#din gets a hug at least

[itneverendshere]

it's all you're good for, right? - r.c

pairing: bitchy!pogue!reader x rafe

rafe knew you wouldn’t take his disrespect lightly.

you never did.  

he’d expected you to blow up the second he pulled that ignoring shit at the dinning. he was ready for it—your texts coming in hot, maybe you showing up at his house, ready to tear into him like you always did when he pushed too far. he'd never say it out loud, but a part of him almost liked it, the way you’d get all fired up, spitting mad. it was hot.

but you didn’t call. not a single text. you didn’t show up to the party that weekend, and when he tried to hit you up, just looking for a booty call—because fuck, he was so hard thinking about you—it went straight to voicemail. he stared at his phone like an idiot, calling again. blocked.

you? block him? nah, that wasn’t supposed to happen. rafe was the one with the power here, or at least, that’s how it used to be. it was always this push and pull, but he was the one pulling the strings, right? no fucking pogue was ever going to order him around. right?

wrong. the next weekend rolls around, and there you are at one of his parties, looking good as ever, laughing with your friends like nothing happened. and still, not even a glance his way. for two weeks now, you’ve been completely ignoring him, and it’s starting to get under his skin. more than it should.

he watches you from across the yard like a fucking creep, sipping his drink and trying to act like he doesn’t give a fuck, but inside, he’s low-key losing it. he half-expected you to walk right up to him and give him hell like you always do. but no, you’re just... doing your own thing. 

but what’s really making his head spin is what you're wearing. the outfit is pure trouble—skin-tight and leaving almost nothing to the imagination. a barely-there black mini skirt, riding up just enough to make his jaw clench, paired with a tiny top that’s more like a bralette than an actual shirt. it’s low-cut and clings to your curves, thin straps barely holding it in place, and the way it hugs your body?

yeah, he’s fucked. the way the skirt moves when you walk, teasing just enough thigh? it’s like you knew he’d be watching.

he hates how much it turns him on.

every guy at the party notices. he can see the way their eyes follow you as you move through the crowd, laughing, like you don’t even care. but it’s the way you’re ignoring him that’s really pushing him to the edge. normally, rafe loves the attention despite the look of disgust he always greets you with when you show up. loves knowing you’re secretly going to end up in his bed. but tonight? he’s not so sure and it’s killing him.

by the time he corners you, all he can think about is tearing that outfit off. the silent treatment? that shit was way worse than anything you could've said. 

“alrigh’, i get it,” he starts, throwing his hands up like he’s already done with this conversation. “jesus christ.”

you just blink up at him, completely unfazed, like he’s not even worth a reaction. his words might as well be bouncing off a wall. the fact that you’re standing there looking so fucking good, and acting like he doesn’t even exist, is messing with his head more than anything you could’ve said.

he’s pissed, yeah, but more than that, he’s desperate. desperate for a reaction. for anything. but you just brush past him, your body touching his for the briefest second, like you’re doing it on purpose just to make him snap.

rafe stands there for a second, blinking in disbelief. did you just really blow him off like that?

before he even realizes it, he's following after you, shoving through the crowd like a man possessed.

“are you serious right now?” he hisses when he catches up, grabbing your wrist lightly but firm enough to make you stop. the emotion in his voice is undeniable, and everyone nearby is pretending not to watch the little scene. “you're really just gonna walk past me like that?”

karma’s a bitch.

you finally turn to him, but the look in your eyes isn’t anger—it’s indifference. that cold, detached stare that fucks with his head more than any of the shouting matches you’ve had in the past. you pull your wrist free with ease, like his grip is nothing.

“’m over it,” you say coolly, like you’ve already moved on from the whole thing, “whatever this is? it’s not worth my time.”

that does it.

he’s used to the back and forth, the fire between you, but this, you acting like you don’t care at all—it’s new, and it pisses him off more than he thought possible. he steps closer, dropping his voice lower so no one else can hear.

“bullshit,” he says, eyes narrowing. “you’re pissed, i get it. but don’t act like you’re done with me. you aren’t.”

the smirk that curls on your lips is almost cruel.

“watch me.”

you turn and walk away, leaving rafe standing there. he knows he should let it go, but every time he tries to convince himself of that, the way your body looks in that outfit, the way you shut him down so easily, keeps replaying in his head.

and instead of walking away, he’s right back where he started, chasing after you like he can’t stand the idea of not having you anymore.

before you even get two steps away, he snaps.

his patience has run out, and all that pent-up frustration? yeah, it’s got him seeing red. he doesn’t even think about it—just moves. his hand wraps around your arm, and in one swift motion, he’s hoisting you up like you weigh nothing, slinging you over his shoulder.

“what the fuck, rafe!” you shout, your fists pounding on his muscular back, but he doesn’t stop. eyes burning, jaw clenched—he doesn’t give a shit who’s watching. not his friends, not anyone at the party. right now? he’s too pissed off and turned on to think straight. 

you wriggle in his grip, your legs kicking, but he holds you tight, marching through the party like it’s no big deal, even though everyone’s definitely staring. he’ll deal with the fallout later.

“put me down!” you’re practically growling, and maybe under any other circumstances, he would’ve listened. but not tonight. tonight, he’s done playing nice, done pretending like he’s not obsessed with you or your body, done trying to act like he’s got control over this situation when clearly, you’re the one pulling all the strings.

his grip on you is tight, and possessive, and you’re too furious to care about how turned on you secretly are. he doesn’t stop until he reaches his room, kicking the door shut behind him with one solid thud. the sound of the lock clicking is loud in the tense silence. then, he throws you onto his bed, like you're nothing more than a ragdoll.

you bounce once, staring at him with wide eyes.

“what the fuck is wrong with you!” you snap, sitting up on the bed, glaring at him.

he’s pacing now, running his hands through his hair, wild-eyed, like he’s trying to calm himself down but can’t. he turns to you, his face twisted in frustration, like he’s been holding something in for way too long. and when he speaks, his voice cracks just enough to show how on edge he really is.

“you!” he explodes, pointing at you like you're the only thing in the room. “you’re what’s wrong with me!”

his pacing slows down, and suddenly he stops. he turns back to you, both his hands shooting up to his temples, fingers pressing into his head.

“you get in my fucking head,” he admits through gritted teeth, jabbing his fingers into his temples like he’s blaming you for every thought he's had for weeks. “i can’t think straight because of you. every fucking time, you crawl into my head and just—won’t—leave.”

instead of letting his little meltdown get to you, you lean back on your hands, with a bratty scoff. “how is that my fucking problem?” you snap, crossing your arms like you couldn’t care less about his breakdown. “that’s on you, not me. maybe you should try, i don’t know, leaving me alone.”

rafe stares at you, his chest heaving, his jaw clenched tight, “you think this is a joke?” he growls, stepping closer, closing the gap between you two, his presence almost suffocating. “you think you can just sit there and act like none of this is your fault?”

you give him a fake sweet smile, leaning forward just enough to be in his face, “maybe you shouldn’t have fucked me in the first place, hmm? god forbid your friends find out you’ve been slumming it with a pogue.”

it’s the fake docility in your smile that makes him want to break something. he steps even closer, his breath hot and heavy as his eyes lock onto yours, blue and furious.

"that’s what this is?" His voice is low, almost a growl. “you seriously don’t get it, do you?" he leans in, his face inches from yours, his expression almost daring you to keep pushing. "this—whatever the fuck this is between us—this isn’t about them. it’s about you." his hand shoots out, gripping your chin, forcing you to look at him. "don’t act like you didn’t know what you were getting into from the beginning."

you yank your chin free, rolling your eyes, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing how much he's getting to you. “right. you ignoring me at the dinner? guess i was supposed to just sit there and take it, huh? maybe you wanted me to be a good little bitch and not make any noise.” 

you might be pissed, but you're not just angry—you're hurt, and that fucks with his head more than he cares to admit.

rafe huffs, running a hand through his hair in frustration, looking away for a second before turning back to you. “what the fuck do you want from me? huh? you want me to call you my girlfriend? you want me to fucking introduce you like this is some kind of relationship? be fucking serious.”

"be fucking serious?" you repeat, "you gave me a 200$ tip, you fucking asshole!" you shove him hard in the chest, catching him off guard. “like ’m some kind of fucking whore!”

rafe's eyes widen as he stumbles back a step, “wait—what? no, no, no. that’s not what it meant.”

you glare at him, shaking your head in disbelief. “of course, it fucking was!” you shout, shoving him again, harder this time. “what else would it mean, huh? you throw money at me like it’s supposed to make everything okay, like ’m some kind of... some kind of pogue you can pay off and keep quiet.”

he looks stunned, his mouth opening and closing like he’s trying to figure out what to say. “that’s not—fuck, that’s not what i meant. i wasn’t thinking about it like that, okay? i was trying to help you!" he blurts out, his tone defensive, like he can’t believe you’re twisting his intentions into something they weren’t.

you laugh, but it’s sharp, biting. “help me?” you stare at him like he’s lost his mind. “oh, please. shut the fuck up. why would you ever want to help me, rafe? be real.” he tries to speak, but before he can you’re already stepping back. “if you want to fuck me, just get on with it. i need to leave. so, make it quick.”

what?

“is that what you think this is?” he doesn’t move to touch you, but the tension is strong enough to feel suffocating. “you think ’m just here to—”

“to fuck me? yeah. that’s what this has always been about,” you cut him off, “and you know what? it’s okay. let’s not drag it out. do what you do best—take what you want and leave me the fuck alone.”

he’s not ready to admit that this feels more than just a hookup. he’s not sure if he will ever get there. rafe’s chest heaves as he stares at you. he’s done trying to explain himself. 

“fine,” he snaps, stepping closer until his chest is almost brushing yours. “if that’s what you want.” 

your breath catches in your throat, but you don’t back down. not when you're this annoyed. “yeah, it is. stop wasting my time.”

in one swift motion, rafe pulls you to him by the waist, with his usual roughness that makes you drip between your thighs. his lips claim yours with a bruising force. it’s not soft or sweet—this is raw, messy, all tongue and teeth. his hands are everywhere, gripping your hair, your ass, pulling you flush against him like he can’t have any space between you. you’re both moving with frantic, desperate eagerness, like this is less about desire and more about proving a point.

“is this what you want?” rafe snarls against your lips, breaking the kiss just long enough to yank your top over your head, throwing it somewhere in the room. “to get fucked stupid and leave? that it?”

you let out a breathless laugh, but it’s overflowing with venom. “that’s all you’re good for, right?”

so much for making peace.

TAGLIST: @drewstarkeys-world @maibelitaaura @maybankslover @jkrafe @willowpains

[lottiesviolence]

Grip n’ Collar

Warning: 18+ Hard dom Sevika, switch Sevika, switch fem reader, power play / dynamics, biting, slight choking, disgusting dirty talk, pussy eatin, finger fuckin, strap-on, breeding kink, Sev is mean and rough, but so are you,, leash/bondage, hint of squirting, cumming strap sighhhhh, sweet ending ofc

Synopsis: You decided to dominate your girl...well at least trying to.

You walked around the house waiting for your girl to come home after a hard day’s work. You wore a black tube top, nipples piercing through the fabric and thin sheer black tights underneath your leather shorts that hugged your ass oh so beautifully. You knew as soon as Sevika would walk through the door she’d only have fucking you on her mind, but this time you wanted to play dirty. You had a few things up your sleeve.

The front door creaked open, and closed swiftly with the kick of Sevikas boot.

“Hey baby I’m home, missed me?” She grinned throwing her keys mindlessly on the dinning table. Her attention was grabbed when she saw you.

In the kitchen there you were, pretty, sexy, you. Your thighs squished against the cold kitchen counter you sat on. Smug look on your face, you swung a leash in your right hand while your eyes fixed on hers.

“I missed you so much baby” You said lowly, spreading your legs open ever so slightly, inviting her. “Get over here.” You commanded, and she didn’t hesitate.

Sev walked over to you, towering you still despite you sitting on the high surface. She crept her hands up your thighs and hips, fingers gripping at your tights and belt loops.

“I missed you too baby, missed tasting you... fucking you.” She said with a mean needy look on her face.

“Yeah? You wanna fuck me baby?” You teased.

“Enough, I’m losing my patience here.” Sterness in her voice.

“You can have me right here, fuck me however you want in this kitchen under one condition, okay?” You hung the end of the leash you had to her face showing her the clip.

“Absolutely not.” Sevika huffed and lit up a blunt, blowing smoke to her side.

“Then I guess you’re not gonna fuck me, such a shame, I wore this hot ass outfit for nothin, I was hoping you’d bend me over the counter and fuck me senseless, but I guess not anymor-”

“Fine.”

She cut you off, putting out her blunt. You grinned knowing how your disgusting words pulled at her heart..and strap. You clipped the leash onto the collar she wore against her neck, giving it a little yank. She moved an inch closer, a sigh escaping her lips.

“You like it don’t you?”

She ignored you and grasped at your hips pulling you closer, she kissed you roughly, tasting of whiskey and smoke. Sev bit your bottom lip, snaking down to your neck, biting and kissing leaving pretty marks all over your body.

You gasped when you heard the rip of your tights, she yanked your shorts down to your hanging feet, and pulled at the rest of the torn fabric positioning herself to taste you.

You pulled on the leash, wrapping it around your hand.

“Did I say you could do that? Huh? Did I give you permission?” You looked down at her, stopping her in her tracks as she was about to bury her face in your cunt.

She looked up at you with desperate, hungry eyes. Not knowing how to respond to your dominance, it confused her, but deep down she loved it.

“Say please.” You demanded.

Her breathe hitched when you gave her another soft yank, pullin her face closer to your dripping pussy.

“Please.. Please let me have you” She hated begging, but she loved you and how you just tasted so fucking good.

Your face was hot, seeing how you had her wrapped around your finger it drove you crazy. You tilted your head to the side giving her a smile, your free hand snaked up to her cheek, she brushed the side of her face into your warmth. She trusted you, poor..foolish.. Sevika.

You gave a harder tug, this time forcing her face into your cunt, sevika groaned in surprise, sinking into your taste, she hummed in satisfaction.

Both your hands gripped the counter, you threw your head back squeezing your eyes shut as she lapped her tongue hungrily into you.

“God! fuckkkk- that’s it baby, such an obedient.. dirty..thing you are.” You spoke breathlessly through your words, desperately clinging onto the little dominance you had left as she ate you out.

Her eyes halfway shut, she bobbed her head in every direction, lapping up your slick in her tounge, rubbin her nose against your clit, moanin into you as she served her girl.

“Gonna cum on my face baby? Should I even let you?” She teased, face still buried between you.

“Have you forgotten, I’m the one who’s in control here?” You didn’t even believe that yourself, blinded by her tongue, you lied straight through your teeth. She always had the upper hand, and god she just fucked you so good.

“Not for long” She groaned, gripping at your sweet thighs pulling you deeper into her. She sucked and kissed at your aching clit. Her nails dug into your skin, she knew you were desperate just as much as her.

Feeling your cunt tighten, you humped her face as she fucked you with her tongue.

“Mmmf fuck! Sev! gonnacumgonnacumpleasepleasee.”

She didn’t say anything, just letting her work do all the talkin. She gave you one last hump before she held your hips down, releasing for air she stuck her thick fingers into you.

You moaned and whispered pleas incoherently, keeping your grip on the leash, holding onto your last drop of power.

She hummed as you took her in so deeply. Watching as your cunt let out sweet splashes of wetness, soaking her fingers. Your top was disheveled from all the grasping and movement, she cupped and groped at your tits with her free hand, making your body tense.

“Cum f’me baby, cum on my fingers and I’ll give you what you want.” She watched as your brows furrowed tightly, she saw how desperately you wanted to be in control, but she knew what you really wanted.

“Want me to fuck you senseless, right baby? Bend you over the counter and fuck my cum into you, that’s what you want?” Her voice low and stern.

“Shut up and make me cum.” You spat, giving her another pull.

She stuffed her fingers into you deeper, moving them slowly, curling them just how you liked.

“Fuckfuckfuckkkk!” You moaned bucking your hips against her as you came on her fingers.

Sevika wasted no time, she stood up towering you once more. Quickly picking you up n’ off the counter. She turned you around, her hips positioned against your ass, your face inches away from the cabinet.

“Fuck, look at you now, all fucked out you can barely stand, and I’m still not finished with you.” Her voice was so low and mean, her big hands rubbed at your flesh as she pulled your ass closer pressing against her hips. You mewled.

“Gonna give me what I want baby? I know how badly you want to..just as much as me.” You teased, looking at her over your shoulder.

“Shut up.”

You heard the clinks of her belt as she took off her pants, her strap bobbing out. You bit your lip at the sight, hoping she’d fill you and fuck you stupid.

She towered over you and sunk her strap into you. Your lips parted letting out a soft moan.

Sev groaned as she thrusted into you quickly, feeling how your cunt stretched for her. Low grunts left her lips, hands gripping at your hips, controlling your movements.

You pulled at her leash, her lips right at the nape of your neck. You looked into her eyes. “Don’t hold back on me now, my pussy feels so good doesn’t it baby? Tell me how good it feels.”

She moaned at how you spoke, “fuck.. yeah baby, feels so..fuckin’ good.. god I love your cunt.” She thrusted into you between her words.

“Fuck..pull it” she huffed.

Your stomach heated up at the demand. She fucking loved belonging to you. You pulled at her again, turning more towards her to kiss her roughly. You both were so fucking hungry for each other.

You kept your hold on the leash tightly, making sure she stays close you, free hand gripped at her thigh as she fucked into you harder and deeper.

“Don’t...fucking... stop.” You begged.

Sevika hunched over your back, cold metal hand on top of yours, grunting and huffing into your neck, she bit your shoulder making you groan in pain.

“You like takin’ this dick don’t you baby? Takin’ it so well f’me.” She groans.

“Mmh yesbabyyesss!” You cried. She gently pushed your head against the cabinet, cold hand gripped in your hair, cheek against the hard wood.

“Fuck, gonna cum baby, cum in this pretty cunt, fuck”

Your eyes fluttered back as her hips smacked against your ass, you drowned in the nasty squelches your cunt made. “Fill me baby, fill me, it’s yours so fuckin’ take it.” Your legs were about to give out any second, but all you could focus on was how Sev just filled you so good.

Sev brought her hand to your clit rubbing it in soft circles as she fucked you stupid. You let out soft pleas, lipstick and makeup smudged by tears.

“G-gonna cum in you pretty, cum on this dick, can you do that baby?”

“Yes baby yes, give it to me” You hassled.

Her grunts and your sweet moans and cries filled the room as she stuffed and fucked her cum into you. Your slick mixing with hers, Sevika pulled out of you and watched as her cum leaked out your throbbing cunt. You hummed in pleasure seeing it drip to the cold tiles.

“God, you fuck me so good ‘vika” You smiled uncoiling the leash from your hand and unleashing her.

“That’s my job gorgeous, finally got what you wanted? Satisfied?” She grinned adjusting her collar.

“Seems like you got what you wanted too Ms. ‘Pull it’.” You giggled.

“Alright alright, let’s run a bath, you can barely stand.” She lifted you and threw her over her shoulder.

You smiled and tucked her hair out of her face to see her grin as your feet swung in the air. Sev patted your ass while taking you upstairs, you both spoke about your fuck session.

“I didn’t know you had that dominance in you baby” Her eyebrows lifted with impression.

“I KNOW right?!? I definitely surprised myself, but it sure didn’t last long” you sighed, which made her laugh heartily.

♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎

💗a/n: Well there's Grip n’ Collar honey’s!! wrote this after noticing Sevs collar/choker that she had to wear while breaking in the prison (its so hot 🥲) This was proofread twice but if there are mistakes please forgive me! This is my first full fic im posting on here!! Many more to cum🙂‍↕️ still working on my subby sevika who gets fucked stupid, so stay tuned!! Hope this left you as wet as it made me 💗

[ddiidi]

bf!Bangchan x gn!reader (ot8 mentioned)

Masterlist

When he calls you clingy, so you distance yourself

Previous Pt. 4

Pt. 5

!Warnings: angst, reader is confused about their feelings, fluff, reader tries to get better, swearing, term "princess" is used once, channie the therapist, fake!texts (lmk if i missed anything)

Side-Note: This might not be how most people expected it to be but I had to fix this somehow, also I think chan is a person to rather talk abt arguments 🤏🏽 also I'd like to do this random-question-number thingy, what do y'all think abt it??

It has been a week, since you basically threw Chan out and the past days, you kept yourself busy with chores all over your apartment, sometimes even doing the same thing twice, just to not think about what happened.

Chan texted you every day sometimes more, sometimes less, asking about how your day was, how you slept, if you ate something, but never if you wanted to hang out. You were glad he didn't ask, you didn't feel like seeing him, or anyone else, and your replies, if you even replied, we're really short and dry, often answering only after hours even though you've seen the message as soon as he sended it. You didn't want him to think that you're desperately waiting for a message from him.

You've noticed that you think like that very often since you didn't hug him back, almost as if something in you shifted, but you can't really tell what it is...

xxxxxx

You're currently washing up the dishes in the kitchen, while playing with the thought to extend your vacation, to one more week, when the door bell rang. You dried your hands on a towel and hurried to the door opening it, to see a package delivery man stand on the other side.

"I have a gift package for Y/n Y/l/n. Do they live here?" the man asks. "Yes, that's me, but I don't think I orde-" "There you go" the man interrupts you and puts the package and a bouquet of flowers in front of your feet, fastly walking off.

You stood there, dumbfounded, staring at the flowers. You sigh out and decided to take the package inside, at least it were your favorite flowers. As you sat the package onto the dining room desk, a sticky note fell out of the flowers, written on it: "Your co-workers said you took a vacation, so I thought I'll send you some flowers and some of your favorites to enjoy the days, take care princess ~channie"

That's so sweet, that's so sweet that it makes you feel bad for purposely avoiding chan. It isn't even that you're actually avoiding him, it's more like, you don't want to spend as much time with him, as you wanted before, but why? You walked towards your room, the package and flowers laying in the dinning room, untouched.

You fell face flat on your bed and groaned, turning over to your back. You didn't want to think about what happened that day, or what was wrong with you, but it seems like you have no choice. You love Chan and you don't want this dream relationship to end.

You've sat up in your bed and stared at your walk, for good 5 minutes before you decided to think about what happened the past weeks.

You thought about what chan said, all those hurtful things, his actions, your and his behavior, about what changed in your behavior...

That's when it hits you. You did, in fact, on purpose avoid him, but not because something is actually wrong with you, it's just that the words he said, the way he ignored you for a whole week, you took it all very serious, you took it to heart.

It's not that you hate him, it's that you hate the fact that you are who you are, that you're in fact clingy and over caring and that you don't want him to think that of you. That you avoid being with him so he doesn't say something like that every again.

Now that you think about it, it's just so stupid. He would never honestly think like that....would he?

You lay down on your bed, staring up at the ceiling. Maybe you should meet up with him again? You do miss him...but what if it ends like that day before...?

You groan and roll around in your bed, when you get a message on your phone

Should you just ignore the message?.... But then nothing would change.... Maybe you should talk to him about it, tell him how you feel and how much his words, did hurt you.... This would be for the best.

You stood up from your bed and went to the door, opening it.

There was a bag, filled with noodles, sushi, even soju. You picked it up and went inside again, leaving the door open for chan to enter.

You've placed the food on the dining table, put the flowers in a vase, took out 2 pairs of chopsticks out of your cabinet and two cups.

Shortly after, you heared chan's voice, as he entered your apartment.

"Baby, i'm here!" he yelled, a little too loud, you got a headache already, or it's just because you weren't used to loud sounds anymore, since you haven't been around the boys anymore.

Chan entered the dining room and back hugged you. You melt into his touch, a warm hug, filled with love. You've missed that, but the voices in the back of your head are screaming your clingyness, so you back away, as fast as you melted.

"Sit down and eat with me" you stated, and waited for Chan to sit down, before you took a seat yourself. You've missed this. Sitting at the same table with him, eating together, spending time, you grabbed your chopsticks.

But what if he thinks you're clingy right now too?... The grip on your chopsticks tighten, which didn't get unnoticed by Chan, who laid his own, to the side. "Y/n, Baby, what's going on? I can tell there's something off and you wanted to talk about something..." Silence. "Y/n love ple-" "What you said..." you interrupted.

"What you said that day, really hurt me. I've just noticed that it really affects me and I don't know what to do about it" you were on the verge of crying, but you didn't care. There's nothing that can stop the waterfall of words now.

"I love you, I really do. I miss you so much, I want to spend so much time with you as before but..." you sob out and let the tears fall, which Chan wiped away with his thumb. "But everytime i'm around you my brain says that you don't like it that i'm around, that you think i'm clingy...even now-" "No." your endless sobs were interrupted by chan.

"No I could never. Never ever could I think you're too clingy, never would I not like you being around me. I took your sweet, caring and affectionate personality by granted, and doing so and saying that, were my biggest mistakes ever" Chan stood up and walked over to you, squatting in front of you, wiping away your tears.

"I'll tell you that as often as I need to, as you want me to, you're my life, my everything and I could never replace you with anything or anyone. Cling to me as much as you want, I don't know, come to the toilet with me, do whatever you want, you can have it, you deserve it my love." He kisses your cheek, as you started crying even more.

"Don't stain your pretty face with tears again because of me please" he rubs your cheek, staring into your eyes and your mind is suddenly so clear. That's what you want, what you need, is right there in front of you.

"Channie...my love...you're...i love you I'm sorry I'm so clingy sometimes..."

"No. You're not clingy at all. You're loving and that's why I adore you even more day by day, that's why I love you even more day by day, and this will never change. We're getting through it. Together and forever clinging to each other."

xxxfew weeks laterxxx

"Babe am I too clingy...? Do you want me to get off you?" you ask him. You were currently curled up on Chan's lap in his chest, on the couch watching a movie. "No love, I love having you so close" he smiles down at you. "Are you sure...? I can get off you know?..." "More than very sure" he holds you tighter. Even though it's the 10th time you've asked him that in less than 10 minutes, he still says the same. Maybe it's not bad at all, being clingy. After all it's your man you're clinging to, no?

THE END TEEHEEE

⁺˚*･༓☾✧༺🖤༻✧✧༺🖤༻✧✧༺🖤༻✧☽༓･*˚⁺

@stay-tiny-things @finnbbl @emilyywhyy @wolfs-howling @justastraymoa @loveyouamory @muraae @callmekdab @seungquokka @vive-la-v-i-d-a @sunghoonnolgy @hwonsstuff @hwayne2294 @nilla56 @stephanieeeyang @lailac13 @mmarusa @chanchansgirly @kkamismom12

[pedropascallme]

☆Kinktober 2024☆

Day 22: Jealous sex

Pairing: Din Djarin x f!Reader

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI!!!!) jealous!possessive!Din, degradation (Din calls reader a whore), fingering, dirty talk, lowkey a lot of fluff, if I missed anything please let me know!

In the Cantina, he seemed tense. If you could even call it that.

Really, was there ever a waking moment where Din didn’t look at least a little robotic beneath his armor? Holding himself up with rigid muscles to support the way he already towered over contacts and passersby?

Greef didn’t seem to notice, or maybe he didn’t care. Most of his focus was on you, anyway.

“Always happy to have you around for a visit, little lady.” He’d said, the warm smile he always wore shining a little brighter when he’d seen you accompanying Din.

You tried to tune out their conversation. Per usual, it didn’t pertain to you—not in the way it did to Din, anyway; you’d know dates and times, but you didn’t much care to know whether a bounty would be brought in cold or not.

All that mattered to you was what system you’d be in and how long Din would be gone, and when that part of the conversation ended, so, too, did your interest.

But Karga always kept it interesting. Trying to include you, trying to include the kid; he cooed over the baby’s cradle, buying you a drink and offering to “buy Mando one just so you can have a little extra for coming all this way for business.”

Din’s hand never left your thigh, perched just under the hem of your dress.

And it didn’t really come off as anything out of the ordinary; on the contrary, it was one of the few subtle gestures of affection he allowed himself when outside the comfort of the ship.

But when you laughed at Greef’s jokes, Din’s fingers tightened; when you leaned in to listen to the hushed words Greef spoke over the table, Din’s hand moved upwards beneath the hem of your dress.

And that was new.

When you’d offered Greef a pat on the back that turned into a friendly hug goodbye as you prepared to leave, Din grunted out a low “Alright.”

And that was new, too.

When you began the trek back to the Crest, he was typically silent. There was no mention of what had happened at the cantina on Din’s part, and you followed suit, unsure if it was even worthy of bringing up.

He was certainly walking faster, though, as if the weight of the beskar suddenly disappeared. He seemed eager to get to the ship—which was understandable, meetings with Greef were always somewhat bleak, even when they were friendly.

After a drawn-out walk riddled with silence, the Crest was a welcome respite to your uncertainty.

You put the kid to bed, closing the top of his bassinet and letting it float idly in the kitchenette. You stood in your room, internally debating whether or not you wanted to find Din, wherever he had tucked himself away, or if you should give into the urge to fall asleep.

Your questions were answered when he walked in behind you, door closing after him.

“I don’t like the way he looks at you.” It was sudden and terse, spoken like a true Mandalorian.

“Who?” You turned yourself to look up at him, furrowing your brow and pairing it with a soft smile. “Greef?”

Silence. Then; “It’s unprofessional.”

“It’s unprofessional to bring your partner to a business meeting.” You countered with a smirk.

“It isn’t funny,” Din wasn’t going to let this go. “I think it’s…negligent.”

“On your part or his?” You continued to make light of his comments. “Din—it’s just Greef.”

“He’s not the only one.”

“Only one I’ve noticed,” you sighed, “And he’s old, Din, he’s being nice.”

“I’m old, cyare,” Din took a step forward and you smiled. “And I’ve noticed. Can’t go anywhere without people trying to break their neck to get a good look at you.”

“He’s older than you,” you clarified, “And they’re staring at the kid and his funny ears. Even if they were looking at me—I don’t care.”  

Din huffed beneath his helmet, and you could only imagine that he was rolling his eyes, frustrated by your lack of regard to his worry.

“Din…” now you took a step closer to him, “Are you jealous of the attention I get?” Your lip curled into a coy smile, pressing a hand to his armor-clad chest.

“No,” he let you touch him, “Irritated that people try to make a display of what’s mine.” He placed his hand over yours where it sat on his chest.

“Then do something about it.” You looked at his gloved hand engulfing your own.

There was another pause, longer this time, and it made you shift on your feet in anticipation. But Din didn’t keep you waiting, grabbing you by the waist and maneuvering you onto your back on the cot. Your legs hung over the edge, and you propped yourself up on your elbows to get a good look of him where he stood before you.

“Do something about it?” He asked, but not for an answer. “Do you need a reminder, mesh’la?”

“A reminder of what?” You played dumb.

“Need me to remind you whose you are?” He leaned forward, pushing your legs open with his knee and slotting his thigh between your legs. “Who you belong to…”

“I could—I could use a memory aid.” Your breath hitched when he pressed his thigh firmly against your clothed cunt.

Din’s head tilted down to look at you. “Figured.”

He finally put his hands on you after what felt like forever; undoing the buttons that lined the front of your dress with haste, rather than ease. He fumbled over some of them, opting to stop when he’d exposed your chest.

“Just—” he took a step back, hands finding your thighs and pulling. “Lift your hips.”

You obliged, moving your hips to give him the space to hike up your dress and strip you of your underwear. He threw it onto the bed, not focused on where it would land, without removing his gaze from you.

“What do you want? My mouth? Huh?” He reached under the hem of your half-buttoned dress and pressed his hand onto your stomach, just above where you needed him. “Tell me. Tell me so I can remind you how good I make you feel.”

“Anything,” you mumbled up at him. “You can do anything.” You rested your hand on top of his over your rumpled dress.

“You’re a whore,” he huffed a quick laugh. His hand slipped from under your dress, moving to join his other in removing his helmet. “You’re a greedy whore.” Unmodulated, the words still packed no bite—he was jealous, yes, but he didn’t mean what he said; he just knew they’d turn you into putty in his hands and get you to say what he wanted to hear.

“I’m your whore.” You smiled when the weight of the helmet fell onto the cot, gazing at him in admiration and lust. His eyes were just as blown out as yours, his hair messy and sticking to his forehead.

Din, in all his glory. Riled up and needy and yours.

He didn’t grace you with a response, kneeling in front of you and bringing his face to your cunt. His hands pushed against the skin of your inner thighs, encouraging you to keep your legs open for him as he licked a stripe up your slit.

“Would you let them taste you?” He mumbled, his tongue reaching your clit and flicking at it gently.

You whimpered a response. It wasn’t as if Din never went down on you—in fact, when he’d first taken his helmet off in front of you, it’s all he wanted to do for about a week—but in this state, the way he teased and the need in his words made you feel a hot ache in your core.

“Would you?” He pushed, moving his hand to graze gloved fingers over your cunt.

“No!” You gasped when he pushed a finger inside of you; the leather of his glove was warm and struggled against your walls, even dripping as you were.

But your gratification of being filled countered any discomfort, and a brief glance down at Din proved that he was just as entranced by the look as you were by the feeling.

“Only me,” he looked up at you through lidded eyes, lips parted to allow the words to come out in a gruff whisper. “Tell me.”

“Only you, Din,” you reached for him, trying to find his free hand to ground you to him. He allowed you to grab at his fingers, lacing them with yours. “I only ever want you.”

“Yes,” he breathed, clearly satisfied. Part of him, though, still wanted more, and he pushed another finger into you to watch your back arch. “Mine.”

“Yours,” you reassured, “I’m yours. Always.”

He growled then, no longer interested in drawing this out and staking his claim—he knew his jealousy was unwarranted, knew that you would always be his and he, in turn, would always be yours.

He just disliked the idea of anybody looking at you with malintent; hated the voice that crept into his head that perhaps someday it would be someone that could give you more, and that you’d see him for the washout he thought he was.

But you didn’t. You wouldn’t. You were his, always.

You said as much.

He sucked your clit between his lips, flicking his tongue over the swollen bud as he increased the pressure of the suction, curling his fingers into you.

You hooked a knee behind him, overwhelmed by the pleasure but still bent on feeling more of him. He grunted, increasing the pace at which he thrusted his fingers in and out of you, and your back arched off the cot in excitement.

“Cum,” he was practically begging, so eager to feel you clench his fingers and shake for him. “Cum for me. Show me you’re mine, cyar’ika.”

He pressed the pads of his fingers up and into the spongy spot he knew so well, watching you come undone for him.

“Din it’s—I—yes, yes…!” Your moans were breathy and barely coherent, focused only on the pleasure he provided. Your legs spasmed around him, walls squeezing his fingers, and he continued to lap at you through your high.

You tugged on his hair, overstimulated and exhausted. He took the hint, rising to sit on the edge of the bed and look over you.

“Would you let them make you cum like that?” He pressed a kiss to the exposed skin of your chest, licking over your nipple.

You shivered, cupping the back of his head.

“Couldn’t let them,” you sighed happily, “Nobody but you could ever make me cum like that.”

That earned you a soft growl, and he removed himself from your chest to kiss your jaw, stubble tickling your skin.

“That’s right.” He breathed against you, leaning back to lie down next to you sideways in the cot.

“Never have to worry,” you curled into him, “I’m yours, Din. There’s nobody else but you. There never will be.”

“I know, cyare,” he wrapped an arm around you, tugging you into him and pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I’m yours.”

[boiohboii]

7. Appreciative

(Lewis Hamilton x reader)

Dating Lewis was hard, yn knew that agreeing to go on that date, and he knew how much she suffered so why not show his appreciation for the girl he loves.

From this list

WARNING: NOT PROOF READ, NOT ACCURATE. if I missed anything, pls lmk.

main masterlist

12 descriptions of a lover masterlist

Lewis saw how yn hesitated when he asked her out, he saw the subtle fidgeting of her fingers around each other and her teeth pulling on the corners of her mouth from the inside. He knew why she would feel nervous, he understands, but he couldn't -wouldn't- back down.

Now after 2 years of being together, he knows that he'd made the right choice in pursuing her, she's been his anchor, the one he can lean on and show what he feels freely. She was there when the car started to go to shit, she was there when things started to be tense between him and toto and she is there through the move to ferrari.

Lewis isn't an idiot, he knows that he can't just be the 1st driver, not while their prince- Charles Leclerc- is there. He knows that even the 7 championships he has under his belt and his experience won't simply make Charles roll over. He also knows that the media has been hounding at him and yn to even get one word out of them so that they could twist it into a worthy clickbait headline. He saw the videos on twitter of people waiting for his girlfriend outside of her work place so that they could ask her about anything and everything.

Deciding to make use of the small break in between races, Lewis had yn fly to Monaco so that they could spend a week there, nothing but the beach, their jetski, their yacht and Roscoe.

"Hello love," Lewis pulled yn in a hug, sinking into her as her scent washed over him. Home. "How was the flight?"

"It was alright," yn mumbled into his chest "missed you."

Feeling movement near her ankles yn giggles a bit,

"and you too baby."

Untangling herself from Lewis, yn leaned over to pick up the dog, well, she tried at least, it was kind of hard to when he was barking and licking her face in affection, signaling that he, too, missed his female owner.

Monaco's streets were such a sight in the evening, with the sun setting the sea in view and the houses blending into the mountains in the background at the sides. It was heavenly.

Yn had always dreamed of staying at a seaside house, to just spend the vacation there with her swimming till the sun set and nothing in mind. Just the sound of the waves hitting the rocks and the feeling of the sand underneath her feet as she lets the water mover her back and forth.

Parking in front of a two story house, yn looked at the painted exterior, the tent made specifically for parking where there was already a jetski and a small boat.

"um lew, did you rent another jet? And why is there a mini yacht"

"Sweetheart, that's a boat." Lewis chuckled

"Okay, why is there a boat? And a jetski different than yours?"

"How about you take these keys, go inside while I bring our bags and then I'll explain, yeah?"

Walking over Lewis kissed her forehead as she hummed in agreement.

Opening the blue painted door, yn searched for a chair to place it in front of it so that it won't close due to the wind, locking Lewis out.

Done with her mission yn looked around being met with a lot of colors that somehow work together.

A round, Olympic bronze wooden dinning table with four chairs in satin purse seatings, a light orange couch with light rosewood, light violet and blue violet cushions and a dark rosewood wooden table with a bunch of papers on the top.

Now, yn knows that Lewis doesn't place anything important anywhere, he is quite organised with where he places everything, so normally she thought that they were just trash and as she was going to throw them out she saw her name out of the corner of her eye.

OWNER: YN LN.

"What the fuck" yn whispered in confusion, her fingers moving the papers, flipping through them.

"LEWIS HAMILTON!" yn started as she moved through the living room, making her way to her boyfriend who was at the trunk of the car getting out her small suitcase.

"Why the hell is there 3 leases with my name on them?!"

"Ah, shit," Lewis looked at her with pleading eyes as he quickly and gently placed her suitcase on the ground "hold on love."

"Lewis,"

"How about you let me tell you everything and then you can decide if you wanna keep them or not, okay?"

Taking her silence as an agreement Lewis continued,

"I know that you think this is too much, I know that you don't need this stuff, I know that you won't easily accept it and that it will take you a while to treat these things as your own, but I got them for you because of who you are to me, how you made me feel safe and heard. How you make me feel comfortable anywhere we go and how much you do for me. You help me when I'm stressed, you stay by my side when I'm sick or when I'm feeling down, you listen to me and you offer solutions to my problems, you ask me what I need or what I am looking for and you bring it to the table when I want it. You do everything right by me.

I know that you will say that I do the same and I am glad that you noticed my efforts and my love for you, but I just," sighing, Lewis took a minute to collect his thoughts.

"It felt right, it felt right to get you a house that you always dreamed of where you can spend as much time as you want, it felt right to get you a boat so you could enjoy it with whomever you wish and it felt right to get you the jetski cause it's the one thing that makes you seem like a little kid in a candy store, it makes your eyes sparkle with so much joy.

I want you to have all of that, I want to know that you are living a dream you always had even if we don't make it. Although, don't think I'll let you go that easily, in this lifetime or the next ones." Lewis joked, earning a chuckle out of a teary eyed yn.

"I love you yn," Lewis said earnestly as he took a hold of her hand, "I love everything about you. I appreciate everything you do for me and I will do everything I can to always make you happy, I swear it love."

Kissing the palm of her hand was the last straw for yn, tears falling onto her cheeks as she looked at the man she loves.

She felt so much love in these few minutes that her brain couldn't comprehend it. The words that came out of Lewis made her feel like the only woman in the world, they made her feel special and these words stayed in her mind among the memories of why she'd marry Lewis and die beside him.

Taglist: @raizelchrysanderoctavius

[st4rr-girrl]

cheater pt 2 please 🥹

Cheater Pt 2

M.R x Fem! Reader

Summary; Mattheo Riddle, one of your close friends notices your sad energy. He attempts to cheer you up.

Thanks for the request, enjoy! xx

Warnings; swearing, angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of smut/implied sexual intercourse, nicknames; bunny & Mi Amor

Side note; Bunny is ur nickname that Mattheo gave you a long time ago, like when you were little. You found a bunny at the park and adopted it and he started calling you bunny. (Idk thought it was cute)

A/n: Should I make this a series? I know I never finish my other ones bc idk where the plot is going nd I lose motivation but ik what to write for this.

Now playing; never felt so alone -labrinth

Up next; see how I circle/labryrinth

Staring at your plate, filled with foods you would normally dig into, you felt an inexplainable emptiness in the pit of your stomach. Some people were already heading off to their dorms for a good nights sleep, since the school year was almost over and finals were coming up.

Although you were surrounded by people you loved, you still felt a bit lonely. You lost the one person who understood how you felt. You didn’t miss his longing gaze, that stared at your melancholy expression. He wanted nothing more than to hug you and tell Astoria to fuck off, but he understood what he did was wrong.

You’re just protecting yourself.

You glanced at your long-time friend, Mattheo, who was shooting daggers at Draco.

Just as your thoughts were about to consume you, Pansy spoke up. “Earth to Y/n?” She noticed the sad expression on your tired face, and attempted to cheer you up.

“Sorry.” You furrowed your brows and shook your head. “What were you saying?” Pansy pulled you out of your trance-like state.

“We were just debating which was better; butter-beer, or chocolate frogs.” Pansy raised a brow, awaiting your answer.

“Well chocolate frogs are good,” Pansy felt hopeful that at-least one person would agree with her about her favorite treat. “-but…” her face dropped. “Sorry Pansy, chocolate frogs get away too easily! And butter-beer is top tier.” You raised your hands in defense, while Pansy sighed and admitted defeat while Theodore teased her. A spark of happiness fluttering for a moment. You smiled contentedly, before you felt that damn stare.

You frowned and bounced your leg up and down. You felt a hand on your bouncing leg, and looked up. Mattheo was smiling reassuringly. “You ok?” He whispered, gazing at you with adoration. You two were in your own little world while the others talked. He gently grabbed both of your hands.

You smiled softly, about to answer when Astoria came in. She sat on Draco’s lap and stared right at you with a devilish grin.

Your eyes widened slightly, while tears filled your eyes. Draco could no longer face you without shame. You bit your lip and faced back to Mattheo who glared at Draco and Astoria.

“I think I need some air.” You said quickly, pulling your hands from Mattheo softly as you rushed out of the dinning room.

You headed through the halls, not noticing the tall male that followed behind you.

You debated where to go, before your mind lingered around going to the astronomy tower.

So thats where you went. You ran up the stairs and collapsed to the floor, holding yourself while sobs wracked through your body.

Someone sat beside you, and you sniffled before glancing up. It was Mattheo. A part of you was expecting Draco to be there, but it was nothing more than a silly thought. Besides, seeing Mattheo was a lot better than seeing Draco. A pleasant surprise if you will.

Mattheo pulled out a cigarette, putting it to his lips and lighting it. He handed you one.

“Mattheo, you really need to stop smoking.” You said, but still took the cigarette and let him light it.

“I’ll stop when you stop.” He smiled, making you shake your head and smile, while wiping your tears. You didn’t wanna cry in front of him. It was embarrassing, even though you’ve known him forever.

You took a puff of the cigarette as Mattheo scooted closer and wrapped an arm around your waist.

You leaned your head against him. You too were super affectionate before you started dating Draco. You’d cuddle, hug, a kiss on the cheek or head every now and then, but Draco was upset with this. Reasonably, of course, but it cause you and Mattheo to drift apart slightly. Draco was always possessive of you, so you saw less and less of your friends. Ironic, huh.

So this type of affection usually wouldn’t make you flustered, or give you butterflies; but it did. Heat crept up your neck, and you felt nauseous, as if butterflies were flying in your stomach.

“Yknow…” Mattheo said, disturbing the comforting silence. You hummed, looking up and noticing he was already glancing down at you. “There’s a bright side to this.”

You raised a brow. “And that is?”

“I can tell you something I’ve always wanted to.”

“And that is?” This caught your attention.

“I really like you, Bunny.” Your eyes widened as you stared, searching for anything that would tell you that this was some type of sick joke.

Gladly, there was no trace of him playing with your feelings. Only raw, sentimental emotion.

“I-I really like you too, Mattheo.” Your mouth tripped over your words as a faint blush crept up your neck to your cheeks. He cupped your cheek with the hand that didn’t hold a cigarette. You cupped his cheek as well, but your hand did hold a cigarette.

You both leaned in slowly, meeting one another in the middle. You smiled into the kiss, and melted in his hands.

You got on his lap and grinded, the once innocent kiss turning into something less innocent.

One things led to another and….

—

You shifted in your sleep, feeling a warm pair of strong arms wrapped around you. You smiled contentedly, turning around and facing Mattheo. To your surprise, he was already awake.

“Hey, bunny.” He said, smiling at the nickname he gave you a long while back.

“Hello Mi amor.” Mattheo spoke Spanish, and you took a few classes with him, so you started calling him that.

“Are we official?” He asks.

“What do you mean?” You ask with a raised brow. “I mean we had sex, so I’d like to believe we’re official.” You laugh, as he laughs along. His laugh vibrates his chest, and it give you butterflies.

“We should probably get ready for class.” You considered, softly getting up from the bed. “We don’t want anyone catching us in the same dorm room do we?” You added, before he could protest.

“Finee.” He groaned, getting out of bed gingerly.

He kissed your cheek, before you left to your dorm with all your school clothes in your hands.

—

Time rolled by quickly, and it was now dinner.

You were late, per usual, but this time your melancholy expression was replaced with one of happiness.

Astoria was sitting on Draco’s lap, and staring at you with confusion. Why weren’t you upset?

You strolled happily to the slytherin table, and took your seat right on Mattheo’s lap. You stared at Astoria with pride, and scowled at Draco.

Kissing Mattheo on the cheek, though it was not for revenge. You just loved him.

And this time, you were not letting anything get in the way of that.

[dameronology]

how about what would happen if the star wars boys made you cry 👀

ok i kinda did this in the scenario that you're arguing and they make you cry

characters: din, poe, finn, han, luke & obi-wan

din djarin

he is HORRIFIED the minute tears spring from your eyes

maybe you're fighting, maybe he got stressed and said something in the heat of moment, whatever it is, he's immediately forgotten about what he was mad about and he's by your side, floods of apologies coming from his mouth and gloved hands taking yours

he just kinda pulls you into his chest and holds you for a moment and my GOD he wants the world to swallow him up because he loves you more than anything in the world and he normally hates whoever makes you cry but right now it's him

truth is, you know din and you know that he would never do anything to intentionally hurt you so as far as apologies go, it's one you accept pretty quickly

he's gonna apologise for like a week after that

even if it becomes annoying

poe dameron

poe just sort of freezes and has this "oh fuck" look on his face

"oh god, don't cry. please don't cry. did i make you cry? oh my god. i made you cry."

and then he probably starts crying too

because he always wants to cry when you cry but the fact that he's the one responsible for it? woo boy

he swallows it down though and doesn't let you see because he doesn't want to seem like he's taking away from what he's done

his immediate reaction is to want to hug you, but he waits for a moment to see if you'll let him because he doesn't know if you're gonna swing at him tbh

if you let him, he holds you fucking tight. he doesn't apologise then and there, though, not until things have calmed down - normally a few moments later - that he says sorry and you know it's from the bottom of his heart

he goes out his way over the next few days to make it up to you; flowers, dinner, a romantic trip to a distant planet, but above all, he makes an active effort to never let it happen again

and that's what matters most

finn

honestly finn looks like a kicked puppy

because he tries so hard to never argue with you or get mad EXACTLY FOR THIS REASON and he has failed in his attempts and oh lord he wants to die

he doesn't jump immediately to apologising, mostly because he wants you to say what you need to say and he doesn't want to talk over you

and he listens!! he wants to know what he did and what he said so that it never happens again

then he apologises, and it's always straight to the point but still eloquent and meaningful

finn isn't gonna be the kinda guy who apologises for days (oh, din) or goes out his way to shower you in sorry gifts (ah, poe) because mostly he just wants to move on from it and get back to a good place with you but it's like...not in a way that he forgets about it??

it's more of a thing that he hates things being off with you. like it literally kills him inside. so he encourages you to both move forward and get back to the good stuff.

but he also makes it clear that he has learnt from it

han solo

han literally doesn't know what to do. he can barely handle people crying at the best of times but when a) it's you and b) you're crying because of him?

his immediate reaction is to run, because it's han and he always wants to peg it away from every single issue but his chest hurts at the idea and it hurts even more when he knows he's the bastard that made you cry

he just goes silent and is kinda 🧍‍♂️for a second because his brain is computing but then he realises that he does know what to do when you cry and that's attack the thing that upset you

then he realises that he can't do that and goes "well i can't fucking blast myself, so i don't really know what to do right now" and it's stupid and dumb and oh my god han read the fucking room but at least it breaks the ice a little bit and you smile

because, despite everything and despite han being...well, han, you know he's trying his best and the fact he's even still in front of you is actually something of a miracle

that's your cue to rip into him, by the way, because even if you're crying it is canon that the only way to get han solo to listen to you is to tear him a new one (or three) so he will stand there and take the bollocking

after that, he apologises. han isn't good with words so it's a little bit spacey and awkward but the intent is there

but he also makes it abundantly clear that he never means to hurt you and you know, from the bottom of his heart, that he means it

luke skywalker

luke literally stops in his tracks and he's holding you immediately and going "i didn't mean that, i really didn't mean that, please don't hate me"

literally his entire facade his gone - the stubbornness, whatever he's arguing about - just disappears and he realises immediately that none of it is worth making you cry

so the man is literally holding you before your tears even start and he's already apologising over and over

he does want to listen to you though and hear what you have to say, so he's all ears

tbh, it's hard to stay angry at luke for long because you know he's completely pure intentioned and good hearted but you can absolutely opt to give him the silent treatment or take space for as long as you need and he will let you do it

after that, he buys you flowers and will make it up to you in every way he knows how

obi-wan kenobi

out of everyone on the list, obi-wan is the one who is the most shooketh to his core when he realises that he's made you cry

because he's so chivalrous and loving and might as well live to serve you so the idea that he's hurt you is quite possibly his greatest fear come true

his immediate reaction is to give you space. he'll apologise first and let you know that he's ready to talk whenever you are, simply because he doesn't want to overstep or push you to make up until you're ready

but as soon as you are, he's all ears and listening to everything you have to say

again - and i feel like i'm saying this for every character here lol - you know that he'd never hurt you intentionally and although that's the main, the proof is in the pudding when he actively listens to you and makes an effort to avoid it happening again

[90smaximoff]

Three reasons.

g¡p!stepsister!wanda x fem!reader

summary: once you got a new stepsister who couldn’t keep her eyes out of you, you knew your life wouldn’t be the same.

words: 2k

warnings: smut (+18), g¡p wanda, stepcest, mentions of pervy behavior, masturbation, blowjob, dirty talk, degradation, cum eating, wanda being an asshole, yk, (also bad writing i wrote this in less than an hour) if you feel uncomfortable don’t read.

Since your dad married Wanda’s mother, a lot of things changed in your life. First, you had to move to your new stepmother’s house, your dad said that was bigger and that would be comfortable for all the family. Second, you got a new step sister, first, you were interested in her, living with another teenager made you anxious but you find out that most of the time was like Wanda wasn’t even there, she’s always in her own room, and months passed with just basic words being shared between you guys. 

But, soon, you started to think that your step sister was wanting to fuck you. Nothing that you’re disgusted by, after all, Wanda was hella hot and you two didn’t have the relationship of sisters. 

First, you noticed the way she stares at you. Her beautiful green eyes seemed to be wanting to devour you every time she was near you, always looking away when you catch her staring, in the living room, kitchen, or even some expensive restaurant that your dad takes the family, she always have an eye on you, not that you would do something about it.

Second, happened on a normal thursday, when your shower had broken for some plumbing issues and your step mother suggested to you take your shower in Wanda’s bathroom instead for a couple days, which none of you seen any problem. 

Everything would be very normal, if wasn’t for the fact that when you were leaving the bathroom, with nothing but your towel around your body and your wet hair, Wanda was waiting, really close to the door. You almost bumped into her, but noticed her taller body before, stopping and standing just a few inches away from her face. Wanda didn’t make a single movement to move away from you, actually, she didn’t seem bothered at your lack of distance.

“I know what you’re doing.” You whispered under your breath, in a tone that only she could hear. 

“Yeah? And you like it?” She gives you a smile that makes your knees buckle and for a second all you wanted was kiss her lips and take that cocky smile off her face. 

You didn’t respond after that, taking every strength in your body to get away from her and go to your room, not even looking back to see if she was looking at you. 

The third, and last reason you was sure Wanda wanted to fuck you, was when your friend was throwing a party. You dressed real nice, a little black dress that hugged your body beautifully and your make up made with perfection, you looked at the mirror and had sure you was looking good. 

When you enter the dinning room, just to tell your dad that you was leaving, he almost chocked with his food. The whole family was having dinner, including Wanda who had a similar reaction to the way you dressed. 

“You’re not going dressed like this!” He shouted and you roll your eyes. “At least put a jacket. And Wanda’s taking you.” Wanda’s eyes widened a bit, but she agreed promptly. 

You tried to argue, even knowing that was useless, your dad was protective over you and you knew it, so the best you could do was put a jacket and message your friend saying that your step sister was taking you and her ride was no longer needed, And that’s what you did.

Wanda opened the door of the car for you, but nothing between you both had been said until half of the way.

“You can leave the jacket in the car, if you want, i’m not telling your dad.” You looked at her and she seemed to be focused on the road, so you murmured a “thanks” and unbuttoned your jacket, putting it in the backseat. The rest of the road was a comfortable silence, even through both of you had a lot to say to each other. 

Wanda parked one street before your friend’s house, saying something about how probably there’s a lot of cars in front of the house already. The street was desert and dark and honestly you was kind afraid of leaving the car, but it would be only 2 minutes walking. 

“You know, you look pretty hot in that dress.” She commented, out of nowhere before you leave. 

You looked at her, chocked by what she just said.

“What’s wrong with you?” You asked in a harsh tone. Since what happened in the bathroom, you’ve been thinking a lot about her, how she almost don’t talk to you and still make sure to check you out every time she sees you.

“What?”

“You don’t even talk to me, Wanda! We’ve been living together for almost six months and i don’t even know you but you still act like you want to fuck me, checking me out all the time, waiting for me to leave the shower and now telling me that i look hot! What’s wrong with you?” This time, your tone was just honest, you keep your eyes on her all the time and she seemed to be surprised at your vent. Seconds passed and she didn’t say anything. “C’mon, just be honest, this don’t have to get weird.”

“You want me to be honest?” She finally speaks, giving you a cocky smile and making a nose crunch like she wanted to say something she couldn’t.

“Yes, please!”

“Okay, i’m gonna be honest! I want to fuck you, God, i want to fuck you so bad since the day i met you, but you’re my stepsister, this is wrong. Jerk off thinking about you, it’s wrong, stopping by your room door hoping to get a glimpse of you naked, it’s wrong, thinking about bending you over in ever surface of that damn kitchen every time i see you cooking, it’s wrong. Fuck it, it’s all wrong.” She says, letting out a loud sigh like she just takes a big weight off the shoulders.

It was your turn to be surprised, that was the first time you heard Wanda says more than two phrases for you and you surely wasn’t expecting that, all the thoughts of everything she just said running through your head. You would be lying if you said that you didn’t think about this or nothing of that turned you on.

“Yeah… this is wrong.” You looked into each other’s eyes and in the next second, you were kissing. 

You wasn’t even thinking straight, all you feel was Wanda’s soft lips guiding your in a desperate kiss, like she was waiting a long time for that, you put your hands on her face and she didn’t think twice on putting hers on your uncovered thighs. Even with that weird position in the car, that was one of the best kisses on your life.

The kiss became heated, Wanda slide her tongue in your mouth and gripped your thighs, making you almost let out a moan as you bring your hands to her bulge, feeling it get bigger at your touch and hearing Wanda let out a moan on your mouth, smiling, knowing what you was about to do.

When you feel that she was already completely hard, you opened her belt, breaking the kiss for a moment for her to lift up her hips and bring her pants down, with her underwear. Her cock was big, nothing scary, but pretty hard with a pink tip leaking precum, you almost lick your lip at the sight and quickly put your hand around the base. 

Wanda groaned at the contact of your small warm hand and sit back to her seat, putting one hand at your hair and caressing slightly. 

“I’m so hard for you.” She whispers, watching how you jerk her off, slowly bringing your hand up and down her cock, caressing the tip with your thumb before going down to her base again. 

“Yeah, your cock is so fucking big, can’t wait to have it inside me.” You says, jerking her off a little faster at each word, seeing her close her eyes and moan just at you talking dirty to her. 

You watched her carefully, her expression of pleasure would be on your mind all the time by now. 

Without thinking much, you lowered your body and put your mouth around her cock, feeling it heavy against your tongue, you couldn’t see Wanda from that position but for her moans and her hand at the back of your head holding your hair in a ponytail she definitely likes it as much as you. 

You hollowed your cheeks and swallowed her length, holding the base with your hand and stroking the rest that didn’t fit in your mouth, feeling her cock hit the back of your throat and reminding yourself to breathe through your nose, you bobbed your head up and down, in the same pace your hand was moments before. 

Wanda watched you mesmerized, your hot mouth on her cock was driving her insane and all the kinky nature of fuck her stepsister just makes it all hotter for her, she wanted to fuck your throat and cum all over your face but she didn’t know your limits, and honestly after fantasizing about you for so long wouldn’t take to much for her to reach her climax. 

“Fuck, that’s it, you like sucking your stepsister’s cock, don’t you? Fucking slut.” Her words made you feel the familiar discomfort between your legs, wanting to have some relief for yourself, but right now suck Wanda’s off was the only thing you wanted to do. Her cock feels heavy and hot on your mouth, her moans and groans was making you shiver and she was right; you liked suck your stepsister’s cock. 

You nodded the best you could with your mouth full and the discomfortable position on the seat.

Wanda didn’t take long to get closer, your tongue against her shaft and your hand stroking her cock was too intense for her, she starts to thrust into your mouth unconsciously, lifting her hips making her cock hit deeper in your throat.

“I’m gonna fucking cum and you will swallow all of it, don’t you, hm? Bet you want all of my cum, it’s that what you want? You want to be my cumslut?” Just a nod of your head and she explodes inside your mouth, painting your throat and mouth with white streaks, which you gladly swallow, savoring her taste and licking your lips at the end. 

You sit back at your seat again, giving Wanda a few kisses on her neck while she catches her breath and you slowly stopped your movements with your hand. 

“You taste so good.” You whispers against her neck, making her smile and caress your hair. 

When she stopped pant and you take your hand out of her cock, you waited for her to say something, anything, maybe just kiss you. But she did nothing. 

You were kinda disappointed by that, but didn’t say anything about, just got back to your position and pulled the mirror of the seat, checking yourself to make sure you wouldn’t got off of the car looking like you just sucked someone’s cock. 

The whole time, Wanda said nothing, all she did was look at you. 

When you’ve done and had sure you looked pretty even with your make up and hair a little messy, you looked at her again. 

“Don’t need to pick me up, Hailey’s giving me ride to home.” She nods her head and you got out of the car. 

Oh, how you wished she had said something, or even just kissed you. 

[azrielslightintheshadows]

Hello....i hope everything is going well! If you dont mind i have a request for rhysand where maybe reader has just given birth and has lately been feeling very insecure about her body and rhysand comforts her...with lots of fluff

Insecurities.

Rhysand x f!Reader

Masterlist

Warnings; body image issues, insecurities.

I really love the way the body changes when a woman gives birth. They all look like goddesses and no one can change my mind.

You stared at your reflection and sighed. Your body looked like it belonged to someone else making you want to scream and disappear. You knew this would happen when you started trying for a baby with your mate Rhysand, but you couldn’t think that it would make you feel so bad.

“What are you doing?” Rhysand’s deep voice startled you and you fixed your shirt covering your body.

“I need to start training again” you replied and turned your back on the mirror.

“You need to rest and heal” he said and approached you. He wrapped his arms around your waist and kissed your head. You shook your head and moved out of his grasp.

“I have to get ready for dinner” you whispered and opened the closet.

You heard the door of the house opening and closing again and your friends' voices filled the silence. Rhys nodded and left the room to join the rest of the inner circle. You waited for a few minutes and then left the room, you peeked into the dinning room from the stairway and noticed how elegant and beautiful the other females looked. The tears came back, and you ran back to the room. You tried on one of your favorite dresses and almost screamed when it didn’t fit. The only dress that fitted was sticking on your body in a weird way. You threw it on the bed and bit your trembling lip. Your glance fell on Rhysand’s closet.

Maybe I can find something there. You thought and opened the closet.

You wore one pair of leggings you had bought a few days before giving birth and one of Rhysand’s shirts, it was loose and reached your knees.

After fixing your hair you joined everyone in the dining room. Their eyes fell on you, and they smiled lovingly. Rhys furrowed his eyebrows when he noticed your outfit but remained silent. You took the seat next to him and he immediately grabbed your hand giving it a light squeeze and placing it on his lap.

Soon laughter and teasing sentences filled the room and you almost forgot about your insecurity, at least until Mor got up to reach the whine bottle. Your eyes scanned her body, the way the dress hugged her curves made your heart clench and you quickly looked the other way.

“I’m tired, excuse me” you mumbled and hurried off before anyone could reply.

Rhys stared at your back as you climbed the stairs with a frown.

“Dinner is over” he announced and followed you.

He walked into your shared bedroom and sighed when he noticed your shaking form curled on the bed.

“What happened baby?” he asked and sat next to you, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back.

“I can’t recognize my own body” you sobbed. Rhysand’s breath hitched, and he laid down behind you, his arms wrapping around your body as he spooned you and kissed the back of your head. His spicy scent filled your nostrils, and you sighed pressing your body against him.

“Sweetheart you gave birth two weeks ago, your body needs time to heal.” He whispered into your hair.

“I can’t even wear my favorite dress.” You cried out harder.

“I will get you a new one” he exclaimed.

You rolled your eyes at that “classic rich Rhysand” you mumbled, and he chuckled.

“Wait here” he said and got up, a few minutes later he returned with your tiny baby girl in his arms. You could barely see her as she was completely swallowed by your mate’s broad body and strong arms.

“Look what you made… look how precious she is.” He whispered and sat on the bed, laying your baby between the two of you. Her nose twitched at the sudden change of temperature making you smile because you knew that feeling, moving from your mate’s warmth to the cold sheets.

“Sweetheart you are so beautiful, and the way your body changed makes you even more irresistible. Your body is a miracle, every small change makes my heart skip a beat.” He continued and stared deep into your eyes.

“You are her mommy, look how beautiful she is, she looks just like you.” He smiled lovingly and caressed the baby’s cheek with his finger.

“Really?” you sniffled.

“Yes, and I’m the luckiest male on this world to have the two most beautiful girls by my side.” His gaze moved from you to your daughter and then back to you, you could feel the love and affection pouring out of him without the bond. His eyes showed everything.

“I love you” you whispered.

“I love you” he replied and laid down, his wings emerged from the darkness, and he draped one over your daughter and you.

That night you fell in love with your body again.

Hope you enjoyed it!

[swiftsmlb]

comfort - andrei iosivas

after a long day with classes, andrei comforts you.

warnings: mentions of stress and school, but other than that! just fluffy! a little short… but i hope you all like it!

a sigh escapes your lips as you enter your shared home with andrei. you immediately threw your bag down onto the carpet. sliding your air jordans off at the door. you hung your key up on the rack, before heading into the living room.

you had a stressful day. you had three exams and a project that was due. professors were piling on work adding to your stress. all you wanted to do was get college done and over with.

you needed to pass these exams to graduate. this year was your last year in college. so this was a very important year for you. your studies were important and stressful, to say the least.

all you wanted to do was cuddle with andrei. you thought about it all day. it was the off-season, so he was free.

your eyes spotted andrei, who was playing a game on his ps5. his beautiful eyes looked up at you — a smile appeared on his face.

but he noticed you weren’t yourself. something was up with you. and it bothered him. his smile dropped, before pausing the game and going up to you.

“are you okay baby?” he asked you. pulling you into a warm hug.

“just a stressful day,” you mumbled into his shoulder. a couple of tears falling from your eyes because of all the stress.

“i’m sorry love.” andrei replied, wiping your tears from your eyes. he hated to see you like this.

“how bout you go take a shower and i can order some dinner? take your time. okay?”

you nodded. andrei kissed your cheek. before you headed up the stairs. you walked into the bathroom, striping of all of your clothes.

you took your time like andrei said. washing all of your stresses away the best you could. following your shower routine and just relaxing as the warm water hits your bare skin.

once you were done, you got dressed. putting one of andrei’s shirts on and some comfy shorts. before walking downstairs.

the smell of your (favorite food) filled your nose immediately. a smile appeared on your lips as you walked into the dinning room. food was already placed on the table. and andrei had set it up all cute — with candles and your favorite drinks.

you walked over to him, wrapping your arms around his body. you kissed his cheek as a thank you. he was truly the best boyfriend.

“thank you andrei.”

andrei placed a kiss on your soft lips before speaking,

“i wanted to set something up nice for you.” he smiled down at you.

“i love you.”

“i love you more. now lets eat because i’m starving.” andrei confessed which made you laugh.

the two of you sat down and ate. the both of you talked and enjoyed each other's company. you loved moments like this. moments where you could just be alone with one another. without stress or things that bother you in your daily lives.

once you were done. andrei took the plates and cleaned up. telling you to go get comfy on the couch and wait for him. and that’s what you did.

andrei brought out two pints of ice cream, your favorite (flavor), and his. he cuddled up next to you. wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into him.

the both of you decided to watch your favorite tv show series while you ate your ice cream. you couldn’t think of a better way to spend your night. it was perfect. all the stress and worry that your day caused you, washed away. just being with andrei and all the little things he did for you.

you were just so thankful for him.

andrei was perfect.

[604to647]

Safest with You - Ch. 15 (The BBQ)

7K / Modern AU Retired Mob Enforcer!Din Djarin x fem!reader

Summary: You and Din attend a very special Fett Family BBQ hosted by the Damerons and you grow closer to the clan.

Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI please). F!oral, semi public car sex, unprotected PiV, rough-ish sex, established relationship, pet names as usual (pretty bird, baby, etc.), light daddy kink (really just a nickname).

A/N: Din's back! This is mainly a world building chapter with some heat at the end 🤭; it's not perfect but I wanted to put it out and get back into the groove of this story again. Thank you to everyone who waited patiently while I took a little posting break for this series. I missed them a lot and hope you're ready to jump back in it with me!

Series Masterlist

“Do you think we should have brought anything else?”

“One item should be good, pretty bird.  Lisa always makes too much food anyways,” says Din, looking down at the casserole dish full of garlic knots that you’re holding.

“Okay.  I just always feel like more food is better than less food,” you say, unsure.

“I think that's enough garlic knots to feed an army, sweetheart.”

“But Mayfeld asked for them!”

Din stops you at the end of the walkway leading up to the Dameron house and plants a soft kiss to your lips, “Thank you for feeding Miggs, baby.  If his mouth is full of your garlic knots, then we don’t have to hear him talk as much.”

“Din!”

He laughs and takes your hand as you head up to the front of the house, “Come on, admit it.  Mayfeld is your least favourite Mando.”

“He is not!” you’re scandalized by the accusation.

“Okay... who is your least favourite Mando then?”

Looking at Din with a look of mock annoyance, you jest, “Sometimes, it’s YOU.”  You swerve the hand that drops yours in an attempt to at swat of your bum. 

Letting yourselves in through the front door, you follow the chorus of voices to the kitchen; spinning as you walk through the foyer, you take in the splendor of the Dameron residence.  Not sure what you expected the house of an heir to a mob empire to look like, but you suppose this is as close to anything you might have imagined.  The house is fairly grand and seems to boast an inordinate number of chandeliers; dark carved wood and marble line the floors and walls - it looks like a good place to set a live action game of Clue.  When you round the corner to the kitchen, you’re struck by two things:

1) Din was right, Lisa made too much food.  Nearly all the counter top space is covered with plates and platters filled with meats, salads, breads, pastas.  You count eight charcuterie boards – they might be delineated by cheese region.  There are warming trays that have their bright blue butane flames lit underneath, already full of steaming dishes.  The breakfast nook seems to have been converted into some kind of dessert station with a 3-tiered buttercream iced cake at its centre.

2) Poe is being yelled at.

Din leans over to whisper in your ear, “Yes, it’s always like this.”

Poe spies you and Din and must decide that this is the distraction he’s been waiting for, because he gestures at his wife to turn around and welcome her guests.  You meet Lisa halfway, somewhere between the cocktail shrimp and the gazpacho; after hugging you and taking the garlic knots off your hands, she sighs and asks, dejectedly, “You wouldn’t happen to have Caesar salad dressing in your purse, would you?”

“Not today, sorry,” you quip.

“We can use another dressing!” Poe is holding his head in his hands.

“No,” grits Lisa through her teeth, “we cannot. It was requested.”

She says the last word with heavy emphasis; you take it that Poe was supposed to procure the Caesar salad dressing.  Din looks at you with an expression somewhere between amusement and a grimace, then mime points at the empty plates before giving Lisa a friendly squeeze of the shoulder.

Not letting him escape quite so easily, Lisa directs her question at Din but keeps her eyes fixed upon her husband, “Din.  Please remind Poe how very important it is that we accommodate the literal one food request that our very special guests made for today’s BBQ?”

Oh.  That’s why the Caesar salad is a big deal.  Although, you’ve been told, Fett family BBQs are a regular festive occurrence, this particular iteration was going to be more than the usual casual get-together.  Din had already given you the heads up that a few members of the Pyke Syndicate would be in attendance tonight and for a very special reason: Boba’s niece (by which sibling, you embarrassingly could not recall.  Boba seems to have a lot of siblings) had gotten herself engaged to Rikard Pyke, son of the head of the Syndicate.  It could have all been very Montague and Capulet-esque, except that young folks tend to more pragmatic than their elders gave them credit for; there was no secret relationship or ignoring the realities of their families – the happy couple openly announced their decision to date years ago after connecting at some unsuspecting mutual friend’s birthday party and had been inseparable ever since.  They weathered all of their respective families’ strong attempts to discourage the relationship, some deeming it impractical if not downright dangerous, with grace and unwavering resolve.  Cassandra and Rikard simply ignored all the naysayers and family politics and proceeded as two people in love would under normal, non-mob related circumstances:  they courted, they moved together, they intended to marry.  Tonight would be your first time meeting them, but you’re already predisposed to liking them.  Everyone in both families seemed to love them quite well and Din’s opinion was that they seem to be very much in love, a nice couple indeed.  “Rikard has a good head on his shoulders.  Seems like a good kid,” he had said.  When you chucked that he said it as if he hadn’t done a deep background check on the poor kid, Din had simply shrugged, looking sheepish.  The happy couple, however, were not the special guests to which Lisa was referring. 

In an effort to support the engaged couple, the Fetts and Pykes have been playing nice, knowing (and perhaps in some cases, resigned to the idea) that their families were soon to be connected by marriage.  You’ve been told that tonight, a few members of the Pyke Syndicate would be attending the BBQ as Cassandra and Boba’s special guests.  An extension of trust, a gesture of good faith, a coming together of brethren.  And apparently, they wanted Caesar salad.

Din attempts to hand Lisa an empty plate, perhaps to encourage her to eat as a distraction, but Poe quickly snatches it out of Din’s hand, likely afraid of Lisa throwing it at his head.  It’s not often you side with Poe, but you think he might be on to something.  “Does it have to be a specific type of Caesar dressing?” you ask Lisa, drawing her attention away from Poe.

“No,” she sighs, “they just asked for Caesar salad.  I would make one but I don’t have all the ingredients.”

“I can make a simplified Caesar vinaigrette? We can even make it a little spicy if you want,” you offer; it’s actually a fairly easy recipe - people who have tasted it always marvel that it doesn’t contain any anchovies, “Why don’t I make a batch?  You can taste it and see if it works?”

Lisa looks torn between wanting to kiss you and not wanting to let her husband off the hook so easily, but eventually the need to get things done wins out.  When Lisa turns to the fridge to get you the parmesan and elephant garlic you ask for, Poe mouths ‘I love you’ at you before escaping out the back door.  Din brings you a glass of wine before leaving with his own tower of food. 

You make quick work of the dressing, all while listening to Lisa vent about her husband’s inability to remember the simplest tasks; you nod at her sympathetically which seems to calm her down significantly, “Oh, I’m so sorry for venting.  I’m just so stressed out!  This barbeque has to go well!  The wedding is in a few short months and there is still so much I have to do!”

“You’re planning the wedding?” you ask, somewhat shocked.

Lisa nods, “I have help, of course, but Boba and Rikard’s dad, Lom, decided that it might be easier to keep the peace if someone other than the parents or higher-ups was in charge of the planning.  Someone more neutral,” she rolls her eyes, “You know, if you had started dating Din a few months earlier, it might have been you!”

You both giggle uncontrollably at this. 

Lisa is giving your vinaigrette the thumbs up when Fennec comes in, carrying a little white pit bull in her arms.  Lisa looks like she wants to say something about dogs in her kitchen, but thinks the better of it; you, on the other hand, greet Fennec warmly and Mochi with scritches and kisses. 

“Everything okay in here?” asks Fennec, “The Mods say that the Pykes are about 25 minutes away.”

You grin at the mention of the Mods.  While you haven’t met any of Fennec’s personal team of spies yet, you’re terribly curious about them.  Where the Mandos handled physical security, which could sometimes include on-site surveillance and reconnaissance, the Mods were straight up digital sleuths; they could dig up online dirt on anyone and no one has ever been beyond their digital reach. Apparently able to hack into even the most secure systems, they never failed to locate and capture footage of even the most elusive of targets.  You once wondered if Fennec had them dig up info on you; it was probably their most boring assignment to date if she had.

Their stealthy online behaviour unmatched, the Mods were just as elusive in the real world, often hiding in plain sight and doing their jobs expertly, unnoticed by the crowds.  You’re not sure how they managed to blend in so well given that they were all supposedly gorgeous and impossibly stylish – which is how they had come to be nicknamed The Mods (short for “The Models”); a fun fact you learned when you asked if the name was somehow a play on the Mando moniker.  Your hysterical guess of “The Mondos?” had earned you a tickle attack from Din that took your sides the better part of an hour to recover from.  Nevertheless, they had all been at Boba’s birthday and you can’t say you noticed any of them; though perhaps with everyone at that party having been dressed up to the nines, you had a lesser chance than usual of spotting a Mod.  You’re going to be on the look out again tonight.

“Everything is perfect!” beams Lisa, spearing a few dressed romaine leaves and a crouton on a fork and holding it out to Fennec.  You giggle as you watch Mochi try to lap at the fork with his little tongue; booping him on his little nose to distract him while Fennec eats, you coo, “You can’t have that, Mochi – it has too much garlic.”

Fennec makes noises of approval as she chews, “Good.  Everyone is on high alert, but once our guests eat and get comfortable, hopefully things will relax.”

With Lisa satisfied, the three of you make up your plates to head out and join the others in the backyard.  Just before opening the backdoor, Fennec turns and shrugs at you, “Oh.  Mayfeld saw Din and asked about… garlic knots?”

You giggle while Lisa rolls her eyes.  “No problem,” you grab the dish with your free hand and Lisa holds the door open for you and her to join the lively scene together.  The backyard is huge – the stairs from the deck descend to a large patio area, currently home to several L-shape formations of patio furniture, one of which is arranged around a fancy gas fire pit.  Several barbeques sit on the border of the patio and lawn, heat waves and smoke emanating from the food being grilled; Brian and Poe currently doing their best grill master impressions.  The expansive rolling lawn is littered with tables and chairs, ending only where you can see a pool filled with laughing and splashing children.  The entire backyard is bordered by a beautiful flower garden that wafts a sweet, sticky floral scent atop the aroma of cooked food.  There are dogs everywhere and you wish you had brought Al.

It's around one of the tables on the lawn that you find Din sitting with Boba and some Mandos, talking probably in a manner probably more serious than you would expect for a BBQ, but that doesn’t stop him from pulling you into his lap when you approach and encouraging you to stay and eat with a squeeze of your waist.  You hand the dish of garlic knots to Mayfeld who is already making the grabby hands gesture at you; when he’s got a firm grip on the casserole dish, Paz reaches out and smacks him on the back of the head, without breaking from what he’s saying to Boba, “… Peli says she’s okay.  Had to talk her down from staying behind with a baseball bat though.  We got it patched up before coming over.”

You look wide eyed at Din, worried.  Paz sees your expression as well and with a nod from Boba, loops you in, “Just a little vandalism, Lil’ Lady.  Someone just broke the knob off the drycleaner’s front door so Peli thought she was trapped inside before remembering she has a back door too.”

Nodding, you try to make a face like you’re relieved it’s ‘just a little vandalism’, but that must have been scary for Peli.  You know about the flare up of these types of incidents and other similar skirmishes from Din, of course, but you’re mainly removed from it all except for what Din tells you.  But Peli’s is close.  You know her.  The low hum of something… something like escalation feels like it’s just around the corner. 

“Peli is okay, pretty bird.  Not letting her stay with a baseball bat is safer for everyone, really,” Din smiles gently at you.  You grin at the image of Peli brandishing a baseball bat with her excitable mannerisms and think you agree; a pensive look crosses your face shortly after however, “It’s so close to the gym, though.”

Boba nods, “Too close.  The gym is safe – no one would be stupid enough to come near it.  But those nearby may be targets just because of proximity.  Paz – I trust you and Din to draw up patrol plans.”  Paz and Din nod - both men realizing, as well, the significance of Boba feeling confident enough to speak on security matters in front of you.  The implication is lost on you though, as you continue to eat Lisa’s delicious pasta salad while Din draws circles on your thigh, grinning proudly. 

Boba shifts topics, “Ok, when the Pykes get here, I want the perimeter already covered and everyone in flank positions, but discreetly.  This is supposed to be a fun time, alright?”

Everyone around the table nods, Bo and Paz get up to prepare, but everyone else remains, eating and casually chatting until Fennec announces, “They’re here,” after getting a notification on her phone.

Man, the Mods are good, you think, as Poe and Lisa disappear into the house even before the front doorbell chimes.  Poe’s exuberant voice can be heard from the backyard getting closer and closer until the kitchen door opens and he and Lisa step out, followed by six strangers.  The first two must be Cassandra and Rikard, the happy couple; they’re both beautiful and their easy-going smiles as they wave and greet everyone give you the sense that they’re the ones really grounding this entire, very unique, situation.  Behind them are four men, ages ranging from mid-20s to Boba’s age, each holding a plate loaded heavily with food.  With amusement, you notice the abundance of Caesar salad on each of their plates.

You feel Din’s lips by your ear, as he quietly acquaints you with tonight’s special guests. “The youngest one is Gorak – that’s Rikard’s cousin.  Kind of a little hothead, dabbles a bit in the boxing circuit.  He’s not bad, but no discipline, so we don’t see him in fights often.  The two twins are the uncles, Mok and Dokk; they head up some business lines for the Pykes that… Boba isn’t involved in.  There's no business conflict, so they’ve always been friendly.  The tall one in the back, that’s Marg, he’s like the consigliere – the Fennec to Rikard’s father.  He’s going to be here on behalf of the parents.”

“Rikard’s parents didn’t want to come?” you ask, curious.

“It’s not that.  It was decided they shouldn’t attend; if they did, it might look like business, like the Families were coming together for more than a barbeque.  Could make some other players nervous.  Sometimes the perception of an action means more than the actual intent.”

Oh, you think you see.  You suppose you have a lot to learn about this world. 

Fennec is right, the initial moments of everyone coming together is sort of awkward and tense, but after everyone’s got some food in their stomachs, things start to relax and the vibes in the backyard mellow once again.  All of this is helped along by Lisa’s excellent hostessing and Poe’s charm. 

Din introduces you to Cassandra and Rikard, and you’re immediately taken with them.  They’re smart, funny, and just incredibly down to earth.  You can see why this is the couple that could lead the two Families to put down their pitchforks.  They’re both junior associates at a law firm downtown; it’s not a firm any of your clients use but you mention that you have a friend, Jen, who practices family law at another firm, and the three of you trade some funny case anecdotes.  When the conversation turns to wedding planning, Din and Rikard excuse themselves while you, Lisa and Cass (as she now insists you call her) join some others on the lawn.

Cass is stressed.  Wedding planning is no joke and time consuming - time she doesn’t have a lot of; you remember your days as a junior at your firm and the hours being indeed relentless.  Even with Lisa and her aunties’ help, you can see she’s feeling at a bit of a loss.  You don’t want to volunteer Rory’s expertise, but you do offer to do some research on some vendors, figuring you can always ask Rory if your research results are up to snuff.  Cass says she wishes she was marrying you.

When Cass’s mom notes that you wore a lovely white dress to Boba’s birthday, you mention the name of Rory’s bridal boutique and all the women collectively swoon.  Apparently, they haven’t even bothered to try and shop there due to the exclusivity, but know all the best designs are there.  You very noncommittally say you’ll ask around to see if there are any openings, and find yourself in the middle of a very exuberant and high-pitched, squealing group hug.  Straining your neck out from the tangle of arms, you see Din and Paz looking over laughing.  Din is giving you a “What’s going on?” gesture with his hands while smiling broadly.  You smile back and mouth, “Help!” with good humour.

After the children are put to bed or taken home early, the drinks start to flow and the party hits a new level.  Someone brought cigars (Mayfeld?) and Boba and the Pyke men all partake, furling a light haze of smoke that hangs around the patio lantern lights.  You enjoy your wine while helping Lisa cleanup, periodically being pulled into side conversations with Cass or Mandos you know.  As much as you can, you curl up in Din’s lap and listen to him joke and chat with his friends.  It’s turned out to be a wonderful evening, despite you still not having spotted any of the Mods.

“I think they’re made up,” you whisper to Din, jokingly.

“No, no, they’re very real, they just live in the wires,” laughs Din, “like the Matrix.”

“Oh!  Well, if they look like Keanu and Carrie Ann Moss, then it’s no wonder they’re called the Models,” you say dreamily.

“Keanu, eh?  Is that your type?” Din nudges you ear with his nose teasingly.

“He’s everyone type,” you grin, still with a far-off look.

Din pretends to push you off his lap, “Well if that’s the case, then –” but he’s interrupted by raised voices coming from the middle of the lawn.  The two of you look over and you see Woves and Gorak facing each other, standing bodies rigid in aggressive stances, their lawn chairs tipped over backwards behind them. 

You can’t even process what they’re yelling about, just that the volume is increasing and the tone is getting sharper.  Koska comes to stand by Woves, her look murderous.  You see Jimmy and Brian inching closer.  Mok, Dokk and Marg have already come to stand behind Gorak, backing him up.  Dogs everywhere are barking.

Din gently slides you off his lap, then moves you behind him before walking towards the commotion; he extends his arm behind him as if to ask you to stay put.  You look around: Lisa looks panic stricken, Poe is standing with Cass and Rikard, all three of them looking at a loss, Boba remains sitting with Fennec.  Remembering your little lesson about interpreted actions from Din earlier this evening, you understand why: any move Boba makes will be perceived as an official move by the Family, and it will embolden the Mandos, likely turning a small altercation into an official first strike from the Fetts.  If he were to enter the fray, the situation would escalate no matter what.  As it is, the situation is escalating all well on its own - the Pykes are outnumbered and surrounded, their hackles up. 

Boba catches your eye and gives you a little nod and your eyes soften in comprehension.  Every step that an official Fett family member takes right now counts as a move against the Pykes, but you’re not official.  You’re just you.  You follow Din and see him hovering with Paz in Woves’ periphery, both men holding their shoulders taut and their fists clenched.  You slip between them easily and slide your hand over Din’s fist, his hand relaxes instinctively and opens to hold yours.  You look up at him with a gentle expression while giving his hand a reassuring squeeze and watch as the tension melts from his handsome features and rolls off his body.  He seems to calm and understand the situation at your touch.  Your other arm links through Paz’s and he looks down at you, surprised at your appearance.  You watch as his expression and stance also soften under your calm hands.  He and Din look at each other, comprehension passing between them and they turn in unison and walk away.  You continue to move closer to the action, picking up your casserole dish which has a lone three garlic knots remaining, and you gently push it into Mayfeld’s hands as you come up next to him; at your encouraging smile, he also seems to come to – grinning back and trotting off in the opposite direction while stuffing his face.  Suddenly you’re not the only figure that’s weaving between the figures still locked the stand-off; Cass and Rikard have come over to pat the arms of the uncle twins, telling them that this isn’t anything to get worked up about.  Poe throws his arm around Jimmy's shoulders in a playful manner, and you hear Lisa’s voice call from the deck, “I’m turning on this chocolate fountain now, and I expect every person here to help me clear this dessert station!”

There’s a beat of silence before Marg calls out, “Is there any more Caesar salad?”  Everyone laughs and just like that, the tension is broken.  Even Gorak and Woves stand down, and although they don’t make nice, they both turn to head in with everyone else; Marg’s steady hand on Gorak’s shoulder keeping him at a distance from the Mando.

Din’s waiting for you at the base of the stairs, wrapping his arm around your waist as you file up the stairs with everyone else; you nuzzle you head a little into Din’s shoulder and half jokingly say, “Is this really a good time to be giving everyone fruit skewered on pointy sticks?”

Din turns when he hears a belly roaring laugh at your joke coming from one of the Pyke uncles, and looks down to see you turn and give the man a heart stopping smile and wink.  He can’t believe it - you cheeky flirt, he thinks, making a rival family member fall in love with you.

Inside, you load up two dessert plates for yourself and Din and bring them to a side counter where he’s chatting quietly with Boba.  You’re almost hesitant to interrupt but when you slide the heavy plates onto the marble, Boba smiles big at you.  He hands you Mochi and then places both his hands on your shoulders and leans in to kiss your forehead, “You did good, my dear.”

You scrunch up your face in mild embarrassment, “Oh, I mean… it’s okay…” not sure what to say so you just start feeding Mochi strawberries.  Boba looks at Din and reiterates, “She did good.”

“Yeah,” Din echos softly, his eyes watching you with a mixture of pride and love.

---

After stuffing your faces with dessert, you and Din escape to the backyard for a private moment and to avoid Lisa’s attempts to force more food on your plates.  Finding the seats around the roaring fire pit empty, you sit with your back against the corner piece, legs draped over Din’s as he pulls you close.  Foreheads pressed together, he kisses you gently and sweetly, not wanting things to get too heated should the two of you be interrupted.

“Thank you, pretty bird,” says Din quietly.

“For what?”

Din looks thoughtful, even though he’s the one that brought it up, “I don’t know how you do it.  You bring the calm.”

You confess and joke simultaneously, “Do I really?  I have to admit, I don't always feel very calm. Are you sure I don't bring the chaos?”

Din pinches your thigh with love, “I’m serious, baby.  Somehow you melt away all the stress and make me see clearer.  Not just me either, saw you do the same thing to Paz tonight.”

You give him a little kiss and nuzzle his nose, whispering conspiratorially, “... you make it sound like I have powers.”

“Whatever it is, you bring me back to myself when I need it the most.  I love you, pretty girl.”

“I love you too, Din.  I love that I can do that for you, soothe you and bring a sense of calm.  You do that for me too, you know?  You’re my rock, baby.”

Din presses his lips to your, beckoning you to open up to him and when you do, he lightly strokes your tongue with his, eliciting a low groan from the back of your throat that you think might be too scandalous for this barbeque.  Pulling away slightly, you nibble a little on Din’s lower lip before tucking yourself into your favourite nook under his jaw and shyly bring up something you’ve been thinking about for a while, “You know, Din… if you’re ever stressed or have had a hard day, and you need something more than a calming touch, you can… use me?”

“Hmmmm?” Din looks down at you, not sure if he’s understanding.

Feeling timid under his piercing gaze, you press on but keep your face pressed to Din’s neck so you don’t make eye contact with him, “Like… if you’re frustrated, and you need to take it out on some… one.  I can take it.  Let me absorb all the bad… and like you said, melt it away.”

You feel Din’s hard swallow before he gives a little cough, “Pretty bird, are you saying you want me to take out my frustrations by fucking them into you?”

You nod, “If you need to, Din.  You can use me for stress relief.”  Finally having the courage to look up at him, you find Din's eyes warm and loving as he whispers just one phrase, “Dream girl,” before descending on your mouth again.

Your kissing is sensual and open, a connection between two people who have no secrets and can be their purest, most vulnerable selves with each other.  Din’s touch is tender and reverent and you worship him right back, letting him know you’re there and you can be whatever he needs, whenever he needs it - you love him so much.  The two of you don’t break apart for a long time, not even when people start spilling back into the backyard. 

---

The evening ends an hour or so later with everyone leaving on pleasant terms.  You’re thanked again for both the salad dressing and your help with the upcoming wedding.  A final toast is given by Boba to the happy couple and it warms your heart deeply to see two people so in love and so steadfast in their commitment to face and conquer adversity together.  The cheers elicited are joyous and genuine, the evening a great success.

Walking back to Din’s truck, hand in hand, you’re sated with good food and drinks, carrying the festive feel of the evening with you as you hum a little tune to yourself.  Din trails a little behind you, filled with a surge of pride for all that you are. 

And that you’re his. 

He’s parked about fifteen cars away from the Dameron residence, a little past the last house on this block where the road rounds into a large turnabout bordered with lush trees and other flora and fauna meticulously maintained by the neighbourhood HOA.  He hadn’t meant to park so far but now he’s glad he’s got you away from the prying eyes of Poe’s neighbours and their porch cams. 

While you may currently be carefree and lighthearted, Din is full of deep emotion.  He’s overwhelmingly proud, in love, and awestruck.  His head is full of you.  You, you, you.  His admiration isn’t new: you’re sweet and funny, smart and kind - he’s always been proud just to know someone like you, and even prouder to be with you, to be the one you choose.  But tonight is different, it’s a different type of esteem – one that threatens to explode out of his chest.  You.  You’re it for him.  He never thought he would find someone like you.  Someone who could fit so seamlessly into his life, into his world, and make both better.  You helped.  You were sweet and kind and giving to everyone.  You brought calm.  You made things good.  And you were his. 

He had believed you all those months ago when said you wouldn’t judge him or his family, but you did more than that: you accepted them as your own too.  Yes, you did it for him, but it was really just who you are.  Loving.  Giving.  You brought calm to all their chaos.  You made things brighter.  You made them stronger.  Him better.  He loves you so much right now he thinks he’s going to burn up.

As soon as you reach his truck, Din grabs you by the waist and spins you so you’re facing him and he pushes you into the side of the car, arm bracing the back window to cushion your head.

“Di-!”

His lips put a stop to your words as they crash against yours.  Normally so gentle and asking of permission, Din’s mouth is an unstoppable force tonight, kissing you as if there’s an overflowing pressure building inside him and kissing you is his one release valve.  An unashamed moan works its way up from your throat, escaping only when Din moves his aggressive kisses to your jaw and neck, leaving you opened-mouthed and panting.

“Oooohh, fuck!  Din, baby, what are you doing? Oh- god, that feels so good,” eyes closed, you’re already arching into him, pulling him closer to you by the back of his neck.

Din’s hand that isn’t cradling your head is on a frantic journey down your body.  He needs you now.  The current state of his feelings is running too deep, he can’t seem to articulate it to you or even himself - he has to show you.  Triumphantly, he finds the tie to your dress and pulls, causing half of the front of your dress to fall open, “Din!  We’re out in the open!”

Clawing down your partially exposed body, clamouring to find the inside tie that separate him from your soft body, Din pauses only to pull you away from the car so he can unlock the door; as soon as it opens, he walks you backwards and hops you up onto the seat, scooting you back so your legs dangle out the door. 

“There,” Din says huskily, as he finds the little knot on the right inside seam of your dress and tugs so it unfurls, “you aren’t out in the open anymore.”  He spreads apart the fabric of your dress so that you’re presented to him in your pretty pink mesh and ruffles lingerie set; he sucks in his breath. 

“Just for you, daddy,” you coo.  You knew Din wouldn’t be expecting something so flirty and naughty under the dress you had picked for what was supposed to be a casual and wholesome family event.

“Fuck.”  With his big mitt of a hand, Din pushes you down and lowers himself on top of you, nipping at your breasts and teething at your nipples through the soft sheer fabric of your bra.  He’s not gentle; he has something to declare tonight, and soft and sweet just won’t do the job.  His hands paw at your tits while he continues to tug and twist with his mouth; you’re writhing and whimpering beneath him, body set alight - the thought flashes through your arousal muddled mind that you might actually come just from nipple play alone tonight.

Then Din’s gone, mouth and hands traveling down your body, bending his knees and bracing them on the baseboard of his truck, Din kisses your navel and trails his nose down the front of your panties, “Mmm, so fucking sweet, pretty girl.”

“Din!  Pleas-please,” you cry out, turned on out of your mind by the debauched imagery of your bare legs hanging out of the car while Din presses his face to your cunt; you need him to touch you.

“You need daddy’s tongue, baby?”

You can only mewl and nod.

Din isn’t in the mood to tease tonight, he’s too pent up with near paralyzing feelings of veneration for you – he’s ready to worship.  Pulling back slightly so he’s face to face with the darkened spot on your panties, he hooks them to the side to take in your glistening pussy, watching it want and ache for him for just a moment before he dives in.

He devours you.  Tongue licking and stroking your slit, Din swirls the sticky mess already pooled into his mouth and stuffs it back into your cunt with his open mouth kisses.  You shudder and grab onto Din’s hair as he fucks his tongue into you, pressing him deeper as your hips start to move all on their own.

“Fuck – yes, ride my face, pretty bird.”

“Ngh – Daddy! Feels so good.  Love how your mouth feels on my needy pussy,” you moan as softly as you can so the sound doesn’t carry out the open car door.

As your hips start to buck a little harder, Din’s hands move back up your body and start worrying your nipples again; still sensitive from his attentions earlier, you gasp and arch your back, grazing your clit against Din’s nose.  You let loose a high-pitched whine, eyes flying open, “Daddy!  Right there!”

Grinning so hard you can feel it, Din continues to feast on your dripping hole but angles his face up so that his strong aquiline nose nudges your throbbing clit again.  Rewarded when your grasp on his brown curls tighten, he starts to prod your bud in a pattern, alternating between pressing and releasing, and drawing sloppy circles with the tip of his nose.  When he feels your legs start to shake and your walls start to clamp down on his tongue, Din speeds up his attentions on your bundle of nerves, burrowing his nose in deep and rubbing vigorously, shaking his entire head.  Your hands release Din’s hair at the onslaught and fly up to cover your face, as if you can somehow hide from what’s coming; when Din’s hands pull up on your nipples, you crest and scream – tumbling over the edge and letting yourself be carried away by the waves of your orgasm.

Arm now thrown over your eyes, you’re too focused on catching your breath to feel Din pulling your ass past the edge of the car seat and turning you over so your mouth is pressed into the warm leather.

Only after the tip toes of your shoes touch the asphalt does Din flips the skirt of your dress over your back, and that’s when you register the cool breeze of the night air hitting your ass.

Din spoons your bent over body and murmurs deep in your ear, “Gonna fuck you now, bunny.  Not going to be gentle, okay?”

Your eyes are still closed as you nod into the seat and whisper, “Okay, daddy.”

Din takes out his cock, already hard and weeping with precum, and slaps it against your creamy pussy - once, twice, three times; each slap causing you to give a little jump and shudder in anticipation of the incoming intrusion.

Chuckling darkly, Din notches the tip at your entrance and pushes in as he folds his body over yours, holding you close and pinning you down as he bottoms out.

As promised, it’s not gentle; but here, in the backseat of his truck, where his chest is flattened against your back and his face pressed to your hair, it’s intimate.  Rough and hard.  Loving and full of feeling.

Din’s voice is low and gruff in your ear - words of praise and all his overwhelming feelings spill out as he ruts into you at a demanding pace.

“Do you know how perfect you are, pretty bird?”

“You’re everything.” 

“My everything.”

He drives into you over and over, punching the air out of your lungs each time.  Whenever you inhale, Din captures your lips with his immediately after – as if trying to steal these breaths as well.  Fervent kisses the only break from his ongoing ramblings of praise:

“So proud you’re my girl.”

“You’re so good to me.  So good to my family.”

Thrust.  Thrust.  Slap.  Slap.

“You know how much Boba trusts you?  Trusts my perfect girl?  Talking about Mando business in front of you.” 

Thrust.

“You’re one of us, baby.” 

Slap. 

“My girl, welcomed into the fold.  Fuck – I’m so proud.”

The squelching noises of your wet cunt being punished reverberate through the truck’s cabin, accompanied by the percussion of slapping skin and an obscene harmony of grunts and moans.  You can only hope that your sinful symphony is confined to the car and not travelling through the otherwise silent neighbourhood.

“Fucking saving Poe’s ass and the entire BBQ with that fucking salad dressing.”

Sqlch. 

“You don’t even know how important you are and the things you do are.  You impressed the fucking Pykes, pretty girl.”

Sqlch. 

“Helping with the wedding?  You’re so sweet, so fucking sweet…”

Fwop.  Fwop.

Din’s weight continues to pin you down and crush your lungs in the best way possible.  Between the panting from the pounding your pussy is taking and the way your clit is twitching against the seam on the edge of the leather seats as Din ruts into you, you can hardly take a proper breath; the lack of oxygen is leaving you dizzy and light headed – you’re quickly barrelling towards oblivion again.

“You don’t even know, you don’t even know…”

“Perfect, perfect, perfect, perfect…”

Thrust.  Huff.  Thrust.  Huff.

“You don’t just take care of me, you take care of my family… you accept my family.”

Thrust.  Thrust.

Din’s hips start to stutter, he’s close, so close. 

“You’re the only one.  The only one who can do what you do.”

Huff.

“You prevented that fight.”

Thrust.  Huff.

“You have me wrapped around your little finger, baby.”

You can barely draw enough breath to chant, daddy, daddy, daddy, daddy...

“Not just me.  Paz. All the Mandos.”

Slap. Slap.

“Sexiest, most powerful woman there tonight.  Every night.”

Thrust.  Thrust.

“Pretty bird, what did I do to deserve you?”

Slap.  Slap.

“Don’t deserve you.”

Thrust.

“But you’re mine.”

Din’s babbling praise ends with the growl of that last, possessive proclamation and the contrast of his tone, the sheer power and darkness that laces the word ‘mine’ compared to the honey-dripped praise that’s been pouring from his mouth the whole time he rails you, snaps the tightly coiled band in your core and you come, clenching hard on Din’s length with a force that sends him straight to the moon.  He grunts and pants as he spills his seed deep, claiming you and clawing all he’s professed to love tonight for his own.

After lifting off of you to allow your breathing to even, Din wipes the sweat off his brow and looks around to make sure that your activities haven’t attracted the attention of any of Poe’s nosy neighbours.  Satisfied that the two of you are still alone, Din presses butterfly kisses down your spine before gently turning you over and helping you right your underwear and retying your dress the best he can.  You’re hot and tired, still drunk on the mind-blowing orgasm brought on by Din’s rough handling and his heavy praise.

Tenderly kissing you, Din murmurs, “Do you want to just lay down in the back seat, sweetheart?  You can sleep while I drive home.”

You shake your head drowsily, “No, I want to ride up front with you.  I like it when you hold my hand when you drive.” You’re smiling so sweetly at him, Din thinks his heart might explode.  He’s just laid his heart bare, practically smothering you with it and letting his all-consuming love burn you up, and you still want more of his touch.

Grinning like a fool, he buckles you into the front seat of his truck, “I love you, pretty bird.”

“I love you more, Din,” you purr back, eyes half closed, a soft, sleepy smile tugging at your lips.

After he closes your door, on his way to the driver’s side, he shakes his head to himself, Impossible.

[cosmichahn]

LOVE GROWS

Din Djarin x GN!Reader —☆

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ about: Grogu wanted to see you, and frankly, he isn't the only one who does.

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ warning/s: none that's disturbing! (no canon typical violence) this oneshot will include love confessions, so yes. (was listening to love grows by edison lighthouse while writing this.) a few mando'a words, but the translations will be shown at the end!

ִִֶֶָָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ word count: 2.2k

ִִֶֶָָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ note/s: hello! it takes a while for me to finish writing, and it's my first time writing for din djarin. this might be a little out of character, but i swear i'm trying to write properly for him.

The distant cooing of Grogu echoed around the ship, pointing at a small crown made of dried and preserved flowers that hung near his hammock. His big black eyes pleading.

It's a free moment anyway, and it's just little Grogu and his dad lurking through the galaxies. Only the engine of the ship functioning is heard, along with his little coos, begging for his father's attention.

Din looks behind him, leaving the controls on autopilot for him to go to his little one. He stands up, seeing Grogu patiently waiting for him to get closer as his little hands wave over the flower crown that felt as if it was protecting him from his nightmares; seeing as it's hanging by his bed.

He can't resist the little bundle of joy's pleas, and he of course will bring him to one of the places that bring the two of them that feeling of home and comfort, adamant that Din refuses to admit it, Endor.

The Mandalorian loves seeing his child happy and comfortable; if Grogu was happy, so was he. Just the two of them against the world… but lately Grogu seems off. Din stressed over not knowing what was going through his mind that sometimes he hoped to have the ability of a jedi to communicate and at least see Grogu's mind.

On the way to Endor, Din welcomes Grogu to sit on his lap, even leaving a little seatbelt for him so he wouldn't fall. It's a quiet journey with only the little one humming a tune that showed his excitement. A tune you once sung to him as he slept in your arms.

Soon enough, the two touch down at the Forest Moon of Endor.

Grogu starts to race Din to the exit, his little feet being too fast. Beneath the helmet, he just smiles. The twinkle in his little Grogu's eyes made his heart swell.

It's evening as they arrive, so patiently, the little one waits for Din outside of the ship. “You're too excited, kid." He chuckles, following behind as Grogu heads for the familiar little cottage that felt like home. It wasn't their house per se, but the person who lived in it was what made it feel like home.

“Grogu?" The warm and familiar voice greets, opening the door before he can even knock with his little hands. 

You. A Jedi.

Wind chimes echo and twirl through his big green ears as he swiftly hugs and tugs on your leg. You carefully pick him up as he snuggles in closer. “We've not seen each other in a while, little one. D'you miss me already?" He nods, tapping on your cheek, engulfing in the warmth.

“Sometimes I think he likes you more than me." Din jokes, crossing his arms afterwards. Somewhere lingers his smile. You can feel it. But you've not seen it, sadly.

“Mando, Mando… He just missed me." You shrug, inviting him to join you inside.

As you hold Grogu in your right arm, the first place you head to is the kitchen, remembering that you just made a batch of wildberry pie. Surely this would satisfy his appetite. A body so small, an appetite so big.

You sit him on one of the chairs, placing the plate of pie in front of him. His smile grows, making his little teeth visible. Before taking a bite, he looks at you happily, giving you a thanks.

While he is busy eating and enjoying his meal, you sit beside Din who was quietly sitting on the couch. 

“So," You give him a suspicious but cheeky look. “this is the third time this month. Odd, isn't it?" Usually they would go here once a month, or sometimes rarely as bounties were always happening.

“Grogu just wanted to see you." Din replies, feeling an invisible lump in his throat before handing you an envelope with little drawings on it that was definitely Grogu's doing. “I have something for you by the way. Well, we." Indicating him and Grogu.

You take it carefully, appreciating the fact that the crayons you gifted the last time they were here got well used. Grogu tried to eat it once, leaving you and Din in a panicked state.

“You sure that's not the only reason?" Teasing him as you poke his armored side a little bit.

“...Yes."

“Ok." It's soft how you said it, and you actually do miss him and want to see him. You miss him everyday which was an overstatement, but you love it every time he and Grogu were here. “Well, it's never too bad to miss a friend."

Remembering the scraps you found when you were looting a couple of abandoned places, you stand up. “Oh! Wait here, I have something for you too." He gets surprised by your sudden movement, but he just waits patiently for you anyway.

“It's a music thing that I found, you just have to insert it in your ship's radio thingy… If you have one of those of course." It looked like a port that could play telegrams like the ones he gets from reports from Karga or Cara. “I designed a little music box to enhance its sound and liven up a room." Ok, you are psyched to let Din see this item you made, and frankly he isn't complaining. It even catches Grogu's attention as he was about to finish his entire plate.

From a random storage room, you pull the music box out then insert the port, the beat of an unfamiliar tune playing. “I don't even know who Rosemary is." You say, seeing Grogu start to sway to the music.

Oh, but love grows where my Rosemary goes…

“So, Din, what do you think?" Questioning him as you get all excited. “Is it nice? It's nice, right?"

“The kid likes it. It's nice." He crosses his arms, the distant light glinting from his helmet as he nods.

The little jedi walks to your leg as he lifts his arms up, wanting you to carry him. Upon shaking your hips to the beat, Grogu looks at his dad.

“No," Din says, crossing his arms. He makes an attempt to intimidate the both of you, but instead, you and Grogu look at each other then giggle. “I will not dance."

Grogu can feel a small, sly smile that begins to grow on Din's face.

A couple of moments pass with you constantly having to carry Grogu because he wanted to dance in your arms and teasing Din when the two of you saw him shake his hips a little bit. Those couple of moments left Grogu tired after a whole day in the hyperspace, longing to see you then relieving that longing shortly.

Din carries Grogu in his arms, leading him into your bedroom where a small hammock hangs beside your bed. Just for him. For Grogu.

Afterwards, you and Din talk in the kitchen, sitting across from each other in the dining area.

“So, that was fun.” You smile, looking at the cup of juice swirling in your hand. It was an exhausting whole day for you, running around doing errands, and ending your day with a surprise arrival by the two people you would trust your life with when this whole galaxy arrived, was the best way of resting from a draining day.

Din knew that when he got Grogu, he knew little to nothing of becoming a father, let alone that of a child who was to only be a bounty for him. But when time passed, the longer he spent moments with Grogu, he knew that he could do it. Or at least try to. The Child wasn’t the only one who benefited and learned from the situation and days they’ve been together as Din also learned in ways which he kept mostly to himself. He wasn’t alone. He’s not alone anymore.

Meeting you was an accident to him, but it was a good accident. It was an evening a couple of years ago where the Razor Crest landed near your house, obviously disrupting your peace. It was a tiring day like this and you just wanted to rest, but it was pouring heavily. You kept your guard up, of course, upon hearing a knock that you assumed was from the recently crashed ship.

You looked annoyed, but still asked him of his intentions. Apparently his ship had a couple of malfunctions where he needed a few parts. Luckily you had extra scrapped stuff that you were about to give out to some Jawas that would visit the place in a few days. A couple of the pieces were what he needed, and you just sold it to him.

He left you that same evening, meeting you accidentally once more at one of the bars where he actually was about to catch a bounty. The rest was a loop of meeting each other in surprising places and somewhat unconventional places until the two of you became friends. Not close friends, but still friends.

“It was fun.” He nods, seeing a glint from his helmet, the kitchen light reflecting on his beskar. He’s quiet, primarily keeping his words short even after knowing each other for quite a couple of years now.

No one says anything after that. It's a comfortable silence between you and Din, like always. You just look at him and wonder what he's thinking of right now. Tilting your head a little on the side while you settle your cup on the table, you furrow your eyebrows.

“Why are you looking at me like that?" Din asks suddenly, tilting his head the same way you tilted yours.

“Nothing."

There's a sense of longing that always went around your head. A longing for him, for some reason. You want him, although for certain he does not want you the same way. You already settle with an early heartbreak, and yet you want to risk every year you've spent seeing him, wanting him to be aware of what you really feel.

“There's something I have to tell you." If now is not the time, then surely that time will never come. It's a risk you're willing to take. “Follow me."

You lead him behind your house where a big tree sprouted in the middle with evergreen leaves, a couple of blue and violet leaves. The atmosphere looked warm, lights illuminating from your house.

“What is it that you want to say?" Din stands near the tree, you follow to stand opposite of him. He anticipates on what you have to say, truthfully he wants to hear such things from you.

It's never common for him to experience such attachment the way Grogu has, but something about those years of meeting you felt as if though he never wants to stop seeing you. He doesn't want to lose you in spite of the fact that he never was yours, nor were you his.

You're a Jedi. He's a Mandalorian. No amount of judgment could withhold such a partnership. Unless he's willing to risk it, unless you're willing to risk it.

Din can't shy away from the fact that his love grows. It continues to do so, and it blooms everyday. He is not admitful of this. Perhaps the vulnerability he is to display to you would give you a sign. You, to him, are different from the rest; with the exception of Grogu, of course. Din knows you would understand that.

“Din, I would go through the deep and dark undergrounds of Mandalore's ruins if it meant that your happiness would be the reward." You clear your throat, feeling that invisible lump that you want to cough out. “You know that, right?"

He grew silent. You immediately regret this. Under all of that hard exterior, that stoic stance, his covered face, is a soft, gentle person.

“I-" The flame in your chest is about to burst, each pump of your heart is firing your body up. Palms sweaty, skin tingling, you don't notice the slight yet noticeable trembling of your body. “Din, I-"

“Cyar'ika," Your eyes grow wide at him, your breaths still unkempt, your eyebrows filled with worry and shame. “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum."

A slight chuckle of nervousness left your lips, your eyes a bit panicked, relieved, but why? “Din, you know I don't understand Mando'a."

“You're lying." He's right. You've been secretly studying Mando'a ever since he gifted you a box of tools after one of his bounties. It's not the most romantic or symbolistic gift, but Din knew what you liked; he kept mental notes of every detail about yourself that you've talked about.

Although you were learning the language in secret, you've slipped a few times. He's heard you speak in Mando'a at times where you've fallen asleep in his ship whenever you joined him every now and then. Din found it cute.

“Yes, I learned Mando'a." You admit, a little embarrassed. Your hands start to cover your face. “It just…It made me feel closer to you."

You feel his hands touch yours that cover your face. “Cyar'ika, every memory of you makes me feel as if I'm just a step away." It was true. Din felt closer to you with every scene of your beautiful smile, your natural self that had grease and dirt all over from fixing things and scavenging. He adores you.

Din pulls your hands away from your face, holding them both gently as his thumbs circled your palms. He tilted his head to you so as you did, your forehead touching his helmet.

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, Din." (I love you, Din)

[introspectivememories]

what's wrong with data analyst bernard?

summary: tim's a workaholic ceo. bernard is, to put it simply, a down-on-his-luck loser with a kid to take care of. somewhere along the line, they meet. (very loosely based on the 2018 hit kdrama, "what's wrong with secretary kim?")

A/N: for @chamiryokuroi bc this fanart has given me brainrot since the moment i saw it. but also bc, i missed writing and your art helped. i hope you like it. (more notes at the end.) (AO3 LINK)

Today is a good day, Bernard thinks happily, brand new ID badge bouncing on his tie. It's his first day at Wayne Ent. and Mori had sent him off with a hug and muttered, "have a good day, Tou-san." It's been bouncing around in his head all day. Tou-san, Tou-san, Tou-san, he's really a dad now. He's got to make sure Mori has everything he needs and this new job is going to make sure he can do that.

Shaking his head once to clear it, he takes a sip of the complimentary coffee a team member bought him for his first day. His team leader, Young-joon Lee, is taking him on a tour of the building. Young-joon is a wonderful man in his late 30s but it's very clear that he's been consumed by the office lifestyle.

"...and here is our magnificent lobby!" Young-joon is saying as he tunes back in. His team leader spreads his arms wide out as he speaks, "Everyone knows the lobby but it's my personal philosophy that making friends or at least being on amicable terms with the ground floor staff will make your life easier."

Bernard laughs politely, "I know what you mean. I can't tell you how many times being nice to the host at the restaurant I used to work at saved my butt during rush hour."

"A man after my own heart!" Young-joon says, smiling widely as he leads him to the help desk.

Bernard tilts his head up to look at the skylight. It's a gorgeous thing with little animal motifs running alongside it. It lights up the lobby bringing a welcoming feeling into it. With the sunlight pouring into the room, along with the din of busy workers in slacks running to and fro, it really feels like stepping into a movie.

Are you seeing me Darls?, he thinks with a childlike glee, hand coming up to thumb at his badge again, I made it!

"This, my friend," Young-joon says, pulling up to the help-desk, "is our wonder-duo. Tamara and Abhishek. They practically run this building. Lord knows we'd be tripping all over ourselves without them."

Tamara and Abhishek smile as they get introduced.

"They run this building?" he asks confusedly.

"You see, young padawan," Abhishek says, "not only do we help the people that come in here asking questions or for instructions, we also answer any questions the staff has for us."

"Things like, 'What's HR’s number?' or 'Can you page Data for me?' or 'No seriously, I'm calling HR on this man right now. What is their number?'" Tamara says grinning.

Bernard laughs. It feels like that's all he's been doing since he got here. "You have to tell me the story on that one day."

"Sorry," Tamara says, faux-apologetic, "the minimum clearance on that story is half-a-year. Gotta level up."

His cheeks hurt from smiling. This is his and Mori's new beginning. This is where they level up. Nothing's gonna stop him now.

"Do you know the story behind that one?" he asks, turning to Young-joon.

"Of course! But where would be the fun in telling you? You have to stay the six months and if luck comes my way, longer."

"You want me for longer?"

"Of course, I saw the way you worked during those practice problems in the interview. I had to fight the other team leaders for you. It was brutal."

"Get back I say!" Young-joon says, miming a sword fight. A pleased warmth builds in his chest; they wanted him, they wanted him!

Darls you better be fucking watching this. I'm movin' up in the world.

"Ooh, send me that footage. I wanna see our newest recruits skills," Abhishek says.

"You got the data team fighting over you?" Tamara asks, eyebrows raised, "I wanna see it—"

Whatever she was going to say is cut off by the sound of both of their pagers pinging. Immediately going stock still, they start typing on their computers.

Bernard turns to Young-joon confused but his team leader looks like nothing is out of the ordinary.

"The boss is coming." Young-joon says, like that's a reasonable explanation for two people shutting down in the middle of the conversation, "It's always quite a spectacle and they always have to notify the other execs. Just watch."

Still, the boss? Maybe Bruce Wayne will say 'hi' to him and he'll charm the CEO and Mr. Wayne can figure out a way to—

No, no. He's done making those kinds of fantasies. Nobody is coming to help. Bernard is going to figure out his life on his own, he is going to take such good care of his kid, and he is not going to wait for some rich billionaire to swoop in and take care of him. He got this far didn't he? He'll get even farther.

He and his team leader lean against the help desk sipping coffee as they wait for the CEO to come in and sure enough, a black Rolls Royce pulls up to the driveway in the front. The minute the door opens, flashes from the paparazzi's cameras start going off. Out steps a bodyguard in a black suit with an umbrella opened. From below the umbrella he sees a nice pair of brown loafers step out. The CEO seems to be wearing a navy blue suit today. The paparazzi roars and the flashes increase.

"Oh wow," a man remarks a few feet away from him, "the circus is strong today, huh?" His friend laughs.

A woman wearing red heels steps out after the CEO, the paparazzi flashes decrease dramatically. More bodyguards exit after the woman and form a square around the CEO and his assistant/secretary. They shuffle towards the entrance where he sees the elderly doormen greet the executives with a smile. Whatever they say is lost to the sound of the city but the doormen laugh and push the doors open.

Young-joon's been making small talk throughout the entrance and Bernard tries to keep up but whatever the hell is going on at the entrance is way more interesting than anything his team leader is talking about. As they enter the guards spread out and dissolve the square. The woman comes into view first, red heels with a black slacks and a white button down. She's holding a long coat in one hand and a laptop bag slung over her shoulder. She's gorgeous and clearly the one in charge, going by the way she barks orders at the guards.

Young-joon says something and he turns around to respond, grabbing his coffee cup off the desk counter. His CEO's loafers tap across the lobby's marble floor, something about it is comforting. A lull in the room's conversations causes the CEO's voice to carry over.

"...Tam, make sure the quarterly reports are on my desk by at least 4 today and make sure to push back the sales meeting by 30 minutes to an hour, the board wants to talk — Oh Mr. Bardakcı! Thank you for stay—..."

Bernard's heart jackrabbits in his chest. He knows that voice but- it can't be. It's not possible; he chose Wayne Enterprises for a reason. He's not supposed to be here. He's supposed to be at his father's company. Unless... there was a merger? No, that seems like the kind of thing the news wouldn't've shut up about. He would've known.

When was the last time you had time to sit down and read the news, Bear? Darls says inside his head

She's right. With filing for custody of Mori and graduating from college and the job search, he hasn't had time for much else. It's entirely possible that he could've missed one of the biggest mergers of the decade.

Fuck, Fuck.

He wasn't supposed to be here. Bernard was supposed to be moving on. He was supposed to be building a life for himself away from the shadows of his childhood. He was supposed to be forgetting that Tim Drake ever existed.

He has to make sure though. Turning his body around, he prays that it's not the man he thinks it is. But sure enough, there stands Tim Drake, resplendent in a navy blue suit and a golden tie.

Golden ties for golden boys, he thinks absentmindedly.

The suit fits him perfectly, stretching across his shoulders and wrapping around his waist. Even the tie looks knotted perfectly. How long did it take him to learn, Bernard wonders. He could never get it right back in high school. Does his assistant Tam do it- no, no! This is why he didn't apply to Drake Industries. Bernard can't do anything around Tim and Tim is never going to care enough about him to stay.

Tim's head seems to be turning in his direction and Bernard whips his head back to make sure Tim doesn’t even catch a glimpse of him. His hand twitches violently enough that the coffee cup falls out of his hand and spills all over the floor. The cup rattles deafeningly on the floor. Bernard can't fucking breathe.

"-ernard? Bernard!" his team leader's voice cuts through the haze in his head. Young-joon looks concerned, "Are you okay?"

He blinks slowly, "...What?"

"I said, 'Are you okay?’ You look like you've seen a ghost?"

No, Bernard thinks, seeing Darls would be preferable to whatever level of hell I've found myself in.

"I'm—, I'm fine." he says rather unconvincingly. His eyes dart back to the spill, "What am I saying? There's a large puddle of coffee on the floor. I—, I should get some paper towels for that."

"Do you have any paper towels, Wonder-Duo?" he asks, trying desperately to ignore Tamara and Abhishek's concerned looks.

"I already called the custodial staff," Tamara says slowly, like she’s trying not to spook him, "but if it makes you feel any better," she pulls out a huge stack of paper towels, "go crazy, I guess."

Bernard takes a handful of paper towels and gets to work. The cleaning is meditative and with each swipe of the paper towel, the puddle gets smaller. Bernard pretends the puddle is his feelings for Tim. Swipe, forget about the 4pm milkshakes and his laughter when Darls snorted milk out of her nose. Swipe, don't think about the way he used to smell. Swipe, he left and never looked back; you don't look back either.

The tap, tap, tap of loafer on marble is getting closer to them for some reason. Why is it getting closer? Does it not have staff meetings, market research, and people to leave behind?

"What is going on here?" Tim asks.

"Nothing much, sir." Abhishek responds, "Newbie just spilled some coffee."

Abhishek, no!

"Oh is that all? And he took the initiative to start cleaning instead of waiting for the custodial staff. You made a good choice, Young-joon."

"Thank you, sir!" Young-joon says, "I was taking him on the tour when you came in. Most newbies love the show so I thought we'd stop here for a little bit."

Tim laughs. Bernard hates that his heart still skips a beat at the sound.

A pair of brown loafers and a wool-covered knee slowly appear in his vision. Why is Tim crouching in front of him? Why won't this man leave him alone?

"This looks like quite a lot of work, let me help."

You can help by leaving me the hell alone, he thinks uncharitably.

"I hope you found the facilities to your liking," Tim continues, like he hadn't heard Bernard's thoughts, "My name is Tim Drake-Wayne, CEO."

I know, he wants to say. I know you're Tim Drake. I know you like to skateboard and that you stared at Tony Hawk's photo for an hour every day in high school ‘cause didn't want to be one of those people who didn't recognize him. I know you struggled with your dad not really being there. I know you loved Mrs. Winters as much as you loved your mom. I know that you like history more than any other subject even though your best was always math.

Bernard says nothing instead.

Tim laughs awkwardly and Bernard knows he isn't helping the conversation along but whatever, he's allowed to be petty, right?

"I assure you, whatever you heard in the tabloids and the news, isn't true. I promise I won't bite…," Tim’s voice trails off as Bernard lifts his head.

"...Bernard?" Tim whispers, he looks like he's seen a ghost.

Bernard tries for a smile, he's pretty sure it comes out looking like a grimace.

"Sir," he says nodding curtly, hands still moving to sweep up the coffee puddle.

Tim's hand reaches out to touch his face, as if to make sure Bernard is really there. Bernard recoils as Tim's hand grazes his cheek. Tim's hand hangs in the air uselessly.

"Bernard?" Tim says again, as if to make sure his eyes aren't playing tricks on him.

"That's my name, Sir," he says through clenched teeth, "don't wear it out."

He can feel Young-joon and the Wonder-Duo's confused stare but he says nothing. What would he even say, really?

Hey, this is my old friend Tim Drake? Hey, I used to know him like the back of my hand? Hey, our best friend died and it feels like I'm the only one still grieving? Hey, in my junior year, five different gangs shot up my school and my best friend died in my arms and he left and I had to pick up the pieces by myself? Hey, I'm the idiot that's still in love with Tim Drake?

The clack of Tam's heels comes as a welcome distraction.

"Tim!" she says, grabbing his arm and pulling him away, "What the hell do you think you're doing? We have to go talk to the board. Build rapport with your employees later."

Tim stumbles to his feet, "Yes, but—, I—, This is—"

He sounds like he's glitching. Bastard. Is it really such a surprise to see Bernard in a well paying job? Even Tam is starting to look a little concerned now.

"Explain later," she commands, dragging Tim behind her. Bernard keeps his head down and continues wiping up the coffee puddle. Sneaking a glance upward shows him that Tim keeps turning back around to stare at him.

For a moment their eyes meet, brown against blue. 'Bernard?' he sees Tim mouth. Bastard, saying his name so many times. Doesn't he know what that does to Bernard? Why does Tim insist on breaking his heart again and again and again? Was once not enough?

He's tired of putting these walls up and just for a second, he lets them come down. Let Tim see the entirety of his brokenness. Tim already has his heart, he can have this too.

'Tim' he mouths back, smiling sadly. Tim looks stunned and the rage that had been simmering in his gut begins to boil over.

Do you see what I've become? Do you see how thoroughly Grieves ruined me? Is this not your doing too? Why did you leave? Have you ever visited Darla? Why was it so easy for you to not look back? Was I not your friend? Or was it just a time pass? Why wasn't I enough for you to stay?

He watches until the elevator doors close, separating him from Tim once again. His body sags like a marionette cut from its strings and his fingers clench uselessly around the coffee soaked paper towels. A hand lands on his shoulder and he flinches.

"Hey, hey," Young-joon soothes from where he's crouched right next to him. When did Young-joon crouch down? How much time has he missed? "It's just me, Bernard. Are you okay? What was that? Does our CEO know you?"

He exhales shakily. He needs to get out of here. He needs to sob hard enough he throws up. He needs the steady press of a knife on his back. He needs things he's not allowed to have anymore.

Bernard shoots up so fast the world spins around him. holding onto the desk for support, he tries to smile at his team leader. It stretches across his face misshapenly.

"I'm—, I'm sorry," he says stumbling over his words in a rush to get them out, "I have to—"

He has to what? Pretend to not see Darls out of the corner of his eye? Pretend like his hands don't have blood on them? Pretend like he isn't seeing bullet wounds every time he closes his eyes?

"—go to the bathroom," he finishes lamely. Gathering up all of the paper towels, he walks away dazedly, ignoring Young-joon's calls behind him. He shoves the towels in the nearest trashcan, letting his feet lead him to the nearest bathroom.

The bathroom is thankfully empty when he enters and he locks the door behind him. Sliding down the door, he exhales shakily. There's not enough air in this room; he can't breathe. The fluorescent lights hum above their coverings. The one on the left flickers. Who's bright idea was it to install school lights in a business office's bathroom?

The world outside the bathroom rushes on too loudly. Somebody is talking about their vacation. Someone is bemoaning their presentation today. His chest is getting tighter. His hands come up to tug on his hair. Why can't he breathe?

The exhales are coming quicker and quicker. Something comes tapping down the hallway. It's the gunmen, it has to be. A quick glance down tells him all he needs to know: he's covered in blood.

It's Lila's, he thinks dazedly, I had to carry her into the office. Or no, it's Olu's. I held him when he died. He said, he said, what did he say?

Why can't he remember? He hits his head with the heel of his palm.

Think he tells himself, we have to tell Olu's parents what he said. He said—, he said—.

His body sags.

Oh now he remembers. He said, "I don't wanna die Bernard."

A whimper tears itself out of his throat and he slaps a palm over his mouth. There's blood smeared across his face now, he must look like he walked out of a slasher film. He has to be quiet. if he's too loud, the gunmen will find them and then they'll all be dead.

Cry quietly, he tells himself, Darls doesn't need—

Darla! How could he forget about Darla with a hole in her gut? He needs to get to her. Lurching forward, he scrabbles across Mrs. Castillo's linoleum floor. He's smearing Olu's blood everywhere. Why won't Nikhil stop fucking crying so loudly? Goddamn freshmen and their hysterics. Where is Tim? Is he safe? He can't lose both friends today, please Lord, please.

BANG!

A violent flinch tears through his body. He sobs audibly this time, gagging on his spit. It's the gunmen, it has to be. He hasn't even held Darls' hand or counted Tim's moles for the last time. Where are the Darls? She shouldn't be alone. She doesn't like violence like this.

"Why didn't you save me, Bear?" a voice asks from behind him.

He freezes. Slowly he turns around and nearly yells in shock. Falling back on his butt, he stares up at his friend.

(He has to be quiet, he has to be quiet, he has to be quiet-)

Darls is standing behind him still in her crop top and cargo pants. Her once smooth midsection, bloodied and warped. The bullet wound still drips blood.

Plink, plink, plink.

Bernard hates the scent of iron.

"Why didn't you save me, Bear?" she asks, her voice echoing, "I thought we were friends."

There’s blood dripping down the side of her mouth. Now he remembers, the blood on him isn’t Olu’s or Lila’s — although there is that too — it’s almost overwhelmingly Darla’s. He’s covered in it. Elbows deep in it. It streaks up his arms like a macabre tattoo. He wore a white shirt to school today. The stains will never come out. He is Carrie at the end of prom, mortified and humiliated.

He crawls backwards until his back hits the wall, the impact knocking him out of the worst of that night. He's back in the bathroom. The lights hum loudly overhead. Darla hasn’t left yet.

She tilts her head, “Why didn’t you help me, Bear? I thought we were friends.”

“We are,” he rasps out, “we are friends.”

“Are we?” her eyes have no pupils. His Darls had eyes that shone in the sunlight. His Darls is dead. “Then why am I still bleeding? Why am I still hurting? Why is there a bullet in my stomach, Bear?!”

She’s shouting by the end and he flinches. His hands can’t seem to stop tugging at his hair. The blood must’ve smeared all over it. Talk about taking strawberry blond literally.

“I swear I did everything I could Darls,” he sobs out quietly, voice cracking, “I followed all of Mrs. Castillo’s instructions as best I could. I put pressure and tied the dressing as tight as I could.”

“You thought that was enough?” she snarls, hands coming down to grip the wound. It twists grotesquely; he gags, “You think any of that matters when I’m dead and you’re still alive?”

“Please, please. You know I wouldn’t leave you to die, Darls. Please, please, please believe me.”

“Liar, liar!” she screams, blood dripping out of her mouth onto her pink LOVE shirt. It darkens as each drop hits it. Soon it’ll be completely drenched and she’ll be drowning in it. Where did his smiling friend go? “I’m dead, Bear! I’m dead, dead, dead and it’s all your fault! Why didn’t you save me?! Why didn’t you save me?!”

He keens, body curling in on itself. One hand goes down to press on his throat; he’s making too much noise. Nikhil’s just a freshman. He shouldn’t have to die just because Bernard couldn’t shut up for once in his life.

“Please,” he whispers raggedly, “I tried, I tried. I swear I tried, Darls.”

“It hurts, Bear,” she sobs. Darla’s too young to be sounding so wrecked, “It hurts so much. Please help me.”

All of sudden, it’s too much. The taste of iron sits heavy on his tongue and Darla won’t stop sobbing. His fingers fumble for his phone and he presses one. It rings once, twice and finally on the third ring does a voice answer.

“Bear?” the other side says groggily.

“Ty please, I can't do this anymore,“ he sobs.

Tyrone suddenly sounds a lot more alert, “Bear what’s going on?”

“Darla won’t stop crying and she keeps on screaming that it’s my fault she died.” he wails, “I know I should’ve done more but please, can you tell her I tried? That I stayed with her until the end? She won’t listen to me, Ty. She won’t listen to me.”

There’s a muffled yell of ‘Babe!” on the other end. “Yeah,” Ty breathes out, “I’ll tell her.”

“You put me on speaker, okay?” Ty instructs, “And you gotta tell me if she’s nodding or if she’s gone or if she said anything, alright? I can’t see her.”

“Okay,” he whispers, pulling the phone away from his ear to press the speaker button.

“You tell me when to start, Bear,” he says, voice filling the bathroom. Darla looks up from where she’s sobbing.

“You can start now Ty,” he rasps out, holding the phone out.

“Hey Darla,” Ty says, “Bear told me you said a lotta mean things about him. Stuff like, ‘he’s the reason you died’ and that ‘he never cared’. Darla, you gotta believe me when I say Bear never stopped caring. He held your hand the whole way through. Told you stories about all the things you two were gonna do once you got out of that nurse’s office. He tried, Darla, honest. I’ve never seen him as focused as when you stopped breathing and Mrs. Castillo had him give you CPR. He couldn’t stop sobbing the whole time.”

“But I’m still dead,” she says.

“But I’m still dead,” he repeats.

Ty inhales sharply, “Yeah,” he says thickly, “you are. And I’ll never stop being sorry about that. But you can’t take that out on Bear. He’s just trying to live his life.”

Darls’ face twists up like a childs, “But it hurts,” she cries.

“But—, but it hurts,” he repeats, voice hitching.

Ty curses, “Oh, fuck. I can’t do this. Babe, can you—?”

“Yeah, of course.” 

“Hey, Darla. It’s me, Jimmy from the football team. I don’t know if you remember me but I remember you. After high school, me and Tyrone ended up getting married. Somewhere between shitty weed brownies and bad college parties, we fell in love. Isn’t that nice?”

Darls nods; he tells them as such.

“We visited you after the ceremony. I hope you felt that wherever you are these days. But the point I’m trying to make is that from all I’ve told you just now, you can probably figure out that Ty and I didn’t go pro like we planned. The shooting fucked up Ty’s knee and and my arm. After the hospital stays, playing football for a whole bunch of people just didn’t sound appealing anymore. We’re high school teachers now. Ty teaches math and I teach gym. When it rains or gets cold, my arm and Ty’s knee hurts like hell. But Darla, it doesn't hurt forever. It gets better, I promise.”

“Darla,” Jimmy says, voice unusually serious, “you’re right, you are dead and it does hurt. I’m sorry, I’ll never stop being sorry. I don’t know if it’ll ever go away for you; I’m not too much of an expert on the supernatural. Ty’s the smart one, after all. But I love you, Ty loves you, Bear loves you. I hope that when it hurts the most you can use that as a balm.”

“Auntie Bea loves you too!” Ty’s mom hollers from the background, “Aunt Betty, too!”

Ty laughs wetly and Jimmy snorts, “Does that sound okay?” they ask.

Darls smiles, her teeth stained red from all the blood that built up in her mouth. Bernard misses her with an ache he feels in his bones. Darls nods.

“She nodded,” he says quietly. He blinks once and she’s gone. Where did she go? Doesn’t she know that the gunmen are still at large? She needs to be somewhere safe. He can’t lose a friend today.

“Bear, Bear, you gotta breathe. Take a deep breath for me, c’mon,” Jimmy says.

“She’s gone, Jim. She’s gone again. Why does she keep leaving?” he says, crying. His body can’t stop trembling. How long has he been here? How much time has he missed?

“I miss the cult,” he whispers, “I never had things like this happen when I was with them.”

“Yeah,” Ty snaps, “‘Cause you were high off of like 50 different pain meds ‘cause you let them whip you.”

“Ty, not helping.”

“Move over, let me talk to him."

"Hey, sweetheart," Auntie Bea's voice crackles through his tiny speaker, "I know you're tired and I know you're hurting. I know you miss the cult but you gotta breathe for me, okay? You're gonna pass out otherwise."

"I can't, I can't," he gasps out. 

"Sure you can, you just gotta tell me five things you can see. Can you list those five things for me?"

Bernard desperately tries to get his breathing under control, "The sink is dirty."

"Good, good. Anything else?" 

"The tiles need to be re-grouted."

Aunt Betty barks out a laugh. Bernard's lips twitch upward.

"Keep going."

"My pants, my white shirt, my ID badge," he rattles off.

They talk him through the rest of the grounding techniques and by the time he feels like he's in control again, he's exhausted. His eyes hurt and his throat is dry. 

"Can you tell us why you spiraled so hard, Bear? This hasn't happened in a long time," Jimmy asks.

"I spoke to Tim again," he says simply. He pushes himself up onto his feet and walks over to the sink. Setting the phone down on the counter, he grips the sink with both hands and just breathes. The Bernard in the mirror looks like he just came out of a warzone, eyes haunted, hair messed up. 

"Oh fuck," Ty says, "Where did you even meet him?"

"At my new job at Wayne Ent."

"Why would you apply there?" Jimmy asks, stressed.

"I didn't know! It's not like I've had a lotta time in the past few years to check the news!"

"Well, whatever, what’s done is done." Ty says, ever practical, "Are you going to quit?"

"No!” he says vehemently.

“No,” he repeats quieter, “Wayne has the best benefits and Mori needs that. I’ll just suck it up and try to avoid him.”

“Don’t be fucking stupid,” Aunt Betty says.

“Ma!”

“Oh be quiet Jimmy. I’ve never heard of a more stupider thing. He’s your CEO, Bear, and he knows you work there. He’s obviously going to want ‘to catch up’ or whatever. There is no avoiding him. Can you handle that?”

What can he say? Aunt Betty is right. He can’t handle talking to Tim. Even seeing Tim felt like touching a live wire. He can’t deal with another episode. Mori doesn’t need him to be fucked up, Mori needs him to be the stable adult he promised the courts he was. 

“You can’t, sweetheart,” she says softly, “you can’t handle it.”

There’s some shuffling on the other end of the phone. 

“Bear,” Ty says gently, “I love you, man. You’re my brother. Jimmy loves you, Mama loves you, Aunt Betty loves you. But you gotta start thinking about therapy.”

“I know, I know,” he sighs, “I shouldn’t’ve dragged you into this. I’m—”

Ty cuts him off with an exasperated huff, “It’s not about that Bear. I’ll keep talking to your hallucinations for as long as you need me too. Even when we’re seventy, I’ll do it for you. I don’t care about that. I care about you and I want you to be happy and healthy. I don’t want you to keep seeing Darla. I don’t want you to keep trying to scrub the blood off your hands. 

“And I know you’ve been avoiding therapy ‘cause you don’t got the money and ‘cause talking about your problems is scary but it’s not just you anymore. You got Mori now. That custody claim is going through. You can’t just avoid things ‘cause they’re hard now. You work at Wayne now; that paycheck is more than enough to set a few dollars aside each month to save up for therapy. Hell, mental health probably comes with your medical benefits. Please, Bear. If you can’t get help for you, then do it for us, for Mori. Please stop making us watch you hurt.”

Bernard exhales shakily.

“I never wanna find you the way we did after the cult, Bear. I never wanna see you in the hospital bed like that again. Please don’t do that to us, please,” Ty whispers.

Unconsciously, his hand comes up to rub at the scar left behind from the sacrifice. It stretches along the length of his sternum, jagged and rough. On good days, he can pretend that it’s a scar from a heart surgery. He doesn’t have that many good days.

Bernard presses the heel of his palms into his eyes before using his hands to scrub at his face. He’s always so tired these days.

“Okay,” he says simply, “okay.”

“Okay?” Ty asks hopefully.

“Okay, you’re right. It’s not just me anymore. Mori deserves the best and I’m gonna give it to him. And I love Tim, I think I’ll always love Tim but he clearly doesn’t give a shit about me. So I gotta make my peace with it or I’ll go crazy.”

Ty whoops, “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” he chants.

“Bear, it’s still the middle of the workday,” Jimmy says, although he too, sounds happy. Auntie Bea and Betty are muttering about a feast, he thinks. “Don’t you have to get back to work?”

“Yeah, that’s if I’m not fired already,” he mutters.

“Hey!” Jimmy admonishes, “Optimism only, no pessimism.”

“Alright, alright. I gotta get back to work now. Thanks guys.”

“Of course, we’ll let you go now. Ma wants me to tell you that we’re having dinner at your place today.”

“Aunt Betty,” he whines, “I haven’t cleaned and you and Auntie Bea are just looking for a reason to spoil Mori.”

“Absolutely,” they say, unashamed, “he’s our only grandson. We have to spoil him.”

“Fine,” he sighs but he’s smiling. Fuck, he loves these people. God knows he wouldn’t have survived the past six years without them.

“Bye Bear,” they say before he hangs up, “Good luck on your first day!”

He cuts the phone and slides it back into his pocket. Turning on the tap, he splashes some cold water onto his face. Using his wet hands, he tries to rearrange his mussed up hair into something acceptable for an office job.

Time to face the music Darls, he tells her smiling face in the mirror. She gives him a thumbs up in return.

The walk back to his office feels like a death sentence. He’s fucked this up, he knows it. Freaking out over a small interaction with his CEO and then running away only to come back two hours later? It’s over, done for. Bernard takes comfort in the fact that at least the severance package will be nice.

Stepping into the office, immediately draws the eyes of his team members. Every step towards his team leader’s office feels nerve-wracking. Just before he enters, Esperanza, the team’s second in command, stops him.

“Whatever happened,” she says, “just explain it to him. Young-joon’s a reasonable man, he’s not gonna yell at you.”

Some of the tension leaves him and he nods. Knocking on the door, he enters. His team leader looks up and smiles.

“Ah, Bernard! Why don’t you take a seat for me?”

He crosses his wrists behind his back, “I’d rather stand, sir.”

His team leader looks confused, “‘Sir’? Just call me Young-joon like I told you.”

“Anyway, after you left, I took the liberty of going through your file to see if there was anything I missed. I hope that wasn’t overstepping my boundaries.”

“No s-, Young-joon. You’re fine.”

Young-joon sighs and pushes the file he was reading before Bernard came in forward. It’s his file. 

“I’m going to say some statements,” he says, “and I want you to confirm whether it’s true or not. If any of these questions make you uncomfortable, just tell me okay? I’ll drop it immediately.”

Bernard nods.

“You went to Louis E. Grieves Memorial High School.”

“Yes.”

“Based on the dates you put in your file, you were there for the shooting.”

“...Yes. Junior year.”

“You know our CEO.”

“Yes,” he breathes out.

“How?”

He used to fall asleep on my shoulder during lunch and I would listen to him breathe. He’s got moles all over his face. Darls once connected them with a sharpie. His step-mom was so hot, I thought I’d spontaneously combust every time she smiled. HIs dad didn’t really like me and flirting with his wife didn’t help my case. The Drake condo had a crocheted flower blanket on the sofa that his mom had made during her pregnancy. He liked to skateboard but couldn’t roller-blade to save his life. I have all this love and nowhere to put it.

“It’s a little private,” he says instead.

“I’m only asking because we work quite closely with him. We see him often and if that makes you uncomfortable, then I can have you transferred to another team.”

His shoulders sag, “We went to Grieves together for one year. Our mutual friend died. It’s a little hard to look at him.”

“Jesus Christ.” Young-joon says, “Okay well the offer is still on the table, Bernard. Do you want to be transferred?”

“No, I like your team. I’d like to stay,” he says, firmly.

“Are you sure?” Youn-joon asks, eyebrows raised.

“Yes.”

“Okay then,” and it’s like a switch had flipped. Gone is his serious team leader and in its place is the man he met this morning.

“If you plan on staying,” he says smiling, “then my primary recommendation is that you use the medical benefits the company gives you to find a therapist. If you need help, the infirmary here will walk you through it.” 

Oh thank god it comes included with his medical, Ty will be overjoyed to hear that. But first, he has to ask Young-joon why he’s doing all this. Bernard knows his experience with authority figures is a little skewed towards the shitty side of the spectrum but even so, people usually aren’t so kind in his experience.

“Why are you doing this? Why didn’t you fire me? Why are you helping me?”

Young-joon chuckles, “Do you want to be fired?”

“No! But still, why are you helping me?”

Young-joon sighs and stands up. Walking around his desk, he stops right in front of Bernard. Young-joon puts a hand on his shoulder.

“This city takes a lot out of its people, believe me I know. And you were so young, when Gotham took her piece of you. It wasn’t fair of you to go through that. Just like it wasn’t fair to me and my wife when we got kidnapped as children. These kinds of things don’t go away. I still get worked up over zip-ties. My wife still has nightmares. All you can do is learn to live with it.

“You seem like a good kid with a good head on your shoulders. I’d hate to see all that potential go to waste ‘cause you kept getting trapped in your mind. I had a lot of help to get to where and who I am today. Consider this, me paying it forward. One day, I hope you can pay it forward too.”

His eyes feel suspiciously wet. “Thank you,” he chokes out, “thank you.”

Young-joon laughs, “There’s no need for the waterworks, Bernard. Now, pack up your things and go home. You’re in no state to analyze data today but I expect you here at 9AM sharp tomorrow, alright?”

Bernard mock salutes, “Yes, sir.”

“Goodbye, Bernard.”

Right before he exits, he turns around and calls out his team leader’s name.

“Young-joon,” Young-joon looks up confused, “you can call me Bear, by the way.”

A wide grin stretches across his team leader’s face, “Okay then. Goodbye Bear, see you tomorrow.”

Walking out of the office, it feels like a burden has been lifted off his shoulders. Esperanza takes one look at him and snorts.

“You just got Young-joon-ed, huh?”

His jaw drops, “He does that often enough you guys have a name for it?”

The other team members laugh, “Welcome to Data Analysis Team 1, kiddo. We look forward to working with you from now on.”

Smiling, he gathers his things and leaves after a few goodbyes. Once outside the building, the smile drops. It’s an hour-and-a-half bus ride from Wayne Tower to his house. The bus stop sits right in front of the tower too. Some new initiative by the mayor to promote the city moving towards green energy. Hey look, even rich people take the bus! What a fucking joke.

The tower warps the sunlight around it and he stares up at the top floor. Is Tim watching? Can Tim see him from up there? Does he care or was it just the shock of seeing someone he once knew this morning? Has Tim ever thought about him, about them? Or were they just moments in his life? Perpendicular lines, intersecting once and then never again.

I miss you, he thinks staring at the top floor, I miss you more than anything but I’ll walk into oncoming traffic before I ever reach for you again.

The bus pulls up next to him and he snags a seat in the back. Dropping his head onto the seat in front of him, he stares out the window. Darls smiles back at him in the window reflection, perpetually sixteen. He’s twenty-two now.

Fuckin’ hell Darls, he thinks wearily, we’re really in it now.

Darls places her hand against the glass, he leans his shoulder onto it. If he closes his eyes, he can almost feel her warmth.

We’ll make it through, she says.

The bus rumbles forward and he lets the cracked streets of Gotham lull him to sleep. He’ll make it through.

A/N: chami! i hope you like it!!! i've never gifted a fic before, i don't really know how this works. and to everyone who read it, i hope you liked it too! please leave your thoughts in the reblogs or replies!!! i miss the days when td:r was coming out and we were all collectively freaking out. anyway when i said loosely based, i really did mean loosely. props to you guys if you can figure out the direct references to the drama. but this is a one-shot. i'm not gonna be writing anything else for this 'verse? au? (god i'm always so worried im using em dashes wrong)

if you have questions or you're confused by something i wrote, feel free to ask questions or send an ask or message. oh, and i know some people like know the exact wordcount. so, it's exactly 6,785 words long. nice number right?

also, please note that if you want to make art or a podfic or hell, even fanfiction of this, feel free to do so! i hope that's not too presumptuous or anything. idk i see fanfic writers make this disclaimer all the time, so i thought i'd do it to.

thank you for reading!

[hd-junglebook]

Can I Help You

Part 2 / Word Count 3509

Masterlist

Summary: after days of avoiding Luke, y/n has to man up and see Luke in person after she ran away. But of course, things won't go as smoothly when her ex-boyfriend shows up.

Previous - Next

The music pulsed through the night air, the heavy bass reverberating in their chests as y/n and Clarke approached the big white house. Clusters of partygoers sprawled across the front lawn and spilled over onto the stairway, their laughter and chatter mixing with the thumping soundtrack blaring from inside.

The chill in the air nipped at exposed skin, but the revelers seemed impervious, warmed by the electric thrill of the night and perhaps a few red solo cups.

y/n's heels clicked rhythmically against the sidewalk, a sharp staccato cutting through the dull roar of the party. She tugged at the hem of her dress, suddenly feeling self-conscious amidst the sea of scantily clad sorority girls. Clarke, sensing her friend's hesitation, looped her arm through y/n's and gave a reassuring squeeze.

"You've got this, babe. He's going to eat his heart out when he sees you," Clarke declared, her voice raised to carry over the din.

y/n exhaled shakily, her breath misting in the cool air. She wanted to believe her friend, wanted to trust in the liquid courage buzzing through her veins, but the butterflies in her stomach refused to settle.

They climbed the steps to the front door, dodging red cups and overly enthusiastic dancers, y/n scanned the crowd for a glimpse of him. Her heart stuttered in her chest when she finally spotted him across the room, his tall frame unmistakable even in the dim party lighting.

He looked up then, his eyes locking with hers, and the rest of the room fell away. In that suspended moment, she forgot all about her nerves, forgot why she had run away before. All that mattered was the way he was looking at her now, his gaze smoldering with intensity and unspoken promises.

Clarke's elbow jabbed sharply into her ribs, startling her back to reality. "Go get him, tiger," she urged with a knowing grin, giving y/n a gentle shove in his direction.

As Luke's gaze continued to bore into her, y/n felt a sudden surge of panic. She grabbed Clarke's hand and deftly maneuvered them through the throng of partygoers, weaving between the gyrating bodies until they reached a more crowded corner of the house.

The music was even louder here, the bass thumping in their chests, but at least they were out of Luke's line of sight.

 Clarke turned to face y/n, her long wavy blonde hair blanketing her face. Her leather skirt hugged her curves as she planted her hands on her hips, fixing y/n with an incredulous stare. "You mean to tell me the boy you think is hot says he wants you and your first instinct is to run away?" Clarke asked, her voice laced with disbelief.

y/n fidgeted with the hem of her black dress, the fabric clinging to her like a second skin. The bow in her hair bobbed as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, looking unsure of her answer. After a moment, she reluctantly nodded her head.

Clarke's eyes widened, her perfectly arched brows nearly reaching her hairline. "Girl, what are you thinking? Luke is practically begging to get with you, and you're over here playing hide-and-seek!"

y/n sighed, her shoulders slumping. "I know, I know. It's just..." She trailed off, trying to find the right words. "What if he ends up just like Mark? Even worse, what if Mark finds out?"

Clarke softened, reaching out to squeeze y/n's hand. "Oh, honey. Have you seen the way that boy looks at you? Don't let your fears hold you back from something that could be amazing."

y/n chewed on her bottom lip, considering Clarke's words. She knew her friend was right. Now that he had finally made a move, she was running scared.

Straightening her shoulders, y/n took a deep breath. The bow in her hair quivered with her newfound resolve. "You're right. I won’t let my insecurities ruin this. I'm going to go talk to him. And we’re gonna drink and I won’t run away!"

Clarke grinned, her red lips curving into a proud smile. "That's my girl! Go get your man!" She gave y/n a playful swat on the rear as she turned to head back into the fray. y/n took one last steadying breath before squaring her shoulders and marching towards Luke.

…

As y/n approached Luke from behind, she couldn't help but admire the way his curls shone under the bright kitchen lights. They looked so soft, and she had to resist the urge to reach out and run her fingers through them.

She was close enough now to catch a whiff of his cologne, a heady scent that made her pulse quicken. She breathed in deeply, letting the aroma wash over her, a potent mixture of spice and musk that was uniquely Luke.

Lost in the moment, y/n didn't realize just how close she had gotten until Luke suddenly turned around, his eyes locking with hers. For a heartbeat, the world seemed to stand still. The chatter and laughter of the partygoers faded into the background, and all y/n could focus on was the intensity of Luke's gaze.

His eyes seemed to pierce right through her, sending a shiver down her spine. There was a hint of surprise in his expression, perhaps at her sudden appearance, but it quickly gave way to something else entirely. Something heated and hungry that made y/n's breath catch in her throat.

"Hey," Luke said, his voice low and husky. "I was wondering where you disappeared to."

y/n swallowed hard, trying to find her voice. "I just needed a minute," she replied, hoping he couldn't hear the tremor in her words.

Luke's lips quirked up in a half-smile, and he took a step closer. "Well, I'm glad you're back. I was starting to think you were avoiding me."

y/n's heart hammered in her chest as she shook her head. "No, not avoiding. Just..." She trailed off, unsure of how to explain the riot of emotions swirling inside her.

Luke's smile softened, and he reached out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. His fingers brushed against her skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. "Just what, y/n?" he asked gently.

y/n drew in a shaky breath, steeling herself. It was now or never. "Just trying to work up the courage to do this."

And with that, she closed the remaining distance between them, rising up on her toes to press her lips against his. For a moment, Luke went still, and y/n feared she had made a terrible mistake. But then his arms came around her, pulling her flush against his body as he deepened the kiss.

The rest of the world fell away as y/n lost herself in the sensation of Luke's lips moving against hers, his hands roaming over her back, her sides, her hips. She tangled her fingers in his curls, reveling in their softness, just as she had imagined.

When they finally broke apart, both of them breathless and flushed, Luke rested his forehead against hers. "Wow," he murmured, his eyes shining with wonder.

y/n couldn't help but giggle, a giddy sort of joy bubbling up inside her. "Wow indeed," she agreed, before pulling him down for another kiss. As y/n melted into Luke's embrace, savoring the taste of his lips and the warmth of his body pressed against hers, she caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye. Her heart stuttered in her chest as she recognized the familiar figure striding through the doorway.

Mark.

y/n froze, her body going rigid in Luke's arms. He pulled back, his brow furrowed in concern as he noticed the sudden change in her demeanor. "What's wrong?" he asked, his voice laced with worry.

But y/n couldn't respond, her eyes locked on Mark as he made a beeline for Clarke. She watched, her stomach twisting in knots, as he leaned in close to her friend, his expression serious as he questioned her about something y/n couldn't hear over the pounding music.

"I... I need a second," y/n stammered, tearing her gaze away from Mark and Clarke. She stepped out of Luke's embrace, her skin feeling suddenly cold without his touch.

Luke's face fell, a mixture of confusion and hurt flickering across his handsome features. "What? Why? Did I do something wrong?"

y/n shook her head, already backing away. "No, it's not you. I just... I have to go."

She turned to leave, but Luke's hand shot out, grabbing her arm. His grip was gentle but firm, his fingers pressing into her skin. "Wait, y/n. Please. Don't run away again."

y/n's heart clenched at the desperation in his voice, but she couldn't bring herself to meet his gaze. "Luke, I'm sorry. I can't do this right now."

"Can't do what?" Luke demanded, his tone sharpening with frustration. "Can't talk to me? Can't be honest with me? You keep sending me all these mixed signals, y/n. One minute you're kissing me like your life depends on it, the next you're running away like I've got the plague."

y/n flinched at the accusation in his words, but she couldn't deny the truth of them. She had been running hot and cold with Luke for weeks now, ever since they'd started skating together. Ever since she'd begun tutoring him in math, staying up late to help him grasp concepts that seemed to slip through his fingers like water.

She'd thought she could keep him at arm's length, that she could ignore the way her heart raced every time he looked at her with those piercing honey eyes. But then he'd kissed her tonight, and everything had changed.

"I'm sorry," she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. "I just... I have to leave."

She tried to pull away, but Luke's grip on her arm tightened. His jaw clenched, a muscle ticking beneath the stubble that shadowed his angular cheekbones. "So that's it? You're just going to run away again? Leave me hanging like you always do?"

The bitterness in his tone made y/n's chest ache, but she forced herself to meet his gaze. "Luke, please. Don't make this harder than it has to be."

"Harder than it has to be?" Luke scoffed, his eyes flashing with hurt and anger. "You're the one making it hard, y/n. You're the one who keeps pushing me away, even though I know you feel something for me. I can see it in the way you look at me, the way you melt into me when we kiss."

He took a step closer, his free hand coming up to cup her cheek. His touch was feather-light, but it burned like a brand against her skin. "Why won't you let me in, y/n? Why won't you give us a chance?"

y/n swallowed hard, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. She wanted to tell him everything, to confess all the secrets she'd been keeping locked away in her heart. But the words stuck in her throat, choking her.

"I'm sorry," she said again, her voice cracking. "I have to go."

And with that, she wrenched her arm free of Luke's grasp and fled, pushing through the crowd of partygoers as the tears began to fall. She could feel Luke's eyes boring into her back as she ran, but she didn't dare look back.

She couldn't bear to see the heartbreak on his face, knowing that she was the one who had put it there. She approached Clarke and Mark, their voices grew louder, cutting through the pulsing music and chatter of the party. She could see the tension in Mark's shoulders, the way his hands clenched into fists at his sides as he loomed over Clarke.

"Who is that guy, Clarke? I know you're lying to me. Tell me who he is!" Mark's voice was sharp, his words clipped with barely contained rage.

Clarke, to her credit, looked utterly unfazed. She stood her ground, her arms crossed over her chest as she stared up at Mark with a look of disdain. "When is the right time to leave your ex-girlfriend alone? She doesn't want you, you're crazy."

Mark's face reddened, his nostrils flaring. "I'm not crazy! I just want to know who that guy is. y/n is mine, and I'm not going to let some random dude swoop in and steal her away from me."

y/n's stomach churned at the possessiveness in Mark's voice. She'd broken up with him months ago, but he still seemed to think he had some kind of claim on her. It was one of the reasons she'd been so hesitant to let herself get close to Luke, even though her heart yearned for him.

She stepped forward, putting herself between Mark and Clarke. "Mark, stop. Please. You're making a scene."

Mark's gaze snapped to her, his eyes wild. "y/n! There you are. I've been looking all over for you."

He reached for her, but y/n stepped back, shaking her head. "Mark, we've been over this. We're not together anymore. You need to leave me alone."

Mark's face twisted, a mixture of hurt and anger flickering across his features. "Is this because of him? That guy you were with earlier?"

y/n's heart stuttered in her chest. "Luke has nothing to do with this. We broke up because you were possessive and controlling, and I couldn't take it anymore."

Mark scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Oh, please. You loved it when I took charge. When I made all the decisions for us. You needed me to take care of you."

y/n's hands clenched into fists, her nails digging into her palms. "I didn't need you to do anything for me, Mark. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

Mark's eyes narrowed, his lips curling into a sneer. "Really? Is that why you're running around with some new guy, letting him put his hands all over you? You're just a slut who can't be alone." The words hit y/n like a slap, and she recoiled as if she'd been struck. Beside her, Clarke let out a gasp of outrage.

"How dare you talk to her like that! You're a pathetic excuse for a man, Mark. No wonder she dumped your sorry ass."

Mark's face reddened even further, and for a moment, y/n thought he might actually strike Clarke. But then he seemed to deflate, his shoulders slumping as he took a step back.

"Fine. Whatever. You two deserve each other." He spat the words like venom, his eyes darting between y/n and Clarke. With that, he turned on his heel and stalked away, shoving through the crowd of partygoers. y/n watched him go, her heart racing in her chest.

She felt like she couldn't breathe, like the walls of the room were closing in on her. "y/n? Are you okay?" Clarke's voice was gentle, her hand coming to rest on y/n's shoulder.

…

Luke stood there for a moment, stunned and heartbroken. He couldn't understand why she kept running away from him, why she wouldn't let him in. He thought they had something special, but now he was starting to doubt everything.

As he turned to leave, his shoulders slumped in defeat, he found himself face to face with a tall, broad-shouldered guy he didn't recognize. The guy had a scowl on his face and a glint of something dangerous in his eyes.

"Hey, you," the guy said, his voice low and menacing. "You're the one who was with y/n earlier, right?"

Luke bristled at the accusation in the guy's tone. "Yeah, what's it to you?"

The guy stepped closer, invading Luke's personal space. "I'm Mark, y/n's boyfriend. And I want to know what the hell you think you're doing with my girl."

Luke's eyes widened in surprise, his heart clenching painfully in his chest. y/n had a boyfriend? Why hadn't she told him? Had everything between them been a lie?

Anger set in, hot and fierce. How dare this guy claim y/n as his own, like she was some kind of possession? And how dare y/n lead him on, make him think they had something real, when she was just using him to get back at her boyfriend?

Luke's jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists at his sides. He wanted to punch Mark in his smug face, to make him feel even a fraction of the pain that was tearing through his own heart. But instead, he forced himself to take a step back, to put some distance between them. "No, that's not my girl," he said, his voice cold and flat. "I don't know her."

The words tasted like ash in his mouth, but he forced them out anyway. He wouldn't let Mark see how much this was killing him, wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing he'd gotten under his skin.

Mark's eyes narrowed, his lips curling into a sneer. "Good. Because if I ever catch you sniffing around her again, I'll make you regret it."

Luke just shook his head, a humorless laugh escaping his lips. "Trust me, you don't have to worry about that. I'm done with her."

…

y/n hadn't gone far when she heard the confrontation between Mark and Luke. She'd been hiding in a quiet corner of the house, trying to gather her thoughts and calm her racing heart, when their voices had carried over the din of the party.

At first, she couldn't make out what they were saying. But then she heard Luke's voice, cold and harsh, saying "No, that's not my girl. I don't know her."

The words hit her like a physical blow, stealing the breath from her lungs. She felt like she'd been punched in the gut, like the ground had opened up beneath her feet and swallowed her whole.

How could Luke say that, after everything they'd been through? After the way he'd kissed her, held her, looked at her like she was the only thing in the world that mattered?

Anger surged through her, hot and fierce. She pushed herself off the wall and stormed towards the two men, her vision tunneling until all she could see was Mark's smug face.

Without a second thought, she hurled herself at him, swinging her fists with wild abandon. She wasn't thinking, wasn't planning, just acting on pure instinct and rage.

Mark stumbled back, his eyes widening in surprise as y/n's blows rained down on him. He tried to fend her off, but she was relentless, her anger giving her a strength she didn't know she possessed.

Luke jumped back in shock, his mouth falling open as he watched y/n attack Mark. For a moment, he was frozen, unsure of what to do.

But then Clarke appeared out of nowhere, pushing herself between y/n and Mark. "Stop it, both of you!" she yelled, her hands held out in front of her like a shield. Mark snarled, shoving Clarke aside with a rough push. She stumbled, nearly falling, but managed to catch herself at the last moment.

That was all it took for Luke to snap out of his daze. He lunged forward, grabbing y/n around the waist and hauling her away from Mark. She struggled against him, still swinging her fists, but he held her tight, his arms like steel bands around her.

"Let me go!" she screamed, her voice raw and ragged. "I'm going to kill him!"

But Luke just held her tighter, his breath hot against her ear as he spoke. "y/n, stop. He's not worth it."

y/n sagged against him, all the fight draining out of her in a rush. She felt like a puppet whose strings had been cut, like she might collapse if Luke wasn't holding her up.

"Why did you say that?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "Why did you tell him you didn't know me?"

Luke was silent for a long moment, and y/n felt her heart sink. But then he spoke, his voice soft and sad. "Because I thought you had a boyfriend. I thought you were just using me to get back at him."

y/n's eyes widened, and she twisted in Luke's arms to look up at him. "What? No! Mark's not my boyfriend. We broke up months ago."

Luke's brow furrowed in confusion. "But he said-"

"He's lying," y/n interrupted, her voice fierce. "He's a manipulative, controlling asshole who can't stand the thought of me moving on."

She reached up, cupping Luke's face in her hands. "Luke, I'm so sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I was just... scared. Scared of getting hurt again, scared of letting someone in."

Luke's eyes softened, and he leaned into her touch. "I know. I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have assumed the worst."

y/n shook her head, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "No, you shouldn't have. But I shouldn't have run away, either.” Luke smiled back, his eyes crinkling at the corners before y/n continued. "Maybe we can start over? Try this whole communication thing again?"

...

[underdark-dreams]

Hey idk if you only write Tav x character but I am STARVED!!! Starved I say! For Karach x Dammon content. It just makes so much sense and as someone who remained platonic with Karlach I still wanted her to get some action and seeing how Dammon was RIGHT! FUCKING! THERE! It makes sense that they could maybe hook up and he’s been invested in helping her too and huuuuuuuUUUUUUUUH.

I know you like writing about them tieflings so if eventually if you are able you could write the two of them going at it like the touch starved babies they both are (Karlach for obvious reasons and Dammon bc he’s probably focused on his work most of the time).

I’m still shook over your Rolan x Tav fanfic you wrote and I can’t wait to see what you write in the future!

Dammon x Karlach [Explicit]

Touchable

"Damn I'm good. And you, you're...very touchable." An infernal blacksmith and a Blood War veteran walk into a bar. Who would have guessed that Dammon is a natural when it comes to handling fire?

Tags: Explicit Sexual Content, Gentle Angst, Sweet/Hot

Word Count: 3,460 [Read on AO3]

“Of course, you’ll need to install it yourself.”

"Of course, of course—can’t touch the giant flaming woman," Karlach grinned at him. 

Dammon often noticed that Karlach smiled when things made her sad. He remembered the moment well, remembered each time he'd been given an opportunity to help tune that engine of hers.

Their most recent conversation stuck out with particular pain in his mind.

He'd spent many late nights burning the candles down in his room as he sketched and diagrammed and theorized. No matter how many sheets of parchment he filled, Dammon kept arriving at the same awful conclusion.

Even with his niche skills, he was all out of options for Karlach. She could either return to the sustaining fires of Avernus, or live on this plane however long she could manage before her engine was snuffed out.

Dammon couldn't even calculate whether she had years left or only months. Somehow, that made it so much more terrible.

Karlach took the news with superhuman optimism, the way she approached most things. She thanked him with tears in her eyes for at least giving her back the chance to touch and be touched. For that, her first hug in ten years was his. 

Hopefully it wouldn't be the last, Dammon found himself thinking, as her warm body pressed up firmly against him. She wasn't the only one who was long overdue for some physical affection.

Dammon had always thought of her now and then as he worked in his forge. Usually it was idle and passing, wondering whether her infernal parts were giving her any trouble. 

But lately, it was hard to shake her from his mind at all. Had she found someone to finally take to bed yet? Surely so, with how many years she'd be confined to unwilling celibacy. 

It embarrassed him to admit, but he fervently wished it could've been him. He wasn't much more than a humble smith, and she was practically the city’s hero at this point. How many times had she saved his own life? He'd lost track.

All these thoughts ran through Dammon's mind from where he sat at the bar of the Blushing Mermaid. As he surfaced from his reflection, the din and noise of the place pressed against his ears again.

Not as reputable as the Elfsong, perhaps, but it was closer to his forge. And it was easier to be left to yourself when all the other patrons were already piss-drunk.

"Hey, soldier!"

A friendly hand clapped his back, causing Dammon to nearly choke on his pint as Karlach slid into the seat beside him.

"Sorry," she said with a grimace, but her eyes were sparkling. "Gods, am I glad to see you."

Dammon wiped his mouth in surprise as she swung her very large mug up on the table. "You too, Karlach," he said with a genuine smile. It was like the very strength of his thoughts had conjured her. She looked better than ever.

"I didn't expect to see you here," he admitted. "I thought you'd be out enjoying the new you."

"Fucking someone's brains out, you mean?" Karlach finished for him. Dammon found her bluntness unbelievably attractive.

"To be honest that's why I'm here," she admitted, and rubbed her neck with a hand. "Camp's a bit awkward at the moment. I may have made a pass at Wyll that wasn't, er…enthusiastically received. Think I scared him off a bit," she finished ruefully.

Very much Wyll's loss, Dammon thought to himself. What he wouldn't give.

"Well, you picked the right place for drowning sorrows," he told her aloud. As if on cue, there was a loud chorus of booing as an empty glass went hurtling across the room to land on the low stage, where the half-orc lute player promptly lobbed it back into the crowd with a shattering crash. Dammon raised his arm out in demonstration of his point; Karlach was already cracking up.

"Fucking missed this city," she laughed, wiping a tear of mirth from her eye. They each took a generous drink of ale.

But Karlach wasn't distracted for long. "I just wish, you know?" She sighed. "I wish I could be with someone who understands a little bit. Sex is fabulous on its own, but I want everything, all of it."

"What's stopping you?" Dammon asked her, wondering what it would take for her to see him as a very viable option.

"So many things," she said. "I appreciate what you've done for me Dammon, please believe that I do, but…I still feel more machine than Karlach." 

"I'm pretty handy with mechanics, you know." Dammon was flirting with her despite himself. He couldn't help it; she was so radiant and lovely as she sat there close beside him.

Karlach finally glanced over at him, and he saw in her eyes that she'd caught it. 

"You must know I like you," she said, her voice low but intense. "Dammon, I like you so much. But you're so lovely, and I'm—" She gestured a hand down her front. "—This. Wild, unstable. What if I end up, I don't know, hurting you somehow?” She looked at him with a pained expression. “A guy like you deserves someone tender, and I'm not sure that's me."

All traces of joking were gone; the air between them had grown serious in a second. Dammon's heart thrummed strong against his ribs, and he reached for her fingers before he could stop himself.

"Maybe forget what you think I deserve, and listen to what I’m saying." He shook his head at her. "Karlach, you talk like you're some kind of monster. So you've got an infernal engine in your chest. And sure, you're tall as hell. But I mean, you've got plenty of—you're not short on any of the—" He was casting around for a gentlemanly way to describe her curves and realizing that it probably didn’t exist.

"Spit it out," Karlach teased him. But her expectant expression made his face grow warm.

"I just wish you wouldn't talk down about yourself like that," Dammon explained. "You're very womanly, and plenty desirable."

"Oh," she said, taken aback. Her free hand fiddled with the handle of her mug. "That's…no one's ever said something like that to me before."

What a damn shame that was. Dammon watched the doubt and confusion work over her features. How long had she thought of herself as nothing more than a tin soldier? He'd fixed what parts of her his hands could tend, but something in the way she saw herself was still broken. 

Dammon squeezed her fingers under his. "Karlach, there's so much about you to love. That I love. You are…an incredibly beautiful woman. Don't you know that?"

Karlach stared at him with wide eyes; her face looked somehow younger and softer. For a person so sure of everyone else's worth, she seemed so blind and unsure of her own.

"I am?" She asked, so quietly it broke his heart a little.

Dammon could only think of answering with a kiss. He leaned in with a careful tilt of the head, eyes on her mouth—in the last second he was elated to feel her lean forward to close the distance.

He would've honestly, truly believed that there were sparks between them. There was the fiery warmth of her skin, but Dammon also felt a tingling jolt between their lips that had nothing to do with her heat. His insides sung at the feeling of her lips moving over his with just as much urgency as he felt.

Dammon pulled her face deeper to him with a hand at the back of her neck. As his tongue explored her mouth and sought hers, he felt one of Karlach’s palms rest against his thigh. He could have choked on the desire that rose in his throat at her touch.

They both pulled away at the same instant.

"Your place?" She prompted, breathless.

"Mine," Dammon agreed. It was only a few minutes away, and though his bed was cramped even for one, he expected they wouldn't be sleeping much.

Dammon dumped some coin on the bar in a rush before they made their way outside. The cool breeze through the streets made him realize just how flushed and heated his skin was. His arm sought Karlach's waist beside him as they walked, and a thrill went through him at how lovely it was to finally hold her close. She seemed to feel the same.

"Gods, I can't wait to ride you," she said huskily. Dammon tried to keep a grip on his composure; her brazen eagerness made it very difficult. He settled for pulling her into a quick, heated kiss as they continued on. 

The two of them practically stumbled over the dark cobblestones of the entryway in their haze, both buzzing with impatience and expectation. By the time his nervous fingers had finally made work of the lock to his quarters, they were on each other before the door had latched behind them.

Karlach's leg hitched up over his hip as she devoured his mouth. Dammon's hand gripped behind her knee at once, holding their bodies steady against each other, kissing her back with sheer years of pent-up enthusiasm.

"You're strong," Karlach said as she surfaced, sounding pleased and surprised at once.

"'I'd hope so, after throwing around that hammer so long."

"You can throw me around." After a pause she added, "That's an invitation."

"I got that," Dammon grinned, absolutely smitten with her, and captured her lips again.

He guided them both toward the far end of his room and tumbled over her when they reached the mattress. His hands grazed the edge of her shirt, desire muddling his understanding of how to undo the many buckles and straps.

She took more pity on him than he deserved. Almost before he could blink she had freed herself of all her clothing, laying back naked before him on his bed. Pale, dim moonlight from the window illuminated her figure.

She was extraordinary.

Dammon quickly tugged his shirt past his snagging horns, wishing to feel her skin against his as soon as possible. Even before his head was free, he felt Karlach’s fingers helping with his pants, tugging them down past his hips and sliding them off onto the floor.

He hovered over her as they gazed at each other. The promise of bare flesh against flesh was almost overwhelming, now they were here. Dammon leaned down to place a tender kiss on her lips and then descended to explore her neck. 

Karlach’s arms clutched him eagerly as he kissed along her soft, warm skin. When he made his way down to her chest, he placed lips tenderly above her breast where the soft ticking of machinery resounded. It may not be a flesh and blood heart, but its rhythm was no less dear to him. She let out a soft, low hum.

Dammon wished he had more patience to linger. But instead he pushed his body down between her thighs, glancing up to check in on her for just a moment. Karlach watched him with a pained expression, lips parted—as if afraid he might not follow through with what his movements suggested. 

He wouldn't be teasing her for one second tonight. Dammon leaned down and ran the warm flat of his tongue up over her center.

His head was jerked slightly to the side as she grabbed at one of his horns with a moan. He didn't break from her, only licked at her steadily, smoothing and spreading her wetness up and over her soft folds. 

Even after all the work he'd done to cool her, she was still molten hot under his tongue—he thanked every god in the universe for his natural resistance. His lips closed firmly over her clit, sucking the spot as his tongue rolled her side to side in an achingly slow rhythm.

"Holy fuck," she panted from somewhere above him. "Holy fuck, Dammon—"

He curled one arm under and around her thigh, used thumb and index finger to spread her better for his mouth. He released his lips’ suction with an obscenely wet sound, replacing it with the circling pad of his thumb. She was delicious, but he sought to taste her deeper.

Dammon's tongue plunged deep into her cunt, so far that his nose pressed against where his fingers worked against her clit. 

Karlach cried out and squirmed violently under his mouth. Dammon's arms held her firm, angling her hips up and open against his searching mouth. His tongue thrust over and over unto her unbelievable heat as he tasted the sweet center of her, felt her satin walls constrict around him with each nudge of his tongue.

By now his own erection pressed painfully into the bed under him. He only shifted a little and continued on. She had so much more time to make up for, and Dammon was determined to be the one to satisfy her.

It wasn't long before Karlach's thighs were trembling against his ears. "Please," she whimpered desperately, nails clutching his hair to hold his face against her, as if begging him not to stop. He wouldn't have dreamed of it. His mouth worked her over with more enthusiasm than ever, swirling and sucking against her hot folds.

When she came around his tongue, the rush of her heat burst against his mouth and gushed out from her core. Dammon thought he might come just from the way her legs clenched desperately to keep his mouth working over her. He lapped up her sweet release faithfully with his tongue, even as his ears took in the far sweeter sounds of her shuddering, gasping moans.

Only once the twitching waves of her climax were receding under his lips did he glance up over her to see her face. 

Karlach’s eyes were closed, an expression of transcendent bliss painting her features. As he watched her pant through parted lips, her eyes opened slightly to look down at him where he still hovered between her thighs. He knew the lower half of his face must be dripping with her climax.

With a guttural sound, Karlach’s legs gripped around his middle to pull him just to where her arms could take over and guide him up over her. Dammon gathered himself just in time to land with palms braced on either side of her.

“Wait—” Dammon started, wishing to clean himself up first, but she was already pulling him into a kiss. She licked across his lips, tasting herself on him, before her tongue demanded entry into his mouth. He yielded more than willingly.

His painfully hard cock grazed her thigh as he moved over her. Karlach groaned into his mouth; the vibration of her lips against his sent yet another rush of blood to his throbbing length.

She broke away with a fresh glint of arousal already building behind her eyes. “Inside,” she directed him. “Right fucking now.”

Dammon needed no more encouragement. With fingers grasping under her back, he firmly lifted her body up and over his lap. The way she landed over him pressed her still-dripping heat against the underside of his cock. A trembling groan escaped him at the sensation. Nevertheless, he gathered himself enough to scoot back against the headboard for support.

Before he could fully prepare himself, Karlach’s hand had guided his tip between her folds. In the next motion, she descended down around his whole length at once.

“Fuck,” Dammon gasped. He wished he could find something more eloquent or romantic to describe the feeling, but his mind was wholly overwhelmed by the fiery warmth that gripped all around his cock. He could even feel her walls still fluttering against him from her recent climax. His fingertips dug into the flesh of her hips.

They crossed glances as she sat still to take him for a moment. Karlach’s eyes shone with desire and excitement, and something almost like love. One of Dammon’s hands slid up along her spine, dipping her neck down, capturing her lips in a tender kiss. He felt his mouth shaking slightly against hers.

“Every time alone, I imagined this,” Karlach breathed against him as they parted. 

Dammon thought he might unravel completely at her words. He leaned back against the hard wood behind him, eyes taking in every beautiful inch of her flesh, inviting her to do whatever she wanted with him.

She accepted the offer wordlessly. As her fingers clasped behind his neck, Karlach rocked her hips up and down over his length. He felt his jaw go slack at the feel of her heat surrounding him, taking him, over and over and over—

Dammon’s grip dug into her hips to add more force with each of her rhythmic thrusts down onto him. He gazed up at her with pure adoration as she took him. The feel of her warm skin against his lit a fire in his chest; his cock throbbed against the hot, squeezing silk of her walls.

“You’re so beautiful,” Dammon gasped before he could think. It was the truth, and she deserved to be told it—she deserved everything. He held her tight on his lap as took him, chasing her next release. Karlach’s hips faltered for a moment, and he realized she was already close.

Dammon felt her thighs trembling against him and pushed his back up straight to hold her closer as she rode his length. His palms pressed against her back, strong forearms circling and supporting her as she started to come apart yet again.

And she did—with a shuddering quake, Karlach grabbed his shoulders and let out a jumbled cry that was some mix of obscenities and his name.

She was incredible. Dammon watched the agony and ecstasy on her face as long as he could bear, as she rode out her second orgasm onto him, as her tight heat gripped and pulsed relentlessly around his cock. In the next moment his eyes squeezed shut as he was thrown wide to the delayed force of his own release, his hands spasming against her back as stars burst bright behind his eyelids.

After a long moment filled with nothing but the sounds of them keening and panting against each other, her chin dropped over his shoulder. Dammon felt her arms circle to grip around him tight.

As he listened to her breathing slow, she began to shake against him again. 

This time it was from the quiet sobs that heaved up from her chest. He held her head against the crook of his shoulder and stroked her hair as her tears flowed, feeling the droplets splash against and roll down his back.

Karlach cried from joy, blessed relief, aching sadness…from the pain of so much lost time and the knowledge of her limited future. It wasn't fair, none of it, and Dammon didn't know a single thing to say that might ease her burdened heart. 

Engine or no, she had more heart than anyone he'd ever known. He could only hold her to him tight as could be.

Seeking to comfort her further, Dammon worked his hips down the bed with her seated on him and tipped their connected bodies gently backwards. She collapsed without resistance on top of and against him. At least he could support her for a while, even if it was just with his silent body. 

After a little while, Karlach raised her head to look at him. Her face was streaked with tear tracks, but she was trying to smile through trembling lips. "I'm s-sorry," she choked out.

Dammon’s heart couldn’t bear it. He silenced her at once with a kiss. "Don't apologize to me," he whispered to her as he broke away, "or to anyone, ever."

He gathered her back up in his arms immediately. Karlach didn’t protest, only rested her cheek against his chest with a shuddering sigh. Dammon was vaguely aware of the sheen of sweat cooling all over his bare skin, but with her warm body nestled back up against him, he was more than comfortable.

Dammon pressed his lips to the skin of her forehead. He closed his eyes to focus on the way his heart beat against her chest; the steady hum of her body reverberated against him in response. Despite everything, the sound was dearer to him than he thought possible.

“Ready to go again?” Karlach asked suddenly. 

Dammon chuckled low in his chest, feeling the delayed ache in his limbs and realizing a bit late that the night’s exertions had only just begun.

“Give me a few minutes,” he requested with a lazy smile. “We’ve got time.”

[mraprilfools]

Word Count: 6.9k

Rating: E Pairing: Mammon x F!Reader

CW/TW: Mammon

Summary:

Even after dating the infamous sin Mammon for months, the man hasn't even tried to lay one dirty hand on you. You decide it's time to change that and put on a skimpy black dress on your next date! Only one problem, the reporters love it more than he does!

Or so you think. Preview below the cut

Openly dating one of the Sins was one of the best ways to end up with your name everywhere. In magazines, TV segments, and online discussion boards. It felt like your whole world was turned upside down once they had snapped a single photo of you leaving a restaurant with Mammon. He towered over you considerably, but you stuck out like a sore thumb as a simple hell-born Baphomet. A secretary that happened by the strangest fluke, a misfiling! Mammon had been far too impressed with your initial meeting to fire you.

All it took was a little healthy fear and suddenly he became borderline obsessed with you. At first, it was casual hangouts with the large sinner making himself quite at home with you. Then he was stealing your weekends and your free time for reasons unrelated to work. His hand became familiar on your shoulder, pushing you into his large plush body whenever he had some oddly capitalistic word of wisdom to share.

Before you knew it, the Sin had become a familiar part of your life. Only he was frustratingly chaste! Sure he’d cuddle with you, push that head against your neck, and wrap his four arms around you. You were happy to lay up on his fuzzy belly and simply… sleep. It was heavenly but three months later and he had not so much as tried to kiss you once.

You’d get to hold his hand! Mammon would pick you up and carry you. He even got you, your very own jester cap! Some days you’d lay on top of him while you played video games together. But… it never got more physical than that.

But tonight you felt you hyping yourself up to try and push things to the next level! At least a smooch! Today’s secret weapon? A pretty black dress that hugged your curves, leaving nothing to the imagination of what you were packing. High heels that showed off your legs even with your hooves fighting it every step of the way, and you went the extra mile to have your hair up.

Tonight! You were going to fuck a clown!

You arrived first at the venue. Standing outside waiting for him, pulling the shawl around your shoulders to attempt and banish the chilling cold of the evening. You’d chosen beauty over comfort and were starting to regret it. The flash of a camera made me far too aware of how high the hem of your dress rode and the plunging neckline.

It didn’t stop with one flash or two. Several were going off in the dark corners where you were never looking. You were stuck between staying where you were so Mammon could find you, or finding a place to hide. The anxiety of the crossroad didn’t have to live long. A familiar limo on the street meant your brief vigil was over and salvation.

You stood on the tips of your hooves, watching with unmasked excitement waiting for the sight of the man who had become so quickly dear to you.

Mammon stepped out wearing a bright green suit with a black vest underneath. His head was still covered with his iconic mask, matching with the colors of his formal wear. There were trappings of familiarity such as the squirting water flower and the spinning bow tie that spoke of his profession. The pressure in your chest felt much lighter at the sight of the larger-than-life sin. Thankfully he attracted all the cameras too! Something Mammon could brush off with ease because it was a world he was born into.

“There’s my Doll!” The familiar voice with its Australian slang cut through the din of the city. The nickname was a familiar one, apparently short for one of Mammon’s favorite things: The Dollar Bill.

The Chartreuse eyes glowed even in the evening, contrasting against the artificial lights. Mammon wasted no time scooping you right off the ground! Hands held your waist, lifting you until you were face to face despite your height differences. He then tucked you into the crook of his lower set of arms like a seat while the upper half was your support for your back. Your legs bent against his belly while he looked at you with his face illuminating with joy.

“You look like a million bucks!” A toothy grin flashed across his face; knowing how cheesy that sounded.

Didn’t fail to bring heat to your neck and a bubbling joy that had you bashfully trying to turn your head away. That was the highest compliment THE Mammon could give! “Fuzzy! We’re in public!” You reminded him. But the sin could hardly care, already pressing his forehead against yours. The ear of his hat tickled your scalp as his lips pressed against your temple.

“Yeah! And you think I give a shit? They SHOULD be looking. These pieces of shit are lucky to be getting to see people like us in public! Fuck, I should be CHARGING them. Wait--” The illuminated expression faltered, eyes squinting. He was stuck in one of his usual thoughts on how to exploit anything and everything for money. It was but one of the many things you loved about the man! Instead of interrupting you pressed a chaste kiss against his forehead, too shy to steal your first kiss in public!

Mammon’s face gentled, large green eyes widening in joy. “Aww, who am I kidding? I’m with my Doll! I’ll exploit these bitches later. You ready for some Italian?”

“You bet! I’ve never been anywhere this fancy before. I hope I don’t accidentally embarrass us...” It had to be quite an affair it was to make even Mammon dress up in a suit. The clown cocked his head to the side and then burst into laughter.

“Don’t worry Doll! Play it off like a joke and everyone will think you’re funny yeah? In any case, I’d hardly be Mammon if I didn’t take my girl to the most expensive restaurant in town yeah? I’m not some… broke loser. Eugh, like can you imagine?” Mammon stuck out his tongue as if it were easily the least attractive trait in anyone. You stuck your tongue out with him, a gesture that brought back that brilliant smile you loved.

“Hah, there’s my Doll! Poor people right? It’s like they want to be a joke. Come on!” Not given much of a choice, you were rocked within the cradle of Mammon’s arms. Held possessively, intentionally blocking you from the sight of the cameras.