by her side, and despite the backlash, she knew that what they had was real. But as the months passed, Y/N couldn’t shake the lingering guilt that came with how their relationship started. She had fallen for Austin, but she couldn’t forget the way it had all begun—with a breakup, and with her hesitations clouded by his persistence.

Still, as she sat next to him, watching the sunset from their balcony, she couldn’t deny the love she felt. The journey had been messy, complicated, and full of challenges, but for now, they had each other. And that, Y/N hoped, would be enough.

It wasn’t long before Kaia Gerber made her feelings about the situation known. After weeks of radio silence, she finally sat down for a highly-anticipated interview with a prominent entertainment magazine. It was no secret that the breakup had been hard on her, and the timing of Austin’s new relationship with Y/N L/N didn’t go unnoticed.

The world had seen Austin move on almost immediately, and now, Kaia had the opportunity to share her side. Sitting across from the interviewer, Kaia looked poised and composed. Her eyes, however, told a different story—they were full of pain and bitterness, remnants of a heartbreak that was still fresh.

"First of all, I want to say that I have no ill will toward Austin. He’s an amazing person, and I’ll always cherish the time we had together," she began, her voice soft but firm. "But the way everything happened… it was unexpected."

The interviewer leaned forward, eager for more. “You mean Austin moving on so quickly?” Kaia nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line. “Yes. I think it’s hard for anyone when someone you care about moves on so fast. We had our issues, like any couple, but I didn’t expect things to end the way they did.” She paused, clearly measuring her words carefully.

"When Austin and I were together, I thought we were on the same page. I really believed in us, but I started noticing things changing, especially during the time he was working on that movie with Y/N." Kaia looked down, as if reliving painful memories. "I didn’t want to believe it at first, but it became clear that his feelings were shifting. There was a lot of time spent on set, and I trusted him, you know? I thought it was just work, but clearly, it wasn’t." The interviewer’s eyes widened.

“So, you’re saying something was going on between Austin and Y/N while you were still together?” Kaia hesitated, then gave a sad smile. “I don’t know for sure, but let’s just say the timeline is… suspicious. You don’t go from being in love with someone to suddenly being with someone else overnight. I think there was more going on than I realized.”

As the interview went on, Kaia started to tweak the narrative, blurring the lines between fact and fiction. She knew she was walking a fine line, but bitterness had a way of distorting things, and she wanted the world to understand her side, even if it meant bending the truth.

"Look, I’m not saying that Y/N was the reason for our breakup," she said, her tone careful. "But I do think her presence in Austin’s life played a role in how quickly things fell apart. It’s hard not to feel like you were replaced." She sighed, her voice growing softer, more vulnerable. “I wasn’t just losing Austin; I was losing a part of myself. We shared so much, and then suddenly, it was like I didn’t matter anymore.” The interviewer nodded sympathetically, clearly hooked by Kaia’s version of events.

"That must have been incredibly difficult, especially since Austin and Y/N have been so public with their relationship now." Kaia’s smile turned bitter. "Yeah, it’s been hard seeing them together, especially when everything happened so fast. It makes you question a lot of things about your relationship, and yourself." And then came the final blow—the part where Kaia really let her bitterness seep through.

“I just hope they’re being honest with themselves. Relationships that start the way theirs did don’t always last. I wish them the best, but… well, time will tell.”

The interview hit the internet like a storm. Kaia’s words were everywhere, from entertainment blogs to social media, and the public quickly took sides once again. Fans who had already been critical of Y/N and Austin’s relationship now had more fuel for their fire. Some took to Twitter, accusing KC of being a "homewrecker," while others praised Kaia for her grace in handling the situation. The comments poured in, dissecting every word of Kaia’s interview, with some even speculating that there had been an emotional affair between Austin and Y/N long before he broke up with Kaia.

But there were also those who defended Y/N, pointing out that Kaia was twisting the narrative to paint herself as the victim. "If Austin wasn’t happy, that’s not Y/N’s fault," one user tweeted. "Kaia needs to move on and stop playing the blame game." The gossip sites ran wild with the story, plastering headlines like: “Kaia Gerber Hints at Emotional Affair Between Austin Butler and Y/N L/N” and “Kaia Gerber Shades Austin and Y/N in Emotional Interview—Truth or Jealousy?” Y/N tried to stay away from the noise, but it was impossible to avoid. Every time she opened her phone, there it was—articles, comments, and endless speculation.

It hurt, more than she wanted to admit. She had always been careful, trying to do the right thing, and now she was being dragged through the mud. Austin, on the other hand, was furious. He couldn’t believe that Kaia would go on record and twist things to make Y/N look bad. He hated that Y/N was being blamed for something that was never her fault.

“We need to set the record straight,” Austin told Y/N one night, pacing the floor of her apartment. “This is getting out of hand.” Y/N shook her head, tired and overwhelmed. “I don’t know if it’s worth it, Austin. People are going to believe what they want to believe.”

“I don’t care what they believe,” he shot back, his voice full of frustration. “You don’t deserve this. I can’t let her get away with making you look like the bad guy.” Y/N sighed, rubbing her temples. “I knew this would happen. I knew people would blame me, no matter what.” Austin stopped pacing and sat down beside her, taking her hands in his. “This isn’t your fault, Y/N/N. I was the one who ended things with Kaia because it wasn’t working anymore. You and I… this didn’t happen the way she’s making it sound.” Y/N leaned into him, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on her.

“I just don’t want to make things worse.”

Despite Y/N’s reluctance, Austin couldn’t stay silent. A few days after Kaia’s interview, he posted a lengthy message on Instagram, addressing the rumors head-on.

"I’ve always tried to keep my personal life private, but recent events have made it necessary for me to speak out. I want to clarify that my relationship with Kaia ended because we were no longer in a place where we could grow together. There was no overlap, no betrayal. I care deeply for Kaia and always will, but the narrative that’s being pushed is unfair and inaccurate. Y/N L/N has been nothing but kind, respectful, and supportive throughout this entire process. Our relationship started after my breakup with Kaia, and it’s important to me that people understand this. Please respect both Y/N and Kaia’s privacy as we all move forward." The post received mixed reactions, as expected.

Some applauded Austin for defending Y/N, while others continued to criticize the situation. Kaia, for her part, didn’t respond directly, but her silence was telling.

As the weeks passed, the frenzy around Y/N and Austin’s relationship slowly began to die down, though the scars of the public scrutiny lingered. Y/N had learned to navigate the storm, leaning on Austin for support, but the shadow of Kaia’s words still followed her.

One day, as Y/N and Austin sat in a quiet café, far away from the flashing lights of Hollywood, she looked at him and asked, “Do you think this will ever stop?” Austin smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “It’ll die down. People always move on to the next story.” Y/N nodded, though she wasn’t entirely convinced. But as she looked into Austin’s eyes, she realized that despite everything—the rumors, the backlash, the guilt—she had found something real. It wasn’t perfect, and it wasn’t easy, but it was theirs.

The constant noise was finally too much for Y/N to bear. She had tried to remain quiet, hoping that the rumors and gossip would fade away on their own. But the endless comments, the judgment, and Kaia’s twisting of the truth were beginning to affect not only her relationship with Austin but her own peace of mind. After Austin’s public statement, things had calmed down, but they hadn’t disappeared completely. Kaia’s fans continued to twist the narrative, casting Y/N as the villain in a story she had never wanted to be part of.

Y/N sat at her desk one evening, scrolling through another flood of messages and articles about her relationship. Her heart felt heavy, and she knew it was time. Time to set the record straight. Time to speak up, not just for herself, but for Austin, for their relationship, and for the truth. She opened her laptop, took a deep breath, and began to write.

Y/N’s Post The next day, Y/N’s post went live on Instagram. It was a simple black-and-white photo of her and Austin, standing side by side, holding hands. But it wasn’t the picture that caught everyone’s attention—it was the caption.

"I’ve always been someone who believes in keeping my personal life private, but recent events have made it necessary for me to address some of the rumors and false narratives that have been circulating. First and foremost, I want to say that I have the utmost respect for everyone involved, including Kaia. However, there has been a lot said about my relationship with Austin that isn’t true, and I feel it’s important to clarify what really happened. When Austin and I began working together, we developed a friendship—a genuine, supportive friendship. At the time, Austin was still in a relationship, and I respected that. I had no intention of coming between anyone. Our connection was professional and nothing more. When Austin made the decision to end his relationship with Kaia, it was because they were no longer in a place where they could grow together. I had nothing to do with that decision, nor did I interfere in their relationship.

Austin and I only began dating after his breakup. I understand that it’s easy for people to create a narrative based on timing, but I want to be clear: there was no overlap, no betrayal, no dishonesty. I respect Kaia, but I also need to respectfully address the fact that the narrative she shared was not entirely accurate. It’s difficult when emotions are involved, and I understand that breakups are hard. But it’s unfair to paint a picture that isn’t true. I hope this clears things up and allows everyone to move forward in a way that’s respectful and kind. Relationships are complicated, and none of us are perfect, but the truth is important. Thank you to everyone who has supported us through this, and I hope that we can all move on from here with understanding and empathy.”

The Internet’s Reaction Y/N’s post was met with an immediate wave of responses. Her words were calm, measured, and respectful, but they cut through the noise with precision. For the first time, the internet seemed to pause and take notice of the truth, rather than the sensationalized version of events.

Fans flooded the comments, praising Y/N for her honesty and grace.

“Finally, someone said it with class. Respect to you, Y/N.”

“You didn’t owe anyone this, but thank you for clearing things up. People need to stop making assumptions.”

“Kaia needs to let go. This isn’t Y/N’s fault, and she handled it with so much respect.”

Even those who had been skeptical before started to shift their perspectives. The overwhelming consensus was that Y/N had done the right thing by speaking up and that her respectful call-out of Kaia’s skewed narrative was the final word on the matter. On Twitter, the hashtags #Team Y/N and #RespectTheTruth began trending, and even gossip sites that had fueled the drama started to backtrack, running stories about how Y/N had handled the situation with dignity. The internet had finally shifted, and the storm that had been swirling around Y/N and Austin began to die down. People moved on, and the relationship that had been under such intense scrutiny was finally given space to breathe.

Austin couldn’t have been prouder of Y/N. When he read her post, he felt an overwhelming sense of relief and admiration. She had handled everything with such poise, and now the world could see her for who she truly was—a strong, kind, and honest person who had simply fallen in love.

Later that evening, they sat together on the couch in Y/N’s apartment, the quiet of the moment a stark contrast to the chaos of the past few months. Austin wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close, his heart full of gratitude. “I’m so proud of you,” he whispered, kissing her temple softly. “You didn’t have to do that, but you did it with so much grace.” Y/N smiled, resting her head on his shoulder.

“I just couldn’t let the lies keep going. I wanted people to understand what really happened, without all the drama.”

“And they do now,” Austin said, his voice full of conviction. “You’ve always been strong, Y/N, but this… this was something else.” She looked up at him with love in her eyes. “We’ve been through a lot, haven’t we?” Austin nodded, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to her lips. “Yeah, we have. But we’re still here. And that’s what matters.” As they sat in the peaceful quiet of the evening, Y/N felt a sense of closure wash over her. The public drama, the whispers, the judgment—it was all behind them now. They had made it through the storm, and they were stronger for it. Austin’s hand found hers, and they sat there, side by side, knowing that no matter what came next, they were in this together.

A/N: Hope y'all liked it. Again no hate to Kaia she's gorgeous and all her glory and one lucky girlie. Feel free to comment, like and reblog. I'm taking request so don't be shy 😘💋.

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#austin butler #austin butler imagine #austin butler x reader #austin butler fanfiction #austin x yn

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gnocchibabie · 1 year ago

Text

Target Practice

author's note: this is my first piece of writing I have ever put out into the world hahah ok bye <3

“600 yards out,” Price’s sudden words almost break your focus “3 notches up, about two to the left accounting for the wind.” he instructs as you stare down the scope of your rifle, looking for the next target. They’ve been getting smaller and smaller as your training progressed and you were struggling to find this last one. Finally, your eyes land on the red balloon.

It smiled back at you.

“Cute,” you chuckle at the poorly drawn smiley face decorating your unfortunate target, “Is that your handiwork or Gaz’s?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Price responds coyly.

You scoff, lining up the shot. The happy balloon swung right and left, fighting against the wind that was now picking up. “Might wanna go three to the left, love” Price suggested.

“Right,” you say, trying not to give much thought to the name - and how your captain had been using it more and more often.

You’re finally satisfied with how you’ve lined up your shot. Three up, three left.

You squeeze your finger and feel the butt of the gun kick into your shoulder.

The bullet hits the ground a foot away from the balloon, kicking dust into the wind. The balloon smiles back at you, taunting your marksmanship.

“Damn” you whisper.

“S’alright” Price says. It’s not, you scold yourself and line up your shot again. He hears this thought. “Really Y/N, take your time.”

The balloon’s bobbing slows and you feel the wind calm. Readjusting your shot, you feel more confident this bullet will land right between its squiggly sharpie black eyes. The pad of your pointer finger rubs the cold trigger.

Squeeze.

You see red rubber erupt and flitter off into the air, the wind once again picking up as if it had patiently waited for you to finish shooting the unsuspecting balloon in cold blood. “There you go, love - dropped ‘em!” you finally take your eyes away from the rifle and look at John, offering you a smile. “Or should I say “popped ‘em,” he jokes. Lame, you think to yourself; although you fight back a smile. You don’t miss the warmth that spreads throughout your chest, and fear it creeps into your cheeks. You shake your head, “Should’ve gotten it the first time,” you quip back and begin to stand. Rising, your legs ache from having been lying prone for so long.

Dismantling the rifle, you begin to return it to its case when you feel a hand land on your shoulder.

Squeeze.

“That’s what practice is for.” your captain reassures you. You knew you were being hard on yourself - in reality you were a great shot. Your skills and potential as a sniper are what had led Laswell to pick up your file months before. She had observed you in action before recommending you to Price, adamant that you would be a great fit on the team and prove to be a useful asset. Amazingly to you, he seemed to agree. It’s why you were receiving this extra training, courtesy of Price himself. You were only embarrassed because you had missed in front of your captain. Who definitely did not make you nervous.

“Yeah” you respond lamely, latching the case shut, throwing it over your shoulder, and turning to walk back to base. Price sighs, “Y/N.”

Oh no, you thought, he’s using his captain's voice.

You turn around to face him and your eyes meet. “What’s going on with you today? Been quiet. Been a bit off…” John trails off, unsure of how much he should say. “I know I was a little hard on you the other day-”

You cut him off before he can continue. The last thing you wanted was for him to believe that he had done something wrong - something to upset you. “No! No,” you respond quickly “you didn’t do anything - besides, I need to hear that stuff from you - during training. It’s what makes me better.” you see the corners of his mouth quirk up for a moment and you continue. “Sometimes…I just…wonder if I’m worthy of being on this team. I feel like I’m dragging behind. You’re all more experienced. You’ve all been doing this stuff longer…don’t wanna drag everyone down with me…” you finish your rant quietly. You don’t want to meet Price’s gaze and focus on a patch of dirt near your feet, convinced it’s suddenly become the most interesting thing in the world. His soft laughter breaks your concentration.

“You need to get out of that head of yours love - you are not dragging us - me, down,” it is not lost on you how Price made it a point to emphasize himself. Maybe you really were in your head too much. Price continues, “We help you because we want to. Help you because we have been doing this longer. We know what you’re about to deal with on this mission and want you to be as ready and prepared as you can be. Can’t have anything happening to you can we?” He grows more stern at the end of his explanation and you can’t help the smile forming on your face.

“Yeah, because I’m so valuable-”

“You are.”

Your laughter ceases and smile quickly leaves your face. Your eyes rake over Price’s face, serious as ever. Tension looms in the air over you two and your throat goes dry. “I mean it,” your captain doubles down. His eyes poured into yours. You were suddenly very aware of the flush spreading across your face and the way your mouth parted slightly at his words. “Understood,” you reply breathlessly, “...thank you, Captain.”

A beat of silence rings out between you two as you soak in each other’s words and stare into the other’s eyes.

“And don’t you forget it.” Price breaks the silence, his tone a bit more playful now as he takes the rifle case from your hands and begins down the path leading back to base. You jog after him, telling him you’re perfectly capable of carrying your own gun all while he chuckles.

#captain john price #john price #john price x reader #captain price x reader #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty mw2 #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #simon riley x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader

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boorines · 1 year ago

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i saw ur requests were open and i don’t know if u do these but can u do a type of bfs post? like a soonyoung is the type of bf to… post! ur writing is so cute i think this type of piece will be so fun to read ^_^

ahh that’s so cute!! i could give it a whirl anon, i hope u like it!! soonyoung will be the death of me

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bf!soonyoung who loves to hide small special somethings around the house for you to find after a bad day. could be anything from your favourite chocolate bar to tickets to a movie you’ve been meaning to see. smiles shyly at you when you find them and returns the hug you give him a hundred times tighter.

soonyoung who’s super touchy. he places soft kisses on the back of your hand every single time he holds one of yours. his hands will always snake behind you if he’s sat next to you and play with your hair. won’t hesitate to leave drawn out kisses to your lips when you’re at the table with friends. he’s so lucky to have you, PDA be damned.

bf!soonie who has a tiny subconscious possessive streak. he’ll shoot withering glares at anyone who so much as looks at you the wrong way. will make his presence as your boyfriend more prominent with a firm hand around your waist when you both meet new people at dinners or parties. soonyoung who will whine over the phone when you tell him the barista at your cafe was vaguely, maybe, possibly, flirting with you. “babyyy, you should’ve let me come with you, of course he wants you”.

bf!soonyoung who will drop everything the second he hears you’re not doing well. down with a fever and he’s next to you in bed with a cold towel wrap and medicine. overwhelmingly bad day and you’re tucked into his chest on the couch, his hoodie still damp with your tears but he doesn’t care. he’ll stroke your hair and press soft kisses to your forehead and cheeks until you doze off. papercut? he’ll shake his head in mock judgment but still carefully wrap a band-aid around your finger with a quick kiss to the area.

—

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ochrearia · 4 days ago

Text

Emptiness of Dreams

Dear god okay there's like a billion bitches in here. No one talks and it's YS POV but there's. A billion

I don't know how to explain this any clearer. Read between the lines. This will make sense for the people that need to I promise. Just things I want to say but can't say directly.

BFs in this one-shot: PoPr!BF (Biff, mine), cs!BF (Beefer, mine), wyd!BF (Beef, Karl's), fc!BF (Boyf, Gold's), Cyborg!BF (Cyber, Gold's), sfa!BF (Peacock, Shed's), S2!BF (Bee, Isaac's), ourple!BF (Brooke, Isaac/VS Ourple Guy), idu!BF (BJ, Storm's), mixtape!BF (Bash, Kry's), fightin!BF (Mic, Lunar's), lca!BF (Bunny, Damien's), Yourself (YS)

Blue, Bastion, Baker, and Blake are mentioned but not physically present

He knew he had a problem. Well, that was quite the understatement really. He had a lot of problems. So many to the point where YS really couldn’t understand why any of them were still here. Broken people attracted more broken people, sure. Fine. But even other broken people still had enough logic to understand when someone was too broken, right? When there were things beyond anyone’s help. Tiring aspects that were just too much to keep thinking about. It was easy for others to stop thinking about it when it wasn’t them experiencing it. YS couldn’t stop thinking. Probably never would. Every time something slipped a little bit under the surface of the water he drowned so fast. And it was so shameful that everyone got to witness it. Felt inclined to help when really, at this point, maybe it was just better to let him drown proper.

The space in between dreams was usually empty. The more people tumbling into the space meant more things would pop up, stemming from the day’s thoughts and wishes. It was always nothing but empty whenever YS was here on his own. Nothing but cold fog. Nothing friendly, nothing warm, nothing all that safe. What did that say about his thoughts and wishes, huh?

But the usual emptiness of dreams wasn’t here this time. Not that this wasn’t meant to happen, it just hadn’t happened when YS was around. Mainly because he never really slept at the same time as anyone else aside from… an exception. He’d been going on for a few days without any real, proper sleep, and while he was an Angel, a supernatural being, there was still only so much he could take before his body completely crashed on him. Which was what happened here and now, a lucky outcome that it happened to be at a time where he should’ve been asleep anyway.

So many of his brothers were here. Half of them he suspected didn’t even realize where they were. And with so many selves came a blooming of the space in between dreams. Things, thoughts, safeties and wishes. Taking form as soft wisps of smoke, alien-like grass and flowers, lavender light coming from no visible source at all. The space here never had to make any sense to begin with. It was all just dreams, mashed together in a magic link across realities that wasn’t really supposed to exist. But it did. Might as well make something out of it.

Biff, of course. Biff was almost always here when YS was, and probably the most aware of what this place even was. Not like anyone truly knew its rules. But the longer you visit, the more you get in-tune with how some things work. YS knew some of his brothers had felt him arrive here and changed their paths entirely to cross with his. The others most likely didn’t know what was really happening and were just automatically drawn to a sense of familiarity. All leading back to him. What a nice thought.

Beef and Biff were wordlessly fighting with each other for who got the space in his arms. Idiots. No damn concept of sharing. If they wanted hugs all they ever had to do was ask. They would wake themselves up with this ridiculous tussle if they weren’t careful, but YS could see the playfulness of it in each of their faces. Silent brotherly fighting. Little bastards who cared a lot about each other but refused to admit it.

Boyf and Cyber were here too. Boyf had a secured spot on his left while Cyber lay sprawled rather unceremoniously across his legs. Something akin to the indignancy pile that YS had endured back when his reach only yielded him five brothers. Now, it was so much more. He wasn’t sure if Cyber really knew where he was, but it didn’t seem to matter. There were quiet purrs coming from him anyway. If YS was there, then nothing else mattered. A bit of a terrifying thought for YS- god, when would his brain just pick one? A constant tug-of-war between reveling in the fact he was that much of a safety to someone, and fearing being so damn important.

YS wasn’t really sure where he stood with a lot of his brothers. Which was so… stupid, wasn’t it? Why didn’t he know? They all had expressed some form of deep care for him thus far, from directly saying it to just small but meaningful actions. Choosing to let him stick around in their lives. A stray passing thought. Not looking at him like he was some sort of disgusting freak. Maybe that last one was the bare minimum but it didn’t matter to him. That was still the world in his eyes after everything.

Bash was behind him, asleep. Balancing him while they leaned back to back against each other. Now, YS loved all his brothers. That was true and it would stay true. And it was painfully obvious that he trusted some of them with different things. Was that shitty of him? Maybe. Certainly felt that way to him when he wanted everyone to feel equally important. But there were so many of them now. That wish might be an impossible task now. But maybe YS would burn himself out still trying to reach it. He never wanted to leave anyone on a metaphorical level of less importance somehow.

To his brothers, he felt love and that was clear. And he should stop worrying so much about the differences in each relationship. They were all the same person but they weren’t carbon copies of each other. It would be stupid to try to condense them all down to that. And where other brothers filled holes he desperately needed fixed, Bash sort of… balanced him. He shared similarities with many of them. There was something about his one older brother that was special. YS just wasn’t sure how to convey that. Or really… fairly approach Bash like he deserved for that matter. But for now in between dreams the connection helped dampen his worries. He hoped he could believe he mattered the way he was told he does soon with him.

Peacock was on YS’s right. He was dozing too, but even in that state YS could feel an insistence to stay as close as possible. Two angels taking comfort in each other. It was funny, being a Guardian Angel and having another angel seemingly be guarding him. Beefer was somewhere nearby too. In his dinosaur form, for some reason, but maybe it was because he had no idea what this place was. Walking around. Guarding. Not just him, but everyone here. Even Boyf, despite them never getting along. Truce in the dream space. BJ kept an eye on the dinosaur lumbering around in circles. He seemed very curious about the other versions that obviously weren’t human. That, and well, it didn’t seem like any of them had seen a living dinosaur before who’s also an alien at the same time. Despite the curiosity BJ kept close to YS as much as he could, when everyone else was already crowding him.

Bee and Brooke were here as well. Lying content in the alien-like grass of the dream plains they were all sitting in together. Brooke didn’t seem very content though. Worried, hesitant. YS hadn’t gotten to talk to him a lot, and the first encounter had gone just about as wrong as it possibly could. YS didn’t think Brooke liked him at all. He’d probably prefer to be somewhere else, and that was fair. He was going through a lot as far as the angel could tell. But despite the dislike he was sticking around. Not for his peace of mind, obviously. Probably just because Bash, Bee, and Beef were clearly happy to stay here. It was enough to let Brooke take a hesitant chance.

Mic and Bunny were very new to YS, but they had made it here too. Playing chase for the sake of playing. Joy in a space they didn’t know, but it was okay, nothing could really hurt them here except their own fears. But it was clear no one truly feared where they were. It was funny, Mic was very much a little brother to YS despite him being five years older than him. Somehow.

Yeah, no. Bash was the only one who was getting away with any semblance of taking care of YS in an older-brother kind of way. And even then YS felt some sort of guilt he was letting anyone be responsible for him.

It was weird. All of them kind of took care of him in their own ways. Just something unique and different about each one. Balance with Bash. Loyalty with Beef. Understanding with Biff. Warmth with Peacock. The list could go on, really. Though in the end they all seemingly wanted him here. Here, amongst people. Wasn’t that weird? Why did they want him here, anyway? YS still couldn’t find an understanding of that. ‘Because they wanted to’? Why? Why choose that with no real benefit?

People were so confusing.

Most of them managed to end up here tonight. That’s never really happened before. YS wondered what was different about this night. Wondered if the ones missing were awake, or just in their own dreams instead of the space in between. Blake, Blue, Baker. Good lord, if Baker was awake he swore to god he better not be creating a kitchen disaster right now. YS wondered how long it would take to get properly through to Bastion as well. Everyone, always on his mind. So many to keep track of, sometimes it made his head spin. But he’d still find room to fit in more. He had a feeling he was going to meet more brothers in the near future anyway.

People, here. With him. For him, some of them might try to say. That couldn’t be true. People shouldn’t be here for him, not when everyone else was around. Felt weird to think he was some sort of priority. But he supposed he was a massive hypocrite too. Prioritizing everyone else as much as he could, trying his hardest to treat everyone equally, make them feel special because they were. But then flinched away if anyone tried to mirror his actions.

How dumb. YS wanted someone to do for him everything he did for others, but couldn’t even be thankful to accept that if someone tried. Nothing was ever good enough, huh? Ridiculous…

Beefer turned suddenly, red eyes boring directly into the angel. Knowing. Right… emotional walls didn’t work on that one. He could tell right away. He’d made a promise to try and think like that less. He was trying. It was just harder on some days than others.

People… here. Could he indulge in saying for him? Did he deserve that, though? Unsure on that part. Whether he said it or not wouldn’t change if it was true or not. A concept there, to sit in the back of his mind, surrounded by all these people. Did he have to keep himself so lonely? YS was so afraid to somehow hurt anyone here, everyone. But would keeping himself lonely make them happy? That might just hurt them too.

He knew one of them was terrified of him leaving. Just from one old conversation. That never really left his head. But there was still a little guilt there, making him even worry so clearly about that. YS was doing his best to keep to his word- that he wouldn’t leave. Even though things kept sliding downhill so fast some days.

Maybe none of them wanted him to leave. It’s not like he wanted to leave either. Sometimes his mind was cruel, though. It was hard to tell properly if anyone cared enough for him to stay some days. Like all the progress went back to zero. Wasn’t that so exhausting? To deal with someone who needed reassurance so often?

YS wouldn’t leave. For as long as they wanted him at all, he would stay.

He had a lot of problems. Maybe he himself was a problem and it might be time to admit that. Needing so much direct reassurance almost every day. That was a problem. And he should try harder to stop doing that because he clearly wasn’t trying hard enough. He would change completely for them, because he loved them.

Maybe that was another problem.

He was just a problem, wasn’t he?

But all of these brothers were here. Loving him. Him and his problems. And YS swore to spend the rest of his time here making up for it all. However short or long that time was allowed to be.

He loved his brothers. Maybe he shouldn’t love them this much when not much time has really passed. But he did anyway. YS loved his brothers. Maybe in another reality entirely, they were all friends. A reality YS could never find, but existed anyway. He hoped so.

Friends… he hoped so.

#RGBFverse #Uhhhh working to make up for a lot of things I've been doing lately #I can't offer much lmaooooo writing it is. I guess #I think there was more I wanted to write diving more in depth about the individuals but #It got lost in my head spinning over keeping track of so many characters my bad

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