#i used it twice and sort of got attached to it

[lured-into-wonderland]

Does any Nun have a pet ? What would she likes to have, if not ?

Does a horse count as a pet? If yes, then Nunnally does own a silver mare named Mist. The horse is really fast, and riding on it gives Nunnally the odd feeling of freedom. And independence. She likes idea of running away from her life that is often overwhelming for her. Even if she wouldn't openly admit that; not even to herself. Mist is also a substitute of a friend for Nunnally; "someone" with whom her secrets are secure. However, she doesn’t see her mare too often (perhaps apart from the royal verse) as the mare is kept in the country manor, where she cannot visit frequently.

Nunnally doesn’t have any other pets. She didn't either when she was younger. She would love to have a cat (but was never allowed to), she doesn’t like birds kept in cages (as they remind her of being trapped with no escape; in fact she can see herself in them), and is afraid of dogs (but all the dogs she knew were either guarding dogs or hunting dogs). She’d like to have more contacts with farm animals, like cows or sheep, but she was never allowed to. It was never deemed appropriate for a girl of her status.

@starzfield

[darqx]

2022 Xmas card trades were mini shaker bottles!...because past!Me decided to randomly buy some. Can you see the common thread between all my craft projects XDD These were actually pretty quick to put together all things considering (which was great cos I started them really late lol).

Pro tip never use plastic bottles like I did because ugh they scratch so easily.

Made from: Mini plastic bottles, craft paper, pipecleaner, felt, beads, buttons, thread, matchsticks, random scrapbooking bits and bobs

[randomshyperson]

Wanda holding hands 13 bc Ur smut is the best :D

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

prompt: linking hands together during sex | warnings: (+18) smut.

“Are you sure this is safe?”

Wanda lets out a giggle at your nervousness, sitting on your thighs, her hands resting on your stomach, she stares at you, her head slightly tilted.

"Are you questioning my magical abilities?" she counters your question with another one, receiving an offended snort in return.

"Of course not!" You mutter. You were looking at her before, but ended up looking down, where the toy conjured by the witch attached to your waist vibrates softly as if it were as desperate to feel her as you were half an hour ago when you both stumbled inside the rented room at the Harkness Mansion, where Wanda has been learning all sorts of magic for the past few months. Clearly, she has learned other interesting things, outside of the mandatory curriculum.

Your hands caress her thighs, but Wanda still notices the tension in your shoulders. She softens her gaze in your direction.

"It feels good, doesn't it? No need to worry." She rations, pleased to see you bite your lip as she tentatively caresses the plastic member. When you gasp at the stimulation, she feels a twinge of pride at her successful spell, too. "You can trust me."

"I trust you, darling." You assure her, a little out of breath and sweaty. It's round two already, and Wanda just proved her point by groping your new magical member, a squeeze that almost makes you lose your train of thought. "It's me I don't trust. What are we going to do about my strength? Are you sure-"

"That's exactly why I'm on top, silly." She cuts you off, adjusting herself on your lap in a way that brings her heat right where you want her. Your grip on her thighs tightens just enough to bruise. It's her time to bite her lip. With a deep breath, she stares at your eyes. "You just need to relax, and let me take charge. I bet you'll love it."

It's your turn to look at her adoringly. "Of course I will, it's you." You comment romantically, earning a shy smile from her. But then, there's a shift in her gaze. Wanda is still looking in your eyes as she adjusts the toy into her own entrance, teasing gently before slowly sinking down. She's able to feel every inch, filling her up to the bottom.

Your hands leave her thighs to grip the sheets, and she smiles breathlessly at your visible difficulty in keeping still, your jaw tensing as your stomach muscles tighten.

"See? I told you I'd like it." She teases, still getting used to the sensation of being full. She's pleased to know she got the size right, even though she can't help but imagine trying a bigger one in the future. "I'm going to start moving now, okay baby?"

But her body was betraying her. She was still quite sensitive, coming twice before for your fingers and tongue, she didn't imagine she'd be so affected so quickly when she switched to the toy. But the sensation was truly overwhelming. It was really different to feel you filling her like that, and in the attempt to grind against your lap, her body protested, as ready for climax as she had been when she started.

You came to her rescue immediately. Sitting, one of your hands brushed her hair away from her face, to get a better look at her before kissing her. Your other hand went down, wrapping around her waist and taking control of her movements. Wanda rewarded you with an affected moan against your lips, her thighs trembling on either side of your body as you forced her hips to move against yours. She didn't want to come so fast, but she couldn't help it. Being held like this, she felt so safe and loved that the knot in her lower belly exploded almost at the same moment you whispered "I got you, lovely". 

In the ecstasy of her own climax, she didn't notice your determination to hold back, unable to surrender without worries. It was only when she calmed down, breathless and still trying to get back into orbit, that she realized. Hugging you by the neck, she kissed your skin before speaking again. "I told you to trust me."

You sigh, caressing her back with open palms. "I do, but I don't want to hurt you." You murmur. Despite being bigger than Wanda, you suddenly seem very small. "Every muscle is amplified by the serum, Wands, you know that. I'm afraid I might-"

She cuts you off with a determined kiss. Wet and rough, it makes you gasp and grab her cheeks, pulling away for air. Wanda arches her back, teasing and baiting you, the image of her naked figure making you gasp. You stare at where your bodies connect, but don't move.

She grinds, and you groan. "Jesus, Wanda."

"You won't hurt me, I promise." She assures you, equally affected, having trouble keeping her eyes on you, her brow furrowed due to the roughness of her own hips' movements. Doing this, you kept hitting a sensitive spot inside her, and it was a hard feeling to ignore in order to speak. "It's part of the magic. Can you, for all that is holy, trust what I'm saying?"

You don't contradict, mainly because you're unable to hold back when Wanda is riding you so eagerly. You tense up then, panicking once you feel your climax reaching you, but to no avail, it's your attempt at holding it. An animalistic moan rips its way through your throat, and you grab Wanda's waist, holding her in place as you empty yourself inside her. She whines affectly, grabbing your shoulders as she feels the hot shot inside her. 

For a second, not only the toy soften but your body too, going heavy on her. She holds both of you to the bed with her thighs around your waist, a hand caressing your hair as she tries to ignore the way your cock is still pulsing and leaking inside her.

“Need a break, baby?” She asks softly but you groan deeply, hands suddenly firming around her to flip both of you in bed. She gasps when her back hits the mattress, but her surprise is turned into something else when you pound into her with strength. “Fuck.”

Her hands fell into the bed with the shifting in the position, and Wanda's eyes widened a little when you reached for them, holding them together above her head.

This was new and Wanda was definitely not complaining.

“We should have tried this ages ago.” You say, your voice husky due to the efforts and the previous orgasms. Wanda thinks you look beautiful like this, out of breath while you fuck her. “I could be gentle but… something tells me you don't want me to.”

Your free hand moves down to flick her swollen clit between your fingers and Wanda cries out, her back arching on the bed. You smirk, adjusting just so you could move the toy that slipped out back inside her.

There's a quick teasing from your part, pushing just the tip of the toy into her overstimulated dripping pussy, but sooner than later, you push all the way inside. Cursing under your breath as Wanda fights against the hold on her hands. She wants to hold you so badly that it physically consumes her and you end up pitying her pleasing eyes and needy moans. 

But you don't free her hands, instead, you entrelaces your fingers together in a deep grip that anchors her when your movements resume.

The pounding is rough, it cracks the bed and takes Wanda to a state of colorful eyes and magic emanation. The only noises in the room are the shared moaning and the obscene sounds of your cock pushing into her aching heat, the moisture of your last climax leaking into the bed. When she comes, all the lights in the bedroom flash. You follow her this time, groaning into her neck as you come. 

For a second, none of you are able to say anything, all but breathless gasps leaving your lips. Then, there's a shared giggle, and your fingers, still interlaced, squeeze before letting go, only for you to remove the sweaty hair away from her face.

“Hey, you.” She smiles at your words, tired eyes threatening to close as she looks at you. “Enjoying yourself aren't you?”

“Don't tease me, when you're just whining three seconds ago.” She retorts, getting a chuckle from you. Wanda let her hands cross behind your neck. “Wanna join me in the shower?”

“Honey, if I ever say no to that, you can bet I lost my mind for good.” You joke, muffling her and giggling with your mouth.

[nvuy]

do u think boothill would be obsessed w readers waist . literally holding it pinching it using it to move them around etc he makes me a little crazy

yup.

always has an arm around your waist. and he always has to call you my man/my lady, otherwise it’s ‘honey’ and i’m not elaborating. he thinks he’s so smooth (dont tell him you can hear the fans whirring below his body). you’re, what, 2 years into this relationship and he’s still blushing at the ears and stuttering when you smile at him.

he can be smooth, sometimes. it’s all in the southern drawl, and also just him being quite touchy in general. has also like, 100% said, “well, hello, nurse” once or twice with a whistle when you walked in the room.

he’s not the biggest hand holder—he doesn’t like his hands at all—so he’d rather just squash you in tight next to him as much as he can.

he’s basically your guard dog. he’s always attached to you somehow, will bark and bite at anything that he doesn’t like coming close to you, and he feels like the king of the world knowing that he, some stupid hunk of scrap metal and junk, bagged you. nobody knows how he did it. he doesn’t even know. sometimes he thinks he’s dreaming.

he’s feel like an absolute gentleman as well, so there’s that too. he’s going to tickle you at any given opportunity, as well as give you a little squeeze. he’s got that sort of cuteness aggression inside him i think. if your back is turned, he’ll pinch your sides and nip at your neck like a puppy. he’s like that.

speaking of your back, somebody’s gotta call the mechanic if you’re wearing a top with a low or exposed back, or if you just take the damn shirt off entirely. he’s like a victorian man seeing ankles for the first time if he sees even an inch of your spine. why are you seducing him like this. please stop staring at him with heart eyes when he’s stumbling over his words.

he can’t join you on beach days unfortunately—sand and water not great for the robo-body—but he will be reluctant to let you leave, considering you’ve got basically nothing on and he wants you all to himself.

he also loves your legs. please swing them on his lap and use his as a foot stool. he won’t even complain. don’t get him wrong, he loves you in formal wear; suit, dress, whatever you want, but by the gods when you wear shorts or a skirt his brain melts.

appreciates nice shoes as well. fancy formal wear sort of stuff. he’s a total sucker for it.

if you wear heels, he loves those too (makes you look taller so rawr) (he will do that cat purr rolling tongue noise i have no clue what it’s called) (also he knows any sort of fancy shoes hurt your feet so YAY he gets to carry you home!!!!!! he wins!!!!!!!!!) (he’ll hold your shoes in one hand and carry you like you’re made of glass. doesn’t matter if you’re embarrassed. to be fair, he thinks you deserve to be carried everywhere. you’re way too ethereal to be touching the floor in any sort of way).

i just like the idea that he’s the biggest most loserish simp in the world. loves his partner more than anything in the world. whipped to all hell. will put a bullet in his head if it would make you smile.

[carlsangel]

CARE TO KNOCK?

carl grimes x fem!reader

(you and carl get caught. twice.)

tags: SMUT!! oral sex, f!receiving, getting caught! fun!

masterlist here!

You tried your hardest to be discreet about how…active you and Carl were. It wasn’t the easiest considering Carl was the leaders’ son and it seemed like eyes were always on him, whether it was his dad’s or Michonne’s. Sometimes people in the community.

You’d try to sneak off and do what you could but with your guys’ luck, you almost always got interrupted. One time something possessed the both of you to try it in the church house when there was a community event. That went as well as you’d imagine.

“Holy mother of-” Gabriel had walked in on the both of you on one of the pews. God was it embarrassing. (see what i did there) The scene he’d walked in on consisted of you without a shirt and Carl’s hand practically groping your tits over your bra. Also you were attached at the mouth so you could see why he’d be terrified.

Obviously you scrambled to put your clothes on while Carl tried to explain for the both of you, begging to not tell Rick or Michonne. “Look man, we’re really sorry we just- please don’t tell my dad. I’m begging you he can’t know about this.” He explains worriedly. Gabriel stood there still shocked. You had to make it up to him somehow, considering you were doing an unholy act in a holy place but, there wasn’t really any real repercussions because Carl had gotten him to keep it a secret. Something about making it up to him for something Gabriel had done when they first arrived at Alexandria.

Anyway, a large reason you didn’t want Rick to know, was because you two shared a room. You were happy to almost always get away with things at night (you tried not to be too loud) and not have anyone know. It was nice. Until one particular day.

Rick and Michonne go out on Wednesday mornings to scavenge, so you two took advantage of the time you had..and got to it. It wasn’t really anything crazy, your morning sex was usually romantic and sweet. It’s not like you were going at it like animals.

One week, they’d left a bit earlier so in your mind, you were able to get some extra time.

“Oh fuck-” You spoke breathlessly, he was under the blanket eating you out. Something about the way he was ruthlessly lapping at your clit made you realize that today’s morning sex wouldn’t be so romantic. He began to move upwards and start kissing up your body hungrily. He started to place harsh kisses all around your neck, leaving small bruises around as well. “You’re so perfect.” He mumbled against your neck.

The next thing you know, he’s sitting up with your legs between his knees. He flips you over on your stomach and lifts your hips up so you’re arched for him how he wants. You giggle at his sudden movements and you’re surprised by him literally shoving himself inside of you.

“Oh-” You moan loudly, surprising yourself and immediately slapping your hand over your mouth. He began thrusting himself in and out of you with no plan on stopping. That was until the door beside your guys’ bed suddenly opened. It opened just enough so Rick could see you and your back, Carl’s arms and his face.

Your eyes go wide and once he realizes what was happening, Rick quickly shuts the door, catching Carl’s attention which causes him to stop. “What the hell was that?” He asked, his hands still resting at your hips. “Your fucking dad.” You pull away from him and Carl sits there sort of astonished. “W-wait he saw?” He covers himself with the blanket and you move to find your underwear and shorts.

“Not everything, just me I hope. He didn’t open the door open too much.” You pull up your underwear and scramble around for your shorts which Carl pulled from under the blanket he was using to cover himself. “What’s scary is that you didn’t stop.”

You throw him his own clothes which were on the floor and he feels somewhat upset he didn’t realize the door had opened. He was too busy fucking you. “Well it’s kinda hard to focus on stopping when I’m in the middle of something.” He says defensively, pulling up his boxers and sweatpants. You plop on the bed, dropping your head to your hands while he found a shirt to wear. After seeing how worried you were, he walked over and kissed the top of your head.

“Don’t stress out okay? It’ll be fine, worst comes to worst he’ll take the room away but we’ll work our way around it.” He reassured. Maybe he’s right. This didn’t have to be such a big deal. If Carl didn’t make it one, you wouldn’t either.

“Care to knock? What the hell?” You both were now in the kitchen, Carl was scolding Rick who was standing with Michonne and Maggie at the island. You were standing behind him quietly. “Well I thought we were way past knockin. Plus we got home early.” Rick sort of laughs, seeming unfazed. Your eyebrows furrow at this and he notices. “What, you thought we didn’t know about what goes on in there at night?”

You look to Michonne and Maggie who were both sort of smiling at you. “What?” You asked peeved. “I mean…you’re not exactly the quietest.” Michonne reasons. Your face is flushed and you’re super embarrassed, it doesn’t help that when you turn you realize both Glenn and Daryl had been in the room as well, you just hadn’t noticed. Glenn sort of giggles at you, Daryl just…is Daryl. “Oh shit.” You mutter to yourself, hiding your face in your hands and Carl just stands there annoyed as hell.

“They’re not wrong though you are quite loud.” He says quietly, slightly teasing you over a conversation you’d had many times before, he always made fun of you for being so vocal, even though he loved it. You look up from your hands just to give him a pissed off glare. You give him a shove to the shoulder and make your way back upstairs.

“Fuck off.”

a/n: sorry guys for this HAHAHA idk how smutty anon wanted this request but they got smut..sorry pookie :| ANYWAY i hope you all enjoyed, currently deciding on closing my requests cause im gettin a shit ton but we’ll figure that out later!!! love you bye!!!

tag list: @zomb-1-egutzz @evilnight07 @ilikestrawberriesandwomen

[sehnsuchts-trunken]

What Happens in Cars, Stays in Cars

dbf!jake seresin x fem!reader 9k words

summary: After a month-long deployment, Jake is finally coming back home. Well, not home home. You're too desperate to wait until you've actually got him home. But who needs home when there's a perfectly good car anyway?

a/n: porn with plot. a lot of plot. and a lot of porn. 18+ obviously. reader is twenty-five in this, jake is forty-seven. as always, a list of things to watch out for:

nudes. mentions of masturbation. pet names used in an unholy way. the word 'brat' is dropped twice. safe sex (yess they still have a condom!!! i feel like i deserve a round of applause for not forgetting it). car sex, so a tiny smidge of exhibitionism. dom!jake. a lot of begging, as always. a tad bit dry humping. first finger sucking, then fingering. any more, uh....? i don't think so. there's not much space in a car for anything else.

top gun masterlist | dbf!jake seresin masterlist

(the gif has nothing at all to do with the fic, but tell me that's not dbf!jake working out in his backyard knowing you're watching him istg)

It's a one time thing. That's what they told him. A one time thing.

He isn't supposed to do these anymore. He's supposed to be stationed permanently, sitting in his office and doing what an admiral does. Important work, surely. It's a high honour and he's proud, of course. But office work... Office work has never really been his thing. And if they'd deployed him for this mission four months earlier, he would've been thrilled.

He's the best of the best. The navy knows. He knows. Which is why he's an admiral by now. And also why they want him coaching the new hotshots for a month, halfway across the country.

And, yes, he would've been thrilled - four months ago.

Four months ago, when you'd not yet moved back home. Four months ago, when he hadn't yet met you. Four months ago, when he hadn't known what it was like to hold you, to touch you, to miss you.

His phone chimes and momentarily distracts him. It's not that he didn't mute it - he's standing in front of a bunch of twenty-something year olds who he does try to be a role model for - it's just that you'd tampered with it once and ever since then, you've had a personalised ringtone that still somehow works even when everything else is muted. (He could totally turn that off if he wanted to, though. Definitely. Ab-so-lu-tely. He just... doesn't.)

His jaw clenches and he has to restart his sentence, but other than that, he manages to pretend nothing happened. Nonetheless, he has to glare at the snickering wannabe-pilots in the first row, who remind him very much of a young version of himself.

You're three hours ahead of him and probably just got off work. It's likely nothing but a sweet "having a good day?" message or maybe a photo of you all dressed up, ready for dinner with your friends like you'd planned.

Either way, knowing your message is sitting unopened in your chat has him talking quicker. He finishes his lecture half an hour early and fishes his phone from his pocket before the first of his pupils have even got up from their seats - which turns out to be a horrible, horrible idea, because the photo attached to "don't know how long i'll stay out, have a nice night, admiral" with the winky face emoji is not one of you all dressed up for a night out with your friends, but one of you in just a pair of panties in front of the mirror. The mirror in his bedroom.

Fucking god-

He seems to let out some kind of choked up groan or something of the sort, because a few of his pilots turn to look back at him. One even has the audacity to ask if he's alright, which he certainly isn't. But that's absolutely not their problem.

So he grumbles something about how they should all use their free time to go to the gym instead of bothering him before he collects his things and flees to his room. One of the many advantages of being an admiral, of course, is that he doesn't have to bunk anymore, which is always the greatest nuisance for anybody who's ever looking for privacy. The times he's had to listen to guys jack off a foot away from him- fuck, the times they'd had to listen to him.

No, right now he is incredibly thankful for the privacy of his bedroom as he locks the door behind him and opens his phone again. Goddamn, why were you in his house? His fingers hover over the call button for a few seconds, but then he decides against it - you're going out with friends for the first time in months, he doesn't want to bother you.

He's popping the button of his jeans and sitting down on his bed right as you come online.

"Like the pictures, baby? I've got more"

And before he can even respond, you've sent a bunch more selfies, half of them in front of his mirror, the other half on his bed and none of them decently clothed. Fucking hell, in one you've got your fingers down your panties and Jake is really thankful for the privacy of his room then because he groans so loudly that a bunkmate would definitely have heard.

"Are you still at dinner?", he asks, his fingers flying over his keyboard while he tugs at his zipper with his left hand.

"Yeah, won't be home soon", you write back. "Sorry"

"Don't be", Jake responds, as quickly as he can, because he definitely does not want to make you feel bad for spending time with your friends. "Have fun"

"Have fun with the pics", you send. Jake can picture your grin, sitting all dressed up in a restaurant and ignoring your friends to text him. "Thought those could maybe make up for no phone call tonight"

He swallows hard as you log off, leaving him with those pretty pictures of yours that certainly improve his night by a lot. Hell, he's already moving his briefs out of the way and clicking on your photos again. Just seeing you half-naked in his room - fuck, the thought of you sneaking over there only to do a goddamn photoshoot... You're really unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable. And he can't wait to get back home to you.

...

"I miss you", you mumble into the phone, blinking at the alarm clock on your nightstand. It's eleven thirty, not nearly late enough for you to feel as exhausted as you do.

"I miss you too, darling", you hear Jake drawl on the other end of the call. "I'll be back soon."

"Not soon enough", you whine - god, you sound pathetic and miserable to your own ears already, you must sound ten times worse to him. You fall back onto your pillows and let out a deep sigh. "Would it be rude to say I hope the mission gets cancelled?"

Jake chuckles. Fucking hell, you miss that chuckle so much. You miss him so much. You miss cuddling up to him under the covers and tucking your head under his chin. You miss running your fingers through his hair and having your hands on him. You miss seeing him, standing in the kitchen or working out or tinkering in the backyard or fresh out of the shower. Shit, you even miss sneaking around with him, because at least then you'd gotten to watch him from a distance, maybe steal a kiss when your parents hadn't been looking or spend a night at his house pretending to be at your friend's.

Now he's halfway across the country and absolutely, completely out of reach. You'd barely gotten to see him at all - twice it had worked out to video-call during a lunch break, once he even managed to show you around his office after work. The camera quality is hardly any good, of course, which means video-calls aren't all that great, plus the connection never seems to really be stable, so with a few exceptions, you've only seen Jake in pictures over the past two and a half weeks.

His deployment would take another one and a half and then, finally, he'd be back home. Back home with you.

"I won't answer that", Jake says, and you can almost hear him grin. "But I wouldn't mind either if they moved the mission up."

You have to bite down on your lip to hide a smile.

"So you think you're good to go?", you ask softly, not wanting to bring the mood down further, instead opting for the non-classified work questions. You've already been bringing down the mood enough back here at home - you don't need to fill the few minutes a day you get with Jake with your whining as well. Your parents already hear enough of that. Of course, they don't know why you've been in such a bad mood ever since Jake left. And they can't know, either. You can't tell them. You can't tell anyone.

You can't tell anyone because no one knows that you've been sneaking around with your dad's best friend for the past three months. So you resign yourself to moping around and keeping out of everybody's way as much as you can. For one and a half week more, one and a half...

...

Exactly one and a half week later you're standing at the airport in your best heels and a little yellow sundress and are positively buzzing with nervous energy. Jake's plane would get in at half, he'd said, when you'd last spoken to him six hours earlier. Then the plane had taken off and so had his wifi.

You're playing around with a strand of your hair and doing your hardest not to start chewing off your nails, which proves more difficult than you'd thought (even though you'd put on nail polish).

You're just so excited.

It's been a month since you'd last seen him. A month. And at the early stage of your... relationship, if you could call it that, that's basically half a year. God, how long it's been since you've run your hands through his hair, since you've felt his arms around you.

You miss him so much.

Your phone chimes and you fish it out of your pocket with trembling hands, only to be disappointed when it's not a message from Jake. It's not like you'd told him to text when he'd landed, just... A part of you is kind of scared you're waiting in the wrong place. Maybe he's on the other end of the airport - it's not a particularly small one. It'd take you hours to find each other if you were waiting in the wrong place.

Then again - maybe the plane is late. Maybe he's had to wait for his luggage.

You check the time, just to be safe. It's 11:46. For all you know, Jake is still in the air. Or less than a door away.

You bounce on your feet, nervously shifting back and forth before checking your phone again. The text you'd gotten is from one of your friends, who you text back only to distract you. It barely works anyway. You can't put it away again quickly enough.

It's not even that you don't want to distract yourself. You just physically can't pay attention. You've been a nervous wreck for the past three days, ever since you'd made the plan to pick him up from the airport. Which is probably why you almost don't spot him.

Almost.

He walks through the opened doors with his suitcase rolling behind him, his backpack slung over his shoulder and at least five other people rushing past him.

He sees you before you see him.

But then, then when you see him-

You're already sprinting towards him before your mind even tells your legs to move. You can't control it and you can't be bothered to. Why would you?

You don't care about the people glancing at you with raised eyebrows. You only care about Jake, about Jake who's standing there, pulling his hand from the handle of his suitcase and grinning at you. Grinning at you as you run at him and throw yourself into his arms.

He catches you effortlessly and steadies you as you cross your hands behind his neck and press your lips to his.

God, how you've missed him! How long you haven't kissed him!

His palms flatten against your back and he holds you tight, so tightly to him. You push even closer. He's here. He's back.

You don't realise you're crying until you taste the tears.

That's when Jake pulls back.

"I've missed you", he mutters, raising a hand and brushing the tears off your cheeks. You lean into the touch and tighten your arms around his neck. You're really touching him. He's really here.

"I missed you too", you try to say, but you're choked up and crying and it somehow comes out a blubbering, stuttering mess that you're not quite sure Jake can even understand. "Missed you so much."

He smiles one of those gorgeous smiles that you haven't seen in far too long before he leans down and presses a soft kiss to your forehead. Your eyes flutter closed as you lean into him, your fingers trailing up the nape of his neck. His breath mingles with yours as he draws you in again and catches you in another kiss, tugging gently at your bottom lip as if he has all the time in the world to do it - slow and languid and real. Finally real again.

He pulls you in by your waist, his hands splayed wide and so, so big against your thin sundress. Your nails scratch against his neck and he lets out a groan and suddenly, he's got his hands on your thighs and you're wrapping your legs around his middle and tightening your arms around him and his lips are working against yours feverishly, heavily, messily. You're crossing your feet behind his back when one of them hits something hard. You've flinched away from him even before you can hear the dull crash of his suitcase kissing the airport floor.

There's blood rushing in your ears and you're sure if someone measured your heart rate right now, you'd be sent to the ER immediately. You probably look like a tomato with all the redness in your cheeks. But Jake stares at his suitcase silently for two seconds too, breathing heavily as his grip on you tightens further.

As much as he likes having you in his arms, his suitcase reminds him that you're still very much in the middle of a well-used airport. So he turns back to you and lowers his voice.

"I think we should get out of here, darling."

Your lips tug up into a grin and you lean in to give him just one last, quick kiss.

"Yeah", you breathe, carefully jumping back down onto your own feet. Jake lets go of you only reluctantly - if this wasn't a public airport, he'd never have let you go again. But it is, so he swallows hard as you brush your palms down your dress and blink up at him with a smile.

You're wearing heels. You're still shorter than him by quite a bit.

His amusement melts into a frown when you grab the handle of his suitcase.

"I've got that", he says, reaching his hand out to take the suitcase from you, but you're already maneuvering it away from him and starting to walk in the direction (you think it's the right direction) you'd parked your car in.

"I want to do it for you", you hum.

"Sweetheart, you're already doing enough for me", he says, and he really does mean it. You've driven all this way to come pick him up, you'd watered his plants while he'd been away, you'd even cleaned. That one mostly because you'd desperately needed something to do and Jake's house had always smelled like him, but still.

"Doing enough to you, you mean." Your grin borders on lewd as you dig your teeth into your lip.

"Yeah, that too", he sighs, but he has to grin as well. You're absolutely unbelievable. Instead of trying to argue (he knows it'd be fruitless anyway), he wraps an arm around your back and pulls you into his side, his hand resting on your waist again.

You glance at him.

"I'm not letting go of this suitcase", you warn, even as you lean into his side and swallow. God, he looks so good. And he smells so good. And he feels so good.

"Got it", he chuckles, brushing a kiss to your temple and pulling you even closer into him. He can't have you close enough. Does this fucking airport not have an end? He just needs a little more privacy, a little more space-

"This way", you say and point right. Jake smiles at you as you guide him down the halls. He can't help but watch, can't help but stare at you, at your dress in that soft shade of yellow and your matching heels. Autumn doesn't seem to have caught up with you yet. Then again - autumn hasn't caught up with this place yet. And he's used to Texas heat, he likes that it doesn't get cold here. Also, those sundresses... Yeah, he certainly isn't complaining about the weather.

You speed up when you finally catch sight of the doors, dragging him along with you, almost falling into a jog. The suitcase rumbles against the airport floor, the wheels click-clacking over uneven ridges and bumps and then, thank god, you feel the sunshine on your skin. His hand tightens around your waist.

"Home sweet home", you grin as you take the first step onto concrete. You swivel around and steady both palms against the handle of his suitcase behind your back, bouncing on your heels and looking up at him. "After about a three hour drive."

Jake chuckles and looks back at you with raised eyebrows.

"You'll drive?", he asks. You hum.

"Maybe", you grin as you turn away again and walk over to your car, parked only three rows away for whatever holy reason. You'd been incredibly lucky. And you'd almost run over a grandma. "Or maybe not."

Jake follows you with another low chuckle that sends a pleasant tingling sensation down your spine. It's been so long since you heard that chuckle behind you.

He's next to you again within a few long strides, reaching out for you and you slow your steps to intertwine your fingers with his.

His hands are so big. He's holding onto you so firmly. Fuck, you've missed him so much.

You squeeze his hand and walk a little quicker. Car, home. Car, home. That's it. Then you've got him all to yourself. You can see the car glinting in the sunlight already - and then it's three hours. Three hours next to him in an enclosed space before you've truly got him back.

You stop and let go of his suitcase to fish the car keys out of your pocket without dropping his hand. You push the unlock button and open up the trunk before you turn to Jake and grin at him.

You want to say something, really. It's on the tip of your tongue, still running through your mind, but you've completely forgotten it when you look up at him.

Because while you'd been dragging him to the car, he'd pulled his sunglasses out and put them on and for whatever reason... That kind of does it for you. Holy shit.

"Are those new?", you ask hoarsely and swallow hard, the car keys digging into your palm as you tighten your fist around them. Maybe it's just that you haven't seen him in a month. Or maybe it's the way the sunlight catches his hair, slightly longer than when he'd left. Maybe it's just that with the sun behind him, you've got no choice but to squint at his broad shoulders.

"The other pair broke", Jake explains, letting go of your hand only to wrap his arms around your waist. Fuck, you're just standing there, doing absolutely nothing and he already can't keep from touching you. He has to touch you. He's got to put his arms around you and pull you close. "Why? Don't like it?"

You steady your palms against his chest and let out a breath as your eyes drop to his lips - he's got that cheeky look on his face that's not really a grin but not really not a grin and that nobody but him can do.

"I do", you counter, because it's the truth, and there's no way you can lie to him. "I very much do."

"Very much?" Jake does grin then, raises his eyebrows and pulls you fully against him. "That's more than just a yes."

Your fingers fist his shirt, the car keys digging into his chest just as firmly as they're digging into your palm now. He doesn't seem to be too bothered. He really isn't too bothered.

"They look good on you", you mutter, pulling him even closer. It's been too long since you'd pulled him close... And he feels so good, smells so good, looks so good. Fuck, he's so big and broad and-

"Thanks", he mutters, his grin all cheeky and self-assured and god, is it really this hot? Do you just feel this hot? Because you feel really, really hot. Your skin is burning. How the hell are you supposed to manage a three hour car ride?

"Jake", you whimper, without even meaning to. It's barely above a breath, barely above a whisper, and still too much of a whine to sound anything close to appropriate. A sort of grunt leaves his lips before his arms tighten around you, before he slots his mouth over yours hard. His thumbs drag circles against the small of your back, catching on the fabric of your dress. Your fingertips dig into his shirt, into his chest.

The sun beams down on you, warming your thighs and your arms and every exposed inch of skin, brightness behind closed eyelids as you push further and further into him. He's so sturdy, all hard abs right in front of you, broad arms around you.

You don't even notice the breathless moan that escapes your tongue. You can only feel the heat boiling inside of you, the desperate heat inside of you crawling up your body, every inch of you burning. Burning with want for him. With need for him. Fuck, he's been gone for way too long.

And then he pulls back.

You need a few seconds to even blink yourself back to reality.

"Home?", he suggests, even though it's less of a suggestion and more just a fact. He's getting you home. Now.

"Please", you whine, already halfway through pulling back and dropping the car keys into his palm. Three hours. Three fucking hours, you... You simply won't manage to sit down behind the steering wheel with your skin crawling and your underwear soaked through.

You'll barely manage sitting in the passenger seat.

Jake presses another kiss against your temple before he grabs his suitcase and leaves you standing there, trying to pull yourself together. He's breathing hard and his muscles are tight, his jaw clenched as he heaves his suitcase into the trunk and drops his backpack into it right after.

You force your legs to work, to carry you to the passenger side, force your arm to raise and your hand to close around the handle. It's heavy and hard work. Your body feels leaden, entranced. You let yourself collapse onto the seat and close your eyes.

Fuck.

You'd forgotten how much... how easily...

"Seatbelt, darling", Jake reminds you as he climbs into the driver's seat and adjusts it. You swallow hard and strap yourself in, trying to even out your breathing and pull yourself back to reality while you fumble for the confirmative click.

"Three hours", you remind yourself breathily.

"Three hours", Jake agrees lowly and turns the key in the ignition.

You settle back in your seat and close your eyes, clenching and unclenching your jaw as the radio starts playing and the car rolls out of the parking lot. You just have to relax. Just relax. Relax.

So you breathe out deeply and open your eyes again. Jake glances over at you as you lean forward, flick through the radio channels and then adjust in your seat - it's touching too much, too little of your skin, and the way you're rubbing against it somehow doesn't help in the slightest.

Before you can tuck one of your legs under the other and press the heel of your foot against your core, Jake puts his hand against your thigh. Against your bare thigh. His big fucking hand against your bare thigh.

You bite down on your lip and look up at him.

God, he looks so good. His features are chiseled, his hair that sunny, beachy kind of blond-

"Stop that", Jake grunts, his eyes trained on the road in front of him. It takes you two seconds to even realise he's talking to you. You'd kind of lost yourself in staring at him there.

"Stop what?", you ask, voice hitching as his fingers tighten on your thigh. Damn it, he needs to stop that. He's hardly been driving five minutes, he can't already be teasing you.

For once, actually, he doesn't even mean to tease you - not that you know. He just can't help but touch you, not when he hasn't touched you in a month, not when you're sitting so deliciously, tauntingly next to him.

"Stop looking at me like that", he says, taking his hand off of you to change gears before grabbing even tighter onto you again. "Or I'll have to pull over."

You brush your fingers along his wrist. Your chest feels tight, so tight. It takes everything in you not to push his hand further up your thigh. And you'd actually thought you'd manage a three hour car ride.

"I'll stop", you breathe, even though pulling over doesn't seem like the worst idea. "If you want me to."

A muscle twitches in his jaw.

"Don't do that", he warns, his voice staggering into that indecent gruff of his that has you clenching your thighs together, trapping his fingertips between your legs.

"Don't do what?", you ask, trying your best to sound somewhat innocent while you continue this little taunting game, not as though you're deliberately riling him up. You aren't, really. It's more just a reflex.

He turns his head to you then. His eyes are narrowed and his jaw is clenched and honestly, the way he's meeting your gaze all serious, as though he's trying to reprimand you just by looking at you - for no more than three seconds, of course, before he drags his eyes back to the road - has your lips tugging up in a teasing grin.

"Jake", you whisper, drawing your nails slowly up his arm, all the way from his wrist to his elbow. "Baby. You've been away for so long. You know how lonely I've been, right?"

Jake glances at you again and grunts his agreement, eyebrows raising as he starts to realise what you're doing.

"You can't blame me for looking at you", you go on, digging your fingertips into a spot right above his elbow and drawing one, two circles there. "Or for touching you."

Then you shift in your seat, spread your legs a little and run your fingers down his arm again. You grab his hand and brush his fingertips against the soaked spot on your panties.

"Or for being this wet", you whisper, your breath hitching from the sting in your stomach. He lets out a low curse. "I've just missed you so much."

He sucks in a breath then and trails his fingertips up your panties once, just once, before he jerks his hand back and clenches it hard around the steering wheel, so hard that his knuckles turn wide. Fuck. Fuck! Fuck! You're driving him crazy. You're driving him fucking crazy.

He's supposed to be responsible here. Somewhat responsible. You're young, you've got that risky twinkle in your eyes that he knows so well because he'd seen it in the mirror himself for over twenty years. He knows the thrilling buzz that's running through your veins. He still feels it whenever he's in the air. And he feels it around you.

Which is why he's not responsible, not when it comes to you. Not when you're sitting next to him in that pretty dress, with no shorts on and completely fucking soaked through.

You grin to yourself as he pulls off the highway and bite down on your lip, shifting in your seat once more, fighting the urge to trail your own fingers into your panties.

You haven't even asked how his deployment had been.

But goddamn, you'll have enough time to do that once you've got home. Or got off. Or got him off. At this point, you don't fucking care.

He pulls into one of those parking lots that mainly trucks use, one of those where there's hardly ever a toilet and if, then one that hasn't been usable since the last century. Right now, there's two trucks right at the front that Jake just brushes past. He parks your car at the far end and turns the motor off.

The silence is heavy.

Your breath comes much too quickly. Your eyes are fixed on him. And every inch of your skin is crawling with heat. But you don't move. You can't move.

He rolls his seat all the way back.

"Jake-", you whisper, catching on his name when he looks up and meets your eyes. There's a ghost of a grin on his lips, but... Maybe you're wrong.

"Yes, darling?", he asks, raising his eyebrows and leaning back in his seat. You have to strain your neck to keep looking at him. Instead of an answer, you just softly shake your head. You're suddenly unsure of what to say. His eyes weigh you down. You're painfully aware of every inch of your skin under his watchful gaze.

"Come on", he drawls, the grin that's growing on his lips more obvious now. "You were all eager to talk just then, baby."

Your teeth catch on your lip as you let out a breathless sigh. Your fingers hover over the buckle of your seat belt. Can you? Or...

"I missed you", you whisper, letting your fingertips glide over the hard plastic. "Can I-"

You swallow.

"Can you what, darling?", he repeats, grinning widely now.

You chew on your lip as you push down and unbuckle yourself slowly, your eyes still trained on Jake, who simply watches you with raised eyebrows.

"Can I touch you?", you whisper, your breath disappearing into the thick air of the car, the seatbelt still caught between your fingers. The corners of his mouth only tug up further.

You look angelic with your wide eyes and rosy cheeks, so obviously desperate to feel him - but still you don't move. You sit there and wait for him to tell you what to do. To allow you to do something. Anything. It's almost endearing how well behaved you are in moments like this.

"Go on, darling", he drawls. "Come here."

Without hesitation, you reach over the centre console and grab onto his shoulders, steadying yourself against him as you throw one of your legs over his and climb into his lap. His hands find your waist, grab onto your sides, hold you softly against him. Your teeth dig into your lip as you sink down, your fingers trailing along the outline of his collarbones over his shirt, your dress riding up and pooling around your hips. You suck in a breath when your panties drag against his jeans.

Fuck. It's been so long. It's been way too long.

"Jake", you mutter as you lean in, pressing your lips to the corner of his mouth, brushing your nose against his cheek. "You look good."

He lets out a breathy chuckle, his grip on you tightening.

"I know, darling", he can't help but say with a grin. "Thanks."

You giggle onto his skin as you trail your lips down his jaw. Sometimes he's incredibly unbelievable. I know. How cocky. Not that he shouldn't be - goddamn, he should be! You can't even fault him. And confidence is sexy. Especially on him. Though, then again, anything on him is sexy.

"I've missed you", you mutter, pressing another open-mouthed kiss against his skin, this time against the spot between his neck and his ear. "Missed looking at you. Missed touching you."

"Yeah", Jake breathes, digging his hands into your hips and pulling you harder onto him. "I've missed you too."

He's missed you so fucking much that he's hurting, straining against his jeans so hard that he feels like he might combust. And you're kissing down his throat, pressing your lips against his skin, wanting, needing to touch him, to feel him-

A month away from each other. A month too long.

"I need you, Jake", you whimper into his ear, all breathy and desperate, rocking softly back and forth in his lap and letting your eyes fall shut.

"You need me, baby?", he echoes, grabbing you as tightly as he can and dragging you against him, his head thumping back against the seat.

A filthy moan slips past your lips as your hips roll against his, finally, for the first time in weeks. God, yes, you need him so badly. You need him now. Here and now, in the driver's seat of your car.

"Please, Jake", you breathe, steadying one palm against his chest and grabbing one of his hands with the other. You wrap your fingers around his wrist and tug it off of you, but before you can drag it down to your panties again, drop it between your legs and beg him to fuck you, before you can do any of that, he's turning your grip around and taking your hands in his instead.

"You're getting ahead of yourself, baby", he chuckles, settling your hands against your thighs. He's painfully hard by now, yes- But that doesn't mean you can just drag him to where you want him. "Seems like you forgot your manners."

You're already shaking your head before he can finish. No, you haven't, you haven't, you just need him so badly... and you can feel him, you can feel that he needs you too, so why doesn't he just take you? Why doesn't he-

"I haven't, Jake, I promise", you whisper, looking at him and forcing yourself to still on his lap. It won't help you if you move. It definitely won't help you if you move.

"You haven't?", he asks with raised eyebrows, looking all but amused at you. You keep shaking your head no, no, no. "So if I'd told you to stay in your seat and wait, you would've?"

You bite down on the inside of your cheek and look away. He's grinning. He knows. He's not even really asking. But if you've learnt anything, anything at all about him, it's that he doesn't like to be ignored. If he asks a question, he wants it answered. So you'll answer.

"No", you breathe truthfully, because you most definitely wouldn't have managed a three hour car ride next to him. There's no way you would've managed a three hour car ride next to him. No fucking way.

His grin widens.

"No", he repeats lowly. "No, darling? You wouldn't have listened?"

"Couldn't", you correct, fighting the desire to rock against his thighs that's growing with every passing second. He looks so fucking good. He smells so fucking good. He feels so fucking good. And he'd fuck you so good, you know that, if he'd just finally get to it.

"Couldn't", he echoes, his fingertips rubbing circles onto the bare skin of your thighs. "That desperate."

It's just that he's that desperate, too. Desperate to feel you wrapped around him, desperate to hear you whimper and moan. He needs you as much as you need him.

"You want me to fuck you, baby?", he asks, all smooth and casual and your fingers dig into your thighs to feel something, anything. It's unbelievable how easily something so dirty slips off his lips.

"Yes", you gasp. "Want you so bad, Jake. Please. I'll be so good for you. I'll be perfect."

A muscle ticks in his jaw.

"You are perfect", he breathes, even though that hadn't been his plan at all. But he has to say it. He has to tell you. You've got him wrapped around your little finger, even if you don't know. And he's not all that sure you don't know anyway.

Your teeth catch on your lip, your hands dig harder into your skin and-

And Jake's thumbs trail along the inside of your bare thighs, brushing up naked skin, drawing a shallow breath from your tongue. A shiver runs down your spine as you clench your legs around his and force yourself to keep still. He's touching you. You have to remind yourself of that. He is touching you. There's no reason at all for the urge to defy him, to pop open his jeans and just sink down on him. He's touching you, he's touching you...

Yeah. Barely.

"Let me feel you", you beg, drawing your hands away from your thighs and trying to put them against his chest - but before you can, he's pulled his hands away from your thighs as well and grabbed your wrists. Again.

"You're not in charge here, darling", he chuckles, pushing your hands back down. He grabs for your waist again. "If you can't behave, I'm gonna put you back in the passenger seat and keep on driving, got that?"

You nod.

You want to be good for him. You will be good for him. God, there's no fucking way you could have managed the car ride already, and if you had to sit through it now, after this- No. You'll be good for him. You'll be so good for him.

He flashes you a grin and goes back to dragging his thumbs along your thighs.

"Ask nicely", he says. "Maybe I'll-"

"Please", you blurt out, your hips involuntarily bucking into his touch. "Can I kiss you?"

His eyes drop down to your mouth then.

"Yeah, baby", he mutters, his thumbs catching on the hem of your dress. "You can kiss me."

He expects you to jump at him, to slot your lips over his and lick into his mouth eagerly - but you only steady your palms carefully against his chest and lean in, your eyes focused on his, your breath meeting his skin. You kiss him softly, lightly, with your lips just so grazing his and your eyes fluttering shut. His fingertips run down the soaked spot on your panties.

That's when your teeth catch on his lip. You sink them into his skin gently and tug, your heart missing a beat as he groans into you. He hooks his fingers into your panties and pulls them to the side just like you'd hoped, just like you'd begged for.

Jake's right - you're not in charge. But that doesn't mean you don't know what buttons to push to get what you want.

His fingertips trail through your wetness for the first time in a whole fucking month. It's long overdue. So long.

You moan into him, pressing your chest right up against his and fisting his shirt, and push closer. You need to be this close. You need to be even closer. You need him to fuck you, now, not only to drag his fingers up to your clit.

But he's too focused on you, getting too drunk on the feeling of you. He's finally got you here again, finally on his lap again, finally kissing him again, finally eager for him again. He's finally touching you again. And he has to touch you.

You're so fucking wet. You're soaked. He wants to take his time to notice that. He needs to take his time to notice that. He needs to touch you, to feel you. He doesn't even mean to tease you. He doesn't even realise he is teasing you. Not until you rock into his hand and let a whine slip into his mouth.

You really don't intend to. It's an accident. You don't want to rush him. What you want is to be good for him. But you can't help yourself.

And he knows you can't.

Which is the only reason he doesn't pull back and leave you high and dry. Well, that - and his desperation to have you.

So instead, he pushes two fingers into you and catches the languid moan you let out. Fuck. You sound so sweet. You feel so perfect. It's been so fucking long.

"Jake", you whimper, just because it's also been that fucking long since you've whined his name into his mouth. Into the low-quality mic of your phone, yes. But with his lips on yours? With his fingers thrusting inside you so precisely, hitting the right spot immediately? No, that's been too fucking long.

It's dirty. Not quick, like the other times neither of you had been patient enough to look for a better spot to have each other and had opted for the car instead. No, it's just dirty, with his fingers pumping in and out of you, his tongue running along yours and your knees rubbing against the seat.

Maybe it's because the radio had turned off alongside the car, or maybe it's just the long month you'd spent apart - either way, all sounds are louder than they should be, your ears ringing with your moans, your wetness around his fingers and his lips against yours.

Goddamn.

He's working magic. You don't know how he hits the right spot again and again and again, his fingers curling, his thumb catching on your clit - but he has you clenching around him, warmth pooling in your core, wetness dripping down your thighs and onto his jeans within minutes.

You pull an inch away from him, your eyes still squeezed shut, your palms flattening against his shirt, and the only reason he knows he isn't just dreaming of you again is because you're warm and wet around his fingers. Everything else about you is unreal.

You're gorgeous. You're so damn stunning, rocking your hips back against him and moaning his name, your lips parted and your skin sweaty.

"Fuck", you pant, your chest rising and falling so tantalisingly that his eyes drop right down to your cleavage. "Just like that."

He has to grin to himself, but he lets it slide, if only because you're looking so pretty holding onto him as he pushes his fingers into you and circles your clit - just like that. Again and again, until you're digging your nails into his chest and catching your lip between your teeth and moaning his name, Jake, baby, fuck, fuck, fuck, until you're clenching around him and shuddering in his arms, until you're reaching your high not on your own, but on his fingers for the first time in four full weeks.

"Attagirl", he mutters, straining so hard against his pants that it hurts. "I've got you."

You press your lips against his jaw sloppily as you come down, your breath shallow, your skin burning, just needing to get your mouth on him. You can feel your heart beating, every thud, thud, thud against your chest. God. You hadn't come like that in a month. You'd come, sure, to the low rumble of his voice over the phone, calling you all sorts of sweet names and telling you just how to get off for him. But nothing could ever possibly beat the way he works you.

And still - even as you come down from your orgasm, you already crave the next, long and lust and hunger for him inside of you, not his fingers, but his cock.

"Jake", you mewl, slotting your lips over his and desperately dragging your tongue over them before you draw back an inch, your breath meeting his. "Fuck me? Please?"

He pulls his fingers out of you and raises his hand and before you can even really realise what you're doing, you're parting your lips and watching as he grins and presses his fingertips down on your tongue. God, he fucking tastes like you. You suck his fingers into your mouth obediently and lick them clean, looking at him out of lowered, half-lidded eyes and he fucking grabs at your waist with his other hand like his life depends on it.

Goddamn, it's been too long since he's watched this. Since he's had this sight in front of him. And holy mother of hell, what a sight that is.

Your cheeks hollowed out, your gaze caught on his, your lips wrapped around his fingers. His jeans are too tight. Too fucking tight. He needs relief. Now.

So he pulls his fingers out of your mouth with a low grunt and fumbles with the button of his jeans, quick and hurried. He's barely popped it open before your hands slip between his and push them out of the way. You drag down his zipper, reach into his briefs, finally, finally, finally! and he lets you, steadying his palms against your thighs and watching you tug your lip between your teeth.

"Condom", you breathe, then you glance up at him and blink - once, twice, thrice to get yourself back to reality. Condom. Condom, fuck, you're sure you've got one, you know you've got one, somewhere-

Jake takes his hand off your thigh and reaches for his pocket, pulling out a condom before you've even finished thinking.

You grab it from him almost reflexively, your fingers closing around it, tearing it open - quick and frenzied now, because you're not sure how much longer you can hold out. How much longer you can manage without having him.

You glance up at him before you roll it onto him, waiting, checking, if you can, if he'll let you- And how could he not? Fuck, he's got to clench his jaw and grab onto your waist just to hold back, to stay still. He hadn't meant for it to be like this. He'd meant to fuck you back at home, slow and steady, preferably in bed where he could really see you, where he could see every inch of you, not in the front seat of your car that he'd probably have to get cleaned tomorrow. But he can't fucking help himself. He can barely fucking wait until you've rolled the condom onto him, already grabbing at your bare thighs, slipping his hands below your dress, grasping at your stomach.

You steady your palms against his chest and breathe out a whine as his fingers slide across your boobs, pushing the fabric of your dress up, up, up, circling your nipples and damn, you've missed him. You've missed him so fucking much. It's been so fucking long. And you're so fucking desperate.

So you slowly sink down on him and let out a moan, rolling off of your tongue so filthily that he has to groan. Shit, shit- You hold yourself against him, drop your head against his shoulder and an open-mouthed kiss onto his skin.

"Fuck", he grunts, his fingers working frenzied circles onto your boobs, trying, desperately, no, needing to touch you, to feel you. God, you feel so good around him. Finally around him again. You take your time sinking down on him, catching your breath and pressing your lips against his neck, your eyes squeezed shut. Inch by inch, you take him - and the only way he can keep from bucking up into you is by trying not to concentrate on the way you feel around him (so, so fucking perfect), but instead do his best to breathe. Just... breathe. It's been too fucking long. And you're too fucking pretty. And he'll go fucking crazy.

"Jake", you mewl, your lips dragging against his jaw.

Instead of an answer, he turns his head and catches you in a kiss.

You whine into his mouth, your legs clamping around his, stilling as you adjust, your tongue running along his lips, his teeth, your hands fisting his shirt, clenching and cramping and pressing against his chest.

"Go on", he urges, pulling away no more than an inch, his breath shallow, mingling with yours. "Take what you want, darling."

"Fuck", you breathe, arching into his palms and steadying yourself against him, your teeth catching on your lip as you move - up, slowly, steadily, then down, faster, quicker, and again, and again. Holy hell. Moan after moan rolls off your tongue. He feels so fucking good. You're so fucking full of him. You find a rhythm, then that spot inside of you. Your head tilts back, your fingers clench into the collar of his shirt, your nails scratch against his skin.

He watches you, every inch of him tensing. You're gorgeous, so damn gorgeous, bouncing in his lap like this. You're stunning, your dress pooling around your hips as he drags his hands back down to your waist, thumbing at your stomach, circling and drawing against your skin. He's touching you. Now, here. It's not just a dream. It's not just his imagination. It's you, you, wrapped around him, moving up and down him, your palms against his chest, your eyes fluttered shut, your teeth digging into your lip.

"Just like that, keep going", he encourages, all low and deep, smooths his hands down your body and can't help but grin as you let out a soft mewl. It's been so long since he's heard you whine for him - so long since he's heard it without hundreds and hundres of miles between you, without the microphone ruining what have to be the sweetest sounds he's ever known. "Feeling good, baby?"

The air is heavy, heavy and sticky. It presses down on you, pushes against your skin, settles on your body and flattens your breath. Every single one of your nerve ends is on fire.

"Yes", you gasp, your eyes fluttering open to take him in, him in all of his very, very real glory right in front of you. He looks so handsome, so fucking handsome. Your thighs tighten, clench. You can feel yourself growing closer and closer and closer with every stroke, with every time you sink down on him. Fuck, he doesn't just feel good, he feels heavenly. He feels like everything you need. "So good, Jake."

The grin on his lips sends sparks through your body. It's confident, self-assured... Yeah, you're on top of him, you're moving, you're taking what you want - but he's in charge, you can see it in his eyes. He's in control. It's in the way he breathes, in the way his hands grab at your hips, in the way he palms at your skin. If it weren't for the red on his cheeks, for the sweat beading on his forehead, you wouldn't even have guessed he's all that affected. But he's hard, he's hard as a rock, and it's taking everything in him not to just buck up into you and come right on the spot.

He prides himself on his stamina. In all his years, he's always prided himself on his stamina - on how he can keep going long enough to make you come twice, thrice. And he'll hold out now, too.

But you're gorgeous. And you feel perfect. And you're close, you're clenching around him as you lean in to press your lips to his, to slot your mouths together and kiss him with all your might.

So you're not making it easy for him. Not at all.

He brushes his hand down to the inside of your thigh, leaves a trail of tingles on your skin before his finger finds your clit. You breathe out a whine that he easily catches on his tongue, your nails digging into his chest as he draws circles on your clit, on that sensitive bundle of nerves that has you melting, your eyes squeezing, squeezing, squeezing shut.

Fuck, fuck, you're close, you're close-

Just for a fleeting second, Jake debates pulling his hand away again and leaving you there, on this edge you're teetering on. Not forever, only until you'd got home or so. But he's too desperate to come, too wound up already, too close himself, and there's a much bigger part of him that wants to just fill you up in the driver's seat of your car, in this random parking lot, a month after he'd last had you. The part of him that will revel in knowing that you'll be sitting in the passenger seat for the next three hours with soaked panties, probably leaving behind a wet patch when you'll get out, the evidence of two orgasms right there-

"Fuck, Jake", you gasp and your head rolls back, your lips parting as your entire body clenches, every single muscle cramping and tightening at once, your nails digging hard and harder into his skin, your eyes squeezing shut. His finger on your clit doesn't still, just keeps drawing circles, keeps guiding you through your high, through the foggy haze you're swimming in as your body writhes and tingles.

Jake is too entranced, too enamoured, too captivated by you to even realise he's spilling inside the condom, coming as you do. He can't feel, can't see, can't touch anything but you - his hand grabs at your hip, it palms at your thigh. Anything to feel you. Anything to be with you as you unravel.

"Jake, fuck", you breathe, a lot more softly now. Your grip on him loosens. He'd barely noticed how your nails had still been digging into his chest, but now that you're pulling them away, stretching your fingers and steadying your palms flat against him, he can't help but miss them. You blink at him with the sweetest smile, your lips plush and kiss-swollen, and the view of you is so disarming that he can just so resist opening his mouth and letting those final three words roll off his tongue. But it's too early, it's way too early, even as you're sitting in his lap, even as you're squeezing his cock, even as he draws his finger away from your clit. He's never been the type to say it early. He won't now.

No, instead he raises his hand and rests his fingers against your lips. Once more today, you part them obediently and wait until he's pushed them onto your tongue. Then you close your mouth around them - he still tastes of you faintly - and suck, slathering them in saliva in that sloppy, messy, dirty way you know he likes, your head bobbing as you clean them off. You pull back just far enough to dig your teeth into his fingertips and bite down on them playfully.

Your lips tug into a grin as he draws his hand back, eyebrows raising, his gaze settling on you - still so very heavy, so intense, so fucking full of sex.

"You're a brat, darling", he chides, but he's already brushing strands of hair out of your face, tucking them behind your ears and then wrapping his arms around you to pull you even closer, even tighter to him. Your grin only grows as your fingers clench into the collar of his shirt.

"Maybe", you laugh breathily, leaning in and pressing a kiss to his lips, one that's so addicting he thinks he might need to stay in this car, in this parking lot for the rest of eternity. "But you love it."

Jake chuckles as he chases after your lips.

"Such a brat."

[erwinsvow]

Heeeey, Shea. How are you?

I just wanted you to know I love your stories. Kook trio reader and shy reader are my favorite. 

I know that's not how it went, but I really think in another universe, Rafe would have trouble getting to date shy!reader because she just wouldn't realize he was flirting hard with her. Maybe a bit of self esteeming issues or because she's inexperiente. But, anyway, I see her being completely oblivious about all his efforts and being like "he's so nice, guys. No, he would never flirt with me. You guys are insane" and everyone else would be like "girl... what?".  

Thank you for your stories, they keep me smiling. <3

- T.

hi t!!! thank you so so much for your kind words, it means so much. i am so glad you love the different readers on this blog! i think your idea is so cute and funny, it suits them perfectly. here's a little bit based on what you sent and i hope you enjoy ♡

since the day you had met rafe—truly met him, not counting the multiple instances where you had passed him in tannyhill attached to sarah's hip when he hadn't even realized you'd been there—you had been a little confused about the newfound attention he was giving you.

you felt it was strange. sarah was always going on and on about how mean rafe was, how badly he treated others and how he never spared a minute to talk to anyone. but she must have been exaggerating. right?

the rafe that you were becoming more and more acquainted with was nothing of the sort. from the time he had driven you home a few weeks ago to now, he had been nothing but nice—offering you a ride everytime you were at tannyhill, asking if you wanted anything when he was on his way out. he even went out of his way to find you at the country club, stopping to say hi even if it was in the middle of one of his golf matches.

it was nice. it was really nice. everything sarah had told you about him seemed to be completely wrong, but then you realized it. rafe was probably trying to be a better brother, and starting with being nice to sarah's friends was likely a good jumping off place.

with this notion firmly stuck in your mind, you proceeded to go about your days, smiling sweetly at rafe when he was being so nice and reminding yourself to tell sarah—her brother was making a big effort, and it deserved to be recognized.

"did i see rafe walk away from the course to say hi to you?" sarah asks, and you look up at her, a little surprised. you hadn't brought it up yet, and in all honestly, didn't know when you would.

your other girl friends look a little closer at you—surprise evident on their faces too. you hate being the center of attention but somehow it feels even worse like this—they're all getting the wrong impression.

"yes.. he's being very nice. i think he's trying to make it up to you, y'know, for being mean like you say he is."

"by being nice to you?"

"by being nice to all of us," you add quickly, looking at the other girls, waiting for them to pitch in.

"he's never been nice to me."

"i don't think he's even ever said hi to me."

"so how exactly has he been nice to you?" sarah asks, and you feel your face burn. they still have the wrong impression and you have no idea how you'll correct them.

"well not much," you lie, clearing your throat. "he just gave me a ride home a few times. and he said hi a couple times here. and got me a soda from the gas station the other day."

"not much?" your friend questions.

"he never asks me what i want from the gas station-" you interrupt sarah, eager to make sure they stop speculating.

"he was just being nice. it was nothing, i-"

"what's next?" sarah asks, cocking her head at you. "don't tell me, he lets you pick the music in his car?" she laughs, and the others do too, but you stare back at her blankly.

"just once or twice," you mumble, suddenly finding your drink and the misty glass far too interesting.

"oh my god. he's totally flirting with you." you whip your head up so fast you think you got whiplash.

"you're insane. that is so not what this is. he was just being nice."

"if any other guy did this, you'd be picturing your future wedding-"

"it's not just any other guy, it's sarah's brother. do you see the kind of girls he goes out with? that's how i know he's being nice, i'm nothing like them-"

you feel incredibly flustered, face hot and playing with your hands like you do when you get nervous. your friends are laughing, and though you know it's not at you, you still hate the feeling, feeling like you might burst from the intensity of the emotions you're experiencing right now. first and foremost—the fact that maybe rafe wasn't just being nice to you.

"yeah?" you hear, though you don't look up. "then why's he walking over here right now?"

[gamesetart]

me when dilf!art breeding kink but im feeling horribly masc so the actual idea of pregnancy grosses me out - anyways i support transmasc breeding kinks guys

nsfw below the cut - reader is afab, one use of 'good boy' but other than that its very neutral. afab terms for reader's parts.

tags: breeding kink (sort of? they're not actually trying to get pregnant), cheating (sort of, tashi allows it. orchestrated it, actually), mentions of the arttashi marriage, overstimulation, the mildest of crying. technically an age gap (art in his early 30s, reader in 20s) but it never comes up.

his hips slot against yours like he was made to be there, made to press your knees to your chest, to fold you in half, to settle between your thighs and jackrabbit in and out of your cunt like he owns it, like there isn't even a person attached to the rest of it.

it's not the first time you've found yourself like this, praising his athleticism whilst cursing his absolutely unfair stamina. you've cum around him twice already - on his tongue, because art donaldson wouldn't dare try to fuck you stupid without coating his face in your spend, first, then on his fingers, a futile attempt to open you up for his cock. but nothing feels like enough prep for art, especially not when you're whining for him, telling him you want it to hurt, you don't care, you need him now.

"fuck," art groans, breath hot against the crook of your neck. "fuck, you're so fuckin' tight f'me, jesus, baby."

"don't bring him into this," you manage, nipping at his ear.

he huffs a laugh. even when he's like this, fucking you like a man posessed, snapping his hips into yours like he'll die outside of the sweet clench of your pussy, he manages to find lightness. you both do. it keeps things sweet, keeps them from slipping too far into uncharted territory. you have tashi's permission to let him ruin you as he pleases - tashi duncan knows all, and she's sanctioned your existence as the perfect outlet for all pf art's pent-up fantasies - but art doesn't want to be rough with you. not yet. he likes that he can hold you and feel strong, protective. likes that he can bend you in two and still kiss your temple. art likes that you can be sweet, soft, lovely.

"shhh, you can take it, baby," art soothes, and it's far too kind with the way he's fucking you. "doin' so well for me."

"art-" it's a warning as much as it is a plea.

he just nods, strokes your hair from your face, gentle as sin, and presses his forehead to yours.

"go on, babe, cum on my cock, c'mon, that's it, that's it-" and he feels it, the moment your walls clench around him, the fluttering of your cunt as a broken cry of his name falls from your lips. "oh, god, there you go."

he doesn't stop, though, barely even slows as he wipes a tear from your cheek and continues to slam his cock right into your overstimulated cunt. no amount of whining, of red scratches raked down his back, could have stopped him. you have a word, a signal. if you really couldn't take it, he'd know.

but you're his good boy, you'll take it, you always will. you might be the only one who can. you're the only one he wants, certainly. the only person he can fuck into like this.

"'s too much," you sob weakly, clawing at him with shaking hands. "art, please, can't-"

art just shushes you with a soft, quick kiss. "got one more f'me, don't ya? i know you do, know you can, baby, c'mon."

the tears fall freely, the press of his cock inside you so ridiculously filling you wonder if you'll split in half, if you'll simply die from the overstimulation. and then you think that'll be such an excellent way to go out, crying under him, safe between his strong arms.

art's right hand slips from where it rests on the back of your knee, holding you spread open. he hooks your leg over his shoulder, using the now-free hand to rub torturous circles on your clit. it burns, it's good, too good, white-hot sparks of pain crossing their wires with pleasure as you all but scream, sounds torn from your lungs in ways you didn't know you could make.

"c'mon, babe, wanna feel you cum around my cock before i pull out-"

your eyes go wide and you shake your head. no, not this time, wait, but the words don't come out.

"what, what's wrong?" art slows, pulling his hand from you. his blue eyes are doe-like with concern, eyebrows knit in the middle, lips settled into a familiar worried pout as he stares down at you.

you get a second to catch your breath. "in me," you gasp hoarsely. "inside. art. want you to cum in me. fill me up, please."

it's like something snaps.

there's a look on his face you can only liken to how he looks on the court: wild, fierce, a calculated cruelty he uses to systematically destroy whoever's on the other side of the net. and right now, a version of that look is fixed on you, a hungry glint in his eyes, pupils blown so wide you'd think his iries had vanished.

"fuck," he groans. "you want me to breed you, that it? fill up this pretty little pussy?"

and you moan, because neither of you are trying for a baby, not in the slightest, but the idea of being owned so thoroughly by art donaldson is enough to make you clench around him, fresh heat coiling in your core, and you could probably give him a hundred more orgasms, as long as he keeps talking to you like that.

"yeah, yeah, fuck me, art, 'til it takes, please," you babble, and maybe one day you'll start meaning it.

his pace begins anew, and this time, there's barely any rhythm to it. he's seeking release for himself now, too, for the first time since this has started, pulling out almost entirely before snapping back in so hard, you're sure you can feel it in your throat. deft fingers make rough circles on your clit, quick and dirty.

it pulls another orgasm from you faster than you'd like to admit. you don't even have time to warn him, but he can feel it in the way you tighten, your legs shaking, can hear it in the sharp note of your voice when you call his name.

"that's it, there you go," art groans. "gonna fill you right up, baby. 's what you want, right?"

you nod, so far past words, so far past anything more than lying there and taking it. but that's all he needs from you. his pace stutters.

"fuck, yes, you're so perfect, so good to me, you feel so good-" he's babbling now, grinding into you with all the grace and decorum of a fucking animal. "made for me, made for this cock, god, yes-"

and with a high keen of your name he's cumming, driving his hips into you, pushing his cock in as far as your cunt will allow, so far you're almost worried his sheer willpower is enough to override the birth control pill you're on. he stays there for a while, holds it in like he really is going to force it to take. and when he pulls out, his fingers push it back it sloppily.

art presses a soft kiss to your temple and all but collapses next to you with a sigh. when he catches his breath, you know he'll vanish to the bathroom, return with damp cloths and the bath running. he'll massage all your sore joints and rub oils into your skin and kiss every inch of you. but right now, he just needs to feel you. to lie next to you and try to memorise the pattern of your breathing.

"that was... something," you mumble, a soft smile playing at your tired lips.

"good something?" art asks.

"great."

"oh, thank god, because i really enjoyed that."

"so did i."

he kisses you again, on the lips. it's slow, sweet, drawn-out, as he weaves a hand into your hair and trails it down to draw circles on your shoulder. both of you know a child isn't in the cards right now, but your purpose here is to let art play pretend. you don't even actually want kids, it's just hot to think about making art a daddy again. tashi is the mother of his daughter, will be the mother of any of his future children. you, you're the outlet she hand-picked for all of art's needs, because while she can do everything, she won't let him fuck her the way he wants to fuck someone, and art doesn't want to fuck tashi the way he fucks you. you're okay with that. you like being someone he needs. someone he wants.

and who knows? maybe tashi will change her mind. maybe you will. maybe she'll let you have his next kid, and maybe you'll want it.

god knows art wants it. he'd let you. he'd give you anything. everything.

"thank you," he mumbles against your hair. "that was... i love you."

"i should be thanking you, i haven't cum thag much in one night in... ever."

you pause, tip your head up to meet his eyes. he's smiling, soft as silk, sweet as sugar. in the dying light of the sun, his hair looks like it's on fire, haloed by the sky itself. apollo incarnate come down from the heavens.

"i love you too," you say. and mean it.

[sadly-in-active]

What type of yandere do you think the Ancients would be if they were one

Thank you for the idea anon <3

Yandere Ancients x Reader

Summary: Oh, lookie, lookie here! It seems that you've managed to charm each and every ancient into loving you dearly...a bit too dearly perhaps. But that's just how they show their affections, right? Maybe that one cookie you were talking to the other day is alright and well and not dead in a closet?

TW: Stalking, manipulation, murder, threatening, not beta read and has never done yandere hcs before. Have fun pookies :D

(It goes from least scariest yandere to most)

REMEMBER WHAT I SAID WHEN I HAD NEVER DONE THIS BEFORE 😭

Hollyberry Cookie

She's definitely attached to you, thats for sure.

You know love bombing? Make it like she's sending a tactical nuke right towards your heart.

She's very clingy, but would allow you to go and do things on your own, you just have to tell her what you did and where you went. Oh, and who exactly you were with.

Hollyberry would never lay a finger on you in a harmful way. Why would she if she knows you'll never want to hurt her affectionate and adorable heart?

Golden Cheese Cookie

She treasures you much, much more then any piece of gold or glittering item she could ever create in her kingdom. The kingdom would be worthless without you in it.

Golden Cheese would stalk you and your every move, sometimes even commanding the marzipan cookies to follow you and photograph your day.

Talking to someone that wasn't the Golden Sovereign? Consider them gone, turned to dust in mere seconds.

She's a goddess! Why would you not want to worship her as much as she does to you..?

It would almost make her sad. Luckily, her best option is to make you do it.

And how could refuse such godly words and beautiful voice?

White Lily Cookie

She’s certainly worse then most of the Ancients. White Lily may just keep you inside the Faerie Kingdom at all times, perhaps even convincing Elder Faerie to keep you under house arrest. Although, she wouldn’t tell you specifically…

White Lily always had her eyes on you, the way you smiled at her words, how you hold her close and say how much you love her.

And she’ll convince you almost every time that you need her.

How could you refuse such a sad and pouty face she makes every time you want to doubt her? It’s almost pitying.

Knowing her goals and past, she would want you to reassure her that you love her, no matter what.

No matter what.

Dark Cacao Cookie

He CANNOT lose you. Anything that you do must be monitored.

Hell, he may even want to use Affogato Cookie’s old spells to keep you under his watch, all agreeable and soft..

He has threatened you once or twice whenever you try to question his judgement, saying stuff like:

“My love, don’t fret. I’m only protecting you.”

But your fears and suspicions were confirmed after one of the Watchers you were talking to suddenly went missing the next day. All you did was say hello and made small talk…

You knew he lost a lot, of course he had the right to be protective over you.

Except being so overprotective and going so far as to…eliminate someone out of sheer jealousy?

You had caused this situation. This was worse then what Affogato Cookie did to the King, because you were doing it completely on accident.

So, to stop hurting anyone else, you just…accepted his love, remaining safe and unharmed within the citadel, avoiding everyone in case of another accident.

Pure Vanilla Cookie

He was supposed to be a pure soul. Someone who’d never do anything horrible or wrong…

Yet when he met you, he instantly got attached. Why? Not even he could explain. You just had some sort of connection with him that made Pure Vanilla love you so dearly.

He definitely hurt you while you were sleeping once or twice, and the feeling of watching you thank him after healing you was…exhilarating.

His habits started from little cuts on your legs to full blown “love” bites and deep cuts on your arms and hands.

At first, you didn’t realize it was him, but after becoming concerned by how much it was happening, you decided to pretend sleeping and wait until something happened.

And it was an understatement that you were shocked.

It was more…terrifying, honestly.

And when you confronted him? He practically almost broke down crying, pulling on your clothes and begging for forgiveness and that he wouldn’t do it again.

Oh, how a King fell so far from purity, nobody will know.

Because after this incident, you forgave him. Surely he was going to stop? You loved him after all, of course he wouldn’t do it again..

And he didn’t. The reason? It’s because you’ve started to lose sleep now. At a concerning point…

Was that coffee in the air? No, just vanilla, as usual…

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Out of curiosity, how would (insert character of tour choice here!) react to being asked to kill a giant bug because reader is WAY too scared to do it themself?

Heehee, ahh this is so fun! (I'm sorry, I chose everyone basically. Also I'm a big softie for insects, and pretty much everyone is just taking them outside.)

oscar isaac charcters x GN!Reader • Rating: PG •Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | requestinfo• ko-fi •

Warnings: bugs, bug death

Word Count: 681

_____________________________________

Steven: Will NOT be killing the bug, he will be putting a cup/glass/bowl over it and putting it safely outside.

Marc: Literally just grabs it with his hands and puts it outside, usually via the window if he can't be bothered to put his shoes on.

Jake: Will very seriously pretend to get out his gun to shoot the offending insect until you laugh. 

Nathan: Rolls his eyes and says "bugs are important for the ecosystem” and “the only bugs I deal with are computer ones." He has a robot to sort out real-life insects that get in the house for him. (He will never admit it but he doesn't want to touch the bug, even through the barrier of a glass.)

Anselm: His third cousin twice removed has the job title of 'insect remover'.

Cecil: Tries to get the bug in a glass, accidentally puts the cup down too quickly and cuts it in half with the rim. Has a complete breakdown over it that you will need to console him for for the next three hours. 

Club!Blue: He'll make you do it yourself, and watch you while you do it.

Orderly!Blue: Please do not ask him because not only is he gonna catch the bug, but he's gonna put it on you in some kind of twisted aversion therapy. 

Jack: He's... he's eaten the bug.

Santiago: Will carry you out of the room before he removes the offending insect for your well-being (it doesn't matter how much you weigh). Will ignore when you say carrying you isn't good for his knees, will kiss your cheeks and forehead repeatedly.

Shimmer!Kane: Will just look at you a little confused for a minute or two. Then he'll look at the bug, somehow the bug just walks out of the house straight away seemingly of its own volition. 

King John: He's not gonna do fuck all about the bug. But he will kiss you and pull you into his lap until you've completely forgotten about the bug. 

Rydal: He's gonna tease the hell out of you, 'why can't you deal with the bug?' Then he sees the insect himself and is like, 'oh no, no no.' You both have to sort out this problem together, basically attached to the hip the whole time. 

Laurent: He's going to shoo the bug away and out this a large paintbrush. And then grin like a little shit when he's done it. Will expect kisses as a reward.

Poe: Does it without thinking, just gets the bug and takes it outside if it's not gonna be a threat to either of you. Doesn't even realise it's a big deal until after you hug him as a thank you. 

William: There is never a bug for you to ask him to get rid of, he's made sure the place is insect free already. 

Miguel: Miguel-what have you got against bugs?-O'Hara. Will stay completely deadpan until you get flustered and then will crack a cheeky smile. 

Bud: He's already swatted it with his newspaper before you even have to ask.

Richard: Doesn't want to hurt the bug if it's not dangerous and will take it outside for you. Will also get his dog to 'patrol' around the house for you to keep you safe and protected from any other insects that try to encroach. 

Robbie: Is so happy to be helpful, and just wants to make sure you're content and feeling safe.

Jonathan: Is so used to taking bugs out of his daughter's room that he'll do it without a second thought.

Leto: Will chuckle and tease you a little about it, but he likes that you asked him and he also likes that he can do this for you.

Basil: You're gonna have to save him from the bug, I'm afraid.

Abel: Thoroughly amused that you ask him to, won't make a big deal out of it but likes that he can sort this out of you. Makes him feel wanted. 

_________________

Thank you for reading!

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If you'd like to be taken off the tag list please let me know here

[birdkatze]

"But werewolves aren't real?" || werewolf! 141 x werewolf! reader Part 6

Future pairings = poly 141 x reader

Chapter pairings = everyone but Ghost/reader

Words = 1.2k

[Chapter 5] --- [Chapter 7]

Summery: After moving out of the big city and into the forest, you meet some men that might have some awners about whats been causing your pain.

Explicit under the cut

“I did not listen to you Gaz and because of that, Duck, you got hurt.” Price sat on the floor looking genuine.

Gaz sighs before standing over Price and cupping his jaw with both his hands. With his thumb he opens Price’s jaw and spits in it “You are forgiven…You need to listen to me. I'm an omega and have a different perspective than you knotheads.”

Price remained in the kneeling position and looked up at Gaz with adoration and understanding. “I understand now, I am truly sorry for everything.” A soft smell filled the area causing you to sneeze.

“Laying it on thick aren’t ya Cap’” Soap teased gently, “Even the nose blind puppy can smell it..”

“I’m notta puppy!” Huffing you tilt your head to look up at Soap, “I’m 60!”

“Not even that old puppy” Soap teased “Guess how old we are..”

“Um I feel like this is a trick question..” thinking for a second “Price is 100, You are 30, Gaz is 32, and um Ghost is 80..?”

“Not even close puppy..” Price gave you a teasing look. “I’m 800ish, Soap is 67, Gaz is 600ish, and Ghost is 720ish years old..”

“Nu uh no wayyyyy” You look at the men flabbergasted.

“Don’t fret you're not the only puppy, Soap is too” Price gave you a smirk and Soap rolled his eyes.

“Okay, okay you three..” Gaz sighed and turned around so he was looking at you “we need to sort out your heat.”

“Oh yeah...” You nod, still curled up In Soap’s lap feeling so safe and comfortable. “What does that look like, um, I kinda got the gist? I just get really horny right?”

“More or less,” Gaz started to pace as he started explaining “It comes in waves, so first you’ll get really hungry, thirsty, clingy, very sleepy and in that stage you’ll put on some weight which isn't a bad thing. Then you’ll want to nest and then you'll sleep. You could get really horny or you could just be very clingy and sleepy.” Pausing in front of you and Soap Gaz gave you a soft look “It’s different for everyone duck…”

“Oh alright…when will that happen?”

“Once your cycle figures itself out then it’ll be twice a year.” Gaz sat back down on the couch sighing. “They rut 6 times a year, which can be rough at times…”

“Duck,” Price looked at you gently, standing up he ruffled Soap’s already messy mohawk. “We will help out since it’s dangerous to go through a heat alone…and please understand we will go at your pace.” 

Kissing your temple Soap huffed as Price ruffled his hair. “However,” Soap started “before heat starts and before it gets to yer’ brain we need to ken if we can help you sexually if needed..”

“I can’t do one night stands” You look at the three men quietly “I get too attached, but if you guys are gonna stay then I wouldn’t mind...”

“Duck, you aren’t getting rid of us unless you want us gone…” Gaz smiled, leaning over to lick your jaw.

“Gaz! You licked me!” You cringe a bit, unused to the custom.

Soap joined in, licking your neck. “Best get used to it, duck!”

“You're supposed to kiss on the lips.” You grumble half heartedly.

“Okay, okay duck come here.” Gaz pulled you into his arms smiling “Can I give ya a kiss?”

Nodding as Gaz pulls you into a gentle and chaste kiss. If felt like molton love pressing onto your lips. As Gaz pulls away you chase his lips. You sigh happily.

“That's what you are supposed to do..”

“Oh yeah?” Soap looked at you mischievously. “Like this?”

Soap pressed his lips to your mouth, he was an amazing kisser. He felt much more wild with his kiss. Soap then licked a stripe up your cheek. You push him off playfully. “Was that good duckie?”

“Alright you pups, lettem’ go.” Price gently scruffles the two men, looking at them with fond exasperation. “Gaz, If you are alright with it, in the next hour or so could you go talk to Simon? Me and Soap will keep an eye on duck, maybe take them into town to get them some nesting supplies…?”

Gaz nodded, looking a bit frustrated. “Simon needs to pull his head out of his ass..”

“Is Simon, Ghost?” You ask, looking between the men confused.

Leaning close to your ear, Soap’s breath fanned over your neck making you squirm a bit from the sensitivity “yup..” then he licked your neck again causing you to squeal.

“Soap!” 

Pulling you both apart Gaz kissed the cheeks of you and Soap before pulling away to kiss Price on the cheek. “I’ll be back, I gotta knock some sense into that big wanker.” Gaz then left out the sliding glass door running back into the forest.

Soap took the distraction to flip you both so he was laying on top of you on the couch. He buried his face in the crook of your neck “You smell so good duckie..” sighing he melted against you “could do for a kip”

You and Soap laid comfortably on the couch for about 45 minutes before Price loomed over you both.

“Soap” Price rumbled, gently running his hands down both of your backs. “We need to get some things for their heat, and for duck’s den…”

Soap made a grumpy noise, wrapping his arms around you. “ah ken but-”

“Soa-”

“You could nap in my bed while me and Price go out?”

“But it wouldnae be warmmmmm.” Pouting, Soap made a sad noise as he snuggled against you more.

“I have a heated blanket?”

“A what?” Sitting up, Soap manhandled you into his lap again. He looked incredibly intrigued. 

A spark of arousal lit through and before shaking it off you hum “It’s an electric blanket that has settings and stays fairly warm..” You look at Soap kindly “It used to help a bit when I had the implant in my arm..”

“Ooo” rubbing his eyes, Soap looked interested. “Would be nice..I’m always cold..”

Climbing out of his lap, you stand ready to get Soap into bed.

“You can do that or you can come help get some good treats for duck..” Price murmured slyly. “If not I’m sure me and duck can find 'em well enough, yeah?”

A conflicted look decorated Soap’s face, he did look exhausted and like he needed a nap but he really wanted to help.

Picking up on Soap’s exhaustion “Me and duck’ll wait on groceries so you can nap okay?” Price looked at Soap softly. In a fluid moment Price picked Soap up and brought him up to your room with you trailing close behind.

As soon as he was set on the bed and covered up with the blanket Soap was dead to the world, softly snoring as he fell asleep on his side.

“Alright duck, get dressed.” Patting your shoulder, Price walked down stairs. 

You bush, remembering you were only wearing a thin robe. Quickly and quietly you toss on some comfy clothes and walk down stairs. Price was sitting at your kitchen table scrolling on his phone.

“Ready, duck?” 

“”Yessir” 

[brucewaynehater101]

Hiii!!!! Continuation on that Necromancer Tim au, what if in order to revive Jason, a life had to be exchanged for it? And this is gonna tie into that one undying joker au, but what if Tim decided to use joker for the ritual? He kills joker for Jason, which brings Jason back to life, but due to joker being undying his soul wasn't properly exchanged which is why despite the fact that Jason was revived, he was catatonic until he was dipped in the Evil Mountain Dew.

As for why Tim revived him, I feel like it would be partially revenge because Batman doesn't kill, but that doesn't mean Tim can't. He isn't Robin yet, so he cares less about killing. It could also be because Jason was taken too early. I heavily headcanon that Tim's favourite Robin was Jason (no hate on Dick's Robin, but Tim was a fan of the flying Graysons and Dick himself.) Maybe he got attached. Maybe it's some other reasons. But mainly, maybe he killed Joker for the ritual because maybe then Joker can actually be good for something for once in his life.

Bruce, of course, doesn't find out because undying Joker was revived again and just went back to business as usual. Your choice if Joker Junior still happens in this au, but if it does, It would be as some sort of twisted revenge from Joker, I guess? You loved Jason enough to try and kill me, so now you'll become like me, or smth like that. Additional angst if Jason finds out about that.

Moreover, this could be seen as Tim taking the burden of killing from Bruce (cuz he doesn't know about the whole undying thing yet), because (if I remember correctly, please correct me if I'm wrong) Jason was seriously against killing too back when he was still alive, and even tried to stop Bruce from killing someone. So, in order to keep Jason's perception of Bruce once he's back and alive positive, Tim takes on the burden on killing so that Jason will only be mad at him, not Bruce.

Hello again!! 👋

Alright! Let's tie those two AUs together (Tim revives Jason via magic with a price, and Joker is undying combined with JJ)! It sounds like fun ^^

Let's do a timeline

10 year old Tim Drake gets captured by Joker

Jason goes with Dick to hang with the Titans

Bruce finds Tim with the Joker. Tim kills Joker. They assume he's forever dead.

Bruce brings Tim back to the cave only for the kid to sneak out. Bruce never finds out his identity nor tells Jason/Dick about JJ

Joker comes back to life. Bruce and Tim assume that they just didn't check his pulse well enough (Batman left the body there for GCPD to deal with the traumatized child)

Tim spends the next two or so years reading mental health books to heal himself. Maybe he gets an anonymous therapist or something

Jason dies

Tim blames himself for not ensuring Joker was dead. He figures he might as well guarantee it sticks. What better way than to bargain his soul for Jason's?

The ritual goes wrong cause immortal Joker sucks

Tim is convinced Jason didn't revive at all and leaves the graveyard.

Jason catonically boogies his way into LoA's grasp

Tim becomes Robin cause what else is he supposed to do with Sir Beats-a-Lot?

Tim keeps on killing as Robin behind Bruce's back very very occasionally so as to not get caught. He figures he tried to kill Joker twice and killed Jason (by fucking up the ritual). With his thirteen year old logic, that means he's a killer forever. Might as well lean into it.

I love the other bits you've added about what Tim's mindset was like during these times. I'd so like to see what both Jason and Tim are thinking/feeling as they learn what the other went through

[orphiclovers]

Kim Dokja's type is bishonen femboys, right. Or at least his standard of beauty is, which isn't neccesarily the same thing but is in this situation.

Hear me out.

Firstly, there's the TWSA rules for what qualifies as pretty or handsome. It's very 'trangressing gender norms' centric. Basically a list of pretty androgynous boys.

Like every fantasy novel, there were pretty and handsome characters in Ways of Survival. Among the pretty and handsome characters, there were those who were described as 'equivalent to Yoo Joonghyuk'. Kyrgios Rodgraim who I met in Peace Land was such a case.

By the way, this world contained people who were more beautiful than Kyrgios. In such cases, what expression should be used?

「The boy was so beautiful that Yoo Joonghyuk would be slapped in the cheeks twice. 」 In addition, this description was only attached to three people in Ways of Survival.

Yoo Joonghyuk is the blueprint of course.

Kyrgios, who is a long haired pretty boy is equivalent to Yoo Joonghyuk.

「Deep double eyelids, and gently curling golden hair. Even without [Moisture Retention], pale-smooth and soft skin. Slightly plump cheeks, and charming dimples that appear when she smiles. Due to an oddly androgynous atmosphere, her gender is hard to identify with her face alone.」 The descriptions from within the text of Ways of Survival, and the comments I had left behind in the past, were all coming back to me now. Her appearance that exactly matched my imagination became an indescribable guilt weighing me down.

Then there's Jang Hayoung who is a girl but looks like a very feminine boy and is twice as pretty as Yoo Joonghyuk. Plus, her appearance and description is exactly what Kim Dokja thought was hot at 15 years old. He's into androgyny he just hasn't admited that to himself. tls123 got it though.

The Almighty Sun, Apollon. Just like the myths, he had a very handsome face. It was almost enough to slap Yoo Joonghyuk's cheeks once… no, it would be twice.

Greek god Apollo is also on the list, but it's not explicitly said if he's mentioned to be hot in TWSA or if Kim Dokja just thinks so. (Because there's three people who can slap Yoo Joonghyuk's cheeks in TWSA canon and we only know two of them, I think he was the third but it's not 100% confirmed.)

So, that's what TWSA says. And clearly Kim Dokja agrees with these descriptions. He also adds other people to the list.

For example, the Punisher. Counts as a pretty boy on a technicality since she is a guy who has transformed into a woman even though Kim Dokja doesn't know that at the time. Basically, Kim Dokja understood the assignment (which was that you have to be some sort of genderfuck to be added to the list) even if he didn't know it.

...He also tries to add himself onto the list of pretty boys multiple times. Because he's cringe.

However, the molding of the face wasn't as easy as I thought. The Face of A Casanova Who Died from Sexual Relations didn't rest safely on my face until it was evening. I looked in the mirror and smiled with satisfaction. 「 Kim Dokja thought: It isn't better than Yoo Joonghyuk but isn't this decent? 」

[999] spoke to me as I stared dumbfoundedly at the mirror, my eyes blinking non-stop. – It's done. Holy moly. This might not be enough to slap Yoo Joonghyuk's cheek silly, but still… It should be enough to make me ponder whether I should slap him or not, at least. I rubbed my new statuesque face and muttered to myself. "…Can't I keep this face forever?" A long time ago, I absorbed the Story fragment of the 'Casanova Who Died During Sexual Acts' and became pretty good looking for a while, but this was on another scale compared to that.

Lee Seolhwa finished painting me in an instant and spoke while placing a mirror before me. Although it was a bit embarrassing to say this myself, a man handsome enough to ponder whether to slap Yoo Joonghyuk's cheeks or not was staring back at me in the reflection.

Conclusion: Kim Dokja is a chaser(?)

[ivymarquis]

An Honest Woman

Pairing| Gaz x F!Reader, Soap x F!Reader, Ghost x F!Reader, Price x F!Reader, All x Reader Rating| M Word Count| ~700 Kinks/Content/Warnings| The author wants to write a gangbang fic but suffers from “I have to explain why they’re fucking”-itis. Each guy will get his own chapter and then an epilogue with the gangbang. This is the prequel/set up to the premise. (Just the 141 guys Alejandro is not involved this is just the only gif I could find with all 4 of the 141 guys lmao) This is some toxic shenanigans on the reader’s part BUT no cheating on reader’s end ayo

“What would you do if you found out I cheated on you?” Her (unbeknownst to either of them) soon-to-be ex boyfriend asks.

She blinks, already deciding she doesn’t particularly like this question.

“I dunno. Probably fuck your chain of command.” If he is stupid enough to try and get his lick in, she’ll get hers back.

But he isn’t a stupid man, and she is content that this is just a random question in the same vein as her asking him if he’d love her if she was a worm.

It’s a smartass answer to what she foolishly assumes is a tongue-in-cheek question. Who the fuck asks something like that and is serious about it?

Much like she doesn’t like the question, he does not like the answer.

Rather than rolling with it like she did, his reaction is immediate. “Is that really fucking necessary? Glad to know I’m with a class act.” The question snaps harshly at her.

Hm. Well, things have been too peaceful for too long lately, haven’t they? She supposes they’re overdue for a blow up.

There’s a part of her that realizes it’s not good that she’s so ambivalent about this. She should care, in some direction, that her boyfriend is blowing up at her. She should either be pissed beyond all belief that he’s mad about a situation he fabricated, or be sad that he’s mad at her. Something.

“Play stupid games, win stupid prizes,” is all she says before standing up. “I’m tired. I’m going to bed,” I’m not dealing with your shit tonight is the part she doesn’t say out loud.

“Fuck you, I don’t have to deal with this.” He snaps at her, jerking to his feet and hurrying out the door.

Why the fuck does she put up with him, again?

He’s been doing this shit a lot lately. Picking a fight, and blowing up; whether she rises to the bait or not. It’s like he’s desperate for any reason to justify walking out on her in the middle of the night.

The most telling part about their dynamic is that she doesn’t really even care.

She’s got her suspicions about what all he is up to when he storms out; once or twice, she believes him when he says he went drinking with his buddies. But when it becomes a several-times-a-week occurrence?

She sees the writing on the wall.

“It’s like you don’t even fucking care anymore!”

She doesn’t. Not really.

Her total ambivalence to anything he does is testimate enough to the fact that she’s done with the relationship.

She just needs to get her shit sorted so she can move out and state the obvious; tell him that she’s over it.

Maybe she’s being cold hearted, but she didn’t just wake up one day and decide she doesn’t love him anymore. It’s every little miscommunication and dissonance that neither of them took the time to mend. Eventually that shit piles up and one day she looks at him and doesn’t feel the affection that she used to. There’s no flutter in her stomach or heat in her groin. He’s just there.

Really she shouldn’t be surprised when a few days later she finds an open condom wrapper mixed in with the laundry. Which, considering she hasn’t slept with him in over a week, pretty much solidifies that he’s a cheating prick.

Okay. Fine. He can’t say she didn’t warn him.

It’s pride and ego and spite that makes her act out. She doesn’t have any attachment to him at this point but it’s the principle of the matter. He doesn’t get to act like this and expect to be free of repercussions.

And- well; if she’s being perfectly honest he’s a lackluster lay at best.

When she was in love and being wooed and he was coming home to her and sweet talking in her ear it didn’t particularly matter that he treated her like a living fleshlight. Relationships can take compromise and he’d been checking enough boxes she has been willing to acquise on the good sex one.

Now? There’s no affection to keep her warm at night and she is simmering with pent up energy.

A very simple I’m fucking done. We’re over text, paired with a picture of the wrapper, is frankly more than he deserves at this point, but even she’s got a line she won’t cross and cheating is firmly on the other side of it.

And she knows exactly who she’s going to start with to knock the rust off.

[yunarim]

Going off your "putting a blanket" head canons... If you take requests may I please ask for confessions where the reader says "I love you" in their sleep... Otherwise just ignore this...

「 summary 」 : confessing your love through sleep

♡ referring to this ! — tags : gn reader, fluff, reader wears lip gloss in vil's part, french i'm not sure i used correctly in rook's part (i don't speak french uhm...), flower language in malleus' part, hello kitty stickers in lilia's part bc i'm a fan — song to listen to : 사랑의 말 love words by 첸 CHEN — characters : third-years

— 5k words in total ! [ ao3 link ]

「 Cater Diamond 」 ─ ♡ First time you stumbled upon a Light Music Club meeting was an exciting and enjoyable experience. Not so long after you found yourself hanging out with its members, humming to songs of different genres and even sharing lyrics of your world’s favorite ones.

─ ♡ You realized you’ve become an honorary guest or some sort of a talisman, so passing by and seeing you laughing along members wasn’t something unusual.

─ ♡ And despite you being a whole club’s sweet best friend every student could say you were especially attached to Cater.

─ ♡ Cater himself adored your obliviousness and chuckled every time you let a little delightful laugh at his compliments regarding your outfit choices or the way you edited your photos. 

“Aww Yuu, it’s prohibited to be this cute,” Cater would say, his gaze soft and full of genuine adoration. 

“Likewise!” You would reply with a gentle smile of yours and squeeze his hand tightly and cause Cater to crush down mentally.

─ ♡ Today you were scrolling through Cater’s playlist and just when you were about to play an EDM catchy song you saw something out of place. Album’s cover got you thinking the mood was rather gentle, something Cater never listened to (or at least you never saw him doing that). 

─ ♡ “Hey Yuu, what bop are we vibing to today?” He asked you while checking on his guitar. 

─ ♡ “How about we listen to some ballads today?” You suggested, gaining his full attention on you. “If you don’t mind.”

─ ♡ “Sure thing, bring it on!”

Ephemerally tender music instantly covered your giddiness with a gentle embrace, causing you to relax and close your eyes. You felt Cater bending over you to check what song exactly did you play and smiled.

“The stars are spilling, the light is shining on you.”

He almost whispered these lines but you heard him clearly nevertheless, looking up at him, your eyes shining with pure enthusiasm. 

“You could sing it as a lullaby and I would fall asleep instantly. Your voice’s so lulling.”

Cater blinked twice, asking himself whether he was imagining things or did you actually say his voice was… lulling. He expected it to be bright and maybe even loud, but lulling? He chuckled, parting his lips and letting out a soft hum.

“Don’t go too far, I’ll be right there.”

You lowered the song's volume and relaxed on the sofa you were sitting on. Sudden drowsiness welcomed you in its embrace, causing you to fall asleep instantly as you’ve mentioned not so long ago.

Cater observed your delicate features, appreciating the way you seemed so serene. He was about to bring you a blanket and concentrate on composing a new song, but you suddenly mumbled something incoherently. 

“Cater…” he managed to recognize his name through your murmur. “I…”

He wondered what he was doing in your little dream and how beautiful it would be to enter it and stumble upon you in a somnolent realm, but he was here, wide awake and giggling at your small talks through sleep.

“I love you.”

His heart skipped a beat, making Cater choke on air for a moment. He bent over to make sure you were sleeping and you definitely were. Or was it him who dreamed of you confessing to him and this was a representation of a tempting illusion unfolding before him?

No, it certainly wasn’t an illusion. You smiled through your sleep and he took your hand in his, placing a little kiss on your palm.

“Always, I love you.”

「 Trey Clover 」

─ ♡ Sweet soft cream which was supposed to be used for meringue was all over your face, and you giggled at how apparently silly you looked, but it didn’t matter much when Trey was laughing alongside you. 

─ ♡ You almost forgot you volunteered to help Trey prepare everything for tomorrow’s unbirthday party with how often you would find yourself just messing around and entertaining Trey with your stories which to your delight he enjoyed listening to. 

─ ♡ He noticed how sloppy and clumsy your movements were, given how diligently you were fulfilling your overseer duties and taking care of the certain duo and Grim during the whole day.

─ ♡ He threw a quick glance at the copybooks you brought, a sympathetic smile blossoming on his face.

─ ♡ First years always have a lot of tedious homework to do but you still tried to have your foot in both camps and when Trey was performing miracles of culinary magic, you tried your best in order to not to lose your concentration.

─ ♡ Apparently, you weren’t doing great.

Something pricked his chest when he noticed how upset you seemed, dissatisfied with your own work, the cream consistency you willingly volunteered to prepare turned too oily and too much sugary. 

He took the towel from the hanger and bent over you, wiping the cream off your face. 

Goodness, how adorable you were with those sleepy eyes of yours, pouting a little and yet still looking right into his eyes, you shone with pure admiration. 

“I’m sorry, I messed up your work…”

Trey sighed, placing his hands on his hips and smiled at you. As much as he wanted to give you a reassuring hug, you two still were… dearest friends, he wished you thought at least that regarding your relationship. 

“Don’t be too harsh on yourself. It’s okay. And if you’re wondering how else could you help then, please take a nap, it’s painful for me to see you being so tired and exhausted. Okay?”

“Oh… okay. But when I wake up I’ll make sure you’re not being too hard on yourself too, got it?”

“Alright.”

─ ♡ You made sure no cutlery or ingredients were on the table and leaned on the table, resting your head on your hands and closing your eyes. You haven’t realized how tired you were, your eyelids feeling leaden. 

─ ♡ Trey focused on cooking, occasionally throwing glances at you and smiling every time he noticed how sweetly you were snoring.

─ ♡ He started decorating the tart when the colors of the sky outside the window turned into warm orange hues, announcing an upcoming evening.

─ ♡ He almost used orange-colored cream for the rose-shaped meringue decorations since the image of you sleeping peacefully before him reminded him of a golden afterglow. 

He noticed one little cream speck on your cheek, admiring how tender you seemed, and pressed his finger to wipe it but you let out an incoherent sound suddenly.

“Ugh…” you said, your lips parting slightly. “Not the tangerine filling…”

Trey chuckled in delight. Truly, you resembled a little child, apparently recalling a memory of you two making tangerine cake. So unbelievably cute.

“I know you liked it though,” he answered in a small whisper, making sure didn’t wake you up. 

“Uhm… Trey…” He shuddered for a moment, something tangling in his stomach at the way you voiced his name so delicately, as if he was a porcelain figurine, ready to break if you would pronounce it a bit louder. 

He couldn’t dare to say anything, even think about that, completely immersed in your little somnolent speech.

“I love you… even if you insist on using that stupid tangerine filling…”

A finger he forgot he pressed on your cheek caressed it unwillingly, sliding down to your lips. As he realized what the hell was happening, you smiled gently and giggled softly at his movements, still remaining in Morpheus’ arms. 

Ah really, what does he do with you being so absolutely precious?

「 Leona Kingscholar 」

─ ♡ Sevens, you were so annoying.

─ ♡ You caused a whole commotion involving Ruggie and Jack in order to try finding Leona since you had oh so important things you wanted to say. 

─ ♡ Leona yawned, rolling over on his bed, his tail resting on his right leg.

─ ♡ Actually, your little murmurings weren’t so irritating as he was claiming every time you asked if he was listening to you.

─ ♡ The way you rambled about your friends or another adventure of yours was kind of pleasant, not to mention your voice resembled a lullaby to him, always being so somnific and gentle. 

─ ♡ But surely he would rather let that lizard win in a competition or something than let you know how he felt about being around you. 

─ ♡ Stupid herbivore, did you just need to be so—

─ ♡ “Leona!! Finally found you!”

─ ♡ Ah, right, you still were annoying, there’s no denying. 

You smiled, making your way towards his bed and taking a seat on it, not even asking since by that time there was no need for such foolish waste of air. Leona wasn’t best with wording, so you got through a ton of “are you that stupid?” and “just sit already or I’ll make you leave” from him. 

You smelled nice. Something fresh and coniferous, nothing irritating, maybe even alluring. Your eyes shone brightly, so full of energy, a colorful spectrum of a wide variety of emotions splashing within.  

The urge to restrain his tail from wagging against his will was overwhelming and now that was stupidly annoying. Herbivore, are you actually trying to make him fall under your non-magical spell, bewitching him and causing him to admit he was genuinely happy to see you?

He just hummed instead, demonstrating you just enough that he was listening.

“Planning to hide from me? I would find you anywhere.”

And you were so hot for that so it was foolish of him not to accept it. 

“Uh-huh,” he answered, closing his eyes. You weren’t upset with his behavior, knowing he has acknowledged you. There was no denying you gained his trust just enough for being so disarmed around you, drowsing with his eyes closed when you were so close.

─ ♡ You searching the whole campus trying to find him became a sweet domestic routine you would often find yourself entertaining with.

─ ♡ Also your ramblings about little things that happened with you during the day turned into something so tender and pleasant that Leona would occasionally grab you, standing in the corridor and speaking to someone, so that the whole college assumed you two were dating.

─ ♡ Maybe you really were, and it was he who actually hasn’t realized but no, alas, you never cared to explain what kind of relationship you two had.

“Hey, are you listening?”

Fun thing is, he actually was, but reflecting about you two was so drainful he preferred to remain silent, his tail the only thing replying to you but you were too busy being a little bit angry at him to notice.

“Fine, sleep, you grumpy cat. I’ll make you talk when you get up!”

First, he wasn’t a cat, and second—

You just have to interrupt his thoughts with your adamant behavior, haven’t you?

He felt the warmth of your body spreading next to him when you laid down, closing your eyes with such a silly angry face he chuckled softly. 

He knew his bed was comfortable enough to fall asleep instantly, so there was nothing surprising in you actually drifting into Morpheus' arms. He placed his tail on your leg and observed your gentle features, appreciating what he saw. 

“Stupid Leona,” Your lips parted suddenly, and you let out an annoyed noise. Even in your sleep you were scolding him for something oh so important. 

“As if,” he replied, not even slightly lowering his voice. “We’re matching in that, herbivore.”

“Why am I… ughm…” Sevens, why even your sleep talks were so cute? “Why do I even… love you… so much…”

Oho, what an interesting statement. Good for you he felt the same. He pulled you close to him, closing his eyes and grinning slyly.

“Me too, herbivore. Maybe I wouldn’t even mind listening to you later.”

「 Vil Schoenheit 」

─ ♡ Somehow you gained unreachable at first glance the honorable ‘Vil’s associate’ title. Or accomplice if you will. 

─ ♡ Epel would often ask you how the hell you’ve managed to bewitch the witcher, so that not he observed you not with boiling malicious judgment (really, sometimes Epel was so silly for thinking that way) but with hints of approval instead. 

─ ♡ But you truly enjoyed being his ‘accomplice’, appreciating Vil’s work ethic when he took you with him to photoshoots or recording studios. 

─ ♡ Today was no exception, and you find yourself resting on the coach and minding your own business in order to not distract Vil during his working hours.

─ ♡ You threw a quick glance at him, standing on the other side of a huge glass almost the entire wall length, adjusting the microphone in accordance with his own height.

You’ve seen idols recording songs in the studios like this, looking a bit domestic and sleep deprived at times, but Vil always made sure he was stunning every second he breathed. Still, you blushed when your gaze flickered over his collarbones, revealing ever so slightly under a faint cerulean-colored blouse. Pleasant warmth spreading on your face caused you to avert your eyes, letting out a little sigh. He was so ethereal in such light colors, you wondered if he ever heard you murmuring to Rook and Epel how fantastically dreamy he seemed, a pristine fairy descended from the pages of ancient fables.

─ ♡ And yet, he was the Vil Schoenheit. A model, an actor, a singer, and first of all, your dearest friend you admired the most. You were sure there was no place for your silly crushes or whatsoever, so you just forced a smile and showed thumbs up when Vil glanced at you before starting recording.

─ ♡ His clear yet audacious voice was so alluringly beautiful so you felt spellbound, dissolving in his new song lines, and closed your eyes, letting his voice guide you straight into sweetest dreams.

An hour passed, and Vil went to the room you were resting in, filling a cup of tea with hot water and taking a seat beside you. You bowed your head in an unnatural position so that Vil was sure you'd be rubbing your neck from the pain on the way home, so he put a pillow under your head, fixing disheveled hair locks from your face.

You were divine in his own eyes. You seemed so natural, so normal and so right beside him. 

Vil’s colleague passed by, not even making a try to stop staring at the image of Vil slowly caressing your cheeks and drinking tea casually like it was his daily routine. Vil took a book out of his bag he entrusted you, adjusting your hand rested on the top of it, not noticing how corners of his lips turned upward at the thought of you diligently keeping your duties. 

“Mhm…” you mumbled through your sleep, causing Vil to take a glance at you. 

You unconsciously snuggled closer to him, carefully touching his perfectly ironed blouse with your fingers even in your sleep. 

He allowed you that silly move, chuckling softly and returning his gaze to the book. He wondered if you admitted you were so comfortable around him in your conscious state, too.

“Vil…” you muttered under your breath and he turned to you, making sure you were still sleeping. 

He noticed smeared gloss on your parted lips and smiled, slightly cupping your cheek in his hand. 

“Yes, dear?” He replied, fascinated by your behavior.

“Ugh… I love you…”

Ah, really. He smiled and decided he needed to fix your gloss, leaving an ephemeral kiss at the corner of your lips.

「 Rook Hunt 」

─ ♡ Ah, look at you being so insanely cute!

─ ♡ He found you in the Pomefiore ballroom, practicing dance moves since you agreed to help Vil with being backup dancer in a new Film Studies Club’s upcoming project.

─ ♡ You sighed, straightening your posture and turning music on, again and again returning to the very beginning. Apparently you had a problem with one little movement you kept on ruining. 

─ ♡ You were the only one who thought that, while Rook observed you from the entrance. Fingers pressed to his chin, a joyful smile blossoming with delight splashing in his eyes.

─ ♡ You were absolutely stunning even with sweat drops running down your pretty neck. 

You howled in frustration as you stood in front of the mirror and took a deep breath. Rook could hear you counting beats in your head, your hands went up in a sudden movement, and you made the same mistake again, skipping a beat and looking quite down.

As you wanted to try again he approached you, delicately taking your hands in his when you did the same move again, and you gasped a little, turning to him and giggling softly, your voice being a pristine bluebell ringing. 

“Rook!” You exclaimed, averting your gaze. Oh, you were so sweaty and exhausted, probably not the best version of yourself to present to him, but Rook viewed you as an absolute divine being, so vivid and blissful.

“Good evening, petite hirondelle,” your hands still were in his. Rook smiled at the pinkish hue dusting your soft cheeks. “Working to the bone as usual?”

“Not really,” you sighed. “I’ve been making the same mistake for an hour or so…” 

“I know the way to help you solve this problem,” now that Rook piqued your interest he slightly swirled you, as if in a waltz, and grabbed you by the waist, making you sit on the coach. 

“H-hey,” you protested. “I still need to practice more, I can’t be slacking off!”

“My my,” he chuckled, pressing his finger to your lip. “You sure are quite stubborn, aren’t you? Although it warms my heart to see you so persistent about your activities, I’m not telling you to slack off, my dear. I'm advising you to take a rest.”

You thought that maybe he was right. Your eyelids felt heavy, not to mention the sore in your hands after dancing for so long. 

“Worry not, I’ll be there to help you when you wake up.”

“Alright, but I’m not planning on taking a nap! I’ll just rest… for a while…”

─ ♡ He chuckled at how fast your consciousness drifted away, your body relaxing after some time you’ve been fighting with yourself in order to not to fall asleep. 

─ ♡ Rook smiled in delight looking at your gentle sleepy features and was ready to find a blanket to cover you with, but you suddenly jolted in your sleep, grabbing his hand and mumbling something demandingly. 

“Ugh, Rook!..” Your little murmurs were so cute that Rook covered his mouth with his hand, trying to restrain himself from giggling. 

“Yes, dear, I’m listening,” he tried answering just out of curiosity. Your furrowed brows were so adorable, not to mention a little pout he was so fond of.

“I… I love you… Let’s… date maybe… mhm..”

Oh Sevens, your words were a pure blessing for him. A sudden sparkle of joy flared up within him, and he didn’t notice how blush covered his cheeks a little, matching him with you. 

“What a sweet confession,” he whispered, caressing your cheek, and smiled, deciding to wait for you to wake up and hear those words when you would look straight into his eyes and confess once again.

「 Idia Shroud 」 ─ ♡ Well well… First two hours of having you in his room turned Idia into a blubbering furiously blushing mess, his disheveled hair flickering, bright red sparks fell on your skin, but in the end you found yourself playing with them and enjoying the warmth they radiated.

─ ♡ You didn’t even remember how the hell you made your way into his room and how in the world did you manage to convince him to play games with you.

─ ♡ A vague memory of you claiming you needed his help to beat a new boss in the DLC you bought not so long ago and now it was terrorizing you during sleepless nights, the boss still remaining quite alive and kicking, your ass ahem not letting you to make it any further.

─ ♡ Idia wasn’t opposed to the idea of helping you beat the boss, given he was insanely good with the combat system, but was that necessary to come here?!

─ ♡ Sevens, you were a cuteness hazard, just how could you…

“Dude, you’re hot for hitting those crits, I’m impressed. Like, literally hot.”

“One more shitty pun like this and I’m kicking you out of my room.”

“You already said that a few hours ago when I first came!”

“Jeez just sit still and watch!”

─ ♡ How shameless you were, calling him hot like it was something ever so usual to voice out loud.

─ ♡ And that was extremely hot of you to do, there was no denying. 

─ ♡ Ugh, really, he knew he was socially awkward, but he had absolutely no idea about how to… get closer to you at least for a little?

─ ♡ You were so stunning and gorgeous, always making him laugh and being here when he was feeling down, there was no escape route for him to run away from getting a pretty obvious crush on you.

Of course you wouldn’t want him having him as your boyfriend, or even a friend. He had a pessimistic way of thinking, and yet you were here in his room, laughing along with him and making sure he wasn’t slouching too much so his back wouldn’t hurt and cheering him up when the boss’ attacks were hitting hard. 

His fingers hurriedly clicked on the console, the combo of punches increased in number, and he was incredibly close to victory. 

“Ha! What did you even say about this boss being hard to beat? You just don’t know how— EGH?!”

He felt your forehead thud on his shoulder, and he jolted, screaming in fear. 

“Hey?!” He exclaimed, not daring to look at you, the game boss's life indicator kept decreasing on a thin strip. “What the!..”

He suddenly heard you snoring and realized you fell asleep. Seriously, just how did you manage to relax in his presence so that Morpheus took you in his gentle arms that easily?

“Mhm…” you mumbled, not even noticing through your sleep what you actually fell on. “Hey, Idia…”

“What?!” He wondered for a mere second how the hell haven’t you heard him screaming but replied to you nevertheless, the boss was almost over. 

“I… I love you…”

“OH SEVENS YOU WHAT?!”

You woke up instantly, gasping and mumbling something incoherently, your eyes staring at the red “YOU DIED” spreading over the screen. 

“I just fell asleep and you’re losing already, oh my goodness!.. Hey, what’s with your cheeks? Are you okay?”

Idia didn’t even dare to think what kind of shade of red his cheeks AND his hair were.

「 Malleus Draconia 」

─ ♡ The weather was getting warmer with every new day, presenting an absolutely divine view.

─ ♡ Ramshackle dorm had its own garden, once being beautiful, you supposed, but unfortunately after surviving an extremely cold winter and even rare flowers withered, turning into wrinkled dark petals, causing you only melancholy and sadness.

─ ♡ So you thought you would renovate it all by yourself, thankfully, Sam had flower seeds of all kinds in his shop.

─ ♡ By the current time of the year you already did a great job, and now you were watering a kaleidoscope of multi-colored flowers, the delicate aroma of which instilled inspiration and cheerfulness in you.

Bright green familiar sparks shone under the rays of the golden sun, and you carefully tried to touch them, smiling to yourself and giggling softly, gesturing a greeting to your beloved visitor.

“Good morning, Tsunotarou,” you almost whispered since there was no need to speak loudly. 

Green sparkles dissolved, and with a bright flash Malleus appeared before you, giving you a gentle smile.

“Good morning indeed,” he answered, taking his seat beside you when you put the watering can on the ground and sat down on the bench.”I hope I didn’t distract you, child of man.”

“Never,” you replied, appreciating your work and smiling, feeling a little giddy at his appearance.

─ ♡ Malleus’ presence brought calm and peace to you, somehow his only existence could put your thoughts at ease, and you would often find yourself wondering how could you thank him for that. 

─ ♡ Little did you know you were already enough with those delightful smiles of yours and all the hard work you put into renovating Ramshackle dorm. 

“You’re always so observant with everything you do, child of man. I feel honored to feel so enchanted by the way you manage to impress me.”

“Y-you’re flattering me, Tsunotarou…”

He chuckled at you, who blushed beside him heavily, trying to hide your happy smile. 

The silence that suddenly fell between you was not oppressive. You often enjoyed each other's quietness, gestures and glances served as ways of communication instead, so you fixed your eyes on the garden, feeling warmth spreading on your skin under the soft sun rays, and closed your eyes.

“Do you know what white hyacinths and gypsophila mean, child of man?”

Malleus turned his head to you, finding you already asleep. He wouldn't dare to touch you when you were so vulnerable, so he just fixed his gaze on you; an unfamiliar, but apparently unobtrusive sense of calmness bloomed in his chest.

He observed your slightly parted lips and the way your cheeks turned a bit reddish, and wondered why you were so… 

“Precious,” he whispered suddenly, his hand stopping midair when you giggled through your sleep, your head suddenly on his shoulder.

“Malleus…” you voicing out his name was something new. He never even thought his own name he heard pronounced in fear, with coy respect or acrid contempt, would sound so tender and genuinely sweet… 

He remained silent, finally daring to draw his hand to your chin, caressing it gently.

“The flowers…” you whispered, a little smile appearing on your face after you leaned to his touch. “I hope you… like them..”

“I do enjoy them, thank you, child of man,” he was wondering how far he could go now, since with every word you said something flashed in his chest with a bright firework of joyful emotions.

“Mhm… Love you, Malleus…”

Ah. 

He stopped for a mere second before parting his own lips and deciding he couldn’t resist anymore, so he placed a soft kiss on your forehead, apparently waking you up. 

“H-huh!.. W-what?..”

“Child of man, let's plant amaranth camellias and lots of forget-me-nots. Together, if you will.”

“Ah? Sure, let’s?..”

He chuckled, taking your hand in his and placing a little kiss on your knuckles.  ─ ✿ white hyacinths - constancy. "I'm enchanted forever". gypsophila - caution, timidity. red camelias - passion. "You are the flame in my heart". forget-me-not - memories, true love, sincerity.

「 Lilia Vanrouge 」

“Have you ever tried dying your hair another color?”

─ ♡ What an interesting human being you were! 

─ ♡ You were sitting in front of him while he was playing something uncomplicated on the guitar after you gave him your Hello Kitty stickers to decorate it with.

─ ♡ You always wondered how his aesthetic would change if he had bright blue strands or what could happen if he dyed it green?

─ ♡ He would become an embodiment of the Diasomnia whole aesthetics!

“No,” he replied, throwing a quick curious glance at you. “Wanna try dying it for me?”

“Right now?” You gasped and jumped off the chair he suggested you sit on. “For real?”

“Sure thing, sweetie, we just need to find hair dye… I bought it one day.”

─ ♡ After searching his room for hair dye and finding piles of other items of inexplicable nature, it wasn’t even clear what they were intended for, you found red paint and exclaimed triumphantly.

─ ♡ You did all the preparations and made him sit before you, you bending over him and working carefully as if Lilia’s life depended on you.

─ ♡ He closed his eyes, entrusting himself to you, and smiled slyly. Sevens, you were so adorable with that concentrated look in your eyes and careful movements your hands made.

─ ♡ He giggled slightly, causing you to almost freak out because a few bright red drops touched his cheeks, and you had to wipe it with a towel you also found in his drawer. 

“How the hell do you look so gorgeous even when your hair is like that? Not to mention the foil pieces.”

“Aww so you do admit I’m gorgeous~”

“Ergh, of course you are!..” You averted your gaze, pouting and trying to hide a sudden blush covering your cheeks. “Anyway! Let’s wait for a while.”

You jumped on his bed, which has become an absolutely usual thing for all the time of your ... let's call it friendship, although neither you nor Lilia obviously regarded your relationship as an ordinary friendship.

The painstaking process of coloring Lilia's hair took a huge amount of energy from you, so that you didn't even notice how suddenly your head was on his pillow, and he chuckled coquettishly, coming up to you and sitting next to you.

“Ho, falling asleep already? Aren’t you in charge of the whole dying process?” 

“I’m not falling asleep, you’re seeing things,” you replied with your eyes closed and voice trembling at how tired you were. 

Lilia chuckled, slightly poking your cheek and smiling to himself. Goodness, he just couldn’t resist, given how incredibly adorable you were.

Soon enough he found you sleeping peacefully on his bed and planned to wash the dye out of his hair but you mumbled something unexpectedly.

“H-hey, Lilia…” you whispered through your sleep and he turned to you.

“Hm? I’m all ears.”

He approached you, floating midair and wondering how you even managed to fall asleep when the acrid smell of hair dye filled the room.

“I have a shampoo… in my bag…” he giggled at your words. “Take it… I… mhm..”

“Thanks, love,” he answered playfully, actually forgetting where did you place your bag and remaining still to entertain himself a little bit more. No, really, having such a cute friend could be considered a crime.

“Uh-huh…” you replied. “Love you too.”

Now that was interesting. Lilia refrained from pressing his lips to you at that very moment, only for the simple reason that the hair dye smell was still strong enough to wake you up if he moved even a millimeter closer to you.

“Ah really?” He asked instead, a long forgotten feeling of genuine love blossoming in his chest reviving at the moment. “You mean it?”

“Mhm…” you looked so grumpy and adorable. “Love you.”

He touched his finger to his lips, and then pressed it against yours, as if conveying an ephemeral kiss, and covered you with a blanket.

— author's note : i'm sorry for working on this request for so long i hope it would suffice! thank you sm for requesting <33

— tag list : @isacoremeow

© yushiiae 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭, 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐲, 𝐨𝐫 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐰𝐧.

[lincolndjarin]

Best Kept Secret

chapter twelve : pretend (RE-UPLOAD)

ao3 link ✿ series masterlist ✩ main masterlist ✧

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 4.4k

summary : reader plays pretend

warnings, etc. : language, angst, references to sex

A/N : i had to change accounts so this is a re-upload of my ongoing fic bks!!

Two days.

That’s what you’re willing to give yourself. Two days to get over it. One to get it all out of your system and one to pull yourself together. 

So you need to get through day one. 

Which is going fine until you step out of the closet and into the main room and you look for a pair of scissors, opting to just cut yourself out of your dress from yesterday rather than try and unlace it yourself. It’s not like you’ve ever worn the same dress twice anyway. 

And then you're faced with your reflection. 

You remember thinking you’d looked like a stranger when you first arrived on Naboo. It’s like that. You stare at your reflection as you carefully cut away the dress, you look unfamiliar, the bruises on your waist are starting to yellow and fade, you trace your fingers across them gently and you sort of wish they wouldn’t heal. It’s the only physical trace of him left on your body. 

You don’t bother covering them when Elaine and Lysa walk in. You can’t seem to find the energy to care, if they notice they don’t say anything as you quickly wave them off, insisting you don’t feel well and want to spend today in bed. 

You don’t look to see if there’s a glint of silver outside of the door. You know there is. 

So you do exactly what you told the girls you’d do and you retreat back to the closet, crawling into the blankets, staring at the door. Normally you’d push down any thoughts that might be creeping in right now, but why does it matter anymore. 

“I don’t want you.”

That’s what he had said. 

Was it so wrong to want him to come through that door and crawl into your makeshift bed with you? You don’t think it makes you weak, it just makes you… human. You’ve spent your entire life being turned away by the people who were supposed to keep you safe. Your family first, sending you here, to this nightmare. Then your husband, sending you away until he decides that you’ve become useful. And now Mando. 

But this hurts more than the first two. 

As much as you didn’t agree with it, you knew your parents had thought they were doing the right thing when they sent you away. And you couldn’t care less what Kodo thought of you. 

Mando had been kind. 

He had been your friend.

Had he? He seemed to think he hadn’t but maybe it was just a one sided friendship. That still counts, right?

Bodyguard, rival, friend, protector, confidant, lover, nothing.

You decide lover was the right word. You didn’t necessarily love him. Love is a very volatile word. He had loved you, physically that is. 

“I was… bored. You were entertainment.”

Of course he hadn’t loved you in any other way, only physically. He had made love to you. 

Now he didn’t want you. 

He had grown tired of you so quickly. 

You shake off the thought. No sense thinking like that, you weren’t a helpless victim here. You knew that it wasn’t a permanent arrangement. You just hadn’t expected it to be over so soon. It was bound to happen eventually, it’s actually probably better that it happened now. Before you got too attached. 

Were you already too attached? 

Right now, here in the darkness of the closet, wounds still fresh it feels worse than any break up you ever went through back on Hoth, and most of those relationships had been much longer than this short lived affair. 

You had liked him. 

There’s no harm in admitting that now that it’s over. You had not loved him, maybe you had simply liked him. You had a crush on your friend, that’s completely normal, especially considering you were doing plenty of other things together. 

It feels nice to admit that. 

Like a weight has been lifted off your shoulder. Of course it doesn’t matter because there’s still a million other things holding you down right now but it’s a brief sense of relief. 

You had liked the Mandalorian, as more than a friend. 

Nothing’s gonna happen with him anymore so you can admit that to yourself now. 

It’s good to get that out of the way, it’ll help you get over this faster. 

Except it doesn’t really, your relief is brief as you burst into tears, burying your face in a pillow for the rest of the day. It hits you like a ton of bricks, you’re finally willing to admit that you may have had genuine feelings for him and he’s already moved on. It makes you feel pathetic, it makes you cry harder. But that’s okay, because that’s what day one was for, getting it all out. 

When you wake up, eyes red and puffy, you’re ready for the next stage in your plan. It’s time to recover from yesterday. You send the girls away again like clockwork as you stretch in front of the mirror. You’re more than capable of getting through this. He’s out there, and the longer you hide in here from him the worse it’s gonna be. So one more day, you can find some busy work to keep your mind occupied. 

You organize the closet. It’s massive, so you search through the drawers, trying to figure out what goes where. You open one of the drawers tucked in the back and you can’t help but gawk at the contents.

Pants.

You hadn’t realized how much you’d missed pants. Honestly you didn’t hate the dresses but you were getting a little sick of being dolled up beyond belief every single day. This entire time there’s been a whole drawer full of trousers you could have been wearing, you slip on the first pair you find and after a few more minutes of searching you find a drawer full of simple cotton tunics. It’s probably the most comfortable you’d been in weeks. 

It’s such a breath of fresh air you wonder why you hadn’t looked for simpler clothes sooner. Now when you walk to the mirror it is a familiar figure. 

It’s you. 

It’s almost enough to bring a smile to your face. 

Almost. 

As you organize the drawers you're pleased to find a lot more pants and shirts, you set them aside in piles, you were going to convince the girls to let you wear these outside your room, even if it was for just a day or two out of the week. You never saw anyone anyway, there was no need for you to be wearing gowns and heels to the library to read everyday. The only person you see is the Mandalorian. 

“I don’t want you.”

You couldn’t become any less attractive to him at this point so who cares. Besides, you like the way you look in these clothes, it’s how you used to dress at home. It was too cold for frilly dresses and it would have been impractical to get so done up on a day to day basis. Something about the familiarity of it all seems to help push you into the next stage of grief because suddenly you’re angry at him. 

What gave him the right to do what he’s done? To make you like him just so he could get his dick wet? If he had wanted that he could have just had it, you had been rather attracted to him physically early on, it probably would have been better that way but no, he had to go and make it personal. 

So you’re angry. 

And not just petty surface level anger, this is something new. Something you don’t even feel towards Kodo. This is deep rooted and raw. He had cut you open and laid you bare for him to see, he went through to pick and choose what parts he wanted and left you to try and survive with what remained. 

And what remained was furious. 

It doesn’t feel as good as it did last time you hated him. Last time it was almost fun because you hated him for being annoying. Now there is a deep sorrow in your anger. Last time there was the entertaining prospect of scheming his downfall, and there was teasing and conversation. This anger eats away at your insides. It doesn’t demand satisfaction, it just rests in your stomach and consumes you. 

It consumes you so much that you feel sick. You don’t know when you sat down on the floor but when you come to your senses it’s dark out. You push open the windows. Desperate to get some air into the room, it works, for a moment. But everything is too much right now and without thinking you decide you need to get out of here, go get a book, maybe one of the boring history books Mando’s always reading. You pull open the doors to your chambers without a second thought and you’re taken aback by the sight of what stands before you. 

Actually, what sits before you. The Mandalorian is sitting on the floor. His back resting on your door, at least it was before you opened it. He’s looking up at you and you know it’s impossible with the helmet but you swear he looks embarrassed. 

Your instinct is to crack a joke, or at the very least ask what he’s doing, it’s the middle of the night, he never stands guard over night. 

But that isn’t your relationship anymore. So you just sidestep him and make your way to the library, you don’t protest when he follows behind you. It’s the strangest thing but in the two days without him you had missed your shadow. The presence of him walking a few steps behind, you hadn’t even realized that was something you’d grown fond of. You shake the thought out of your head as you descend the stairs. 

You don’t acknowledge him and you don’t acknowledge the way your heart feels like it’s beating out of your chest. This is a quick in and out task, you’ll get a book to help relax your mind so you can sleep. 

You squint in the darkness of the shelves. Maker, you should have brought a glowrod, or a lamp with you at the very least. It’s useless, you can’t make out any of the titles so instead you grab the two books off one of the tables that you’d seen him reading a week ago. You shove them under your arm and hurry back to your room. Neither of you say a word about the encounter as you shut the door behind you. 

You hear the soft clunk of metal on wood just before you shut yourself in the closet. 

His helmet leaned on the door again. 

Huh. Maybe Kodo had recently requested he guard you at night as well. You aren’t going to ask him what he’s doing. You aren’t going to do anything. 

You close the closet door. You turn on one dim lap as you put on pajamas and sit in your blankets, picking up the first book to take your mind off things. 

A Deep Dive Into the History of Classic Ships and Speeders

Yeah you’re not reading that. You’re bored just looking at it so you toss it to the side and hope the other book is less of a dud. it’s bookmarked near the end and you worry that maybe he’s still reading this one but then you remember he doesn’t care about you so why should you care for him. Your eyes scan the title. 

Wild Flowers & Flora of Naboo : A Beginner’s Guide for the Identification of the Planets Native Plants

You think back to when you had asked him so many questions when he’d taken you to the garden and he never knew the answers. You always thought he seemed upset with himself over that. 

This is what he had been reading all those quiet days together in the library. You flip to the bookmark. You recognize the flower being showcased on the page immediately. You had pointed the patch of them out because the petals were an identical match for the shade of pink your dress had been that day. 

Your heart skips a beat. Which makes you feel sick. 

Even after he ended things he’s still messing with your head. 

Then again, this is not a small book by any means and the bookmarked page is near the end. He must have read quite a lot of it…

No. 

No doing this. Hoping. Not anymore. You can admit to yourself now that you liked him, and had a little crush. But he hadn’t liked you back. He didn’t want you, he was just bored. You need to remember that.

You don’t feel like reading anymore. 

So you let your mind go blank as you lay down and close your eyes, hoping for a dreamless sleep. 

Of course you aren’t that lucky. 

And even worse is the contents of your dream. 

You wish they were carnal and needy like they usually are, you would trade the dream you have for a hundred gut wrenchingly painful erotic dreams.  

Because this dream is warm, and soft, and above all this dream is familiar. 

This dream is kisses on your thighs, and they aren’t sexual, they don’t insist on more. They’re soft and chaste and leave a lingering scratch of stubble. 

This dream is him embracing you. Holding you like he did when you gave him his birthday. 

And he doesn’t ask for more, he just holds you, his hands roam your back but they don’t push for anything other than your company. 

This dream is him sitting across from you in the library in silence. But the silence isn’t forced, it’s comfortable and domestic. And you both read your respective books as the sunlight shines in through the windows of the nook. 

And worst of all this dream is the garden. It’s him giving you the one thing you’d wanted since you were a little girl, real flowers, and playing the game, and sitting in the gazebo watching the pond ripple. 

It’s promises of more good days, it’s books with little messages scrawled inside and it’s whispers in Mando’a. 

When you wake there’s a dull ache in your chest. You’ve always slept alone yet your makeshift bed feels emptier than ever.

The girls dress you in silence. Like they can sense something is wrong. 

You don’t want to leave. You don’t want to have to face him but you know it’s inevitable. So you suck it up. You’ll do what you’ve always done and you’ll go to the library and read. 

And you won’t look at him. You won’t talk to him. You won’t even acknowledge that he’s there. 

You give yourself one last look in the mirror. Elaine and Lysa really matched your mood with the dark gray dress you find yourself in. You look empty. Like there isn’t any life behind your eyes. 

You have to look away from your hollow reflection. 

Taking a deep breath you open the doors and there he is. As constant as ever he stands against the opposite wall from your door and you give him no more than a glance as you turn on your heel towards the library. 

You can do this, this is simple and easy and you are more than capable of handling this. 

His presence is stifling. 

You can’t escape the feeling of his eyes on you and if you don’t think of something fast you’re gonna snap at him and you know you can’t take another argument right now. 

Make a list. 

Stick to a list. 

Walk, sit, read. It's simple, you can do that. 

You manage to walk to the library with no issues; it's the second task on your list that causes immediate problems. 

Because your instinct is to sit in the nook, you walk there purely on muscle memory. But the moment you look at it your brain short circuits. 

Metal, gunpowder, leather. 

There’s suddenly a lump in your throat. 

“Are you paying attention, mesh’la?”

Your bodice must be laced too tight. Your breath picks up as your heart threatens to burst from your chest. The feeling of phantom touches roaming your body, gloved hands hiking up your skirt, is suffocating. 

“What is it, copikla?”

You need to breathe. You’ve only just started the day, you’re pleading with your lungs to take in air, your eyes locked on the nook. He has to know what’s got you rattled, he’s standing right behind you. 

Why did you leave your room? You weren’t ready for this, two days wasn’t enough, how are you supposed to deal with the million different thoughts that are screaming for the spotlight right now in your mind? One thought seems to be pushing itself to the front, demanding your attention. 

What if no one ever makes you feel like that again?

You can’t cry. He’ll look at you like you’re pathetic if you cry at the sight of somewhere he fucked you. That’s all he did, for Makers sake, he fucked you. 

It shouldn’t feel like a place where he loved you. 

When you close your eyes you can feel the stubble pressing against your inner thigh accompanied by a kiss. 

Stars, keep your eyes open. 

You finally remember how to breathe but the breaths come out short and shallow and you need to come up with an escape plan or something because otherwise you’ll be petrified in place for the rest of the day. 

Suddenly you don’t need a plan though. 

Because there’s a hand on your lower back. 

His hand. 

It gently pushes you to a different part of the library. He doesn’t say anything, the modulator doesn’t crackle, he just guides you to a different spot. A chair and a table, the nook is out of sight from here and you can breathe properly again. 

His hand is gone too soon as he gently pushes down on your shoulders to make you sit. His touches are featherlight, like you’re made of glass. Right now you might be. He takes a step back and you regain your composure like it never happened. 

Walk, sit, read. 

Well, you really fucked up the second task on your list. 

And you don’t do well on the third. 

You reach towards the closest shelf and grab the first book your fingers touch. It’s some sort of mystery novel, you can’t focus on the words. Your brain feels fried and you’re still processing the last few minutes. He’s leaning against one of the shelves, his helmet facing away, almost like he’s giving you privacy to collect yourself. 

You take a deep breath and let your eyes scan the page but you just can’t bring yourself to read. Your mind is too foggy, your heart still racing, you sigh as you set the book down on the table. 

You need a simpler task. Something that will occupy your brain enough that you don’t have to think of anything else but doesn’t require too much critical thinking. You turn to face Mando directly for the first time since your… break up? Is that what it’s called when you weren’t necessarily romantically involved but were friends who were physically involved but also you might have romantic feelings for him? 

Now you’re just confusing yourself. 

It doesn’t matter because you’re looking at him and you immediately recognize that his posture is different. The two of you have spent a lot of time staring at each other, you know how he stands. Tall and proud, always. 

But not now, now he looks like a scolded child, staring out a window to avoid meeting your gaze lest you reprimand him further. 

You really want to hate him. You want to hate him so badly right now but it’s like trying to hate a wounded puppy. 

How is he so damn expressive behind a layer of steel? 

You need to speak to him. 

If he’s going to insist on being your bodyguard you’re going to have to learn to live with each other in this new dynamic he’s created. 

So you need to speak to him. 

Rip off the bandaid, why wait any longer? It's going to happen eventually. It should be something thoughtful and well articulated. 

“Could you get Leo for me?” Your voice is hoarse from sitting in silence for two days and the words tumble from your lips before you can stop them and he’s quick to nod and rush out. 

Bodyguard, rival, friend, protector, confidant, lover, guy who you’ve had mind blowing sex with that you’re suddenly nervous to ask simple things from. 

Maker, you’re a mess. 

Alarmingly fast he’s back with Leodall hot on his heels.

“My lady, how may I be of service.” Always straight to the point with him.

“Could you bring me a book from my quarters, the one on ships, and some parchment and pens please?”

“Right away ma’am.” And as quickly as he arrived he’s gone. 

This is the part where Mando usually asks what you’re up to. Except he doesn’t. 

So he’ll touch you and help you when you're frozen in time staring at the scene of one of your sexual adventures on the verge of a nervous breakdown, but he won’t ask what you plan on doing with his book. 

This new situation is going to be way harder to navigate. 

You look to see what the Mandalorian seems so fascinated by outside the window but it’s just sky and clouds. 

Maybe your new situation is avoiding conversation. 

That’s probably why he had ushered you away from the nook. Not because he cared but because he didn’t want to talk about it. 

Okay, you can do that. Avoid confrontation at all costs. 

It’s probably for the best anyway. 

When Leo comes back with your requested items you thank him as he leaves and you open to a random page and start trying to copy the exact images of the ship. 

Busy work.

It’s boring in the beginning. Mindless scribbling to keep your brain occupied as you try to sketch every detail you can. Eventually it’s almost fun, seeing how closely you can get them to look to the original image, you draw dozens of ships, occupying most of your day as you proudly spread them out on the table.

Every so often you’ll catch a glint of silver and you know he’s watching you, you never turn to meet his gaze.

You can pretend he isn’t. That’s what’s easiest. Because he doesn’t care, he made that clear. He doesn’t care. (Even though he won’t stop looking at you.)

Don’t focus on him, don’t focus on anything but your drawings. 

You pick out your favorites, the Naboo royal cruiser, the YT-1300 light freighter, the ST-70 class Razor Crest M-111, and a T-47 air speeder. You can’t help but feel a genuine pride as you stare at the drawings. They’re messy and on most of them you’ve smeared the ink but they’re recognizable and it’s nice to actually feel like you’ve accomplished something. It’s easy for the days to blend together when you do the same thing over and over and over again but this is real. You can touch and see the drawings you did, physical evidence that you did something other than finish another book. 

It’s hard to really appreciate what you’ve done when you’re also pretending that you don’t see him staring right at you. 

He pretends that he doesn’t care about what you’re doing. (Rather poorly.)

And you pretend you don’t notice him gawking at you. 

You need to stop thinking about him and his staring problem so you find another book, something bulky with pictures.

The Illustrated History of Blasters : From Pistols to Rifles

And you start from the beginning, just scribbling sketches of every gun there’s a picture for. You don’t really care much for blasters but the illustrations are so complicated you can’t help but try and match the attention to detail.

It’s late when you finish the first section of the book. You haven’t even gotten past pistols as you stifle a yawn. 

He seemingly hasn’t moved an inch, aside from the glances in your direction that you brushed off. 

Even with the circumstances you can’t help but wish he would just say something, literally anything. He could tell you that your drawings are shit and honestly you’d just be happy to hear his voice. But of course he doesn’t. Because you aren’t anything to him.

Maybe he’s pretending too.

You have no reason to believe he is, he’s shown no interest in you or reconciliation since he ended things, other than his persistent presence. You can’t think of a reason why he would end things and not mean what he said. 

But you like to think that he’s pretending. 

It makes this easier in your mind if it’s not that he doesn’t want to be with you, it’s that he can’t. 

It’s harmless. 

Imagining such a thing, as long as you don’t let yourself get caught up in another fantasy. This isn’t real, it’s just something to help you stomach the harsh reality of being undesirable to him.

So you pretend that his glances are those of want, that maybe deep down he might actually care for you.

You pretend that he regrets his decision, that he misses you even though he’s spent all day right next to you.

You pretend that he secretly wishes he was walking beside you instead of behind you as you return to your chambers. And you pretend that he wants you to invite him in but some secret invisible reason that you don’t know about is holding him back. 

But it’s all just pretend. 

You need to remind yourself of that. 

You can do this. You can have more days like this. 

Drawing to keep your mind from wandering and when it does you can pretend. It isn’t an ideal way of living but for now you have to manage until you figure out where to go from here. 

You slip out of your gown after fighting to unlace it yourself for a few minutes and decide to just sleep in your undergarments as you make your way to the closet. 

You pretend you don’t hear that soft clunk of Beskar against your door.

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