#i’ve been planning on doing it two years in a row

[the-irrelevant-trumpeter]

i may get to publish this fic on valentine’s day???

[iliveinprocrasti-nationn]

love when media has something that enhances people’s fears to the point where they’re severely incapacitated and remembering some of the worst experiences of their life. that’s the representation i need

[fingertipsmp3]

They need to invent a knitting socks that doesn’t make me want to stab myself in the eye

[charliemwrites]

Part 5 of Mister(s) Steal Your Girl

Long awaited, but no Johnny smut just yet. Soon, I promise. (And Kyle will be back. It's been so long since he's gotten to smooch our dear reader.)

Also! A little reminder than you can check the queue to see what I plan to post for next. I try to update it often as the worms wiggle. Next I plan to do the final chapter of Greater Bad. (Unless I get my not-so-secret, no-longer-a-surprise oneshot out first)

Lastly! Please note that I wrote the "posts" from his perspective. So inconsistencies with the actual story and any grammar/spelling errors were purposeful or for "authenticity".

Content: Brandon.

r/CakeEater _OnBrand_ I asked my fiancé for an open relationship before marriage. It worked. A while ago I posted on r/adultery about the affairs (yes, multiple) I was having behind my then-gf’s back. We’d already been dating for ~4 years and I was seeing one of my coworkers (my “work wife”) regularly and one of her coworkers on and off. People on my other post were critical and called me all sorts of things like selfish and pig. I know it’s not traditional, but I genuinely don’t think I could ever be satisfied by one woman. My work wife (Rachel) and fiance’s coworker (Lucy) provide things my fiancé just can’t but I still love my fiancé. She’s the woman I’m going to spend the rest of my life with. When I posted on r/adultery I was trying to figure out how to propose without her finding out. I knew she’d expect me to help with stuff and possibly want to look at my phone more often. It would have been harder to sneak off to meet up with Lucy or Rachel with wedding planning and I was sick of being stressed she would find out. Some nicer people on the post suggested I ask for an open relationship. I took their advice and sat her down to sell the idea. It’s a good thing I’m so good at sales (top 3% in my company for 5 years in a row) because she agreed. Yes, actually agreed. At first she got kind of pale and her eyes got really big and blank. I thought for sure she was about to start crying and run off. Maybe even kick me out. She doesn’t really get angry but she gets upset and it freaks me out. After I explained everything about how good it would be for us though, she agreed. This is my official unlimited hallpass. I’ve been seeing Rachel on weekends and Lucy once or twice during the week for drinks. Tonight I’m going to sign up for every dating site I can. Tinder, Bumble, Hinge. If anyone has other suggestions, I’ll check those out too. Fiance has been kind of off but I think it’s just an adjustment period. Sometimes I can tell she’s been crying but she hasn’t come to me about it so she’s probably just being emotional about all the changes. At least she’s got our house to focus on while she gets used to things. I feel a little bad about running out every night but she’s just so mopey and sad all the time and it’s not enjoyable to be around. I know she probably feels like I’m abandoning her a little but once she starts getting back to normal I’ll spend time with her again. You really can have your cake (all the cakes heh) and eat them too. Edit: no, I never told her that I already had Lucy and Rachel and I’m not going to. What good would it do? She’s already agreed to an open relationship and telling her that I didn’t have permission first would just hurt her for no reason.

Kyle’s been gone for two (long, lonely) weeks when he finally gets a chance to call. So far, he’s only been able to send scattered texts at odd hours. Always something sweet – telling you he’s alright, or that he’s thinking of you. Sometimes you even catch him for a brief exchange before he apologizes and “goes dark” again.

Not that you begrudge it. This is part and parcel of dating him and you knew that going in. You’re not complaining when he’s putting his life on the line so that the public can live in blissful peace.

That doesn’t stop you from missing him though. His hugs, his smile. Getting his voice - even roughened by distance - is a nice compromise though.

“How have you been holding up, chickadee?” he asks after the initial reassurance that he’s whole and hale. 

“Easier this time!” you answer proudly. “I know what to expect with you gone and Johnny’s good company.”

“Yeah?” he asks, sounding pleased.

You can just imagine him now, leaning his hip against the nearest surface, arms crossed over his broad chest. He tends to duck his head when he smiles, and you unintentionally grin to yourself, thinking of him hiding into his phone. God, you miss him. 

“Mhmm! We found a board game bar that you’re going to love. Oh, and we’re going to the Hay Festival this weekend.”

He hums. “I’m sorry I can’t be there to take you, luv, but I knew Johnny would be good to you.”

More than good to you, really. There’s not been a day he doesn’t call to check up on you - if he doesn’t see you in person, that is. Dinner, movies, coffee. He’s somehow both a gentleman and an incorrigible flirt, but only with you. He’s nothing more than polite to anyone else, keeping his focus on you and whatever the two of you are doing.

You don’t know what to do with the undivided attention. If you didn’t know better…

“You two are getting close,” Kyle observes.

“I think so,” you admit, then hesitate. “Is… that okay?”

“‘Course, luv. I’m glad.”

You blink. “You are?”

“He’s my best mate and you’re my best girl.”

An odd pang of anxiety pierces your chest. Johnny calls you that too. His “best girl.” You love hearing it - but maybe you shouldn’t?

“It… doesn’t bother you? That we’re spending so much time together.”

He snorts softly, but it’s not derisive. It’s a noise he makes whenever he thinks you’re being silly, but his voice comes out soft and warm. Not an ounce of condescension.

“No, baby, I’m not fussed. You spend your time with whoever you want, however you want. Yeah?”

Your chest floods with warmth. “Okay.”

“There’s a love. I’ve got a brief, so I have to go. I’ll call soon as I can.”

“Be safe, Ky.”

“Do my best. Give Soap a smooch for us, aye?”

You blink as he hangs up. That’s a new one.

You ponder over it while packing on Thursday night. Was it just a joke? A tease at the little crush you’ve developed for Johnny?

Because it is a crush, you know it is. It’s impossible not to be attracted to him. Not with that smile, that laugh, the goofy humor and sweet mannerisms. He still sends you flowers every few weeks - just as the previous ones are about to die. It’s so thoughtful; you’ve started feeling a bit warm every time you look at them.

But you feel greedy, being even remotely interested in anyone else. You have Kyle and Brandon (even if you two are going through a… patch) and that should be enough for you. Shouldn’t it? You’ve never been with more than one person at a time before; it took you weeks to shake the compulsory guilt when you first met Kyle. It feels almost unforgivably audacious to want Johnny too, especially since he’s Kyle’s best mate.

Still… Kyle’s not a jealous or passive-aggressive guy. You’ve been with him long enough now that you know he’d just tell you outright if he was unhappy about something. And he’s been with you long enough that he can surely tell you’re more than a bit fond of Johnny.

Maybe that’s why he made the joke about “smooching” him.

Regardless, you want to talk to him about it. Things always make sense when you think out loud to him. His levelheaded and practical approach to difficult topics always straightens your panic spirals out into neat lines.

Plus, it’s not as comforting to hold your own hand. (God, when is he getting back?)

“Where are you going?”

You blink up at Brandon, folded pajamas in hand.

“The Hay Festival,” you answer.

Speaking of - you slip past him into the bathroom. He doesn’t follow, rooted to the spot spinning his phone around in his hands.

“Alone?”

You snort. “Of course not, I’m going with a friend.”

The allergy pills are at the bottom of the medicine basket beneath the sink. You really need to organize it the next time Johnny’s too busy to hang out. There’s no way you need three bottles of paracetamol. 

“I need that suitcase.”

You toss the bottle in and pivot for the dresser. “What for?”

He shifts, eyes sliding away. “An… overnight.”

Ah. That’s what he’s calling it now?

You snatch a few (too many) pairs of underwear from the dresser.

“Just bring them here,” you say over your shoulder.

There’s a long, tense beat of silence but you’re too busy rummaging for socks to break it first. Will it be too warm for thigh-highs? Eh, you’ll go with the sheer ones; the little lace roses match one of your dresses anyway.

“Bring who here?” Brandon asks slowly.

When you turn, he looks paler than usual. You shrug, trying to project casual comfort.

This is a totally normal and reasonable conversation to have. Just a couple in an open relationship, discussing a stranger coming to the house for a shag. Nothing to make a fuss over.

“Whoever you need the suitcase for? I know you’ve had people over before anyway, and I’ll be gone all weekend.”

He stutters, color returning to his face in bright pink blooms. “Why do you think I’ve had people over before?”

You arch an eyebrow. “I do the laundry, remember? And there was lipstick on one of the wine glasses.”

That had sent you into a tizzy at the time, disgusted that some stranger was in your bed, with your fiancé. You washed the sheets twice on the hottest setting and tossed in a bit of bleach for good measure. Hadn’t been able to look at him the whole week - not that he was there much to not look at.

Now, though, you seem to have adjusted to the idea, even if you’re still not thrilled. Brandon can have his… whoever over, and you’ll goof around with Johnny in Wales.

“Just toss the bedding in the wash afterwards,” you add.

“I thought you do the laundry,” he sniffs.

“I’m not traveling all day just to do chores when I get home,” you answer. He does a double take like you’ve started speaking a new language. “You’ll be here all weekend, I’m sure you’ll have time.”

He opens his mouth, and you can tell already that he’s about to argue - though you don’t really know what about. It’s not like he can’t do laundry or dishes, after all. He lived alone before you moved in together.

Thankfully, his phone distracts him before he can form the words. He spins away to tap at the screen and shuffles out of the room, shoulders till tense. You go back to packing and teasing Johnny about the amount of hair gel he’ll bring.

Friday afternoon can’t come fast enough. Even though you’ve taken a half day from work, the few hours seem to drag. You’re practically daydreaming about the food and drinks, music and activities. There’s a baker’s dozen art stalls you want to check out as well, and a gift to pick out for Kyle…

“Hope yer thinkin’ o’ me when ye make tha’ face.”

Your head snaps around so fast, you nearly give yourself whiplash. Johnny grins down at you in all his casually handsome glory – ripped jeans, green tee, and brown boots. Angels are singing somewhere, you think. Or maybe that’s just your nosy coworkers ogling from their own cubicles.

The reality of him sinks in a moment later and you leap up from your cushy chair – and right into his arms. He’s like a furnace compared to the cool, conditioned air of your office, a welcome source of warmth for your chilly fingers.

“What are you doing here?” you giggle. “Who let a rowdy guy like you in?”

He smells like bergamot and pine. It takes active thought to resist pressing your face into the crook of his neck. It looks cozy there.

As always, he squeezes you a bit tighter just before letting go.

“Hey now, Marcy’s a discerning lady. She knows a fine gentleman when she sees one.”

You snort, belied by the smile curling your lips. “She may need new glass then.”

“Och, don’t go talkin’ poor about my second-best gal now.”

“Is it that easy to get in your good graces?” you scoff, glancing at the time on your computer. It’s later than you expected; no wonder he came up to retrieve you. You spent so long daydreaming that you’ve lost track of time.

“Aw don’ be green, dove, you’re still my number one. Send ye flowers ‘n all.”

You roll your eyes at him. “Yeah, and now I’m wondering just how special that is.”

He stands close, proclaiming his case for how obviously special you are while you shut everything down for the weekend. You’re only half listening to the bit, admittedly. Mostly just basking in your excitement for the mini road trip and the weekend to come. You have no doubt that it’s going to be fun, even if it would be better with Kyle along too.

“Where are you headed off to?” Lucy asks.

“Hay Festival,” you answer shortly.

You’ve never been a big fan of Lucy, but lately she’s been insufferable. Talking over you during meetings, leaving you out of emails, throwing away papers at the printer. (Okay, you haven’t seen her do that last one, but you know.) Worst of all, she can help but make backhanded comments about every flower delivery.

“You’re not taking Brandon?” she simpers. “Something wrong?”

“He’s hanging out with a friend this weekend too,” you correct, “and he doesn’t like hay.”

“Shame that,” Johnny adds, sounding like it’s not a shame at all.

You haven’t told him much about Brandon – but you’re sure that Kyle has. From the face Johnny makes the rare times your fiancé comes up in conversation, he doesn’t think much of Brandon.

“Have fun you two!” your manager, Selene, calls.

You wave and shoot Lucy one last, unimpressed glance before stepping onto the elevator with Johnny.

r/CakeEater _OnBrand_ My fiancé is going on a weekend getaway with another man. I’ve posted in r/adultery and r/cakeeater before. I’m not looking for judgement or insults here. I really just want advice.

A little context: my fiancé and I are in an open relationship and it’s been like this for a few months now. I originally asked her to ope the relationship and for a while she was weird about it but lately she’s been getting sbetter. I thought she was finally getting used to me going out with other women and things were getting back to normal.

A few weeks ago, I noticed she was on her phone more. Like, all the time. Even at dinner when she used to be really picky about phones at the table. One day I came home from work and she was talking on the phone to someone. Giggling and laughing. When I turned the corner she was kind of blushing too. It kind of bothered me but I figured she was talking to a friend and just hot from cooking or something.

Lucy texted me pissed off one day, asking why I was sending my fiancé flowers but not her. I told her I hadn’t sent any flowers. I think they’re way too expensive for how long they realistically last and that they take up a lot of unnecessary space. But I thought it was weird that someone was sending my fiancé flowers and got kind of uncomfortable. That’s a pretty romantic gesture and her family isn’t the type to randomly send flowers either.

I tried taking her out on a date but she was all mopey again and turned her phone to ‘do not disturb’ so I wouldn’t even see if she was texting someone. We don’t have much to talk about now. I love her but she’s not a good storyteller or into very interesting things. All her ‘funny stories’ are just mundane things that happen during the day. We’ve run out of interesting topics about because we’ve been together so long. (That’s why I like having more than one partner.)

Yesterday she randomly started packing for a trip. I don’t even think she was planning to tell me until I asked her. She was packing a bunch of cute clothes too. Like dresses and tights and things like that. Stuff she only used to wear on our dates. I asked who she was going with and she just said ‘a friend’ which is weird because she would usually say the name of someone even if I don’t remember who they are.

Well today Lucy sent me a picture of my fiancé leaving her job with some guy. I couldn’t see his face because he was turned away, but I could see the side of my fiancé’s face and she was smiling at him. I got this awful sinking feeling in my chest like it was hard to breathe. It took me a few minutes to process that she’s going away for a weekend with a complete stranger.

Doesn’t she know how dangerous that is? Where did she even meet this guy? They’ll be gone all weekend so are they sharing a room? A bed? I nearly threw up thinking all these things as I called her.

I asked her to cancel her plans and come home. She seemed confused and reminded me that her plans were with someone else and it would be rude to ditch last minute. I told her I wanted to spend the weekend with her and that I’d been missing her. She seemed surprised and said that she’d see me on Sunday night, but she was looking forward to the festival with her ‘friend’ and wanted to go. As a last ditch effort I asked if her friend was more important than me, nearly begging at that point. She must have heard the desperation in my voice, but she just told me that she was already on the road and it was too late.

My fiancé doesn’t like lying but it’s hard to believe this guy was just a friend. Even if she sees him as a friend I know how men think and I doubt he sees her the same way.

She said some other weird stuff before she left about having someone over while she was gone. I don’t get it. How could she just casually invite someone else into our house like that? Has she had other people over? Is she dating now?

I’m not sure what to do. I don’t like that she put this trip over me. Should I talk to her about how bad this makes me feel? Should I call again and tell her to come home more forcefully? Am I blowing all of this out of proportion?

Edit: she doesn’t know that I’ve been seeing Lucy. I haven’t told my fiancé about any of the women I’ve been seeing. (mostly just Lucy and Rachel. I’ve done a lot of texting through apps and gone on a bunch of first place, but most women don’t put out right away and I usually can’t be bothered to get to know them better). Even then, I wouldn’t tell her about lucy. They don’t get along and never have. It would cause a lot of unnecessary drama.

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[solxamber]

Maybe a Skully request for him learning the reader's birthday is really close to Halloween? I just think he'd get excited to hear the reader's had a Halloween themed birthday every year because of it, and due to it not being ON Halloween its like having two in 1 year, would absolutely be his dream if he doesn't already do that

Skully J. Graves x Reader

I'm so sorry for the wait, I hope you like it <3

You casually mention your birthday while lounging in Ramshackle, almost as an afterthought. "Oh, yeah. My birthday’s next week. It’s always super close to Halloween, so I’ve had a Halloween-themed party almost every year."

Skully, who was dramatically arranging some black and white decorations in the room (for "aesthetic purposes"), suddenly freezes. He turns toward you slowly, his eyes widening with a mixture of awe and reverence. He drops the cobweb-covered garland he’s holding and rushes to your side in an over-the-top theatrical flourish, coat sweeping across the floor.

“What did you say?!” he asks, his voice high, almost like you’ve revealed some ancient secret.

You blink at him. “Uh...my birthday’s next week?”

“And every year…” He leans closer, eyes locked on yours like you just said the most magical thing in the world. “...it’s Halloween-themed?!”

Grim, who’s curled up in front of the fire with a snack, snorts. “Pffft. Why’s that such a big deal? We don’t even get extra tuna just ‘cause it’s spooky time.”

Skully completely ignores Grim, focusing all his energy on you. “This is...this is...this is the dream.” He grabs your hand and dramatically bows over it, pressing a kiss to the back of it. “You’ve been living my ideal life all this time, and I never knew! You, my friend, have been blessed with not just one, but two Halloweens every year!”

He gets this far-off, dreamy look in his eyes, as if he’s envisioning a world where he, too, has two Halloweens, one on your birthday and one on the actual holiday. "A prelude Halloween, and then the real Halloween...It’s a masterpiece of planning, a work of art." He lets out a breathy sigh, “Jack Skellington himself would be proud!”

“I mean, it’s not that big of a deal…” you try, but Skully’s already on another planet, his face lighting up like a jack-o’-lantern.

“Do you know what this means?!” He suddenly grabs both of your shoulders, eyes wide with the joy of someone who’s just unlocked the key to eternal happiness. “We can have TWO Halloween parties in a row! One in your honor, and then the official Halloween! Two nights of pure, spooky glory!” He releases you, spins dramatically, and gestures around the room. “The decorations, the costumes, the endless dark colors—just think about it! It’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of!”

Grim rolls his eyes, crunching loudly on his snack. “Yeah, yeah. And where’s my tuna in all of this? I’m not seein’ how this benefits me.”

Skully waves his hand dismissively at Grim. “You’ll get all the tuna you want, little furball. We’re talking about a double Halloween extravaganza! This is bigger than any feast of fish!”

Grim’s ears perk up. “Double the tuna, huh?”

“I said parties, not tuna,” you point out, but Grim’s already on board.

“Yeah, yeah, let’s go with double the parties, double the snacks,” Grim says, throwing in his vote for this wild plan. “I’ll bring the fireworks.”

You groan, pinching the bridge of your nose. “No fireworks inside the dorm, Grim.”

Skully looks ready to faint from excitement. “Imagine it...we’ll start with a pre-Halloween bash for your birthday. Dark, moody decorations, not a single bright color in sight. No candy—just the eerie emptiness of true Halloween spirit.” He twirls around, his cape billowing behind him. “Then, on the real Halloween, we’ll raise the stakes even higher. There will be no sugar. No colors. Only shadows.”

Grim looks horrified. “Wait, no candy?! That’s...that’s sacrilege! You can’t have a Halloween without candy!”

Skully turns to Grim, his voice deadly serious. “The only true treat...is fear.”

Grim groans. “Ugh, you’re the worst.”

Skully turns back to you with a grin. “What do you say? Two Halloweens! Double the spooky goodness, twice the amount of dark, colorless celebration...”

You laugh, watching the pure joy radiating from Skully. “You’re absolutely obsessed.”

“I am obsessed!” he says proudly, puffing out his chest. “You are living proof that Halloween is not confined to one day. It is a lifestyle, a way of being. And now, you and I...we shall celebrate that lifestyle together. Forever!”

Grim mutters something about “weirdos” and “no candy,” but you just shake your head, feeling both exhausted and entertained by Skully’s antics.

“Well,” you say with a grin, “I guess I’d better start planning for two spooky parties this year.”

Skully nearly faints from happiness. “This...this is everything I’ve ever wanted!”

Grim groans dramatically. “Great. Two days of weirdos and no candy. Can’t wait.”

Skully, in all his dramatic, Halloween-obsessed glory, was in for a treat. And now, you’ve somehow roped yourself into throwing a double Halloween bash. Lucky you.

Masterlist

[sincerelyneo]

omg hello! i missed you so much!!! 💖 would you consider reposting arcade again?? it was legit the best thing i’ve ever read omg i was so sad when i couldnt find it anymore

its fine if you cant tho!! im glad youre backkkk💖💖💖

ofc i can, i’m glad you liked it <3

arcade | p.js

“i’m out of control, full power up”

💿now playing: arcade by nct dream

❯ summary: Jisung’s been nothing but busy lately, so when you hear he got the weekend of your anniversary off, you can’t help but plan something to spend time with him. Expect, the only thing jisung wants after his busy month is you — and he’s not gonna let your silly arcade date get in the way of that.

❯ pairings: jisung x fem!reader

❯ genre: established relationship, smut, fluffish.

❯ words: 3.5k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, smut, fingering, exhibitionism, reader uses she/her pronouns, use of the name baby, jisung takes pictures whilst fingering reader in a photobooth idk???

"You brought us to an arcade for our three year anniversary?"

You look over to Jisung standing by your side as the pair of you stood in front of the arcade entryway with the giant neon sign above your heads.

"Yeah, surprise - who doesn't love a date night with pizza and an arcade?" You grin, trying to hide the look of nervousness fighting to show once you notice his frown.

“Baby,” he groans, whiny, “I thought we were gonna go home after the pizza.”

You may have lied to him about that.

When you told Jisung about tonight’s date, he originally objected. He wanted to have a chilled night in with just the two of you — alone. Something he hadn’t had for the past four weeks he’d been strung up at work. Yet, you insisted that the two of you celebrated your three year anniversary just like you had done for your first and second.

So instead, the two of you came up with a compromise: head to your favourite pizza place, then come home and watch a movie snuggled together on the couch. In Jisung’s mind ‘watch a movie’ was code for letting his hands roam all over your body whilst he watched you whither and squirm, but he figured it was best to not discuss the minute details.

But don’t get him wrong. Just because he wanted to have a quiet night in didn't mean he hasn’t missed you — because oh he has. He’s only bothered the rest of the dreamies with his annual ‘I miss her’ speech every other hour.

And whilst typically Jisung loved to spend every passing minute of the day with you; right now, all he could think about was how much he wanted to be balls deep in the cunt he’d missed so much — not spending his time in some arcade.

"I haven't been inside one of these since I was a little kid," you tell him. “Please Sungie, just for an hour.” You begin tugging on his hands.

“I don’t know, Y/N. Aren’t we a bit too old to be playing in the arcade?” he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Pretty please!”

You hope the small flutter in your eyelashes is enough to win over the hesitant man. And you know it will because he’s told you several times not to give him those signature doe eyes, because he can’t ever bring himself to say no to them.

"Fine."

He grasps your hand, threading your fingers together as he starts to lead the two of you inside. You're instantly greeted with the loud electronic sound effects from the various games, along with the random music playing inside.

There's lights flashing everywhere, and you notice a bunch of people sitting at the bar and in booths near the front of the arcade, along with a bunch wandering around all of the games.

Jisung looks sideways before gesturing his head to the row of retro games, "what do you wanna play?" He asks.

“You can pick first, because I’m such a good girlfriend.”

He can’t help but smile at you — because he knows you're right.

“How about we play some pinball?

"I take it back," you say with a pointed look, "I’ve seen you play that with Chenle and I’m definitely gonna lose.”

“Too late, you’ve already given me the power,” he shrugs and pulls your arm over to where the game is situated.

“Ugh, Jisung. There’s no point, I already know I’m gonna lose,” you try to protest.

“Stop complaining,” he grasps your hips to turn you around to face the pinball machine then comes to stand behind you.

He takes your hands and places them on the buttons either side of the machine in front of you. You feel your cheeks flush when you feel Jisung’s chin rest on your shoulder, as he guides your fingers over the controls and silently coaches you through the game.

You don’t know how he always does it but even here, he's managing to create some form of sexual tension between the two of you at a pinball machine.

“Jisung..” you whisper as he places teasing kisses along your neck.

“Shhh, I’m just trying to help you out,” his lips brush against your neck as he continues hitting the buttons at a constant steady speed. “Besides, I think I’ve found my new favourite way to play pinball tonight."

Eventually, the ball shoots straight down between the two flippers, drawing the game to an end. He’d been doing so well that you wanted to turn around and kiss him but he pressed you harder against the machine, dipping into the crook of your neck to tease your ear.

"You've got no idea how badly I wish I could bend you over this and fuck you right here, right now."

It sent shivers down your whole body as you felt him grin against your skin when he noticed the sharp inhale of air you sucked in at his words.

Jisung knows you're shy, so he’s not surprised that you try to snake away from his grip at his crude remark.

"Look, we got a new high score," he says while he slips his hands from over yours and slides them up your arms. Pretending he didn't just whisper something that dirty. “We make a pretty good team.”

“Yeah ‘cause you did all the work,” you sulk.

You see the red digital writing flashing on the scoreboard, then his arms snake around to link across your lower stomach and pull you firmer against him. To anyone watching you look like a typical couple being affectionate, but the tension makes it feel the furthest thing from innocent.

"You know exactly what you're doing right now, Jisung Park," you huff, trying to control how flustered you feel, "We’re here to play games."

He presses a kiss to your cheek, before murmuring, "I am playing games. And so far I think I'm winning."

As he speaks he lets one of his hands slip down to graze over the front of your crotch, which he swears is an accident when you sternly say his name. But you can’t deny the way the touch made you jolt before he pulls away and steps back. You’d missed his touch — missed being with him like this.

But this was not the place. So you take his hand and turn the two of you to walk off like nothing happened.

The two of you continued to play a handful of arcade games. The classics, retro games, new games — Jisung had even managed to secure you a fluffy teddy bear from the claw game after you mentioned it being ‘impossible’.

You’d been taking it in turns to choose a game each, but when you mentioned the arcade photo booth, your boyfriend had started to get apprehensive.

After some of your amazing buttering up skills with puppy dog eyes, he agreed and he pulled the curtain back for you to get inside, then closes the door on the booth.

He sat down first on the small seat, and when you went to sit next to him he grabbed your waist and pulled you down onto his lap instead. He takes some coins from his pocket and starts putting them in the slot.

You try to get off his lap to sit beside him before the timer starts but he doesn’t let you.

“Just look at the camera and smile."

Once you hear the timer counting down the two of you start posing. But just before the last beep sounds, you get the idea to grab hold of Jisung’s face and let your lips mush against his cheek causing him to scrunch his nose up.

"That’s not fair," he says the second he hears the beeping start again.You stick your tongue out at him and his eyes narrow. “Fine, if that’s the game we’re playing.”

You both look back at the camera and offer smiles, kisses and peace signs. But at the last beep, Jisung gets the idea to move both of his hands to cup over your chest, groping your boobs.

Your mouth falls open as you gasp in shock while Jisung starts laughing.

You try to pull his hands away, "Okay fine, point taken mister grabby hands."

Jisung is practically giggling to himself, whilst you wait for the timer to start again.

“Alright alright, we'll take a serious one now.” He says, placing his chin on your shoulder, as you both look at the camera.

But once again, as the third beeping starts he quickly says, “Do you think people would notice if I made you cum while we're in here?"

Your body stiffens in shock as the picture is taken. Jisung is bursting with laughter and you're taken aback.

Jisung likes sex. He loves sex in fact — especially with you. But he never does this. Sure he teases you when you're out and about — how could he not when you’re so beautiful and perfect for him. But he’s never insinuated doing something so sexual in public like this before.

But here the two of you are. Waiting for the timer to start again, but this time you’re anticipating the shit he was going to pull when the final beep comes — and he does not disappoint. Because his hands slide up your legs, dipping into your inner thighs and squeezing them.

"Jisung," you warn him, "behave yourself."

The beeping starts again, but Jisung doesn't move his hands, and starts to massage his fingers higher.

When the last tick happens, he moves his face to press a kiss to your jaw, and you feel his breath hitting your skin from his nose.

He starts to inch your legs a bit further apart to let his thumbs graze over the crease where your thighs meet your pelvis.

“Ive missed you so fucking much baby,” he whines. “I need you so bad.”

“Jisung not here,” you sigh as his hands start working to warm up your skin.

“Why not? Wouldn’t you like the thought of me getting you off in here? Trying not to get caught?"

If his face wasn't so close to yours you wouldn't be able to hear him over the loud music in the arcade and how low his voice has gotten.

You give him a confused frown, thinking he surely can't be fucking serious but when you do he takes the opportunity to press his lips against you, kissing you while the camera snaps the last picture.

Your stomach is knotting along with your heart beating faster and you feel that familiar heat between your legs but you’d never tell him that — and he’d never tell you that he knows you keep it from him.

"Would you?" He asks again when he breaks the kiss.

You look at him like he's lost his mind. "You're joking right?" You can't be serious - Jisung people get their pictures taken in here, someone could walk in, you can't-"

He makes your words stop and your breath hitch in your throat as he moves his hand up under your skirt and cups his hand between your legs.

"That's not what I asked you," he says letting his eyes trace over your face, then leans closer, "Would you enjoy it?"

“Jisung, this is so unlike you, are you even hearing what you’re asking me?”

He moves his leg a bit and wedges his heel against the edge of the door so it can't be pulled open, "I know exactly what I’m asking you, so answer me."

"We’re supposed to be taking pictures, Sung,” you try changing the subject, and ignore the pressure of his hand pressed against you.

"Oh god we will," he says like it should be obvious.

And now you’re looking even more caught off guard.

“I'd fucking kill to have some pictures of you getting off. Have them to look at them whenever I’m needy and miss you.”

Jisung starts to massage the heel of his palm very slowly against you, adding more pressure over your underwear as you try to squeeze your legs closed but he holds them with his other hand to keep them apart.

"We can't-" it takes very fibre in your body to attempt to protest this, but you easily allow him to cut you off.

"Yes we fucking can," he has that sly look on his face, "But if you don't want to, we won't. It's up to you. Should I stop?"

You exhale a weak breath as he replaces the heel of his palm with his fingers dancing over your underwear, massaging slow circles that make your hips shift.

"Won’t people think it's weird if we're in here too long." you fumble over your words which makes Jisung smile while he bites on his lip.

"Don't worry I'll be quick," he says knowing you’re only making excuses instead of admitting what you really want.

Your eyes drift closed as you sigh, feeling his fingers move against you to create a friction that's only making the throb between your legs worsen. You have absolutely no common sense when it comes to this man and his fucking fingers.

"Should I stop?" He repeats in a low voice, moving his mouth to start to kiss along your jaw.

As usual with him, your functioning brain checks out while your subconscious takes over and you shake your head feeling your breathing start to go shallow.

"You want me to make you cum, yeah? Is that right baby?" His words are slightly muffled as he moves his free hand from your inner thigh and brushes your hair back over your shoulder so he can move his mouth to your neck, "I need words baby."

You should be rational and tell him to stop. But you don't. You wouldn’t dare. You didn’t want him to. So instead you say what you do want, and breathe out a quiet "yes."

Jisung’s own breathing is getting heavier, and the tension in this small enclosed space feels like it's compressing both of you closer together. When he hears your approval, his hand between your legs bunches up the front of your skirt. When he slips it up he snakes his hand over your stomach to push down into your underwear.

A faint groan echoes in Jisung’s throat the second his fingers feel your bare skin, exploring around your underwear to feel the slickness there.

"You’ve made a mess. Missed me this much, huh?” his voice is low, while he drags his warm lips up your neck.

You only manage to nod your head, your brain focused on squirming your hips to find some kind of friction again. He finally rests the pads of his fingers against your throbbing clit, starting to tease circles that force a quiet whimper out of you. Your eyes are still closed as excitement and neediness flood your nerves.

For doing something that should be wrong, it feels so damn right, and it's all you can think of. Feeling him is all you can think about.

"You sure I can take some pictures?" He checks, keeping his movements steady as your hips start to circle against his hand,

You don't respond at first—you can’t—too caught up in how this is feeling, and when he dips his fingers down to your pussy to collect more arousal on his fingers before moving back to your clit and applying more pressure, your head falls forward as you pant out a strained, "You - fuck, yes, you can."

He chuckles hearing how fucked out you are for him, and he’s only just started. But it’s when you hold onto the thigh he’s been using to pry your legs open that his eyes darken with need.

He keeps his fingers moving while he manages to get some coins he had in his pocket, reaching forward to put them into the coin slot, then pressing the button to start the timer.

When he relaxes back he applies a firmer pressure, and starts to massage your clit in quicker circles; making your mouth drop open with a gasped moan. You can barely hear the beep for the picture anymore, everything around you turning blurry, and all you can hear is your heart beat mixed your heavy breathing.

"That's it baby," he coos, with a gravel to his voice from the tension in it, "God I wish I could fuck you right now. I’ve been dying for it.”

Your skin is burning up, and all you can manage in response is the pants from your open mouth, desperately trying to keep yourself quiet.

You start to grind yourself against him as his fingers work, and feel the hard bulge forming in his pants underneath your ass.

He wasn't kidding when he said he'd be quick, he's already building the pressure in your lower belly, making your stomach muscles tighten, while he moves his fingers in the exact way he knows you love it.

That knot in your lower half tightens, and your legs start to tremble as a louder moan you can't stop comes out of your mouth.

"Fuck—Jisung," you whimper, with your chest starting to heave with rapid uneven breaths.

He only quickens his fingers driving with determination and speed, making sure to keep repeating the same movements that are getting the best reactions from you and when your head falls back as you moan again; his free hand comes up to cover your mouth.

"Shhhh—quiet, remember?" He hushes against your ear, groaning at the feeling of you grinding against him, "I know you wanna cum baby, but there’s no way I’m letting anyone else hear how you sound for me.”

All you can manage is a muffled "mhm" against his hand as your eyes squeeze tighter. That familiar sensation starts to ripple from your centre down your legs and into the rest of your limbs.

The orgasm is speeding towards you, faster than anticipated causing your back to arch up as your hips writhe. Your mind is foggy only able to make out quiet whispers of encouragement coming from Jisung.

As the release ripples through your body and your moans are muted against his hand, Jisung groans again, feeling you shake on top of him. He can’t help but snap his hand away to grasp at your jaw to turn your face and kiss you hard while you ride through your climax.

The kiss is mostly open lips grazing against each other, or trying to connect in messy motions with both of your laboured breathing mixing together. His fingers only pause when you try to pull yourself away from them.

Once your eyes drift open to see Jisung’s, the look in them makes you want to squeeze your legs together again if you could move them currently.

Jisung brings his hand up, and grazes his pointer and middle finger he just used to send your body into a frenzy against your lower lip as a silent request for you to open your mouth. You don’t deny it, taking them into your mouth to taste yourself.

“Fucking hell,” his eyes dart back and forth from your eyes to your mouth. His head rolls back against the wall behind you and he whines in the quiet, "God fucking help me."

Your body is still buzzing, floating down dazed from the high it was on, and you watch Jisung bite down on his lower lip as his brows knit tight together, as his hips shift beneath you.

"Everything okay, Sungie?" It’s the only thing your mushed brain can think of saying as you look down at his strained pants.

"Fuck no," he mumbles, looking like he's trying to compose himself, "But it’s my own fault. I suggested we do this. I’ll deal with myself later.”

"Later?" You ask.

Jisung lifts his head back up, leaning forward to press a kiss to your cheek as he rubs his palm up and down your thigh, "Yeah, later. When we get home and we watch that movie you promised me.”

He thinks you don’t know that he uses the movie thing as a code to fuck you — but you do know — and that’s why you’ve never protested when he puts on another one of those Harry Potter movies he loves.

"You sure you'll be able to wait that long?"

Jisung’s lips lift up at the corners, "I’ve waited weeks for this, I’m sure I can manage a couple more hours.”

He hugs you against him with his arms around your stomach, and back against his firm chest.

"But then again,” he begins “Now I have the memory of how fucking hot watching you get off in here was. That makes waiting like some kind of sick torture to me."

You let out a weak laugh, feeling your cheeks flush more than they already were, "I still can't believe we just did this."

"I can, and there's pictures to prove it," he smiles, pulling the strip of three black and white photos from the dispenser.

[targaryen-dynasty]

MINE AND MINE ONLY.

Modern!Aemond Targaryen x wife!Reader

Aemond has gotten you pregnant six months ago, and seeing him with his infant niece during dinner with his family sparks something inside of you only he can satisfy.

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT—MINORS DNI; p in v, face sitting, slight anal play, slight breeding kink, pregnant sex, slight lactation kink

WORDS: 4.9 K

NOTES: Sorry, I’m kinda in baby fever right now don’t ask me why. 😭 This also is my gift for hitting 1850 followers a few days ago, which means I’m finally where I’ve been before deleting my old blog. Thanks for everyone following me on this journey. 🫶🏻

The days between Christmas and New Years usually are meant for people to take some much-needed downtime from the stress of the past days or weeks – unless you are a Targaryen or married to one. 

It’s the fourth year in a row you’re spending one, sometimes even two, days at the large Targaryen mansion with every member of their family present. 

What started as an opportunity to celebrate the New Year early with her family four years ago, since Viserys and Alicent wanted to celebrate New Year’s Eve on a yacht somewhere in the Sea of Dorne back then, has quickly turned into a tradition that no one could escape. 

Not even the six-month pregnant you. 

As an excuse to not travel to the family’s vacation home on Dragonstone, Aemond has begged for you to allow him to tell his mother that your back pain has gotten so bad you couldn’t sit in the car for four hours. 

The fact that he didn’t fall to his knees while doing it was everything. 

But you have told him no, seeing that your back pains have eased two weeks ago, and it is one of the rare occasions he gets to spend with his whole family, not just his mother’s side. 

If he wants to or not. 

“And how are you spending New Year’s?” you ask, lounging in the burgundy Lawson chair. 

Helaena sits in the chair next to yours, fidgeting with the stem of her wine glass. Every now and then you spot her lilac eyes flickering to your protruding bump, accentuated by the tight slip dress you wear. 

“This year we’re embracing a night in,” she answers, nursing her alcohol-free wine. “Cregan doesn’t want to leave the children with his parents, since Lyanna is still breastfeeding, and Edrick doesn’t want to go without his little sister.”

You nod along to her words, smiling softly at the mention of her sons‘ protectiveness, and glance past her to Aemond, Aegon and Cregan. The men are standing close to the fireplace, glasses of whiskey between their fingers. Normally, they would be tipsy by now – some more than others – if it wasn’t for the infant cradled in Cregan’s strong arms. 

Helaena follows your line of sight, the turning of her head prompting you to look at her again. 

“What are your plans?” she asks. 

You pucker your lips slightly, looking down at the glass of water you‘ve rested on your belly before meeting her eyes. 

“Aegon has invited us to a party in White Harbor, a formal dinner with some of his friends. We wanted to go, because the place is stunning and it’s overlooking the iconic harbor fireworks, but it’s such a long drive, and Aemond doesn’t want to risk anything by us taking the plane,” you sigh, “so, we’ll probably stay at home or just go out for dinner.”

Ever since you’ve handed him the gift box containing four identical, positive pregnancy tests, Aemond has taken over a protective aura and has found it incredibly difficult to keep his hands off of you. 

It’s a miracle he was able to talk to his brother and brother-in-law for so long without checking in on you once. 

But speak of the devil. 

What you aren’t expecting when Aemond makes his way over to where you’re conversing with his sister, is the little infant in his arms. Her head rests against his shoulder, while one of his large hands supports it and neck, and the other supports her bottom. 

He’s swaying her gently as he walks over, a proud smile on his lips as he can’t tear his eyes off of his niece, coming to stand next to Helaena’s chair. The sight makes your heart swell with love. 

Cregan trails behind him, and your eyes briefly fall to the abandoned Aegon still standing at the fireplace and balancing their three glasses in his hands. 

“Honey,” the Northener’s gruff voice rings out, “your mother said that Edrick’s made a mess. Could you change him while I clean up?” Still standing offset behind your husband, Cregan pats Aemond on the shoulder once. “Our girl’s in good hands, and Aemy here can already practice for what awaits him soon.”

Helaena raises her eyebrows, before snickering at her husband’s remark. She bows her head once, smiling at you, “excuse me, Y/N.”

“We’ll talk later,” you assure her. 

She brushes her hand over your swollen belly once as she rises, Cregan’s hand on the small of her back urging her out of the living space. 

Aemond carefully sinks into the chair, and changes the position of the sleeping infant so she’s cradled in his arms. 

“What have you been up to?” he asks, finally moving his head to look at you. 

You were wearing a knitted sweater over your dress when you two arrived a few hours earlier, but with hot flashes attacking you every now and then, you have long opted to slip out of it and hang the sweater over a chair. 

And the outfit change clearly is only now noticed by him.

His lilac eyes flickered between yours and your full breasts, and you can literally see the gears turning in his head. 

“You’re not wearing a bra,” he states, full on staring at your breasts. 

Fine, maybe you have also done it to tease him a bit. 

A blush creeps onto his cheeks, running down his neck, and he slightly shifts in his seat, turning his gaze away as he clears his throat. 

Pressing your lips into a thin line to stop them from curling into a smile, you quickly shush the urge by taking a swig of your water. “Wasn’t keen on spending the evening unable to think of anything else than how sore and uncomfortable I feel,” you tease. “Are you complaining?”

Aemond raises one hand in defeat, “certainly not, just pointing it out.”

You teasingly reach and bring your index finger to his chin, tilting it up for his eyes to meet yours again. “Then you better stop staring, we're not the only ones here.” 

You glance briefly at the gathered party around you, watching Alicent chat with Rhaenyra and her husband, while Aegon seems to be deep in a conversation with Daemon, no doubt talking about the latest match between the Casterly Rock Lions and the Oldtown Saints.

“Fair enough,” he answered with a low chuckle. 

The soft coos of his niece catch your attention, and you lean forwards to gauge at the little bundle. She’s stirring lightly in her sleep, grimaces and smiles alike gracing her scrunched features. Aemond brushes her cheek with his knuckles in feather light touches, until her coos are interrupted, and wide, blue eyes stare up at him. 

Lyanna smacks her lips slowly, bringing her small hand up to her mouth. “What is she doing?” Aemond whispers, not daring to pull his eyes away from her in case she starts to cry. 

“She’s hungry,” you answer with a chuckle, grinning as you notice his helplessness. 

It’s so brief, but you spot his eyes flickering towards your full breasts, and you have to stop yourself from hitting his shoulder. One wrong word. 

“You know there are barely four months left until your life looks like this, too, right?” you ask, cocking an eyebrow at him. 

“I do, but they have not yet told us about this at the prenatal class.”

“Oh, come on, she’s not your first niece, and she’s not even crying.”

The sigh of relief Aemond releases as he spots Helaena’s silver hair in the far distance has you shaking your head, bringing your index finger up to your smiling lips. 

“How did you three get on?” Helaena asks, noticing that her daughter is awake. 

Your husband rises to his feet, and hands his niece over to her. “Easy, she’s just woken up and seems really hungry,” he notes, as if he has figured it out all by himself. “And how did you fare?”

Helaena releases a dry chuckle, brushing her free hand up and down Aemond’s biceps. “I’ll tell you another time, don’t want to scare you.“ She briefly glances over at you. “Just know that Creg has to bathe him right now, because the wet wipes were useless.”

The grimace on Aemond’s face at his sister’s words has you choking on a laugh. 

Lyanna starts to whine and wiggle in her mother’s grasp, getting her attention. “Sorry again, it’s feeding time, obviously,” she states, muttering the last word under her breath, and shoots you an apologetic gaze before scurrying off. 

You hold out a hand, and knowing what it means, Aemond takes it to help you up from the chair. 

His heart melts at the sight of you before him, and he wraps an arm around you to pull you against his side as he brushes his hand over the gentle swell of your belly in tender affection. There were shy kicks meeting his hand, making him grin.

You return the embrace, and lean yourself against his frame, your head resting on his chest. “It’s different when it’s your own child, you know,” you say, the small glimmer of a smile blessing your features. 

His head dips forwards, and he presses his lips to your temple, mumbling the words against your skin, “I can’t wait to meet him.”

—

Aemond has his arm slung around your waist as everyone has gathered in the vast living space to watch the children perform a play they have practiced. 

Alicent, ever the proud grandmother, clings to Viserys as they watch in awe what the children of Rhaenyra have been up to. An oblivious Edrick appears in the middle of it all, but before Cregan can scoop him up, the little Viserys has taken his hands to include him in their mischief. 

“Have I already told you how good you look today?” Aemond whispers, his head dipping forwards so his lips are level with your ear. He rubs your bump gently, gazing at you with half-lidded eyes. 

You shiver from his touch, your body tingling from the attention your husband gives you. “You’re not paying attention,” you scold softly, nodding towards the children in the middle. A teenage Jacaerys, as well as Daemon’s daughters from his first marriage, stand before you, your view of the play slightly concealed. 

“I can’t help myself,” he whispers huskily, “you’re just too distracting, Mommy.” A smirk tugs on his lips as the name leaves them, and the sight is only topped by him leaning in to brush his lips over your ear, before they press to the sensitive skin behind it. The very spot that always makes you putty in his hands, and with your hormones in full swing, it does a little more than just melt you. 

“Aemond,” you whisper, though he can also hear the trace of a moan in it, “easy.”

His teeth graze your earlobe, and the ring of his baritone voice sends a shiver down your spine, “we should go to bed early tonight.”

You can’t help but to chuckle at his words. It’s his subtle way to ask for something without directly asking, though you know exactly what he means. You lean into him, pressing yourself against his side. 

Biting the tip of your tongue, it was impossible for you to stop your lips from pulling into a mischievous smirk. 

“Do you think your mother will notice if we leave now?” you ask, innocently. 

You’re greeted with a wide grin when your eyes meet Aemond’s, and the arm he has wrapped around you tightens just more, keeping you against his frame. 

His lips brush your ear again, trailing down to press a kiss to the side of your neck. “If she does, she can tell me later,” he raps into your ear, “besides, we wouldn‘t be gone for too long, sweetheart. Just long enough for a little… alone time. Who could blame us for wanting to savor the last weeks where it’s only the two of us, mh?”

Aemond looks around one last time, noticing how everyone around you is mostly focused on the children’s show. 

Bringing his hand to the small of your back, he gently guides you through the crowd of his relatives, before you’re on the way to his childhood bedroom. 

It’s furnished in a minimalistic style, making it obvious that Alicent has spent some time decluttering her children’s rooms to make them more presentable for whenever guests stay over. The room basically is Aemond’s, and the rest belongs to Alicent. 

Walking in behind you, he locks the door. You look around briefly before his firm chest is flush against your back with his arms around your waist, resting on your bump. He presses his lips to the curve of your neck, prompting you to tilt your head to the side, and a shuddered breath to escape your throat. 

The feeling of his hard, clothed cock against the curve of your ass drives you to insanity, making you eager for more. He grinds against you as his fingers travel over your curves, and greedily fist the fabric of your dress. 

“Let me help you undress, Mama,” he rasps against your skin, goosebumps prickling in its wake.

When he sinks to his knees behind you, you whimper quietly, immediately missing the heat of his breath and lips on your body. 

“Aemond,” you breathe, looking down at him as he pushes your dress up. 

The dumbfounded look that crosses his features with the skirt of your dress rucked up just shy beneath your bump has you chuckling, realization settling in. 

“You went commando?” 

Biting your bottom lip, you can basically see his excitement building, the bulge in the front of his slacks quite obvious despite him kneeling. “I was feeling… adventurous today,” you hum, a glint of mischief in your eyes. 

He can’t help but to grin at your comment, and, on his way up, Aemond starts to press several kisses to the outside of your thigh, his fingers following in their trail. 

Standing to full height again, looming over you, he keeps his hand beneath your bump, his fingers caressing your pubic mound. 

You squeeze your thighs together in a desperate attempt to soothe the aching at the apex of them, since his fingers aren’t touching you where you need them most. An anticipating moan slips past your lips, a shiver shaking your core. 

“I hope you’re prepared for me to be just as adventurous,” he hums, “... and thorough.”

His fingers hook under the thin straps of your dress, tugging them off your shoulders to push the elastic fabric down your curves and onto the ground. It’s pooling around your ankles in a white puddle, leaving you completely bare to him with just a few touches. 

You shudder under his intense gaze, practically devouring you with just his lilac eyes, and try to break the tension by pulling him in for a kiss. 

You turn around mid-kiss, your protruding belly a barrier between your bodies. Before your hands can entangle into his strands, Aemond catches them and intertwines your fingers. He creates a small distance between your bodies, taking a few steps back and pulling you with him. 

His steps are deliberately slow, careful, and you’re encouraged to climb his lap as he sits down at the edge of the bed. Both his feet are firmly planted on the ground, supporting your swollen body. 

He groans as you trap him between your legs, his hands roaming your curves almost immediately. The knowledge that he was the one responsible for the changes of your body, and that everybody else knew that as well, does something to him, making him all the more hungry for you. 

It was even more addicting to see you sit astride him like a goddess, ready to claim what was yours already anyways. Him.

Feeling his clothed member throb beneath you, the urge to grind above him is as inviting as never, and you’re more than ready to give into the urge. Your wetness soaks his slacks, and the groan Aemond releases at the friction has you whimpering with him. 

Your lips meet for a fervent kiss, and while your hands rest on his shoulders, his are eager to explore the swell of your belly. His tongue finds its way past your lips, swirling around yours in a way that turns the kiss into all teeth and tongue. 

Dragging your teeth over his kiss swollen bottom lip, he tilts his head upwards and nudges the tip of his nose against yours. You lick over his lips once, but when you lean in to connect your lips again, Aemond stops you with his hand around your throat. 

“I want you to sit on my face,” he rasps, his voice husky. 

You haven’t sat on his face in weeks, or rather ever since the round ligament pain kicked in and made even the simplest daily tasks difficult for you. 

Your eyes widen. “But– I–”

“No, you’re not too heavy,” he interrupts, cocking one eyebrow at you. 

There’s not even a chance for you to reject before he lies down and hooks his hands beneath your thighs, hoisting you up and pulling you towards his face. You sit on his chest, barely seeing his chiseled features from under your bump. 

As the position you are in truly settles in your mind, a bright blush starts to cover the apples of your cheeks. His angelic looks don't help either, strands of silver hair splayed out around his head like a halo, and his piercing lilac eyes fixed on you and you only. “But you tell me when it gets too much, no?” you ask, coyly. 

Aemond rubs his hands over your bare thighs in comfort, nodding. “Always.” Deep down you know it’s a lie, because he has told you on more than one occasion that he’d gladly leave the world suffocated by your delicious pussy, but you trust the feigned security he offers. 

“No promises about how long I’ll last, though,” you tell him. 

A gentle pat to your thigh is what has you eventually inching forwards until your knees are on either side of his head. 

With your bump being quite protruding, you can’t even see him anymore, you only hear his groans and growls when you cautiously settle in the new position.

The attempt to slightly hover your pussy over his face is fruitless the moment your husband’s hands fly to your hips, grabbing you and pulling you down onto his face. Just his nose perfectly teasing your clit has you moaning out loudly already, even though he hasn’t even used his tongue yet. 

And then it follows. 

Aemond greedily laps at your entrance as his hands grip your hips tightly, holding you in place and playing you like a fiddle. It circles around your clenching hole, teasing it but never one dipping it inside. 

You clench around nothing, and bring one hand to your bump while the other just rests above his hand on your hip, squeezing it. Chasing the friction and warmth of his tongue, you rock your hips back and forth as much as his grip allows, coaxing whimpers and mewls to leave your lips.

“Gods be good,” you whimper, the grip of your thighs around his face tightening. “I–I forgot how good you are at this.”

Seemingly keening at your praise, you’re almost disappointed when he pulls his hand off of yours to cup your ass cheeks, yanking you impossibly closer. The groans that vibrate against your pussy send shivers up your spine that make you lose yourself in the pleasure, not focusing on where his hands are. 

At this point, Aemond was feasting at you like a man starved, all but devouring you with newfound vigor. His nose flicks against your clit with expert precision every time he tilts his head or you move your hips, drawing you closer to your orgasm. 

His index finger comes into play, teasing your throbbing folds for a split second. His true intentions, however, only show the moment it starts to circle around your other hole. 

“Fuck, Aemond, I-” you manage as he carefully dips his finger into your hole, the added stimulation almost immediately tightening the coil in your belly. A muffled groan of appreciation shakes your core as he feels your unused hole tighten around his finger. 

You roll your hips against Aemond’s mouth on the race to completion, any thoughts of being too heavy for him long gone, and replaced by nothing else than raw need and desire. 

It’s almost too much. Straddling the fine line between overwhelming and just the right amount. His nose rubs your clit, his lips lap hungrily at your swollen folds, and his index finger fills you pleasantly – he is redoubling his efforts. 

You keep dragging your hips back and forth in rhythm with his movements, fucking his face on the brink of your release. 

“Oh God, you-you’re so good– Aemond, I’m–I’m–” you ramble, breathy whimpers filling in between the words. 

Hearing him slurp and groan beneath your trembling frame brings a blush to your face and stokes the fire in your belly, the sounds fanning through the room like your moans and whimpers. 

When the coil finally snaps, you throw your head back in ecstasy and clamp your thighs around his head, hot, white pleasure licking its way up your spine. His name topples off your lips more than once, accompanied by desperate mewls and whines. He is relentless, licking you through your orgasm. 

You don’t wait long enough for the aftershocks to fully subside, the overstimulation of his tongue dragging through your folds becoming too much, and cup your pregnant belly as you heave your frame off of his face, shifting backwards down his body. 

“Fuck, I–I need you,” you all but beg, eagerly tugging on the collar of his black shirt. 

Aemond seems to share your enthusiasm, and is quick to sit up again, meeting your lips for a deep kiss. Only when you cup his cheeks do you feel that they’re covered in your arousal, the taste of you on his tongue clouding your mind. 

Your belly is between you again, but Aemond manages to swiftly undo the zipper in the front of his slacks nevertheless, and shoves them down just enough to free his aching cock. 

“So desperate for my cock now, mh?” Aemond pants against your lips, a smug smirk tugging on the corners. 

His hand wraps around his stiff member, fisting himself raw twice, thrice, before another pat served to your thigh encourages you to raise your hips. He aligns himself with your soaked entrance, and you feel his tip prodding gingerly at it. 

As you sink down on him, your hands tightly gripping the collar of his shirt, you release a shuddered breath. Your husband, on the other hand, escapes a relieved groan, his head tipping back for a moment. 

With your limbs still tingling from your previous orgasm, you bow your head forwards, lowering yourself on him until he is balls deep inside of you. “Mh, fuck, you didn’t even bother to take off your pants,” you taunt, “so desperate to be inside me.”

Aemond’s words die on his tongue as you start to sensually roll your hips over his, the added weight of the bump not allowing you to bounce up and down on him with the vigor you had used before your pregnancy. 

But your husband doesn’t seem to mind, his eyes journeying into the back of his head at the sensation. 

Moving his hands to grope and grasp at every inch of your body, they eventually settle on your full breasts, tweaking and pinching your nipples between his nimble fingers while you unravel astride him. It prompts you to arch your back, all but shoving your breasts into his face. 

“So fucking good,” he grunts, embracing it and wrapping his lips around your pert nipple while his arms snake around your body. 

He licks and sucks at your little bud like he has done with your pussy before, and, just judging by the smacking and humming sounds he makes, it’s possible there ooze a few droplets of milk out of it. 

Aemond places his feet firmly on the ground, and starts to buck his hips up into yours, seemingly impatient for his own release as he meets the sensual rolls of your hips and bullies the spongy spot inside of you with more determination. 

Loud, wet sounds from where your bodies meet echo off the walls, indistinct to you with all you can focus on being his lips at your heavy breasts, and his cock deep inside of you. 

You bite your bottom lip and stop the rolling of your hips, making it evident that you were close to your orgasm. The tingling at the base of your spine makes it impossible to move any further and you rely on him to take over. 

Aemond pulls back and watches you gleefully as the force of his thrusts makes your body squirm and jerk, eagerly anticipating you to topple over the edge for the second time. 

“You’re gonna cum on my cock already?” he asks, almost mockingly. 

You frantically nod, breathing a yes.

His hands come to your hips, and with his fingers digging into your flesh, he drags your hips back and forth, your clit rubbing against the hem of his shirt with each movement. You’re not able to gasp more than yeses and pleases, clenching tightly around him. 

The intensity of his thrusts increases while you have stopped moving, toes curling as the taut string inside of you snaps without a warning and white stars cloud your vision. 

“Mh, fuck, fuck, fuck,” you whine, clawing at his shoulders as you ride out your high, grinding and rolling your hips against his. Your walls clamp around him like a vice, and he chokes on a husky groan. “Oh God, I love you.“

And even though your orgasm subsides slowly, Aemond refuses to slow down, keeping his heedless pace and pursuing his own completion. 

He has his lips around your other nipple by now, sucking and nibbling on it, the vibrations of his groans coursing through your veins. “Daddy, mh, cum for me, please,” you whine, desperate for his cum. 

Your body, however, contradicts your words and moans, your thighs squeezing his in a desperate attempt to stop him from pounding into your overstimulated pussy – but to no avail. 

“God, please.”

His pace is as reckless and merciless as before, his cock all but forcing its way in and out of your quivering walls as he doesn’t listen to your desperate pleas.

Pulling back from your nipple with a lewd pop, a string of saliva connects the dark areola and his swollen lips as he gazes up at you with half-lidded eyes. “Hush now, Mommy,” he murmurs, tilting his head up to kiss you. The nickname coaxes a smug smirk on his lips. “Taking me so well, such a good girl for Daddy.” With just his praise, a warmth overtakes your body that drowns out the burning, your chest swelling. 

You sling your arms around his neck, burying your fingers in the silver strands of his hair in a way that is destined to ruin the little updo he had put it in this morning. 

“Mh, fuck, I’m gonna–” his words are cut off with a stutter of his hips, and he feels his throbbing cock spill deep inside of you. 

You ride him through his high with lazy rolls of your hips, biting through the overstimulation, and clench and unclench around him as you milk him for every drop of his seed. 

If he hadn’t gotten you pregnant already, he surely would have knocked you up after this. 

Aemond languidly fucks up into you now as the last spurts of his warm release fill you to the brim, grunting and groaning until the euphoria fades. 

He collapses on the bed, a blissed out expression on his face, and reaches to trace his fingers over the swell of your bump up to the curve of your breasts. Rolling the darkened buds between them, he smirks as he watches you squirm, his softening cock still buried inside of you. 

“You know,” he starts, folding one arm behind his head. His voice is softer than before, but has a teasing edge to it. “I wouldn’t be surprised if everyone knew by now what we’ve been up to.”

You laugh breathlessly and plant your hands on his chest, rubbing your thumbs over it. “But at least they don’t have to worry about you getting me pregnant by accident,” you tease. 

“True enough,” he chuckles softly, “Fuck, I’m–I just can’t help myself. Seeing your body swell just because of my seed fucking does something to me.”

His words make you blush, and you appreciatively run your hands over your bump. 

You lean forwards and cup his face, capturing his lips in a passionate kiss. He smirks against your mouth, and subconsciously bucks his hips into yours as he feels you clench around him. 

With a groan rumbling in his chest, he pulls back. Something dark flickers in his eyes, his intentions evident when he speaks again. 

“Once our boy’s born, I’ll make quick work of making you a mother of two.”

Taglist: @heimtathurs @croatianprincess @nina2697 @sirenangelroyal @malfoytargaryen @thetaygaryen @wintrr13 @winter-soldier-101 @kyuupidwrites @boofy1998 @thekinslayersswordhand @sagelovesreading @jiminie-08 @doublesparrows @at-a-rax-ia @fan-goddess @recorddust @tsujifreya @melsunshine @docmartinis @drwstarkeyy @kazuyatokue @nockerin @moonlightfoxx @bbgmonsay @thatmysteriousblog @ashovertheriver @black-dread @watercolorskyy @nothingqueens @urmomsgirlfriend1 @lovelykhaleesiii @hypocritic-trash-baby @darylandbethfanforever9 @snowystark @goldyfishsstuff @connorsui @ammo23

[cjsoleil]

You’re My Angel Baby (Mingi x Reader)

Summary: Y/N goes to a Halloween party and ends up taking care of a cute, drunk cowboy outlaw. Mingi wakes up in the morning with a vague memory of a girl dressed as an angel, and decides he has to meet her.

Halloween night, and somehow Y/N got swindled into joining her best friend, Seonghwa and his boyfriend, Hongjoong, to some party one of their friends planned. It took a lot of convincing, and even more bribery, but she did agree to go. She's dressed in a all white, a flowey long in the back short in the front dress with pure white boots. She put a silver, sparkly and floral headpiece in her hair and beside her sits a pair of fake white angel wings that she’ll put on when she gets out of the car. A cliche yes, but it was a little last minute. She borrowed the wings from a friend.

“Again with the pirate costume Hongjoong?” Y/N teases from the backseat. Hongjoong is wearing a bandana, white jeans, white shirt that is kinda like a blouse and a jacket. Clearly a pirate, “Is that three years in a row now?”

“Shut up.” Hongjoong snaps his usual comeback.

“You should appreciate me more Joongie.” Seonghwa pats the hand resting on his thigh, “I’ve been adapting my costumes to fit yours for years.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“But I want couples costumes!” That’s true, Seonghwa dressed up as a pirate too a few years back, then a parrot, now the mermaid, well, more like siren. He did his make up to suit his look, wearing a sparkly dress with baggy pants and he painted little scales around his ears, neck, and hands. It’s very much a DIY costume, but still very pretty. He’s going to run out of ideas soon. Y/N zones back in to see the car stopped at a red light and the two boys smiling at each other all cute. She groans and wonders how she’s ended up being these two perminate third wheel.

“Do I really have to come?”

“Sorry dear.” Seonghwa coos and looks back at his friend, “But we need a sober driver.”

“Besides. Your a nursing student, you can stop people from dying from alcohol poisoning.” Hongjoong adds.

“I cannot. You better not bring some shit faced frat boy to me and expect me to take care of him. Or her. Anyone. It’s not my job to take care of people outside my placement.” Because Y/N is not interested in dealing with whatever asshole drank too much. If they get alcohol poisoning from being stupid, it’s not anyone’s problem but their own.

“Whatever you say ratchet.”

“I’ll show you ratchet, Hongjoong.”

“Be nice you two.”

At the party, Y/N makes sure to stay close to Seonghwa and Hongjoong, and she smiles pleasantly at the people they talk to. Luckily it’s not all bad, Jongho and Yeosang are there too, so at least there’s some people she knows. She watches over her friends while they drink, making sure they don’t do anything very stupid. She can condone a little stupidity. It’s all very boring. She doesn’t have a lot of people that she can talk to, and she doesn’t have anything to really do. There’s some people dancing on the open floor, but she’d honestly rather die than become involved with that. On the bright side, someone had the decency to provide food. So after telling her friends, she wanders into the kitchen area and looks at what they have. There’s candy in a big bowl on the counter, and obviously a shit ton of alcohol she’s not able to drink, nothing great. She wishes they had cinnamon doughnuts or something, when a plate on the counter further away catches her eye.

“What the hell!” She whispers shouts, going over and grabbing an candy apple. There very clearly bought by an actual place that knows how to make them based off how well made they are. So she eats one. Or four. Who knows. Fuck she wishes they had a caramel apple too. Those are the best fall treats.

Someone else wanders into the kitchen, Y/N ignores him. Then the sound of glass breaking catches her attention. She turns her head to see a boy dressed as a cowboy staring at the broken cup on the floor, the cupboard at his head is open. He’s wearing a hat and a mask that covers the bottom half of his face, a leather jacket and tight pants. Despite not seeing much of his face, the boy is clearly drunk based off his heavy movements and pink ears. He’s also, Y/N must admit, very attractive. Maybe it’s the effect of the mask, but she just knows a pretty face hides under the mask. She watches as he kneels down, about to pick up the glass.

“Stop.” The boy looks up at her, stopping his movement, “Stay still. You're going to hurt yourself.” After making sure the boy is actually listening to her, Y/N looks around the kitchen for a broom or something. She doesn’t end up finding one, but she does find a rag, so she goes back to the boy, rag in hand just to see him with large pieces of glass in his hand.

“What did I just say?” Y/N sighs and cleans up the glass around the man and taking the piece from his hand, throwing it all out. She goes back to the still kneeling cowboy and crouches next to him, seeing his hand is bleeding. She cringes, not because of the blood, she’s used to that, but just because she imagines it hurts.

“Look at this. You should have listened to me.” She scolds, and the boy has enough sense to be ashamed, looking down.

“Sorry Angel.” He says, speech a little slurred and she can tell he’s pouting behind the mask, “Help me? Please?” Y/N sighs, looks like she’s playing caretaker tonight after all. At least he seems to be nice. She helps him stand up, which is a little hard because he’s much bigger than her.

“What’s your name?”

“Mingi.” She introduces herself as well.

“Well Mingi, let’s get to a bathroom so you can stop bleeding all over the place.” Y/N walks with Mingi, keeping a hand on his back and stabilizing him when he stumbles. Mingi cups his good hand under the bleeding one, but a few drops still get on the floor. She just ignores it, not her problem.

Y/N notices that people are watching her and Mingi, but she just gives them a dirty look when they catch her eye.

“People need to mind their business.” She mumbles, looking around for wherever the bathroom could be. She doesn’t just want to open random doors. More out of fear of being traumatized than out of respect for the homeowners privacy. She doesn’t even know whose party this is, it wouldn’t matter if she chose to snoop a little. Well, that’s a little hypocritical considering what she just said.

“There.” Mingi points to a closed door and Y/N opens it to see a bathroom.

“Okay, wash your hand and go sit on the toilet while I look for a bandage.” Mingi obeys and Y/N rifles through the medicine cabinet. She grabs bandages and isopropyl, as well as a cotton ball.

“Hold out your hand cowboy.”

“Outlaw.” She hears him mumble as she dips some of the isopropyl onto the cotton ball.

“Hm?”

“Outlaw, not cowboy.” Y/N smiles, and gently grabs Mingi’s hand.

“Outlaw, this may sting a bit.” She plays into his words, because what is the harm? While she doesn’t know the difference between an outlaw and a cowboy, she’s not about to start an argument over it. Mingi only cringes a little when he feels the disinfectant. Then Y/N grabs the roll of bandages, wrapping his hand. Mingi stares at her as she works.

“Pretty Angel.” He mumbles out, and Y/N just barely catches it.

“What a charmer.” She laughs, not taking the words of a drunk man seriously. After a few more moments, she’s done with the bandage.

“There.” She pats his hand a few times, “Now there won’t be blood all over the place. Well, anymore blood. I feel bad for whoever has to clean that up.” She laughs and he looks up at her, staring with wide eyes. He keeps his hand held out to her, “What is it?”

“Kiss it better.”

“Huh?”

“Kiss it better please?” Now, anyone else and she would’ve said no instantly and walk away. But Mingi seems so genuine. And he’s so cute and sweet. So Y/N gives a quick kiss to the palm of his bandaged hand.

“Better?” Mingi nods excitedly. He’s still wearing his mask. He should probably take that off, what if he throws up?

“Mingi. Take off your mask please.” Mingi nods and lifts his good hand to his face, tugging at the fabric. But he doesn’t actually do anything efficient. Just how much did he drink? Finding this a little pathetic, Y/N decides doing it herself would be better.

“Mingi, how about I help you?”

“Sure.” She gets the mask off quickly, fingers just grazing against Mingi’s hot ears.

I was right she thinks when she sees Mingi’s face fully, he is hot. Okay, the stares make more sense now. She puts the mask on the sink.

“Thank you Angel.” He says, smiling at the girl.

“You do know that’s not my name right?” Based off Mingi’s confused look, it’s clear he does not understand that.

“Whatever. Do you have a friend to watch over you?”

“Yunho.” Mingi answers, a name Y/N is somewhat familiar with, “but he left. Don’t know where he is.” Y/N is irritated hearing that. Mingi’s friend just abandoned him while he’s clearly not in his right mind, what if someone took advantage of him? Or if he drank more and got alcohol poisoning, or made the stupid decision to drive? When this Yunho comes back, she’s going to give him a strong lecture on how to treat your intoxicated friends.

“We can hang out until he gets here then.” Mingi looks happy hearing that, smiling brightly.

“Thank you Angel.”

“You are so polite.” Y/N comments, and gives into her urge to pat his cheek gently. Then she helps him stand up again, but when he’s standing, Y/N notices that he looks a little off. She’s about to ask about it, but then she hears Mingi make a gagging sound.

“Shit!” She lifts the toilet seat and pushes Mingi to sit, just in time. Mingi throws up in the toilet, and Y/N rubs his back sympathetically. She takes off his hat and holds it in her other hand.

Once the sickness passes, Mingi leans back and is panting and sweating a little.

“Poor guy.” Y/N puts the hat on his lap before opening the drawer under the sink, grabbing a rag. She runs it over cold water and rings it out, before going back over to Mingi. She holds his chin and wipes his face gently. He hums in content.

“Feels good.” He hums again, Y/N compares him to a happy cat. When she’s done, she wets another rag and lays it over the back of his neck. She lets him be for a while, wanting the nausea to pass before even trying to move him again.

“Hey Mingi.” He looks over to her, blinking tiredly, “I’m gonna go do something real quick-“

“Noo.” Hands grab her wings, tugging at the fake feathers, “Don’t go.”

“It will only be for a minute.”

“Angel, stay with me please.” Y/N is left standing still. The sentiment means a lot more than it should, coming from a drunk man. She sighs, wondering whatever made her so soft hearted. Seonghwa and Hongjoong will just have to wonder where she is for a while. So she grabs the mouthwash from under the sink and fills the cap half way, giving it as well as a small cup she found for Mingi to spit in. When he does so, she cleans out the cup in the sink. Curse her for being so nice. And curse Mingi for being so cute. If he wasn’t, she probably would’ve just cleaned up his cut and let him be.

Okay, maybe she isn't really nice.

“Okay cowboy- sorry, outlaw.” She then clicks her tongue with though, “What am I going to do with you?”

“Want to go to my room.”

“Your room? Do you live here?” Mingi nods, stretching his neck.

“Yeah. With my roommates.” Well this makes things a little easier. She will simply bring Mingi to his bedroom so he can sleep this off, and he’ll wake up in the morning without any recollection of her, or anything else that happened tonight. As well as a massive hangover. He’ll probably have to skip class tomorrow, if he has any.

“Wait, do you know where you got those candy apples- actually don’t answer that. Are you feeling better?” Mingi nods, and Y/N squints her eyes at him, “Are you sure? Is your head dizzy, stomach hurting?”

“M’okay.” Well, he is definitely looking more alive than before, so Y/N choses to believe him.

“Up we go then.” She holds out her hands and Mingi grabs them, allowing her to hoist him up until he’s standing. Honestly, she’s pretty proud of herself for being strong enough to do that. When he’s stable, Y/N walks him down the hall until he points to a door, and tells her it’s his bedroom. She opens the door, and quickly ushers him to sit on his double bed that takes up most of the room. She understands the need though, he would never fit in a twin bed like her own.

“Tired Mingi?” The boy yawns in response, making her laugh. She helps Mingi with taking off his shoes and jacket, and Mingi takes off his own shirt.

Oh my god. Y/N has to stop himself from saying the words out loud. She can’t help it, he’s just so so hot. Like seriously, his face was beautiful enough as it is and his body- nope she can’t even think about it without feeling like a pervert. So she quickly pulls back the covers of the bed and gestures for Mingi to lay down there. Then she pulls the blankets over him. She stays standing beside the bed.

“There’s a place downtown that makes them.” Mingi says into the blankets.

“Makes what?”

“The apples. I don’t like sweet stuff very much, but I thought they’d be nice.” He yawns, “Expensive though.”

“I thought so.” Y/N laughs, before whispering playfully, “I’m pretty sure I ate like, half of them though. Sorry about that.”

“Did you like them?”

“Very much.”

“Then it was worth it.” Mingi smiles up at the girl, before patting the side of his bed. Y/N takes the invitation and sits.

“Sorry.”

“For what?”

“Ruining your night.” Y/N smiles, and pets Mingi’s dark hair. She had already put his hat on his nightstand.

“Believe me or not, but this was the best part of my night Mingi.” And really, it was. She’s not into parties, nothing about them is appealing to her. As much as she complained about it to her friends earlier, this was a much more pleasant experience.

“Angel.”

“Yes?”

“You’re so beautiful. And kind.” Mingi lifts a hand, grabbing her arm and really underestimated his strength, pulling the girl on top of him. Letting out a yelp, Y/N plants her hands on the sides of Mingi’s head on the pillow. This leaves their faces only inches apart, and Y/N can smell the alcohol on Mingi. That makes her break eye contact with him and start to push her arms upwards. Before she can get far, Mingi cups her face with one hand, thumb under her chin and fingers splayed out on her cheek. The action puts her in such a state of shock, she doesn’t react in time to move away from him as he lifts his head up, pressing his lips to hers.

Her eyes widen and she quickly pulls away before the kiss can be considered anything more than a peck. Mingi whines when she pulls away.

“Mingi, no.”

“Why not?”

“Why not?” She parrots, frowning a little, “You don’t even know who I am.”

“You’re my Angel baby.” He grins, lets out a little laugh before surging forward, kissing her again. Her mouth opens a little in surprise at being kissed again, giving Mingi the chance to push his tongue into her mouth, the taste of cheep beer still present. And Y/N is just disillusioned enough to lean in for a moment, and she probably would have actually reciprocated if her mind was any more fogged up from a simple kiss. But she’s not about to kiss someone who can’t possibly understand what they’re doing. Maybe kiss someone more would be more accurate.

So she pulls away again, this time pushing a hand on Mingi’s chest to keep him laying down flat on the bed. Mingi groans a little, a complaint, but doesn’t say much more. Until out of nowhere, he mutters.

“We should go out tomorrow.” Only a little fazed, Y/N shakes her head at the question.

“Honey, you’re probably not going to be able to stand properly tomorrow. Just go to sleep.” She continues to pet Mingi’s head, until she’s sure that he’s asleep. Standing up, she grabs the trash can in the corner of the room and puts it next to the bed. Then she grabs a sticky note from his desk and a pen. She writes a quick note, puts it on the nightstand before leaving the room, making sure to close the door as gently as he can.

The party is dwindling down, Y/N notes. So she easily finds Seonghwa and Hongjoong.

“Where were you?” Seonghwa asks when he sees her, “I was worried sick!”

“Sorry Hwa.”

“What were you doing?” Hongjoong questions.

“Playing nurse. Are you ready to go?”

“What happened to ‘I’m not taking care of some drunk loser’?”

“I guess he changed my mind.”

“He?” Seonghwa grins, making Y/N get this sudden feeling of dread, “Who was it? Was he hot? Was he nice to you? Of course he was, you would’ve kicked him to the curb if he was mean-“ Seonghwa trips over nothing, Hongjoong just catches him.

“Careful baby.”

“Thanks Joongie.” Seonghwa leans over and kisses the younger boy. Y/N pretends to gag.

“Wait, why is your face so red?”

“Let’s just go! Please.”

“Fine. You have to tell us all about this guy though!”

“Yeah yeah.”

When Mingi wakes up, he instantly wishes to be asleep again. His head hurts, and he feels so sick he can barely move. God, he shouldn’t have drank so much last night. He sits up, only to be hit with a wave of nausea that has him nearly doubled over.

“Fuck…” he takes a few deep breaths before standing up, groaning as he does so. He notices the trash can by his bed, and wonders how he had enough sense to grab that. Yunho must have moved it for him. His jacket, shoes and shirt are off, as well as his hat. Yunho must have done that too. He takes off his shirt and puts on a pair of sweatpants before heading to the bathroom.

When he comes out, he goes to the living room where Yunho greets him.

“Hey man-“

“Shhh.” Mingi holds his head in his hands as he sits on the couch, “Too loud.” Yunho’s voice was really just barely above a whisper.

“How much did I drink yesterday?”

“I stopped counting after the second beer and the third shot.”

“I swear Yunho, I’m never getting drunk again.” He looks down at his bandaged hand, and tries to recall exactly what he did to hurt himself.

“What happened to my hand?”

“How would I know?”

“Weren’t you the one that wrapped it?” Yunho stares at him with a surprised face.

“Damn, do you really not remember anything from last night?” Mingi shrugs.

“Pretty much.”

“Well, I left around half way through with a few others to grab some beer and you insisted that you stay here. You kept on saying ‘I’m feeling great’ so I just told you to be careful and left. By the time I came back, you were tucked into bed and sleeping like the dead.” Mingi nods along, realizing he can’t rely on Yunho to fill in the blanks of his memory.

“Wait actually, I saw a note on your nightstand.”

“Did you?”

“Yeah. Didn’t read it though.”

“Okay. Can you get me some painkillers or something?”

“Sure.” Mingi goes to his bedroom and there on the nightstand, is a bright pink sticky note. He grabs it and reads the words in black ink.

Hey Mingi,

I can imagine you have quite the hangover today, you were pretty drunk last night. Make sure to clean that cut of yours and wrap it up again, though it will probably be all healed in a few days (The power of a little kiss). Maybe I’ll see you around. Anyways, take care outlaw.

Yours, Angel.

Angel. Images of a woman with no clear face fills his mind. White feathers, the feeling of warm lips on his palm and a hand running through his hair.

Mingi comes out of his room, still holding the note.

“Yunho, did you see anyone dressed as an angel yesterday?”

“It was Halloween. Many people were. Why?”

“The girl that took care of me dressed as one. But I can’t remember her name.”

“What did she look like?”

“Uhh..” Mingi sheepishly scratches the back of his neck, “She was pretty? Look, I’ll know her when I see her.”

“Does that really matter?” Yunho asks, tilting his head, “I mean, yeah, I get that she took care of you. That was very nice of her, but do you have to meet her?”

“Of course I do.” Mingi lays back down on rhe couch, closing his eyes.

“Oh my god you have a thing for her. You have a thing for a girl who’s name you do not know, you don’t know what she looks like and know nothing about her as a person.”

“Not true.” Mingi objects, “I know she’s sweet, pretty, angelic.” Mingi snorts, “Oh, and that she likes candy apples.”

“Whoa Mingi, sounds like it’s time to pop the question to Miss Angel.”

“I wish she would’ve left her number.” Mingi complains, placing a pillow over his face.

“Well, I’ll ask around if anyone knows her, but it’s gonna be hard without knowing anything about her.”

“Thanks Yunho.”

“I’m heading to class, you staying in?” Mingi nods slightly, “Thought so. Painkillers are in the kitchen.”

“Thanks Yunho. See ya.”

“Later.”

The next day, Mingi actually does go to school. He was hoping that miraculously, Angel would be in one of his classes. Unfortunately, this was not the case for him. Yunho, like he said, mentioned her to some people but at last, no luck. Really though, he didn’t expect more. At the moment, he’s at a cafe near campus with Hongjoong and San, doing a little group review.

“Where’s your other half?” San questions Hongjoong, wondering where the older boy is.

“He’s in the library.”

“And you left him alone?” Hongjoong rolls his eyes.

“I would’ve followed, but Seonghwa said that I couldn’t since he and ratchet were studying for biology I think.”

“Ratchet?” Mingi questions.

“Y/N. Seonghwa’s nursing friend.”

“That is so mean of you.” San says, shaking his head at Hongjoong nicknaming this poor girl after a crazy murderous nurse. Mingi finds the name a little familiar, but he can’t put his finger on it, so he doesn’t question it.

“You weren’t in class yesterday.” San states.

“Yeah, i had this massive hangover. Felt dead.”

“What happened with your hand?”

“I don’t remember, but I think I cut it on a piece of glass or something.”

“Damn, you really were wasted.” Mingi can only agree.

“Please please please please-“

“Seonghwa.”

“Y/N please just tell me about this guy.” Seonghwa begs, shaking Y/N’s shoulders. She was supposed to tell him on the way home from the party, but he fell asleep right away. And yesterday they were too busy, “You don’t even need to tell me who it was.”

“Fine.” Y/N relents, shutting her text book, “He was tall, handsome and sweet.”

“Oh!” Seonghwa puts his hands over his heart, “All one could want in a man.”

“You only have two of the three.” Seonghwa kicks her but is still laughing.

“He asked if he could go out with me?”

“What? You said yes right?” Y/N shrugs.

“I didn’t say anything. It was just talk anyways. He was drunk.”

“Either way, you should have left your number with him.”

“No point, he didn’t even know my name. Just called me Angel the whole night.”

“That is so cute but unhelpful.” Seonghwa sighs, “What did you guys even do?” She tells her friend about the boy cutting himself by accident and having to clean up his cut, and tuck him into bed.

“So cute.” He analyzes his friend for another moment, “What aren’t you telling me?”

“Nothing.”

“Liar. I can tell. What’s up?” Y/N dramatically groans and puts her heads in her hands, mumbling her words, “Excuse me?”

“We may have… kissed.”

“You kissed!” Seonghwa exclaims, Y/N is quick to shush him.

“Shut up!”

“Sorry this is just crazy to me.”

“What is? That guys only want to kiss me when they’re drunk?”

“Ha. Who initiated it?”

“Him obviously.”

“Come on! Give me the details.” Y/N can’t refuse.

“He kissed me, I said that was irresponsible, he kissed me again and fell asleep like five minutes after.” Seonghwa aw’s as Y/N dramatically rests her head on her arms.

“Wait, is this not cute? Were you not okay with it? If not, I’ll find him and beat him up.” Y/N looks up at him, “Fine, Hongjoong will beat him up.” A long pause, “Jongho will beat him up.”

“There you go. But no, it was… fine? Really, If he was sober, I probably would have actually kissed him back.” Though if he was sober, she’s sure neither of them would have paid the other any mind whatsoever.

“You know if you tell me his name I could probably find him and you set you guys up.”

“Are you trying to get rid of me?”

“Noo.” Seonghwa pulls the girl into a hug, “We love you.”

“If you do, can we stop talking about this and study.”

“Fine. I have to go soon though, I said I’d meet up with Hongjoong later. Would you like to accompany us?”

“Ew.”

“You won’t be saying that when you and mystery boy get together. We can go on a double date!”

“Stop pushing your couple agenda on me.”

After a few hours of studying at the café, the two boys start to back up their bags to leave. San has already left. They hear the bell at the door ring, and Mingi’s sees Seonghwa make his way towards the table.

“Hey Joongie.” Seonghwa greets Hongjoong, leaning down to kiss his cheek before saying hi to Mingi.

“How are you guys?” He asks while sitting down.

“Good.” “Slightly hungover.” Seonghwa snorts at Mingi’s comment. But his laughter stops when he sees the bandage on Mingi’s hand.

“Hey, what happened with your hand?” Mingi looks down at his hand.

“I think I cut it on something, but I don’t really remember.”

“Huh.” Seonghwa hums for a moment before his eyes lighten up.

“Mingi, do you remember anything from your party?”

“A little bit yeah, why?”

“Did you spend anytime with a girl there? She-“

“Angel?” Mingi asks, wide eyed. He was planning to ask Hongjoong about her before they left.

“She was dressed as an Angel yes!” Seonghwa claps his hands in joy, “I’m so smart, I thought this would take longer to figure out.”

“Ohh.” Hongjoong says, just clueing in, “Mingi was the guy Y/N watched over at the party? Man, you didn’t tell me that.”

“I didn’t know who she was! I was gonna ask you if you knew a girl dressed as an angel.”

“Small world.” Seonghwa smiles, “She said you asked her out, is that true?”

“I really don’t know, sorry Hwa.” Mingi runs a hand through his hair, “But I’d love to actually meet her, thank her in person at least. Could you give me her number?” Seonghwa shakes his head.

“No, she’d be upset if I did that.” Patting the table, Seonghwa thinks, “but… if you did happen to run into her outside class, well that would be fate.”

“Would you?”

“I’ll text you her next class right now.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. You’d be good together.”

“What?”

“Let’s go Hwa, bye Mingi.” Hongjoong and Seonghwa leave, and Mingi choses to ignore Seonghwa’s comment.

He leaves the café and starts walking back to his place. The street he’s on has a ton of little shops and bakeries, so he window shops a little as he makes his way. The a sight makes him stop. There in the window, is a display case of different candy apples. A picture plays in his mind, of a pretty girl in an Angel costume eating the candied fruit in his kitchen. His phone buzzes from his pocket, and he pulls it out and sees a text from Seonghwa. He texted the younger the building, classroom number, as well as the start and end times.

Are you sure she won’t mind?

It’s fine! Tell her I sent you

I’m glad I can blame you

Great. Have fun ;)

Mingi looks at the display case again, before stepping inside.

I hate kinesiology Y/N thinks as she steps out of her classroom. She makes her way out of the building, weaving through the crowd of people. When she’s outside, just a few meters away from the building door, she feels someone tap her shoulder. Turning around, she sees a sight she wasn’t expecting to see so soon.

“Mingi?”

“Hi Angel.” Mingi grins with a small blush on his face, one hand held behind his back.

“Isn’t this a surprise.” Y/N can’t help but smile.

“Yeah, um, I just wanted to thank you for taking such good care of me the other night. You didn’t have to.” Y/N shakes her head, waving a hand in the air.

“No problem. I’m surprised you remember me.” Mingi blushes more, and shifts his feet.

“Well, I kinda didn’t. But I saw your note and remembered a girl dressed as an angel, but not what you looked like.”

“Hm.” Y/N hums, and crosses her arms, shifting her weight to her right leg, “Disappointed?”

“God no.” Mingi answers immediately, “You’re pretty.”

“You said that.”

“Did I?”

“Multiple times. Thank you. How do you know who I am though? If you didn’t know what I looked like.” Mingi looks a little flustered and avoids eye contact.

“I ran into Seonghwa and he figured that you were the one who took care of me because of, well, this.” He lifts his own bandaged hand, “He told me your name and that you were here and that your class would be ending around this time so I came by to see if I could catch you. And I knew I would recognize you once I saw you. Even without the wings.” He spoke so fast, Y/N barely caught all of his words.

“I see. How’s the hand?”

“Good, uh, I was wondering what you meant, by your note?”

“The kiss comment?” Y/N laughs uncomfortably, pulling at the ends of her hair, “Well, um, you did ask me to kiss your hand better…”

“And?”

“You- don’t be upset please- you did kiss me. Twice.” Mingi looks ready to combust from the embarrassment he’s feeling.

“I did? Fuck, Y/N I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. You were-“

“Please don’t say I was drunk. That’s no fucking excuse.” Y/N smiles softly.

“Fine. I forgive you.” Mingi laughs.

“You shouldn’t give in so easily. Here.” He pulls the box from behind his back and presents the caramel apple to her.

“For you.” He tells her, watching as the girl gives him an expression of pure joy.

“You-“ Y/N starts, taking the boxed caramel apple from Mingi’s hand, “Are the sweetest.” It seems that Mingi remembered a little more than she thought.

“Seonghwa said that I apparently asked you out.” Y/N nods in agreement, Mingi takes a deep breath, “I wanted to let you know that the question is still open, I’d love to go out with you.” Silence is all he gets in response. He feels a sense of dread in his stomach, but that soon leaves when he actually looks at the girl to see that she looks… flustered?

“Really? Um, yeah that- that would be nice.”

“And…” Mingi takes a breath, stepping closer to the girl. He slowly lifts his hand and rests it in the nape of her neck.

“If it’s not too much to ask, could I get a little reminder of what I forgot?” Blood rushes to Y/N’s ears and her heart beats faster. She brings her hands to his shoulders, grabbing onto the fabric of his shirt.

“I suppose I can.” Mingi leans down and brings his face close to the girl. Before his lips can meet hers though, Y/N covers his mouth with her hand, “Not now.” Mingi grabs her wrist and kisses the palm of her hand.

“After an actual date.” Where I don’t witness you throw up. She doesn’t say that know. She doesn’t want to embarrass him too much just yet. With a quick motion of his wrist, Mingi links their hands and brings them down.

“Let’s go.”

“Where?”

“On a date. Duh.” Y/N grins.

“Aw, our first, completely sober date!”

“I’m never drinking that much again.”

When Halloween rolled around the next year, Mingi did, in fact, drink that much again. It’s okay though, he still had an angel to take care of him.

[ghostofskywalker]

What You Want Most

Agatha Harkness/Fem!Reader

Fictober Day 4 of 31

Words: 1,047

Summary: She was the last person you expected to come walking through your door, but you knew you wouldn't be able to say no.

Note: i wrote this after watching the first 2 episodes of agatha all along! i’m not caught up on episode 4 yet right now, but i’m really liking the show :)

Agatha Harkness Masterlist

Vines curled up the walls as you watched shoppers walk through the aisles and rows of your shop, sometimes stopping to check out the vast selection of more wild-looking bushes and flowers that lined the walkway and paths on the outside of the building. When you were sure no one was paying attention to your actions, you lazily waved your hand through the air and changed the petals of the flowers nearby from pink to blue, and then back to pink seconds later. 

There wasn’t much money to be made with this way of life, but you refused to give up your craft like some other witches had, and you thankfully had a pretty good deal on rent. Situated right on the border of Eastview and barely a mile from Westview, you did well enough for yourself to remain. 

A flower grew from the palm of your hand as you glanced up towards the bell moving at the door, the twinkling sound indicating that someone had entered the space. As the petals, leaves, and stem vanished from sight, your eyes widened as you realized who had just walked through the door. 

Thankfully it didn’t seem as though she had seen you yet, and you quickly pulled a magazine off your desk with the intent of opening it to a random page. What was she doing here? It had been years since you last spoke, what could she possibly want from you? And who was that kid with her, that was looking around with a smile on his face like he’d never seen a flower before?

Staring at a (wholly uninteresting) article about the dangers of keeping certain plants around household pets, you remained frozen in place until someone loudly cleared their throat right in front of you. 

Internally groaning, you lowered the magazine and plastered a smile on your face, hoping it was just a particularly rude customer who needed your assistance and not her. 

Of course, you were not that lucky. 

As soon as the two of you locked eyes, any geniality in your expression was lost. “What are you doing here?” you snapped, and the few customers still in the store left in a rush, clearly possessing the common sense to not want to be involved with whatever was about to happen between you and your ex. 

“See kid, I told you this was a bad idea,” Agatha said, shooting a death glare at the teenage boy practically hovering over her shoulder. “We don’t need her, let’s go.”

As Agatha turned around to leave, you watched the boy grab her shoulder. “We definitely do,” he hissed, and you interest was certainly piqued when you realized that she wasn’t just here to ruin your day. “She was on the list, right?” 

As he spoke, you immediately realized what was going to be asked of you. “You’re going to walk the Road,” you said, and the boy nodded in response, his eyes lighting up. 

“The kid’s right Aggie,” you laughed, and the vines that had been slowly spreading across the walls grew quickly over the door, obscuring her only exit for as long as you wished. “You’ll need a Green Witch if you plan on going down the Road.” 

At the sound of your nickname, Agatha turned back towards you with fire in her eyes. She was still just as beautiful as the day the two of you broke up, you thought, before quickly plushing that unhelpful voice in your head away to whatever hole it had crawled out of. “There’s others in the area,” she said evenly, and you could see she was trying to keep her cool. “Ones that are more trustworthy than her.” 

“That’s a little rude,” you said, feigning an offended expression. “Especially since I’ve seen you naked, honey.” 

“Well, apparently half the town has as well,” she shot back. “Look, just say you’re not interested and move along, that’s what everyone else has done.” 

You stared at her, hair slightly messy and eyes tired. No matter what kind of bad blood you had with her as a result of your breakup, you were aware of what had happened to her these past years, and from the state of her hands, you could guess why she was even considering the Witches’ Road as a resource in the first place. It also didn’t help that no matter how much you tried to hide it, you still loved her. 

“Who said I’m not interested?” 

The kid’s face lit up once more, and he fumbled in his jacket to pull out a piece of paper. “Excellent. Meet us at this address-” 

But Agatha held up a hand as he stepped forward to hand it to you. “She doesn’t need the address, kid. She’s been over before.” 

You smiled, memories flashing through your mind of the times you spent together, plotting and scheming together only some of the time (and christening nearly every surface in the house for the rest of it). 

“Look,” you said, waving your hand as the vines at the door shrank back to their original locations. “If you don’t want my help, I’ll respect that. But if you’re going to walk the Road, you can’t do it without a Green Witch, both of us know that.” 

Agatha stared at you, clearly unsure whether or not she trusts you again. “What’s in it for you?” 

“What I want the most, right?” you asked, shrugging. “The Road promises those what they most desire, and I fully intend to take the powers that be up on that promise.” 

Right now, what you wanted the most was her, but you were not about to admit that. 

“Fine,” she huffed. “5:00 sharp, at my place.” 

You smiled, using your magic to make a purple flower appear in her hands. To anyone else it might have seemed like a party trick, a flex of your power on the witch who had none, but given your history with Agatha, both you and her knew the gesture was more than that. 

“I’ll be there,” you said with a smile, and the two of the turned to leave right as a few more customers walked through the door. 

The flower was a promise, and it was one you intended to keep.

- the end -

i no longer have a taglist! if you're interested in being notified when i post, you can follow my library blog @ghostofskywalker-library and turn on notifications!

[spidermans-l-o-v-e-r]

9-1-1 Masterlist

Oh gee finally a place I can keep these! Thank you to my bestest most amazing friend in the whole world for making these headers for me i literally actually literally could not do it without you

Two of a kind

Buck can’t stop thinking about his coworker, so he does what every guy at 3am does on a 24 hour shift!! He sneaks out to his car to get off. But it turns out, certain coworkers (that might possibly be the love of his life) have the exact same idea!

Fairest of Them All:

The party downstairs rages on as Buck decides to do something about the pretty little thing he’s been staring at all night

Clothing Optional:

I can’t. I can’t keep writing summaries. I’ve done 2

After a stupid work shift, in the stupid heat, Buck just wants to enjoy a sweet little sundae, fortunately it comes with a side of dat ass (I’m not sorry)

That Should Be Me:

Buck has never ever been jealous ever a single damn day in his life

Gamer Girl

Buck thinks you’re so, so pretty. You’d looked even prettier with your thighs around his head

Now You See Me:

✨Mirror sex✨

Growing Pains:

Everything is all wonderful and cool and dandy until you nearly die from your appendix!!

(I KNOW. THERE IS. AN AMBULANCE.)

Cry To Me:

Eddie loves when you’re crying during sex, nothing turns him on more… except when those tears are very very real and he’s very very worried

10 Things I Hate About You:

You guys freaking h a t e each other… or do you? Wink wink wink wink enemies to lovers wink

I Spy:

Eddie is the sweetest neighbor in the entire world… who knows where you work

Better Than Revenge:

You and Eddie get locked into a closet at your job after an accident, it also turns out your now EX boyfriend is a cheating asshole! Eddie has absolutely no problem filling in for the revenge role

Front Row:

Why do firehouses have to work f o r e v e r. Eddie needs a freaking shower and to pass out for the next six years on an overnight shift. It turns out someone has the same idea, and possibly another idea on how to left off some steam

Yeti Point:

Eddie finally takes you on that skiing vacation you’ve been begging him for and it’s going great! Until you get snowed in. But that’s okay, Eddie has a secret plan to keep you both warm

Slow and Steady:

Buck helps Eddie into the house, holding him up as you frantically get the bed ready for your injured boyfriend. Turns out, pain killers make Eddie horny!

(Hahahahahaha)

Encanto:

Dad!Eddie x Daughter!reader

Nightmares never get easier no matter how old you get. Especially ones where your father dies

Smoke Dector:

Eddie always has to be the hero, okay not really but it’s hard when you see your boyfriend running into a burning building for the first time

One Puff Or Two:

Take your freaking inhaler Eddie 🔪🔪🔪

Into The Fire:

(PTSD WARNING, PANIC ATTACK WARNING)

You’ve been on edge lately, and Eddie knows there’s something up. One night things come to a head when you have a nightmare about what happened and Eddie wakes up to a very bad situation

Night Changes:

Eddie comforts you after a bad nightmare about him dying over and over in different ways (based off of 5.14)

Busy Bees:

Two words ✨Sex Pollen✨

Soup or Salad?

✨I’ll freaking summarize this later✨

A Rose by any Other Name

This is one of the funniest titles I've ever made up. Buck finds your simple collection of toys and shows them to Eddie... and now they want you to put on a little show for them

Finish Line:

A little game of "whoever cums first loses"

Twice Bitten:

Double Penetration from my kinktober list!

Alexander Hamilton:

Buck can't stop having feelings for Eddie's girlfriend... but what if that's okay?

[cxrrodedcoffin]

Begin Again - Aaron Hotchner

“you pull my chair out and help me in, and you don't know how nice that is, but i do.”

——

Likes are always appreciated but reblogs and feedback keep artists going!

Summary: Part 2 to don’t call me kid, Aaron takes Reader on their first date and things go better than expected.

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: Aaron Hotchner massive prog rock nerd confirmed by me (◡‿◡✿) I’ve decided to turn this into a mini series so more parts to come!

TW: established relationship, anxiety, food, alcohol repeatedly mentioned, fem reader, fluffy fluff, reader + aaron are huge music nerds

Rating: PG

——

It had been two weeks since you’d confessed your love to Aaron Hotchner, and tonight was the night you were finally going on your first official date with him. You weren’t sure how to feel, your stomach swirling with butterflies of excitement and fear all the same. Your previous plans of doing this last weekend had fallen through as the BAU was called onto an emergency case, the last one you’d work with the team. You’d been with your new unit for a week, the new setting pitching your anxiety to an all time high, and the pressure you were putting on yourself for tonight certainly wasn’t helping either. How would this go? Would he find your interests intriguing, or childish? Were you even ready for a relationship as high stakes as this one?

You brushed your scattered thoughts aside as you pulled the dress you’d spent hours contemplating over your figure, pulling the zipper before nervously smoothing out the fabric over your hips. Aaron had chosen the restaurant, a small but upscale place close to your apartment. He didn’t mind making the drive to your part of town, he wanted first and foremost for you to feel as comfortable as possible, and he knew if things somehow went south you’d be able to get home easily without him.

Aaron had his own doubts, he knew you were more than capable of making informed decisions, he’d witnessed you do so many times over the last couple years, even under extreme duress, but he still doubted you fully understood what you were getting into with him. Truthfully he didn’t understand what you saw in him, he felt impossibly flawed in every way. There was always something more he felt he could do, constantly trying to improve himself to make up for his self-perceived failings.

What he didn’t know was that you knew about his past and a good amount of his complicated personal relationships, and none of it phased you in the slightest. The rest of the team wasn’t exactly tight-lipped about anyone’s history, a few drinks into girl’s night always resulted in gossip sessions about the whole team, and the subject of Aaron Hotchner was no exception. Your past wasn’t devoid of trauma either, and you weren’t afraid of a little emotional instability.

You looked over your appearance in the mirror one last time before grabbing your bag and car keys and making your way to the restaurant, pulling into the first open spot you could find. You scanned the lot, hoping to find Aaron’s car amongst the rows of vehicles, but it was no use trying to pinpoint it in the sea of black sedans.

You took a deep breath and walked to the door, heels clicking against concrete. You pulled open the heavy glass door, silently praying that you wouldn’t have to wait long for him. You approached the hostess stand, ready to explain your situation to the well-dressed server behind it when you saw Aaron rise from his chair at a table tucked away in the corner of the crowded restaurant, waving you over. You breathed a sigh of relief as you walked across the dining floor, clutching your purse tightly against your body.

He was so handsome, he always was, but tonight, in his open suit jacket, with the top few buttons of his collar undone, perfectly framing his Adam's apple, you felt like your knees could buckle at any moment. Your cheeks burned in embarrassment, smiling in an attempt to hide how flustered he made you.

“You look beautiful.” He broke the slight tension in the air as you finally approached the table he’d reserved for the two of you, pulling your chair out, ever the gentleman.

“Thank you.” You smiled at him, keeping your response short and turning your head down while taking your seat in hopes of hiding the blush overwhelming your cheeks. He made you feel like you were experiencing a crush for the first time again, and it made your doubts about doing this even stronger. Maybe you were too young, too naive to attempt to commit to a man as mature as Aaron Hotchner.

“Did you have trouble parking? It’s not usually this busy.” He skipped the usual greetings, feeling it unnecessary given your prior history. The mundane question pulled you out of the dark cloud of doubt in your mind for a moment, almost putting you at ease.

“Oh, it was okay, I found a spot right away.” You reassured him, picking up the menu to browse the dinner selection.

“Do you mind if I order for you? There’s a dish on the menu I really think you’d enjoy.” He asked, pulling your gaze from the menu. His request caught you off guard in the best way possible, your heart beating just a little faster at the thought of him thinking about what you’d enjoy. You figured it could be fun to put him to the test and see if he was really catching onto your tastes the way he seemed to think he was.

“Sure, I trust you.”

When the waiter came by to take your orders, he ordered the same dish for each of you and a bottle of wine he knew would pair well. You couldn’t deny that the way he took charge even in the most mundane ways was deeply alluring. Despite your naturally headstrong demeanor, you didn’t mind letting go of control around him, and if he was open to it, you couldn’t wait to explore that dynamic in other areas given the chance.

“How are you liking your new position?”

“It’s good so far, I do miss seeing you and the team, but I think I’m fitting in pretty well with my new team members.” You took a sip of your wine, avoiding eye contact as you tried to hide your half-lie. Truthfully, you weren’t adjusting the best to your new surroundings. Your coworkers were nice enough, but the low stakes nature of financial crime didn’t exactly build a family dynamic the way the BAU did.

“I’m glad you’re finding your footing.” He smiled softly, not letting on that he knew you weren’t being entirely honest. He didn’t want to push, trusting that you’d let him in more as you become more comfortable around him.

You didn’t know what to say, continuing to down your wine until the waiter brought your meals to the table. You both took your first few bites in silence, enjoying the food in front of you. Aaron was right, as he usually is, in picking it for you. Maybe he understood you better than you’d thought.

You exchanged small glances, content to enjoy the hum of hushed conversation coming from the tables around you, until you saw something stirring behind his eyes. He swallowed and took a deep breath, preparing himself to break the comfortable silence.

“I’ve been thinking about that night a lot, and I want to commend you for your bravery. I know it must’ve taken a lot of courage to open up to me like that and I want you to know how much I appreciate your vulnerability.” His right hand outstretched across the table to squeeze yours, the reassuring touch sending a spark straight to your heart.

“Thank you, Aaron, that means more than you know.”

He sat up just a little bit straighter at your words, as if the metaphorical weight he’d been carrying was suddenly lifted off of his shoulders. Having confirmation that he had been harboring the same nerves you were about tonight made the butterflies in your stomach settle to a dull flutter.

“You really seemed to take a liking to my record collection, who are your favorite musicians?” You redirected the conversation for his sake and yours, hoping to lighten the mood and get to know him a little better than you already did.

“You already know I’m a fan of The Beatles’ experimental albums, Led Zeppelin and Pink Floyd are classic, and Blue Oyster Cult are an underrated favorite.”

You couldn’t help but feel captivated by the way his eyes lit up talking about the things he loved, and this was no exception.

“You know, when I was your age I saw Paul McCartney on his first solo tour.”

You almost couldn’t believe your ears, taking a second to register if he was being serious or not.

“You’re joking.” You playfully scoffed, raising an eyebrow.

“No, I went with some of my friends while I was in law school, can’t say I remember much from it though, we drank half our weight in cheap beer before he even came on stage.” He laughed, taking a sip of his wine. You’d never been more jealous in your life, but the way the outer corner of his eyes crinkled when he smiled made you forget your envy in an instant.

“Who knew mister tall, dark, and serious was so cool?” You teased, a sly smile plastered across your face. He shook his head with a deep laugh, taking another gulp of his wine.

You spent the rest of the night talking about your interests, telling Aaron all about your hobbies, answering his questions about the knickknacks he’d seen in your apartment. The more he asked the more you felt genuinely appreciated in a way you never had before, finding his attentiveness and attention to detail immensely attractive.

The more he learned about you, the harder he was falling. His previous impression of you as a young, naive agent was thrown out the window with every word that left your lips, finding himself completely captivated by the vibrant, intelligent, sexy woman in front of him. He wanted to give you everything if you’d let him, and you hoped you could give him the world all the same.

——

tag list: @lover-of-books-and-tea @ssa-aaronhotchner @pleasantwitchgarden

DM me or send me an ask if you’d like to be added to my general or Aaron Hotchner taglist :)

[padfootagain]

Love in Verses (XVIII)

Chapter 18 : ‘What the devil do I care what I know, and what I say?’

Hi! Here is new chapter! This is a very important chapter… I hope you like it!!!

I hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 3472

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

Wisdom

This I say, and this I know: Love has seen the last of me. Love's a trodden lane to woe, Love's a path to misery.

This I know, and knew before, This I tell you, of my years: Hide your heart, and lock your door. Hell's afloat in lovers' tears.

Give your heart, and toss and moan; What a pretty fool you look! I am sage, who sit alone; Here's my wool, and here's my book.

Look! A lad's a-waiting there, Tall he is and bold, and gay. What the devil do I care What I know, and what I say?

Dorothy Parker

Classes for the first semester were over. The Christmas Holiday season had come to a close as well, leaving you buried under piles of articles and documents and books to help you get ready for the new classes that would start after the end of the exams.

It was snowing outside, a part of the Liffey had frozen during the night, apparently. Some idiot had tried walking on it, had fallen into the river, you had heard it on the news. He was equipped for a swim in cold waters, but still… how silly people could be…

You were in bed, you checked the time on the alarm clock on your bedside table. Almost midnight. You heaved a sigh. You ought to stop, catch a few hours of sleep before heading to work tomorrow. But you had a thousand things to do and to plan and… God, so many things still…

You were distracted by the vibration of your phone on the bed, looked for it in a hurry under the covers. You frowned as you read Frank’s name on your screen, picked up with a worried frown on your brow. Something ought to be wrong…

“Hello?”

“Y/N?”

You recognised the sound of his voice. He was drunk and had been crying. When the two of you were together, he was only in this state when you had a huge fight.

“You’re alright?” you asked him, knowing the answer.

“No, I’m not… God, I’m really not, Y/N. Can you… can you pick me up? I’m drunk, I can’t drive, I don’t know where to go… Christ, I’ve fucked up so bad tonight… please, help me…”

You looked at all the work you had left to do, looked at the time again, but heaved a sigh. Not accepting to help wasn’t even a possibility…

“I’ll come and pick you up. Where are you right now?” you asked him, and you heard the sigh of relief he heaved at your words.

“I’m downtown. At a pub… hang on, I’ll give you the address…”

“What happened? Where’s Samantha?”

He sniffed.

“We had a row.”

You nodded, not surprised.

“Like… a huge one. Our first row. I… I’ve fucked up. She’s home. I can’t go home, I don’t know where to go…”

“You can stay at my place for tonight,” you offered. “It’s alright, I’m on my way.”

“Thank you so much, Y/N… thank you,” he mumbled, the lilt of his accent more pronounced as his words were slurred by alcohol.

“Don’t mention it. I’m leaving now, stay where you are.”

You hurried out of bed, put on some clothes, grabbed your keys. You typed a text while you were in the lift.

Hi, Andy!

Just a warning: Sam and Frank had a row tonight, seems quite bad. Omw to get Frank from some bar downtown. He’ll stay at my place for tonight. Sam might call you too.

You were walking to your car when he answered.

Thanks for the warning. Sam has just texted me, I’ll go to hers.

Good luck with Frank.

You sat behind the wheel, locked your car before answering.

Good luck with Sam too!

You were about to put your phone away in your purse when it vibrated again.

Tell me when you’re home, okay? It’s late.

A tender smile softened your features.

Will do xx

You put your phone away, started driving. It took you a while to find the pub, but Frank was eager to leave, and you were relieved not to have to fight him for his car keys or something like that. Instead, he obediently entered your car. His eyes were red and puffy, he stunk of whiskey, cheap beer, and cigarettes.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, voice made deeper by the liquor, words slurred.

“No problem. Let’s go to my place.”

He nodded in silence, dried his eyes.

“What happened?” you asked as you drove, the streets empty at this hour, the lampposts the only sources of light in the sleeping city as clouds heavy with rain were hiding the moon and stars.

“Sam and I had a fight.”

You hummed.

“What was it about?”

“Something stupid. Fucking stupid.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, like… something about the wedding. About the guests we should put together, and I was like… like who cares? People can just… sit… wherever they like. But she was making plans, and I took the piss, and she got… so fucking mad and…”

He sniffed, looked by the window at the empty streets.

“Was fucking stupid.”

“You got angry?”

“Yeah.”

“And you said something stupid?”

“Yeah. How do you know?”

“You generally say stupid and hurtful things when you’re really angry.”

“I don’t mean them.”

“I know. It still hurts.”

He heaved a sigh, rested his forehead against the windowpane.

“I think it was a long-time coming though. We’ve been bickering a lot. I don’t know… it’s just been a lot of stress these past few weeks. I thought it would be better after the New Year’s Eve party, but it wasn’t.”

You slowly nodded.

“I mean… you’ve been moving very fast through this relationship. Maybe you’ve skipped a few steps along the way, and you’re feeling it now.”

He remained quiet for the rest of the drive. When you reached your apartment building, he stared at you, but said nothing.

You helped him through the elevator and hallways all the way to your flat. You texted Andrew that you were safely home while Frank was struggling with his shoes.

Andrew answered in seconds with a thumbs up.

“You think I’m making a mistake, don’t you?”

Frank’s voice brought you back to your apartment, made you put your phone away and turn to him instead.

You weren’t quite sure what to answer, even if this was the perfect moment to speak your mind. You were too taken aback for that.

“Everybody does,” Frank nodded. “Everybody thinks I’ve lost my mind. Maybe I have… I don’t know anymore… Maybe… Maybe I’ve made a mistake, and I shouldn’t have left and… I don’t know… I don’t know…”

“I think you’re moving very fast. I think all this is going too fast,” you spoke with a gentle voice, moving closer to him. “I mean… you pushed back the engagement, then the wedding, when we were together. While this is so sudden… Everything about you and Sam seems sudden.”

Slowly, Frank nodded.

“I don’t know… I don’t know what to do, I… I want it to be fast though, I don’t want to think things through this time around. I don’t want to be cautious, the way we were, you and I, Y/N. I just… I want to live this fully.”

He rubbed at his tired eyes.

“I’m sorry, I don’t make any sense right now…”

“You should go to bed,” you gave him a sad smile, but he didn’t notice, he was too tired for that, or… you didn’t know why… but he didn’t notice.

You gave him a pillow and a blanket so he could settle on the couch, he thanked you, closed his eyes.

Before you could move away, he grabbed your hand in his, gave it a tight squeeze. You wanted to cry now.

And then, he surrendered to sleep, and he let go.

Sam wasn’t crying anymore when Andrew arrived to her flat, but her eyes were red and puffy with tears that had already fallen. She let him inside, offered him something to drink while he took off his coat, gloves, beanie and scarf, but he declined. He turned to her with a tender smile, something full of compassion.

“You’re okay? How are you feeling?” he asked with a voice he made deeper than usual, knowing it calmed her down.

“Not great,” she admitted.

“You had a fight with Frank, then?”

“Yeah… we… I… It was pretty bad.”

“Bad?”

“It was a big row.”

“Was he mean to you?” Andrew’s voice shook, a frown digging a line between his eyebrows. “Did he threaten you?”

“What? No! Of course not! We just had a row.”

He visibly relaxed, took a step closer to her. They were standing in her living room, the night was quiet. He wanted to reach out, but he didn’t dare.

“What was it about? Do you want to talk about it?”

She shrugged, but took a step closer to him too, standing close, so close… He could have pulled her into an embrace so easily…

“We fought about the wedding. We… we don’t want the same thing.”

“About what?”

“Silly things. Unimportant details, to be honest. But I didn’t know how to react to it… like… I know you sigh a lot when you’re annoyed. I know your voice quietens first, and then you raise it. I know you get petty when you’re really angry. I know you need to spend time alone to cool down. I know you’ll want to have the last word no matter whether you’re right or wrong, but you’ll never admit it. I know that it’s useless to simply bury the hatchet, that you’ll bring it up again later if we don’t discuss it when the issue arises. I know you don’t talk about what you feel, that I should not be offended if you just lock yourself up in your office until you’re calmer and we can talk about it. I know it’s useless to make you acknowledge your feelings. I know you’re so fucking stubborn when you really want to be. I know… I know how to deal with you, even with your anger, even with the ugliest of your feelings. Cause I… I know you. But I didn’t know how to handle him. I got mad, and he got mad and I didn’t know what to do. And I made things worse. I don’t know what to do…”

She looked up at him with this specific gaze, and he knew what she needed. He knew it, because he knew her. And she had just told him what he was already painfully aware of, that she knew him like the back of her hand. And perhaps this was the part he missed the most now that he was alone. That he used to have someone who knew him so completely.

He wrapped his arms around her, because he knew she needed a hug. She needed to feel safe and warm, and indeed she rested her head on his shoulder easily.

He held her close, the way he had thousands of times before. He always found solace in it, something soothing, anchoring. When she rose to her tiptoes to kiss his cheek, to thank him in a whisper for coming, his chest grew a little warm but he was surprised when his heart didn’t stumble. It didn’t rush, didn’t miss a few beats. It remained steady, although it was content. And the arms that used to soothe him were a nice embrace, a gentle shelter to rest, but they lacked something. Something… he wasn’t sure what it was. He knew that he didn’t feel the way he used to when they held on each other before. He knew he felt less than before.

They remained motionless, bathed in silence for a few minutes, the sound of their breathing the only sign of life in the room. His mind wandered off, instead of being anchored in the moment, unlike the way she used to force his brain to quieten down. Instead, he thought about the classes he had to prepare for the rest of the year, the exams coming up, he thought of Frank and was angry at him for hurting Sam, and he thought of you. He was suddenly worried about you, he hadn’t received any text from you yet, to tell him you were home. Were you alright? It was so late into the night and you were driving to a pub downtown, after all…

He felt his phone buzzing in the back pocket of his jeans, pulled away from the hug. He didn’t notice Sam’s puzzled expression.

“Andy?” she looked up at him with a questioning look.

He didn’t notice she was speaking. He heaved a relieved sigh instead.

I’m home. All good xx

He answered with a mere thumbs up.

“Andy?”

This time he looked up from his phone, put the device in his back pocket again.

“Yeah?”

“You’re okay?”

But he knew her. He knew her better than anyone else in this world. He knew this question meant ‘who is texting you at such an hour?’.

“Yeah… erm… It was Y/N. Frank called her to pick him up at a pub.”

“Did he?” she asked, clearly jealous.

Andrew hummed and nodded.

“He’ll stay at her place for the night.”

“Right…”

She seemed uneasy now. Worried.

“And why was she telling you this anyway?”

“Because you asked me to come here too,” he merely answered.

“So, she picked him up?”

“Yeah, they’re at her apartment.”

“Why is she telling you all this?”

“It’s late. I asked her to tell me when she’d be home, just to make sure she was safe.”

She stared at Andrew with an unreadable expression, one he didn’t know how to analyse, despite how well he knew her. Was it a new one? Did he simply… fail at reading her this time?

“Can you stay tonight?”

The question came out of the blue, took him aback.

Stay the night…

“I… don’t want to be alone,” she whispered.

And Andrew wasn’t sure what she meant. Probably for him to sleep on the sofa, but there was something in her eyes… No, she didn’t mean for him to sleep on the sofa…

It was his chance to get her back, and he knew it. He knew it. He could have her back, maybe, he could try, at least…

He thought about kissing her then, closing the distance between them, finding back what they had lost. But instead, he…

Instead, he thought of your lips on his, of your weight in his arms, of your kiss on his cheek while a new year was born.

He wanted to kiss you. He didn’t want to kiss Sam at all…

He didn’t want Frank to be with you now, in your apartment. He didn’t want you to kiss him, he didn’t want you to be with him, and God almighty, he could feel his heart racing at the thought that you could have sex with him…

Slowly, he shook his head.

“I don’t think it would be a good idea,” he mumbled, his voice not sounding like his own.

“But I…”

“I’m sorry… I… I should go. I should go…”

He hurried to her front door, while Sam remained standing in her living room, too stunned by Andrew’s actions to move or say anything. Before she could go back to her senses, Andrew had left.

He had left. When he sat down behind the wheel, he didn’t know what was happening, couldn’t understand his own actions. He could have tried to get Sam back, and instead… instead he had thought of you, he had… he had wished it was you who stood there before him, offering him a chance to kiss you…

Fucking hell… he bloody liked you. He liked you. He liked you enough to push Sam away…

Holy shit…

Andrew was pacing before a tired Alex, who was sitting on his sofa.

Andrew was lucky his best friend was a night owl like him, but even if he naturally longed to go to bed at an unreasonable hour, Alex was still longing to bury himself under his warmest blanket and finally go to sleep now that it was almost four in the morning.

But Andrew was still pacing. He had called Alex after leaving Sam’s flat, panicked, talking too fast about ‘catching feelings’ and ‘being a fucking eejit’ and ‘ruining everything’. Alex invited him to come over, and now Andrew was burning holes in his carpet…

“This is so bad, Alex. So fucking bad…”

“Calm down, it’s alright. You have a crush on Y/N, so what?”

“SO WHAT?! SO WHAT?! I don’t want to have a crush on Y/N! I want to have Sam back!”

“Not anymore, apparently.”

Andrew threw his hands up in the air in frustration. He had a thousand things to say and couldn’t speak them out loud, he just couldn’t. He was never good at this, opening up about his feelings… He buried them instead, and let them gnaw at his heart. Was it healthy? No, but he couldn’t help it. And then he wrote about it, and he felt better, lighter, and things were alright again.

But right now, he was too much in a state to grab some paper and pen and put it all down.

“This can’t be happening, Alex” he shook his head. “I can’t be catching feelings on Y/N.”

“Why not? She sounds like an amazing woman!”

“She is! Don’t get me wrong, she’s… incredible! But I want Sam.”

“You don’t anymore.”

“Of course, I bloody do!”

“Why did you push her away tonight, then?”

But Andrew wasn’t ready to admit that.

“I don’t know… I don’t know…”

“You’re falling for Y/N.”

“She’s my colleague! We share an office! We’re friends! We’re trying to get back with our exes! She’s still in love with the guy!”

“Well, tell yourself those arguments, cause apparently they haven’t prevented you from falling for her…”

“I haven’t fallen, I just… I fancy her, ‘s all.”

“Yeah, of course. Of bloody course.”

“Alright, I need to think straight.”

“Why do you want to get back with Sam so badly anyway?”

“Because… Because I love her. Because she… I’m…”

“The honest answer,” Alex argued, staring mercilessly at his friend.

And Andrew hated him at that moment, for knowing him so fucking well, for not cutting him any slack, for pressing him on into acknowledging how he felt… even the ugly side of himself…

He stuttered, went silent, but Alex was there to push him again. Until Andrew turned to the window and stared at the inky sky where not a single light remained uncovered by heavy clouds. All darkness. The kind so absolute, one would not see a thing if they were lost in it.

He imagined your features on that darkness, painted it with the colour of your eyes, the softness of your skin, the warmth of your lips, built your image on the nothingness of the world.

He wanted Sam… he wanted…

“I want someone to know me,” he whispered, feeling the heaviness of the confession drain all his strengths out of his body, feeling empty as he let the words leave. “I want… I want to be known. I want companionship. I’m afraid to be alone. I’m scared. I’m scared no one else is ever going to know me the way Sam does, and love me anyway. After all, even she couldn’t…”

He fell silent, sniffed as tears gathered at the corners of his eyes.

“God, it’s so fucking hard to be unknown. To have no one like that anymore… It feels so fucking lonely…”

Alex had gotten up without a word nor sound, rested a hand on Andrew’s shoulder.

“Someone else can learn to know you that way again, Andy. You deserve it. You deserve to be loved for who you are. Maybe Y/N could…”

But Andrew shook his head, shook himself out of his friend’s grasp.

“No! No, this is ridiculous! I want Sam! I want Sam! I don’t want Y/N! It was just a flukes, just a glitch, just… I don’t know, a moment of madness! But I don’t want Y/N, I don’t like her, I want Sam…”

“Andy…”

“I want Sam. I must want Sam.”

Andrew rubbed at his forehead, tightly closing his eyes.

“And anyway… even if I don’t want Sam anymore, I can’t fall for Y/N. That’s just… that would just make everything so fucking complicated, and she’s so great, I can’t risk to lose her like that… That would be insane.”

“So… you could want someone else? I could introduce you to someone…”

“We’ll see… we’ll see… I… I don’t know.”

Andrew heaved a sigh, feeling the heaviness of sleep creep up his body. He looked at his watch.

“Christ, sorry, mate… it’s so fucking late… I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. You can sleep on the couch tonight, it’s too late for you to drive, and you’re too upset for that.”

“Thank you.”

“Anytime, mate.”

They exchanged a pair of tired smiles, and while Alex was gone looking for some spare blanket and pillow, Andrew was gathering his thoughts and feelings. Trying to calm down.

He wasn’t falling for you. He didn’t have a crush on you. He wanted Sam, he didn’t want you. He couldn’t want you.

Andrew didn’t like you… he couldn’t like you…

… right?

[moonlightndaydreams]

Second Chances

Jisung is determined to lose his virginity at tonight’s house party. He never expected you, his former best friend, to be there.

🍻 🍸🍹🥂🍾

Pairing: Jisung x female reader

Word Count: 6,989

Trope: Friends to enemies to lovers. High School house party. Loss of virginity. Forced proximity.

Author’s Note: I have decided to write this story in an Australian setting (I was feeling nostalgic) where the drinking age is 18, the final year of high school is year 12, and a lot of students turn 18 during that final year. The characters in this story are 18 because I don’t want underage drinking in my story.

Now, as much as it is set in Australia, I was actually inspired by a 90’s American High School movie called “Can’t Hardly Wait” that popped into my head while I was driving the other day. Particularly Seth Green’s character’s storyline, that I thought “That’s so Hannie coded.” Side note: Seth Green was in the Buffy series and I may have had a crush on him. Shh, don’t tell anyone.

Warnings: anxiety, anxiety attacks, alcohol, past relationship trauma (Han was really mean), mention of pot and vaping, swearing.

NSFW content warning below the cut.

CW: protected sex, mention of sex toys, orgasms. Please let me know if I’ve missed anything.

🍻 🍸🍹🥂🍾

~ Jisung ~

“It’s happening boys!” Exclaimed Jisung standing in the middle of the local bottle shop. “Tonight is the night.”

“The night for what?” Jinnie turned his head from the row of bourbon bottles he was perusing.

“Tonight I’m going to have SEX!” He announced proudly.

“Wait! What?” Jinnie said, visibly surprised by his friend’s declaration.

“But you don’t have a girlfriend!” Seungmin piped up after choosing a pack of premixed Smirnoff from the shelf.

“I don’t need a girlfri-”

“And,” Seungmin Raised his hand to hush his friend mid-sentence. “You have no clue how to talk to girls.”

“Yeah dude, you kinda gotta know how to talk to girls before it moves to sex.” Jinnie implored. “Well, usually anyway.” he added.

Jisung scratched his head. “I know how to talk to girls.” he huffed. The other two chuckled and gave each other an amused look. Jisung furrowed his brow. “I do know how to talk to girls.” He whined defensively.

“Yeah yeah. Come on, let’s just buy this alcohol and head over to the party.” Jinnie smirked. “The lucky lady awaits.” he winked, slapping his friend on the ass.

🍻 🍸🍹🥂🍾

Standing in the front yard belonging to the most popular kid in the school, Jisung looked up at the double-story dwelling. It was already thrumming with drunk year 12 students, and music was blaring from the living room. Lights were on all throughout the house, except for a few rooms upstairs, which Jisung decided was where people were having sex. Where he’d be having sex in the very near future. If all went to plan.

He swallowed nervously and slipped his hand inside the pocket of his baggy jeans, feeling for the condom packet he’d placed in there safely.

“Man, you're gonna rub a hole in it at this rate. Then what are you gonna do? Convince her that your pull out game is strong?” Jinnie teased. 

“You’ve been checking it’s still in there for the last half an hour.” added Seungmin, and gently put a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey Seungmin, wanna bet it’s still in his pocket tomorrow?” snickered Jinnie.

Suddenly a roar erupted from somewhere inside, along with the sound of bottles smashing, followed by loud cheers.

“Oh fuck.” Jisung mumbled, suddenly overcome with anxiety.  He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.  He could do this. “Alright, what are we waiting for?” Jisung tried to sound cool and suave, but his voice cracked with nerves. He took a deep breath, and with a self-determination not dissimilar to the Little Engine That Could, Jisung, with his two best friends in tow, entered the party.

🍻 🍸🍹🥂🍾

~ Y/N ~

You sat there on the couch in the middle of the crowded living room, questioning your existence. This wasn’t even a party from your school. Well technically it used to be your school, but not for the past two years. Some students still recognised you though, and you felt like crawling into a hole every time someone pointed a drunken finger at you and yelling “Oh my god y/n! I thought you’d fallen off the face of the earth!”, or worse, hug you and say the exact same thing.

As the couple to your right’s makeout session started to heat up and the girl climbed onto the boy's lap, her flailing limbs almost knocked your drink out of your hand. You reminded yourself that you’d come to this party as wingman to your one and only friend, Felix. Felix, who begged you to support him as he came to confess his love to some guy named Chris. You had questioned why he needed to announce his feelings at a fucking party and not online like a regular person, but he’d insisted that this was the only way.

Now Felix had disappeared, and you swore the couple next to you had escalated things to the guy rubbing the girl’s pussy under her skirt. 

“I know what you’re thinking.” a voice to your left interrupted your thoughts. You snapped your head up to meet a rather attractive boy with almond shaped eyes and light brown hair.

“What? Like how to dissociate when people are feeling each other up next to you? Or how the fuck did I end up here in the first place?” You said sarcastically.

The boy smirked. Like a devil. “Well, no. I guess I don’t know what you’re thinking afterall.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Why? What did you think I was thinking, hmm?” You challenged him.

“That that looks like fun,’ he pointed to the horny lovers next to you. “and where can I hook up with a guy who knows what he’s doing?” He leaned in “and just so you know, that guy there has no clue what he’s doing.”

You were shocked by this boy’s self assuredness. “And you’re the expert, I suppose?” You raised one eyebrow.

“Well if you come upstairs with me, I can show you that I am very much an expert.”

You laughed dryly. “As much as I am really not enjoying it here,” you gestured around the room. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to respectfully decline your offer.”

Minho leaned back and examined your face as though he was weighing up if you were worth pursuing. He clicked his tongue. “Suit yourself then.” He said indifferently. “But if you change your mind, you can find me upstairs. But be warned, you might have to wait your turn.”

With that the boy stood up and left you sitting there stunned. God what a dick, you shuddered and pulled your phone out of your handbag. No messages from Felix. You quickly texted him asking him where he’s at with “Operation Bang Chan”. He hated that that’s what you called tonight’s efforts. He thought it was more a “Sincere Confession of Love”.

Love. You snorted to yourself on the couch. Fuck love. You loved a boy once. Once upon a time. Fuck, that was part of your hesitation in even coming here tonight in the first place. Your former best friend whom you secretly loved. What if he was here? What if you ran into him? You couldn’t think of anything worse. Just the mere thought of him conjured a sick feeling in the pit of your stomach. You tried to shake the feeling, but shame crept into your chest. The humiliation and rejection from that day seeping back into your body. The feeling as real, as visceral, as the day it happened. The heartbreak, and heartache, suddenly felt like a fresh wound, even though you’d  had two years to heal. His words, his voice, cold and cruel in your head, like he’d only just spoken them.

“Fuck off slag. I’m sick of having you hang around me anyway. Actually, I never even liked you. I just put up with you because I was bored.”

Tears pricked at your eyes. You needed some space. No. You needed to leave. You slipped your phone away and headed upstairs in search of a bathroom. Your plan was to pee, call Felix to tell him you had to go, then catch an Uber home. Easy. Only three steps. You’ve got this. You continued to mumble positive affirmations to yourself as you trudged up the stairs, avoiding the loitering drunk students along the way. 

🍻 🍸🍹🥂🍾

~ Jisung ~

From the outset, Jisung knew he didn’t fit in. He recognised the majority of the kids from the smalltown school, but he hadn’t the faintest idea what most of their names were. Apart from spending time with Jinnie and Seungmin, Jisung kept to himself. He immersed himself in his music. Listening to, and making, music. It was actually how he met his two best mates - in the arts department. Jinnie was a dancer, and Seunmgin loved to sing.

“Are you doing okay, Ji?” Seungmin checked in. Jisung nodded but didn’t speak. The three oddball boys had positioned themselves in the corner of the living room with their bourbon and cokes, and a bottle of premixed Smirnoff for Seungmin. 

To their right, was a group of rowdy athletic types. If this were an American teen movie they’d be called the jocks. But these guys weren’t bullies like a lot of the jocks were in the movies. These guys were just good at sport, and were actually the type to get along with absolutely everyone. How people could actually make small talk to teachers and adults of the community, Jisung didn’t know. But Changbin, the kid whose party this was, and his best mate Chris, were able to do it with ease. The pair were also the most decent humans of the lot. It was the reason Jisung even considered coming to the party in the first place. He knew they wouldn’t kick him out on the front lawn for being unpopular.

As Jisung continued to take in the scene around him, he realised that there were in fact a lot of different friend groups there. From the unpopular bookworms who studied hard, to extremely popular bookworms that studied hard. To the potheads (which Jisung recognised more than he wanted to), and the kids that wagged school and vaped. There were the Surfies, the Gamers, and a few guys that were obviously in their twenties that hadn’t seemed to move on from high school. Losers. Jisung thought to himself, despite very much feeling like a loser himself.

“What about her?” Seungmin pointed to a group of three girls who looked around wide eyed as though they’d never seen a party in their lives.

‘Or her there?” Jinnie pointed to a pair of girls Jisung recognised from his music class.

As the pair continued to target potential candidates to “pop Jisung’s cherry” as Jinnie so eloquently put it, Jisung continued to scan the room. He was taken aback when his gaze landed on a boy whose body language oozed fuckboi confidence. Minho. Jisung was pretty sure that was his name. Fuck why couldn’t he feel that confident? Jisung studied “this Minho” for a long moment. He was seated obnoxiously comfortably, manspread on a couch, a beer in one hand, his other arm spread out across the back of the seat. He was talking, no, hitting on, a girl sitting beside him. Jisung couldn’t quite see her face because some guy was standing obstructing his view. Then all of a sudden Minho stood up, winked at two other girls, and headed upstairs. The two girls followed him. Damn. Thought Jisung. Two girls?

Jisung’s gaze reverted back to where Minho had been flirting with the girl on the couch, wondering what her reaction was to him just getting up and summoning two chicks to follow him upstairs. To those dark rooms. 

The guy who had been standing in Jisung’s line of vision stepped to the side momentarily and he got a clear view of who Minho had been talking to.

His heart stopped beating, and he felt a surge of heat wash over his face before his blood drained away entirely, leaving him feeling like he’d seen a ghost. You. Then you stood up and headed upstairs too.To where Minho was.

The room felt like it was spinning, and the voices around him became muffled like he was underwater. Oh god he was going to be sick.

“Ji? Ji are you okay buddy?” A voice, Seungmin? asked. But Jisung couldn’t answer.  “You’re all sweaty, man.”

“I think he’s having a panic attack. We should probably get him some fresh air. Hey, Ji. Mate? Let’s go somewhe-“

“I gotta get out here!” Jisung cried. He yanked Seungmin’s hand off his arm and rushed away as fast as possible.

Upstairs.

🍻 🍸🍹🥂🍾

~ Y/N ~

There were several doors on the landing and you had no idea which one was the bathroom. You cracked open a door revealing what seemed to be a bedroom with some dark shapes moving about on the bed and making some grunting sounds. You quickly closed that door, thankful they didn’t seem to notice your intrusion.

You tried another door. But this time the occupants did notice you. “Well, it looks like the kitten has changed her mind.” Minho said with an air of triumph. The two girls that were clinging onto him turned to you with a look of disgust. You rolled your eyes, closed the door and quickly moved on.

Finally, you found the bathroom. You closed your eyes and leaned against the door, relieved you were finally alone. You let out a long exhale, then opened your eyes to take in your surroundings. The bathroom was spectacular, although rather garish with the decor. Everything in the room was huge. The room itself was twice the size of your bedroom, with a large bathtub along the far wall, and a giant window above it. The vanity was long with an expensive looking custom sink with gold tap fittings, and the mirror above was trimmed with a gold frame to match. This Changbin fellow was rather well off, wasn’t he?

You relieved your bladder on what you were certain was the most expensive toilet you’d ever sat on, and watched your reflection as you washed your hands at the sink. You barely recognised yourself tonight. This setting, a school party setting, was not where you fit in, and you could tell just by looking at yourself. You looked so lost and out of place. You wondered for a moment what life might have looked like if you hadn’t moved and changed schools? You wondered if you would have been able to face the boy that broke your heart. Would you have gotten over him? Could you have faced him everyday? If you were honest with yourself you hadn’t gotten over him even now, even when you hadn’t seen him since that day. Even when he hurt you so fucking badly.

You shook the thought away and picked up your phone to see if Felix had returned your message. Flat. The battery was fucking flat. Well that was just fucking great. You groaned in frustration just as the bathroom door opened and slammed closed, causing you to snap your head over to the door to find yourself looking at the back of a boy wearing baggy jeans and an oversized t-shirt and leaning his face against the door.

“What the fuck, dude! Don’t you know how to kno-”

The words died on your tongue when the boy turned around and you were standing face to face with the last person you ever wanted to see again. 

He stared back at you. Pure horror on his face. 

“Jisung?” you felt your heart pounding in your chest.

“Fuck.” Jisung mumbled and quickly turned back around to open the door. He turned the handle, but nothing happened. He tried again. Nothing. He was becoming more and more frantic as he gripped the handle, rattling it and pulling at the door, like he was trying to run for his life. “No. No. No. I have to get out of here. I can’t breathe. I have to get out.” Then the door handle fell off entirely, silencing him momentarily. Jisung bashed his head on the door, then turned and sank to the floor defeated. He scrunched his eyes tight, brought his knees up to his chest and covered his face in his hands. “I have to leave. I can’t be here. You can’t be here.”

You watched your former best friend falling apart on the bathroom floor. So he still had anxiety attacks then? Something pulled at your heart. 

Putting everything you felt about Jisung aside, the anger, the heartache, the humiliation, you moved closer to him, as if on autopilot, sliding down next to him on the floor. “It’s okay Ji.” you soothed. “You’re having a panic attack. We’ve been through these before, remember? And we’ve gotten through it every time.” 

Jisung shook his head. “No. I have to get out of here. Trapped. I’m trapped. Why am I hallucinating? You’re not real. I never hallucinate. Oh god the attacks must be getting worse. I fucked up so bad. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I need to get out of here.” He rambled, rocking his body back and forth. You gently placed a hand on his knee. “Ji. I need you to focus on your breathing okay? Focus on the exhale. That’s it, long exhales. Focus on my hand. Can you feel that?” 

You sat with Jisung through his attack, gently bringing him back to the present moment and walking him through the steps you knew worked for him. Eventually, he removed his hands from his face and peered at you through teary eyes. “I thought I’d never see you again.” he whispered. “Why are you here? Why are you helping me after…after I did what I did?” he averted his eyes.

You sat up straight feeling uncomfortable at the mention of that day. “Well, you needed help.” you sucked in your lip. “And we need to call someone to open the door. Where’s your phone?” 

“Phone?” Jisung echoed vaguely. He patted his pants. “Shit.” he reached inside his pockets. “Fuck!” he groaned and you could visibly see his anxiety bubbling up again. He pulled out his empty hand, not noticing he’d dropped something out of his pocket. You picked up the little square wrapper, only releasing what it was upon closer inspection. A condom.

So he goes to parties and sleeps with girls then?

“Um…here. You dropped this.” you said awkwardly, handing the condom back to Jisung who glared at you as he snatched it back, shoving it deep inside his pocket again.

“Well?” you said. Jisung didn’t respond. “Your phone?” you added expectantly. The sooner you got out of there the better.

“I-I don’t have it.” He said quietly. I must have dropped it. Out there.” he gulped. You banged your head against the door in frustration and closed your eyes.

“Wait. Where’s your phone?” he quizzed defiantly.

“Fucking flat.” you replied not opening your eyes. “Eventually someone will need to use the bathroom, right? Right?” you peered over to Jisung who looked exhausted.

“I think this house has at least four bathrooms. So our chances of escaping might not be as good as you think.” he replied.

“Fuck.” you sighed.

“Yep. Fuck alright.”

🍻 🍸🍹🥂🍾

You spent the best part of the next hour trying to figure out a way to escape. Starting with screaming for help, and bashing on the door, to eventually finding the clean towels and pulling them out of the vanity cupboard with a great escape plan of tying them all together and using it as rope to climb out the window.

“I don’t think it’s going to work.” Jisung said watching you sit in the middle of the bathroom floor attempting to tie two towels together. You scowled at him.

“There aren’t enough towels, and they're too chunky to tie.” he said plainly.

“Well it works in the movies.” you huffed.

“Pretty sure they use bedsheets not towels. Anyway, I need to pee so…” he gestured for you to turn around.

You rolled your eyes and turned away, focusing on your plan.

Jisung flushed the toilet and washed his hands.

“Fine. I give up.” you conceded and tossed the two towels back into the pile and threw yourself on top of it dramatically.

“Look,” he said, pulling the towels out from underneath you. “We might not be able to gallantly climb out the window, but we can make the floor more comfortable.” he started laying the towels out on the floor in front of the bathtub and then sat himself down. “Yep. Much better. I don’t know about you, but I couldn’t feel my arse before.”

Sighing, you crawled over and sat beside Jisung and leaned on the side of the bathtub. He was right, this was a little more comfortable.

“So now what?” you said looking at the ceiling.

“I guess we really will have to wait.” he shrugged.

🍻 🍸🍹🥂🍾

~ Jisung ~

Time passed slowly, and Jisung didn’t know whether he should attempt to make conversation or stay quiet. You probably hated him after the things he said to you. Should he bring it up? See if you were open to talk about what had happened? Should he just make small talk and pretend nothing had ever happened at all? In the end he said nothing. At least that way he couldn’t make things any worse.

“I’m sorry you couldn’t use your-” you nodded towards Jisung’s pocket where the condom packet was safely tucked away.  “I mean, I’m sure you can go one weekend without sex.” You nudged him in the leg teasingly.

“Well, about that.” Jisung cleared his throat. “Well..I’ve never…well.. you know?” He hesitated and looked away. “Slept with anyone.” he said shyly.

“Oh.” You said, sounding surprised by his admission. “Ooh! Right! So let me get this straight, you came to this party tonight planning to lose your virginity?” You cocked an eyebrow.

“Hey!” He whined defensively, making you laugh. He hadn’t heard you laugh in such a long time. Jisung never thought he’d get the chance to hear it again after you were gone. 

“Well, if we do get out of here, there’s a guy across the hall who’d probably be happy to help you out. Apparently he’s an expert.” You said sarcastically. “I’m sure he’d love to give us both our first times.”

Jisung met your gaze. “Wait, you’re a virgin too?” he asked wide eyed.

“Why? Does that surprise you, Jisung?”

“Well, yeah. I was certain a girl like you would-” Jisung’s eyes widened even more. “No! That came out so wrong.” He clapped his hand over his mouth.

“What? A slag like me?” you said coldly.

Jisung grabbed your hands, panicstricken. “No, baby!” he cried. “Oh, god! No. I never thought that! I fucked up so bad that day. I…I was a fucking dickhead. I was mean. Oh fuck, I was so cruel to you.” tears filled his eyes and began to spill down his cheeks.

You looked down at the floor. 

“Baby, baby…please look at me. Say something.” He squeezed your hands in his. You didn’t pull away.

“What did I even do to you to make you say those things? Why do you hate me so much?” you asked quietly, turning to him.

“I…don’t hate you baby! It… I… well I was told you’d been sleeping with some guy. I mean, I know we weren’t actually going out, but when I’d heard you had… slept with someone…and that you were moving schools too… and hadn’t told me that either… I just freaked out. I was hurt. I wanted you to be with me. But you didn’t want me. I thought you weren’t going to tell me anything and you’d be gone. Gone with another guy, and leaving. Behind my back. I was so pathetic.”

You sat in silence taking in what Jisung had just shared. 

“You really thought I’d do that to you?” you said eventually. “Jisung! Why didn’t you just talk to me? Why believe what some bitch told you?” You started to cry too.

“I know I shouldn’t have believed her. She showed me text messages and everything. Texts you’d allegedly sent.” He shook his head. “And then I found out it was all a lie. They’d fucking made that shit up. And you’d gone. Then I was angry that you didn’t confront me, pull me up on it. That you just let me say all those horrible things to you and you said nothing. You didn’t even try to defend yourself. That’s when I had the biggest panic attack of my life. When I realised how bad I fucked things up.” 

Jisung sobbed as he thought back to when he told you he hated you. That you were a nuisance to him. He hadn’t even meant any of it. Not really. He didn’t think anyone would ever really know how much it was killing him to speak those words. How it felt like he was being stabbed in the heart when your face fell. He even knew the exact moment the words hit you the hardest. The way your eyes blinked back tears. Jisung winced at the memory. He’d tried to tell himself that it was for the best. That it was the easiest way to break the friendship off. That you deserved it, even. But you didn’t deserve it. Any of it. You hadn’t done anything at all. It was his fault.

“Why didn’t you come find me? Apologise? Make things right?” You croaked.

“I was sure you’d have moved on, and I believed you were better off without me.” He hung his head.

“Ji. You hurt me so much. You know that right?” 

He looked at you and nodded solemnly. “I know.”

“Like, no one has ever hurt me like you did. You made me feel worthless.”

“I’d do anything to take it back. To make it right.” Jisung whispered. He looked at you with regret in his eyes.

“But,” you looked directly at him. “At least I now know the reason you behaved the way you did. But fucking hell man, you went about it in the worst way possible. Look, I’m not forgiving you for behaving like that. Not by a long shot. But,” you sobbed loudly. “But I missed my best friend.” You began to cry harder, losing all self control and letting the tears stream down your cheeks. “I missed you, and I didn’t want you to hate me like you did. You hated me and I didn’t know why?” 

Jisung pulled you close to his chest and rested his chin on the top of your head as you cried against his chest. He hated himself for how he’d made you feel. He was responsible for this. He was responsible for fucking up your friendship. He was in love with you and he’d pushed you away. He wanted to look after you and take care of you, but he’d told you he didn’t want you around. He wanted to be the one who made you smile, not make you cry.

His life hadn’t been the same after you’d left. No one was there to share his thoughts with, or stay up late talking about random shit, or share his music with. There was no one there who could help him through his anxiety the way you could. No one laughed at his silly jokes the way you did. No one made him feel like he could be his awkward, quirky self except you.

But somehow fate had brought you back together and he was determined to fix this.

🍻 🍸🍹🥂🍾

~ Y/N ~

You let yourself relax into Jisung’s embrace and cried your eyes out. You felt safe in his arms despite him being the reason you were hurting. But he was hurting too. Both when he thought you’d betrayed him, and even now. He was hurting now and you couldn’t hate him. You kind of understood his perspective. You could definitely see that he knew how he’d fucked up.

You don’t know how long you sat there like that, but eventually you lifted your head and looked at Jisung. “Am I all red and puffy?” You smiled despite the heaviness in your chest.

Jisung half smiled. “Yeah.” He said softly. “What about me?”

You reached up to wipe Jisung’s tear streaked cheek and took in his features. You really looked at him. He was still your Jisung. His cheeks weren’t as chubby, his jaw a little more coarse where he shaved. “You’ve grown up.” You whispered and your eyes locked. Your heart sped up. The way he was looking at you, it was different to the way he’d looked at you previously. The tension was palpable.

Jisung cleared his throat and broke eye contact. “Well I’m an adult now.” He joked like he was trying to change the energy of the moment. “I can vote now.” He added proudly. 

“Hmm lucky us, huh? Allowed to vote.” You followed his lead. “And we can drink? And get into nightclubs and pubs.”

“I’d rather just have a quiet movie night than do all that going out.” He said thoughtfully. “I’d prefer the quiet life I think.”

You leaned away from him and looked at him quizzically. “But what about your music? Aren’t you wanting to play in some of those places?”

“Depends. Will you come watch me if I do?” He asked.

You nodded. “I miss your music.”

“Well I’ve written a lot of songs in the last couple of years. Mostly angsty stuff.” He blushed.

“I’d love to hear everything if you ever wanna show me.” You leaned back against the tub. “Well here’s to adult life, hey.” you sighed.

“That’s if we ever actually get out of here. We might survive a couple of days in here, but the outlook doesn’t look good.” Jisung laughed dryly. “But at least we have a toilet.” 

“And water to drink and wash ourselves with. I like the look of this bath.” You glanced over your shoulder.

“We might starve to death, but we can enjoy bubble baths in the meantime.” He joked.

“I’m pretty sure I saw some organic, all natural sugar scrub when I was searching the cupboards. Maybe it’s edible?” you suggested.

You both laughed, finally feeling more at ease with each other. It felt familiar. It felt nice.

“I can see the news headline: Two virgin teenagers starve to death in a luxurious bathroom after being trapped for three weeks.” You announced in your best newsreader’s voice.

“God, that’s sad.” Jisung shook his head. “Hey? Do you remember that pact we made?” he turned to you.

Your laugh faded. “Oh.” You cast your mind back. “Oh my goodness. Yes! I remember.” You covered your mouth to hide your smile. “If either of us hadn’t had sex by sex by eighteen-“

“We’d have sex with each other.” He gave a shit eating grin. You smirked at him and shook your head in disbelief. “Jisung!” You punched him playfully in the arm and leaned into his body. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and squeezed your arm affectionately. This felt so natural, so easy. You laid your hand across his waist, still so tiny, and played with the fabric of his shirt. “Ji? Did you mean what you said earlier? That you wanted to be with me. Like more than just best friends?” You waited silently for him to answer.

“Yeah. I always wanted to be more than just your best friend.” He said in a quiet voice.

You slowly lifted your chin up to look at him. He gazed down at you with the softest eyes. Slowly, he tilted his face down towards yours and brushed your lips with his. It was electric despite it being the briefest of contact. He pulled away just an inch, hesitating to continue. Waiting for you to give him a signal to either keep going or to stop. Your eyes flicked up from his lips to meet his eyes momentarily before wrapping his shirt in your fist and pulling him back into another kiss. An unexpected whimper got caught in your throat as Jisung’s lips moved against your own. Slow but firm. His kiss felt hopeful, like a promise.

“I should have come and found you, begged for your forgiveness.” he said breathily between kisses. “I’m sorry baby, I really am.”

“Shh. Kiss me more.. It feels so right.” you sighed and pulled him back in.

🍻 🍸🍹🥂🍾

~ Jisung ~

It did feel right. Kissing you. Jisung wanted to show you how much you meant to him. How sorry he was. How much he wanted to make it up to you. Your lips tasted like heaven, and your body so soft and warm in his arms. You were real and this was really happening.

He cupped your jaw, initiating a deeper kiss and you opened your mouth in response. The moan that slipped from you as he dipped his tongue in to find yours went straight to his cock. You pressed your body against his, panting as your tongues danced, like you were trying to crawl inside him. He could hardly control himself when he felt your hand slip under his shirt and caress his bare skin.

Jisung pulled away abruptly, eliciting a wine from you in protest. You looked drunk and delirious with flushed cheeks and soft, unfocused eyes. You looked like perfection.

“Ji, I want you to be my first.” you declared with a hopeful expression.

Jisung blinked thinking he misheard.

“W-what?” he stuttered.

“I want you to be my first.” you repeated, not breaking eye contact.

Jisung swallowed and studied your face trying to make sure you knew the weight of what you were saying. “Do you want me to be your first too?” you asked in a small voice.

“I want you to be my first and my forever.” he whispered before he could stop himself. Shit.

“There’s my songwriter.” you smiled, stroking his cheek. Then your hand went to rest on his pocket where the condom resided. 

“What? Here? Now? On the bathroom floor at a party?”

You nodded.

“Baby, this isn’t how I envisioned it. I mean, not that I have ever imagined it. Okay, I have imagined it. But…it’s not very romantic.” he looked at you desperately, hoping you’d come to your senses, because if you didn’t he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop himself.

“Jisung, please.” you purred. Fuck, it was the sexiest thing he’d ever heard.

“How can you want me when I hurt you like I did?” he leaned his forehead on yours.

“Let’s forget that right now. I know you’re sorry. I really do. And I know that it wasn’t really you. Let’s focus on moving forward.”  You slid both hands up underneath his shirt making him shiver. His mind automatically imagined what it’d feel like if you wrapped a hand around his dick.

“Okay.” he said finally. “But you have to tell me to stop if you change your mind at any time.”

“Okay.” you whispered.

If this was going to happen, on the floor of a bathroom at a damn house party, then Jisung wanted to at least make it as comfortable for you as possible. He rearranged the towels to provide as much cushioning as possible, and he opened the blinds and turned off the light to allow natural moonlight to fill the room.

Then he was laying you down gently on the floor. “Are you going to undress me now?” you asked boldly.

Jisung felt so nervous as he fumbled at your clothes, peeling off your shirt and jeans, leaving you just in your underwear. In turn, you pulled his shirt off and ran your hands up his back while you pulled him down into a kiss. He let his hands explore your bare skin, his desire, his need, to be closer to you growing stronger by the moment. He was certain you could feel his erection against your leg. You pulled him further on top of you, opening your legs and inviting him to nestle his hips between them. You’d definitely be able to feel his erection now. You ground your core up against him, making him moan and grind back in response.

“Fuck, baby.” he mumbled into your neck. “Feels s’good.” he peeled himself off you to kneel between your legs, taking in the sight of you while he rubbed circles on your hips. Then bravely he brought his thumb to graze over your centre over the top of your panties. You pulled in a sharp breath and Jisung couldn’t help but smirk.

“Ji, please! Take off your pants…I want you now!” you plead. Jisung closed his eyes for a moment in an attempt to control his nerves. This was actually happening. He was about to have sex, and with the girl he’d dreamed of sharing this moment with.

“Please.” you practically begged and your hand slipped down beneath the front of your panties and rubbed at your clit.

Jisung sprung into action. He removed his jeans and boxers, and then peeled your panties off, revealing how your fingers expertly slid through your wetness. “Fuck!” he groaned, and quickly rolled the condom on. 

“Jisung!” you gasped. “You have such a pretty penis.”

“Yeah?” he teased as he positioned himself above you again. “Are you sure you wanna do this?” he asked gently.                

“I’m sure, Jisung.” you locked eyes with his.

Jisung lined his cock up with your entrance and gently pushed inside an inch, feeling your pussy stretch around his tip. He carefully pushed in a little further, your warmth inviting him in and enveloping him. “Is this okay? Am I going too fast?” he inquired.

“Jisung. I may be a virgin but I own a dildo. Please, please I need you in me.” you whimpered.

Jisung’s cock pulsated at the image of you fucking yourself with a dildo, imagining what you’d look like showing him exactly how you did it.         

“Oh so you’ve been stretched out before huh? Well then.” he pushed himself in all the way and paused.

“Mmm hmm. But it’s not as thick as you. You…you’re making me feel so…so full…so stretched. Fuck, you feel so good. So perfect for me…please…can you move now?”

Jisung reached down and gripped onto your thigh, lifting it and pushing it a little more to the side. He rested himself on his forearm and took you in a deep kiss. At the same time he pulled his cock out halfway and sank back in. You both breathed out shakily. This felt too good. He started with a slow rhythm, gradually building up the pace, careful not to thrust too hard. You were so wet, and so fucking tight, It took all his self control not to start fucking you with abandon. But he didn’t want to hurt you. He wanted to give you whatever you needed right now and let you set the pace. It was his absolute downfall when you spoke next.

“Fuck me harder, Ji.” you whimpered.

🍻 🍸🍹🥂🍾

~ Y/N ~

Jisung felt heavenly inside you, but you needed more. You needed to really feel him, to feel how much he needed you, to make you his.

Jisung hesitated. “You sure, baby? I might hurt you?”

“Come on pleeeasse… I wanna be yours.”          

Jisung suddenly snapped his hips making you cry out in pure pleasure. “Yes, like that. Don’t stop.”

“I’m not going to last, baby. You feel too…too…fuck.” he panted. 

Jisung began to perspire, beads of sweat on his brow, his hair damp. Sound of your skin slapping together filled the room and you were grateful for the loud music downstairs.

“I’m so close.” he whispered. 

‘It’s okay, Ji. I’m close too. Rub my clit while you fuck me. I promise you’ll like what happens when you do.”

Jisung slipped his thumb in between your bodies. “Right here, baby.” you slipped your hand over his, adjusting the position of his thumb so that he could feel your clitoris. “Rub it in circles. Like this.” you guided him for a few moments before letting him take over.

It was enough to take you to the precipice. “I gonna cum, Ji, fuck me through it.” you cried as your back arched off the floor. His thrusts were deep, hard and controlled and that’s when you felt it. The coil in your abdomen snapping and you were being flung off the cliff.

“Oh god…fuuuuckk! You’re squeezing me so tight… you’re…” he grunted.

“Yes, I'm cumming. Cum with me Ji!” you cried out.

You felt Jisung’s hips falter, and an expression of pained pleasure washed over his features as he filled the condom.

He collapsed on top of you and you held him tight, while you both came down from your highs.

“Oh my god. That was incredible. I could feel you cum.” he lifted his head and looked at you in disbelief.

“It was pretty perfect.” you agreed.

🍻 🍸🍹🥂🍾

~ Jisung ~

After you had both cleaned up, which was easy considering you were in a bathroom, you found yourselves fully dressed and sitting back on the floor in front of the bath.

"You know, we could have run a bath and had sex in that.” you suggested as an afterthought.

“Baby,” Jisung said in a serious tone.  “Do you really want to put the past behind us? Start fresh? You’ll really have me after…?”

You took his hand in yours. “Yes, yes I do. But you have to promise to talk to me before ever accusing me of anything. Okay?”

He nodded. ‘Yes of course.”

He leaned in and kissed you, before a banging at the door startled you both and broke Jisung from the bubble you were in. “Ji? Ji? Are you in there, mate?” Seungmin called from the otherside of the door.

“So, should we let them save us, or stay like this just a little bit longer?” he whispered, secretly hoping you actually wanted to stay like this forever.

The end.

🍻 🍸🍹🥂🍾

Thank you for reading my story. I love sharing my ideas with you. If you know any Han Jisung fanfic fans please feel free to reblog and tag them 🥰🥰🥰

@channieandhisgoonsquad @itshannjisung @noellllslut @kangnina @queenmea604 @queen-in-the-shadows @weareapackofstrays

[jamneuromain]

Hii!!! I just read A Whiff of Blood and it was amazing!!! Omg its been a while since I read Lloyd being caring without having another motive. This is pure goodness 😍

I was wondering if there could be a scene where y/n asks to leave work early bc she has a date. Lloyd says fine but ends up at the same restaurant as her with Danny to spy🤣 and y/n saw them and this will be the first time she yells at her boss. how would the boss react? falling for her even more or trying to save his dignity and ego 😎

Hi babe! So sorry that this one-shot is taking forever to come out (and I've made a little adjustment to it :3 hope you don't mind

A Rush of Blood

Lloyd Hansen x You

Warning: Mob AU, Mob!Lloyd, Secretary!Reader, Lloyd is being a (surprisingly) softie(?

Summary: You asked whether you could leave early for a date, while Lloyd decided not to keep his feelings bottled up any more.

W/C: ~4.5k

A/N: This is the final sequel to A Whiff of Blood, Thank you for all your love for Mob!Lloyd<333

Lloyd can’t help but look at your empty seat for the fifth time in a row. The boring-ass meeting for the quarterly revenue of his properties drags on, yet you haven’t returned for a while now.

Lloyd checks his watch.

It’s been fucking two minutes and forty-two seconds since you excused yourself with your phone buzzing in hand.

The ticking watch gets him more annoyed and impatient by the second. Two minutes and forty-four seconds, two minutes and forty-five seconds, two minutes and forty-six - where the heck are you?

You pick up the call as soon as you reach your desk, “Allie?”

“Hey hon. Bad news, I’m stuck at the airport. There has been a huge blizzard here in Alaska and all flights are banned from taking off.” Allie remains her chirpy sound, but a hit of restraint peeks from her words.

Allie has been your friend since high school. You’ve bonded over the mutual love of boy bands during your teen years. Though you have moved on from your love of pop singers/bands, Allie maintains her enthusiasm for K-pop idols.

“I’m in the middle of a conference, so, sorry about making this short,” you sigh, “I assume they can’t get any plane in or out for today?”

You scheduled for fine dining with Allie at one of Lloyd’s restaurants later this evening. At this rate, you are no longer surprised if he owns the Hollywood landmark too.

“Not in this damn weather, no.” She curses under her breath, “Not for three days as far as I’m aware.”

“Jesus.” You rub your temple as it is throbbing, “Sorry about the weather. I’ll reschedule the dinner.”

“No… don’t be.” Her hesitation on the phone sounds slightly suspicious.

“Allie?” You raise your voice dangerously, “What did you do?”

“Don’t be mad,” she holds a pregnant pause, “I’ve got this really cute boy – he’s a year behind us, by the way – and he’s working now in LA, Scott McCall – that’s double C in McCall, and I planned to introduce you two during dinner.”

“The fu- Allie!” You whisper-yell in the phone, “You’re gonna dump me and let me have dinner with a completely random person?”

Allie squeezes a few dry laughs over the speaker, “Eh- Sorry?”

“You better pray there’s no plane in three days because I’m going to crawl through the phone lines and strangle you if I have the chance.” You sputter a curse, “And burn all your K-pop albums.”

She gasps, “NOT THE ALBUMS!”

Typical Allie.

“Seriously though, you had the chance of meeting him two months ago... at an exhibition. The gallery downtown near the bakery? The Retro-modern Exhibition? The one you left early? It took him a lot of strength to get to me and then to you, so … just try, okay? If it doesn’t work out, it’s fine.” Allie sounds unlike her usual self, “If it works out … I guess you’d have a great story to tell your kids.” She can’t help but joke at the end.

“Yeah yeah, ha-ha, very funny.” With a sigh, you agree to her match-making plan, “Fine. But I really have to go back to work now, ‘kay?” You roll your eyes instinctively when the other end of the phone passes a squeaky “yes” to your ears, “I’ll be there on time. Dinner, six thirty, he’d better not be late.”

“You’re my life-saver. Mwah! Love ya’ bye!” After blowing a kiss via mid-air, Allie hangs up the phone as if fearing you will regret your decision in less than a second.

You end the call at the same moment the door to the conference room swings open, and out came a few executives for his real estate.

“Sorry, Mr. Hansen,” you put your phone into your pocket, straightening your shirt because you have been leaning on your desk. You know how much Lloyd hates disturbance, and creases on a shirt.

Lloyd purses his lips with a frown, an expression he wears often to indicate he’s not happy.

“If it’s okay for you, Mr. Hansen, I’d like to leave early today.” You request rather boldly.

For three years of your work as a secretary, the only other time you left early was a medical emergency of your mother. She fell down the stairs, hit her head, and had a broken femur. Though it wasn’t much of a big deal when she was transferred to a ward later, it scared the hell out of you to take the call from the local hospital, telling you your mother was sent to the ER in an ambulance.

Lloyd was generous enough to grant you a week of leave, but you got back on Day 5 after making sure your mother was well and taken care of.

“Is your family alright?” He asks, clearly still remembering the last time when you got kidnapped on the street, for which he had to assign Claire – a bright young lady, whom you’ve grown fond of over these past weeks – to act as your bodyguard and occasionally your assistant. Under Lloyd’s orders, she went to oversee the security cam installation at your apartment door.

“They are fine.” You suppose it’s better to tell him the truth regarding your leave, rather than having him meet you in his restaurant a few hours later, “I uh… have a date tonight.”

“A date?” He raises his eyebrows, repeating syllable by syllable, “A date, you say?”

“Yes, a date.” It feels like a betrayal all of a sudden, a betrayal of your work ethic. Your throat tightens, “Ahem, I’ll be leaving at five, if that’s alright with you, Mr. Hansen.”

Lloyd studies you for a moment.

“Okay.” He shrugs, sounding carelessly, “If you finish the work for today.”

You are pretty sure that there’s no more itinerary for either Hansen or you after this meeting, but you still play your role as a dutiful secretary and ask, “Anything else you would like me to do?”

“Call James and tell him to pick up the loan I gave out to the Dawson scum, five mil’ in cash or non-bearer bonds. If Dawson returns even one dime short, I want his arm broken. And deliver the drycleaning to my place by five tonight. Tell my butler, while you’re at it, he can hold off the repair down at the basement, this can wait till January. And,” he pauses, “I want you to tell Dani, head to her place personally, and tell her that I’m cancelling the Cuban appointment.”

“Yes, Mr. Hansen.” You pick up the landline straight away, ready to dial James’ number.

“You are not taking any notes whatsoever.” Lloyd narrows his eyes, “What are the tasks I just gave you?”

Lloyd seems extra grumpy today, plus you are not a note-taker anyway. You cover the speaker with your palm, though puzzled as to why he’s moody all of a sudden, but comply with his demands, “Call James, collect the debt from Dawson; get the drycleaning to your house by five, and tell your butler Marlin not to rush on the basement repair; and lastly, tell Dani you’re cancelling the Cuban appointment.” And you have no clue what this “Cuban” appointment is. Darn, Lloyd does keep a whole lot of secrets from you, “Anything else, Mr. Hansen?”

Fuck.

He sounds like fucking Cinderella’s stepmom dumping beans into the fireplace. Since when did he get off on ordering you around doing meaningless chores? He could perfectly do them himself, not to mention some of the biddings he has just told you were unnecessary – the basement repair? It was a damn doorknob getting stuck, not a pipeline that leaks like a faucet.

“Claire’s not here, take Avik with you.” He grumbles, returning to his office and slamming the door shut.

Avik is a silent, tanned man who often acts as Lloyd’s muscle. He emerges from thin air – or probably from some corner, standing rigidly behind you like a statue.

“Hey Avik, mind if I drive?” You put a warm smile on your face, swinging the car key on your finger.

Avik merely nods, gesturing that he’ll walk in front of you.

After picking up Lloyd’s drycleaning and telling Marlin the exact words from Lloyd's mouth, you head off to your next assignment.

Dani.

Dani is a woman approximately your age, speaks fluent Spanish, English, and Italian, probably a couple of other languages that you couldn’t understand too, and rumored to be Lloyd’s ex.

She is a charming lady living in a mansion away from the glamourous nightlife of LA, but not shy of parties. In fact, you’ve accompanied Lloyd to a few that she hosts, and if you ever need a party planner, she would be your No. 1 choice – if you can afford it.

You tap on the steering wheel somewhat anxiously, checking your watch. It’s five to six, and Dani’s residence is halfway across the city, and you have yet to finish the job that Lloyd told you to.

It feels like double standards when you explicitly told Allie that your date cannot be late.

Dani’s lovely butler, Mrs. Santos invited you in, leading you to the guest room.

“To what do I own this honor of having Lloyd’s personal assistant arriving at my place?” Dani flips her hair and giggles.

“Lloyd has sent me to tell you that,” you still remember the strange code phrase word by word, “He’s cancelling the Cuban appointment.”

Dani carefully studies you for a moment, before bursting out laughter, “He… He said that? The Cuban appointment?”

Darn, even when she’s laughing, she’s charming as always.

“Yes.” You answer her question, “If there’s no message you want me to forward to him, I’ll be out of your hair.”

Dani hangs a mysterious smile on the corner of her lips, her honey-toned skin practically gleaming as she speaks, “None. But if you don’t mind me asking, do you have any plans for tonight? I want to borrow you for one of my parties – you know,” she shrugs, “connections and all that.”

Dani’s parties are always filled with delightful cocktails and exquisite people she knows from all over the world. It’s a perfect chance to refresh your connections with all sorts of people – thieves, CEOs, fences, politicians - part of the reason why she asked you to stay.

Yet, you were already booked for tonight.

“Sorry,” you politely rejected, “I’d love to, but I have a date tonight.”

“Well, you-” Dani points at you with her perfectly manicured finger, sounding cheerful, “are welcome at my place, anytime. You can bring your date here even, if you need a place to chill.”

“Thank you, Dani.” You respond, “Have fun at your party.”

Dani cocks her head to the side. The bright flashy diamond earrings peek from under her hair, swaying as if they were about to fall. She hums thoughtfully before wishing you a pleasant evening.

As soon as you step out of her estate, Dani picks up her phone and dials Lloyd’s number, “I recall a certain someone claims that he needs absolutely no help landing a girl,” She twirls her hair around her fingertips, chuckling, “the Cuban appointment, Lloyd? Wow, you must be really desperate. Now, you want me to help you sabotage her date? That I can do...”

With Lady Luck by your side, you’ve successfully reached the restaurant five minutes early with someone already at your table, while Avik sits at a table on the other side of the aisle, keeping an eye on you.

“You must be Scott.” You pull your chair to sit, trying your best to ignore the bulk of muscles on your righthand-side, watching as the young man across the table hastily puts down his water glass and stands abruptly with his face flushed.

“H… Hi.” He can barely stop the grin on his face, “It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

Allie is right. He is cute.

Scott scratches the back of his head, plopping down on his seat, asking hesitantly, “If this is not too intrusive, how did you get a reservation? My friend has been dying to try this place for a week and the nearest spot available is three months later.”

“My boss is a close friend of the restaurant manager.” Lloyd practically runs this place. The manager gets scared shitless every time he needs to deliver the quarterly books to Lloyd and he asks you to do it in his place. Hence, he’s greatly in your debt. But you are not going to tell Scott you work for the largest gang in the city, so you feign your interest and ask, “What about you? Allie didn’t tell me what you do for a living.”

His face goes flushed pink again, “I uh… I work as an assistant curator,” he adds, “but I paint.”

“Oh really? That sounds fun. What do you paint?”

Scott chats on and on about his love for contemporary art and various ways of making a beautiful moment permanent when you notice Avik stands up and leaves.

“… sorry,” you apologize to Scott, for you have missed the question he asks, having paid too much attention to the bodyguard Avik who doesn’t seem like returning, “what was that again?”

Scott shuts his mouth momentarily before managing a small smile, “I was just thinking that we should get the waiter. Is there anything you like on the menu?”

The food was divine, and the wine was savory too. Though the waiters seemed a little distracted – you guessed it was probably their boss telling them to stay away from your table for you to enjoy your date. After exchanging pleasant conversations, you know it’s time to end this lovely date.

Before getting the check and leaving, you excuse yourself to freshen up.

Scott nods with his curls bouncing.

Scott is nice.

He is smart, funny, and cute with his untamed curls.

You put on a thin layer of lipstick. Looking into the mirror, the polite smile breaks away when you watch your reflection.

Scott is a decent guy. Why don’t you like him?

A vague outline rises in your head, before evaporating.

Stop it. You tell yourself. Scott is a nice guy. You should enjoy this date.

Only when your figure disappears behind a few tables, did someone sit on your spot.

“Evening.” A moustache man traces his finger on the cup from which you drank, crossing his legs, “Scotty, right?”

Scott clenches his hand on the arm of his chair, but Avik appears quietly behind him, grabbing his shoulders to have him sit down. A hard piece of metal is pressed to the back of his head. It doesn’t take much common sense to understand that Avik has a gun pointing at him.

“Don’t get all flustered,” Lloyd pours some wine into both glasses, “I’m just here to… be nice.” A wicked grin creeps up his lips as Lloyd continues, “The woman who you’re dating tonight?”

Scott gulps, squeezing a “yeah” out of his teeth.

“That’s my girl.” Lloyd dead-pans, massaging the light smudge of your lipstick on the glass, “So, if you have any wrong idea, or any thoughts about her…” Lloyd has a cold gleam in his eyes, shakes his head and tuts, “Don’t.”

Poor Scott has his face drained of colors. His lips quivering, “I-I’m not- I don’t want to be part of this…”

“Good.” Lloyd smirks. Drinking from your glass, he licks his lips to savour the sweet honey taste of your lipstick, before giving his final order, “Now be a good boy, say your ‘nighty night’s, and get the fuck out of my turf.”

“Boss.” Avik’s eyes dart to the lavatory, signalling that you are approaching this table.

“Aaaand that’s my cue.” Lloyd stands up from the chair, looking content, “Keep this little interaction between us, will ya’?” He pouts, “I’d hate if she gets upset.”

By the time you reach this table, Scott sweats in buckets like he has just been to a sauna.

“Is everything alright?” You can’t help but ask.

“Yeah… yeah.” Scott could barely mask his trembling voice, or keep his eye contact, “I’m … feeling uncomfortable… right now.”

“Is it the food? Do you need to go to the bathroom?”

“No… I mean, I think so. The asparagus was raw.” Scott wipes the sweat off his pale face, “It’s been lovely, but …”

Your eyes dart to the table where Avik was sitting. Nope, he isn’t there. For a second you thought that Avik might have terrorized Scott into backing out. Such a stupid idea, why would Avik do that? You throw this thought to the back of your head, before suggesting if Scott needs a lift home, or to the hospital.

Scott nearly jumps from his spot upon hearing the offer, which confuses you as he avoids speaking or looking at you, as if you were a plague.

He takes his belongings, bids you good night before sprinting out of the restaurant.

What the fuck have you done???

You trouble yourself with the question when Avik returns to your side without a single sound, “Avik, I was wondering where you’ve been.”

“The backroom where I can observe the surveillance footage, ma’am.” His voice booms, “Shall I drive you home?”

“Yes, I suppose.” You sigh.

Avik gestures for you to walk, but you stop in your tracks.

“Avik?”

“Yes, Ma’am?”

“Did you have any food yet?”

You did not see him ordering anything when he was sitting across the aisle, nor do you believe that he’d risk losing his job over some half-cooked asparagus.

“… No Ma’am.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. The exhaustion of trying to satisfy Lloyd’s tasks and doubting whether he’s being paranoid again takes over you for so long, you seem to lose a little bit of human emotions – neglecting dutiful Avik, as a result.

“Sorry about that, Avik.” You apologize, feeling slightly better that you’ve come to your senses after a long day, “I’ll have them prepare something vegan for takeaway.”

“…thank you, Ma’am.”

Grabbing a waiter passing by, you tell him about your request, before resting on your chair.

Out of sheer boredom, you tap on your glass, scraping the lipstick smudge off the crystal-clear surface with a used napkin.

Avik coughs as if he has just choked on his own spit.

“Everything alright, Avik?”

It seems like you’ve said this for the second time tonight.

“Yes. Ahem. Yes, all is well.” Avik clears his throat uncomfortably.

“Because you can totally have tonight off. I’m more than capable of driving home myself.” You offer sweetly, expecting him to take the suggestion and leave you here.

“Thank you, Ma’am.” Avik replies rigidly, his shirt collar tightening around his tanned skin as he speaks, “Thank you, but your safety is my priority.”

You should have known better than to negotiate with Lloyd’s muscle. They follow his orders like workers around a queen bee. Pursing your lips together, you decide not to spend time bargaining with Avik, but scroll on social media to distract yourself.

Avik lets out a long, slow exhale when you are focusing on your phone. He’s great at bodyguarding, but terrible at being a double agent.

The takeaway package arrives shortly – or it could be you are too tied up in the TikTok drama to notice time slipping away from the tip of your fingers. Avik takes the wheel while you sit in the back, trying hard not to think about the sudden change in Scott’s attitude.

It’s not like you don’t enjoy Scott’s company. You do. But Scott’s dashing out of the restaurant leaves a certain impression that you don’t think you’d forget anytime soon. Maybe the food was raw. Or burned. Or he had some pills. Still, it doesn’t explain why he ran out of the place like a bloodhound was chasing him.

Or is there something wrong with you? Something he’d grow repulsive of?

“Stop the car, please.” The thoughts in your head are preventing you from breathing. With Avik’s puzzled frown in the rearview mirror, you shrug, “You can go park the car. I want to have a little walk and some fresh air.”

After what must be an internal debate in Avik’s silence, he slowly stops at the curb, agreeing for you to have your fresh air.

The street is silent, not a living soul in sight. You close your eyes and breathe in the fresh air.

Oh well, maybe the air is not so fresh after all, with the smell of gasoline and dust and … smoke?

You turn around.

Lloyd’s Rolls-Royce follows you like a toddler in small steps, with a hand outstretched from the window that flicks his cigarette stub to the curb.

“Mr. Hansen?” You could’ve been dreaming. Why would Lloyd’s car follow you? Why – “What are you doing here?”

Lloyd steps out of the vehicle, popping a peppermint into his mouth. Crushing the candy with his jaw, he mumbles, “Just having a late-night stroll.”

A ridiculous idea comes into mind, and you ask in disbelief: “Are you following me?”

“No.” Lloyd stares at you straight into your eyes, but you’ve seen him lie better, “This is my turf. And you can’t ban me from patrolling my own territory.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes.

Sure. Patrolling. Very convincing. He just happened to stumble in front of your apartment building among hundreds of thousands of streets.

“Of course.” Maybe it’s the wine, because for crying out loud you would be tongue-tied if you were to say this at work, but the sarcasm drips out of your tone like water out of a broken faucet, because you are not in the mood. At all. “Good night, Mr. Hansen.”

“I had a great night.” Since he counts the scurrying of one horny young man as a win, Lloyd casually drops, “Can’t say the same about you.”

What the heck is wrong with him?

Now it’s definitely the wine that does the talking, as you poke him square in the chest with your index finger, your voice littered with fury, “It’s after-hours, and you don’t own my after-hours, in case you don’t have a watch, okay?”

Lloyd offers his characteristic lop-sided smile, “What - you’re gonna buy me one?”

“No?!” You huff out in disbelief. Has he taken hallucinating drugs? Why on earth is he acting funny? “This is not - look, Mr. Hansen-”

Lloyd steps closer. You get that whiff of smoke from his body, and the musky cologne that he occasionally uses in rare circumstances, and your words somehow get stuck in your throat.

“Lloyd.” He pronounces his name, loud and clear, “C’mon sunshine, lllllloyd.”

Lloyd. The name rolls to the tip of your tongue. It feels natural and soft, unlike Lloyd Hansen himself. But the syllable drives your heartbeat wild. He is your boss. You are obligated to call him Mr. Hansen.

Well, maybe not obligated. But you would feel more comfortable calling him Mr. Hansen. The name Lloyd sounds like an over-step of your work relationship.

Your work. Your beloved secretary job. Which is fine. Which you enjoy, as you handle his affairs with some effort. But the name. He’s asking you to call him Lloyd and that sounds more intimate than what you should be calling your boss.

“I- ” You are at a loss of words. What does he want? Does he want you to be his mistress? Which is ridiculous, because you don’t want to be the type of canary living in a birdcage and sing for him whenever he pleases. More importantly, he cannot be having thoughts about you – or does he want this to be a one-night thing where he could pull up his pants and comment on how long since he had a good fuck?

-stop it. It’s an insane thought. He’s not interested. So are you.

You accidentally look at his eyes, and you recognize the burning desire rooting deep down. It scorches you instantly as your eyes meet, before you lower your head to avoid the demanding gaze.

“You’re my boss…” You mutter weakly, knowing well that this stupid excuse does not prevent you from enjoying (or feeling safe at) Lloyd’s presence – most of the time, when he’s not bloody or throwing punches – or from the plain fact that maybe, just maybe that you feel a little different towards him, and that for the briefest of moments, you wished that he was sitting across the dinner table tonight, taking you out on a date.

Lloyd’s expression goes still for a second.

You can’t tell whether he’s mad or upset.

He sighs, taking a step towards you to close the space between you two, before framing your face in his hands and whispering in frustration, “God, you’re so dumb.”

His lips are soft, contrary to his mean words. They land on you with a bitter taste of burned tobacco, as his tongue swipes the seam of your lips, forcing an embarrassing mewl out of you.

It felt like Lloyd and his roughness. It felt like an iceberg breaking into chucks, whales lifting their head to breathe and the dam that withholds feelings inside your head cracks. It felt … right.

He slowly breaks away the kiss, sighing again, right next to your lips, his moustache making your cheek itch.

“Am I about to get a kick in the balls?” He asks softly, nose gently rubbing on yours.

“No…no.” Not that you don’t want to, because how dares he! Following you and kissing you like that! But because your head turning into a warm mush.

“Good.” He nibbles on your lips, you can feel his lips curving into a smile, “ ’cause I kinda like them.”

“Hmm?”

“Never mind.” He lands another kiss on you before pulling away. The bad-boy grin visible on his face.

You feel like you need to say something. Anything. So, you open your mouth and: “Do you want … a cup of coffee at my place?”

Lloyd cocks his eyebrows in surprise, but there’s no way he’d let slip of this chance, “Sure, why not.”

The mush in your brain refuses to leave. Your body acts on auto-pilot, leading you away from him.

You don’t even notice that he’s not following you this time, until he calls your name out of the blue, with a hint of amusement in his tone.

“Yes, Mr. Hansen?”

Lloyd decides to let slip of your poor choice of words this time, simply pointing his thumb in the other direction: “Your home is this way.”

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[candycandy00]

Can you do a Suguru and Satoru fic with them being horny bullies to a shy curvaceous nerdy girl? I love the bully stories!

Hope you like it!

Smut. 18+. Rape/Noncon. Fem Reader. College AU. Bullying. First time sex. Oral sex. Coercion. Gojo and Geto are cruel scumbags. This is a mean-spirited little fanfic! And before anyone wonders, I did discuss details with the requester before writing this. 

You’re sitting at a small table in the back of the empty campus library, peacefully reading your book, when you hear the heavy wooden door open. That alone is unusual enough. At this time of day, an hour after all classes have ended, the library is always deserted, not even a librarian or custodian in sight. But then you hear a pair of loud voices, laughing, talking, and you feel panic rising in your heart. 

With only one way in or out of the library, you know you can’t simply flee to an exit. Those two are near the door. Your only option is to hide and hope they don’t spot you. Maybe you could even circle back around to the door once they move further in. So you grab your book and your bag, so they won’t see any signs of your presence, and move quietly but quickly to the row of shelves nearby, ducking low to try to stay out of sight. 

You can hear them walking around, making no attempt to be quiet. They don’t care if you hear them approaching. Hell, maybe they want you to, maybe it’s part of their plan to terrorize you. 

“You sure she’s in here?” a voice asks as they move toward the tables. 

“I’ve seen her come in here every day this week. This is definitely her new hideout,” the other replies. 

They’re getting closer to the shelves. You’re not an idiot. You know they’ll check them, but if you can time it just right, you might be able to move between the shelves to avoid them. 

Suddenly they go silent. You can’t hear their voices or their footsteps. Fuck. They know you’re hiding between the shelves, and they don’t want you to know which direction they’re coming from. You try to watch both ends of the aisle you’re in, your plan now being to flee in the opposite direction the moment you catch sight of them. 

You stand there, ready to run, your heart pounding, when you finally see it. On the back end, a glimpse of white hair as the tall young man moves around the corner. You immediately make a run for it, sprinting toward the front, toward the library door. But just as you reach the end of the aisle, two strong arms reach out from the side and grab you.

“Got you,” a smooth voice says as you’re dragged back into the aisle, between the tall shelves that now feel like the walls of a cage. 

You struggle and kick, yelling, “Let me go!”

In the aisle, Gojo Satoru is waiting for his best friend, Geto Suguru, to bring you to him. They’ve been bullying you relentlessly all year, gradually getting worse as the months rolled by. It started simple, with them occasionally knocking your books out of your hands and laughing as they gave fake apologies, then shoving you against the wall and pretending they didn’t see you. Lately, their tactics had taken a decidedly sexual turn, as they’d taken to flipping up your skirt and commenting on your panties and even copping feels of your chest or ass when they caught you alone. 

You were an easy target for them. Quiet, reserved, and having few friends to surround yourself with, it was obvious why they chose you. Despite the growing intensity of their harassment, you haven’t reported them. Doing so would make the entire school hate you, and no one would believe you. Gojo and Geto were the school’s golden boys. They were beloved by everyone, and could do no wrong. They were easily the hottest guys in school, got perfect grades despite never seeming to study, and had both won various awards for their performances in several different sports. 

They were perfect, and you hated them. The universe was cruel indeed, to make the two biggest scumbags on the planet also be so gorgeous that everyone was blinded by their beauty. Everyone but you. 

Geto’s grip on you loosens just a bit, but at this point you’re trapped between them. If you try to run again, they’ll easily catch you. They’re both track team stars, for fuck’s sake. 

You try to calm down, to talk to them rationally and pray they’re feeling merciful today. “What do you two even want? Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

Geto is behind you, his hands around your waist. It’s the kind of position you’ve seen couples in. Gojo is standing in front of you, uncomfortably close, a shit-eating grin on his face. “We just wanna play with you,” Gojo says, his eyes hidden behind the dark sunglasses he wears when not in class. 

“Why were you running away?” Geto’s voice asks into your ear. “That hurts our feelings.”

You turn your head to look at Geto. Of the two of them, he’s definitely the most likely to listen to reason. “I-I don’t feel well today. Please, just let me go.”

Geto looks to Gojo. “She doesn’t feel well, Satoru. What should we do?”

It doesn’t sound like he’s asking a serious question. It sounds like he’s mocking you. 

Gojo gives you a look of fake concern. “Poor thing. What’s wrong? You on the rag?”

Before you can even answer, Gojo’s hand shoots out and moves under your skirt, squeezing your crotch through your panties. You gasp and freeze up in terror. He’s never been this bold before.

“I don’t feel a pad,” he says, withdrawing his hand. 

“Maybe she uses tampons,” Geto suggests, his grip on your waist seeming to tighten. 

Gojo snaps his fingers loudly. “That’s probably it! Let’s find out!”

“No, stop!” you cry, wriggling out of Geto’s grasp as Gojo’s hand moves toward your skirt again. “I’m not on the rag!”

Gojo stops, lowering his hand. “Then what’s wrong with you?”

You look back and forth between them, trying to think up a convincing lie. Would they have pity on you if you made up a sob story? You could say your dad died yesterday, or that you just found out you have cancer. But lying about things like that, even to escape danger, just doesn’t feel right. And besides, these two sadistic assholes probably wouldn’t care. 

“I think I’m coming down with the flu,” you say, hoping that maybe, just maybe, they might want to avoid possibly catching it from you. 

“Oh, that’s all?” Geto asks. 

“Should have gotten your flu shot like we did,” Gojo adds with a laugh. 

Your heart sinks as you watch Gojo pull something from his pocket. Geto is no longer holding you but he’s so close against your back that you can feel his body heat. 

Gojo holds up some sort of pen. “I ordered this the other day. It’s a super strong permanent marker. The ink is guaranteed to stay on skin for at least seven days, no matter how much you scrub it.”

He pulls the cap off and points the marker at you. “Why don’t we test it out? I could write, ‘This dumb cunt belongs to Gojo and Geto’ across your forehead!”

You shrink back away from him, but that only results in you pressing your back into Geto’s toned chest. 

“Satoru, I don’t think that many words will fit on her forehead,” Geto says. 

“Oh, right. Well, we can just scribble it all over her face then,” Gojo replies. 

“Please, don’t! Just leave me alone!” you cry out, your voice breaking into a sob. 

They watch you shake and tremble, then look at each other. Gojo nods, as if they had already agreed to something beforehand, and Geto suddenly steps back away from you, giving you space. 

“Okay, we’ll leave you alone today,” Geto tells you. 

You look up at him with teary eyes. “You will?”

He rubs the back of his neck with one hand, as if he’s suddenly feeling shy. “Yeah. We didn’t mean to make you cry.”

Gojo pats your shoulder in what he probably thinks is a comforting manner. “The truth is we kinda like you. We didn’t realize we were taking things too far.”

You look at both of them with wide eyes. You don’t trust them at all, so you just want to get out of here as fast as you can. “So… I can go?”

“Sure,” Geto says, smiling at you. 

Without waiting for them to change their minds, you grab your fallen bag and book from the floor and walk down the aisle, toward the door. Just before you get to the end, you hear Gojo’s voice. 

“Hey, Suguru, who’s that nerdy little guy she always sits with at lunch? Mori-something…”

“Moriyama,” Geto corrects him. “He’s always in the chemistry room around this time, with his little club of fellow nerds.”

“Yeah, that’s him! Since she can’t play with us today, let’s go play with Moriyama!”

You stop dead in your tracks and look back at them, a deep, engulfing dread building in the pit of your stomach. “What did you say?” you ask them, your voice weak and quiet but echoing in the mostly empty library. 

They both look at you. “Never mind us,” Geto says with a charming smile. “Go on home and take care of yourself.”

Gojo looks back to Geto, as if he’s ignoring you now. “Hey, let’s drag Moriyama out of the chemistry room, strip him naked, and write all kinds of hilarious shit all over him! Then we can make him walk back into the room like that so all his friends can see!”

You feel your heart pounding again. Moriyama is a sweet, kind, happy young man who has made your miserable life at this school just a little bit bearable. You’ve never told him about the bullying you suffer through, but you think he suspects something is troubling you. He’s always trying to cheer you up and offering to listen if you need to talk. In truth, you’ve started to develop feelings for him, but you haven’t had the courage to tell him yet. 

You can’t let these two monsters hurt him, especially not because of you. 

“Leave Moriyama alone!” you say, more firmly than you’ve ever said anything to them before. “He has nothing to do with this!”

They look at you again, and they both grin. “We’re going to play with someone today,” Geto says. “Will it be you, or Moriyama?”

Your hands are shaking at your sides. There’s something different about them today. They’re more aggressive, more cruel, more terrifying. But you have to protect Moriyama, so you slowly walk back down the aisle to stand near them as you say, “Y-you can play with me.”

“That’s great,” Gojo says happily, then he looks at Geto behind you. “Did you lock the door?”

“Of course.”

You look between the two of them, your eyes frantic. Lock the door? What were they going to do to you?!

All of a sudden, Gojo leans down and picks you up, practically slinging you over his shoulder as he carries your panicked, squirming form to the cluster of tables near the back. He flops you down onto one of the tables, on your back, and starts unbuttoning your shirt. You scream and try to push his hands away, but Geto is at the other end of the table, and he grabs your wrists to pin them down. 

Completely helpless to stop him, you whimper in shame as Gojo pushes your unbuttoned shirt open and shoves your bra up above your ample breasts, exposing you. He lets out a whistle as he pulls his sunglasses down to get a good look. You’ve never seen his eyes up close before, and wish you never had. They’re deceptive, far too beautiful to belong to someone so twisted. 

One of Gojo’s hands squeezes your breast, way too roughly. If the rumors are true, he’s slept with a ton of different girls. He should know how to touch a woman, which means he’s intentionally hurting you. He laughs when you wince under his touch. 

“She’s got decent tits,” he says to his friend. 

Geto releases one of your hands and reaches down to grope your other breast. His touch is softer, but equally unwelcome. You jerk your free arm down and try to push the offending hands away, but Geto pinches your nipple harshly and says, “If you keep struggling, we’ll assume you’d rather we play with Moriyama.”

You freeze up again, dropping your arm beside you. Geto releases your other wrist and looks at Gojo. “So who’s going to fuck her first?”

The words send a spike of panic through your whole body, but you realize fighting will do you no good. They’re way stronger and faster than you, there are two of them, and they effectively have a hostage. The deck is stacked against you so badly, you don’t have a prayer. 

You close your eyes for a moment as tears begin to leak out. You don’t want your first time to be with these assholes. They’ll hurt you on purpose, make it as unpleasant as possible. All you can do is hope they might not notice you’re a virgin. 

“I want to,” Gojo says, unbuckling his belt. “I’ve been hard for like twenty minutes now.”

Geto frowns. “I hate going in after you. You always leave them all stretched out.”

Hearing this terrifies you, but you try not to show any reaction. 

“Okay, fine,” Gojo says. “You can fuck her pussy first. But I’m taking her mouth right now.”

You watch in stunned horror as Gojo pulls out one of the chairs from the table and sits down, spreading his legs far apart and reaching into his open pants. He pulls out his dick, and you can only think to yourself, “That can’t be right.”

They’re not supposed to be that big, are they? How is that supposed to fit inside you? You look at it with terror as Geto pulls you up from the table and pushes you to your knees in front of Gojo. 

“Get busy,” Gojo tells you. “My dick’s not gonna suck itself.”

Thinking only of protecting Moriyama, you scoot closer to Gojo and lean your face forward. You’ve never done this before, but you just have to put it in your mouth and move your head back and forth, right? So you open your lips and let his cock slide in. It feels gross, but you try to ignore that as you make shallow motions, your lips sliding partway down his shaft and then back. 

After a few seconds, Gojo sighs and says, “Use your fucking tongue, sheesh. If this is the kinda head Moriyama’s getting, I feel sorry for the guy.”

You feel your face burning with embarrassment, and you start running your tongue over his tip, hoping it will satisfy him. The sooner he finishes, the sooner you can get his dick out of your mouth. 

Geto moves behind you and pulls your open shirt off your shoulders, then unhooks your bra and pulls it off. Even though your tits have been out for a while now, you still somehow feel even more exposed. You feel Geto’s warm hands on your breasts, kneading and squeezing, then his fingers playing with your nipples. You keep your hands stiffly at your sides, resisting the unbearable urge to pry Geto’s hands off you and shove Gojo away. 

It feels like an eternity of this torment passes before Gojo’s cock suddenly seems to get harder in your mouth. Then all at once, there’s a flood of gooey cum filling you, coating your tongue and throat. You draw back reflexively, letting some of it spill out over your lips. 

“Hey, don’t waste it,” Gojo says, using his fingers to scoop up some from your chin and then shoving it back into your mouth. You gag and heave, but he forcibly holds your mouth shut. “Swallow it,” he says. 

You have no choice but to obey, letting it glide down your throat as tears stream down your face. 

When it’s over, you barely have a chance to catch your breath before the boys pick you up and sit you on the table again. This time Gojo is behind you. He’s climbed onto the table and has his legs on either side of you, his arms around your torso. Geto is in front of you, pulling your skirt and panties down your legs and then tossing them onto the floor. When he pushes your legs apart, you close your eyes, trying to block this all out. 

You feel his fingers on you, opening your folds, feeling around. 

“She’s dry as a desert,” Geto says, a hint of disappointment in his voice. 

“So let’s get her wet,” Gojo replies, one of his hands snaking down to fondle your pussy. You jerk in his grasp, trying and failing to shrink away from his fingers that are now stroking your clit. 

“S-stop!” you cry weakly.

Geto is between your legs, leaning forward. You can’t see what he’s doing, but you feel his tongue glide over your spread open pussy. 

Gojo jerks his hand away. “Dude, you almost licked my fingers. Gross.”

They both laugh as Geto takes over stroking you with his thumb. Soon you can feel it, a slickness you can’t believe. You hate them! Why is your body betraying you like this?

“She’s ready,” Geto says before opening his own pants. 

“That was easy,” you hear Gojo’s voice at your ear. “Guess we were right. She is a little slut. I bet Moriyama would cry if he found out his girlfriend’s getting wet for other guys!”

They have an entirely wrong idea about your relationship with Moriyama, but at this point there’s no point in trying to correct them. 

You raise up as far as you can to look down. Geto’s cock is already out, and it’s almost as big as Gojo’s. He runs his hand up and down it a few times, then he closes in on you. He positions himself just right, and you squeeze your eyes shut, holding your breath. 

Then you feel it, his cock ripping into you. You grit your teeth and hold back any sound from escaping your mouth. You won’t let them hear you scream. 

After a few deep, hard thrusts, Geto pauses. “Satoru?”

“Yes, Suguru?”

“You won’t believe this.”

You open your eyes to see Geto staring down at where your bodies meet. Gojo leans forward to look, then says, “Holy shit! She’s a virgin?!”

They both look to your face for confirmation, but you can only look away without speaking. 

Gojo laughs loudly. “Oh wow, that’s hilarious! You’re losing your virginity to a guy you hate!” 

“Satoru,” Geto says, his voice somewhat strained as he thrusts back into you, “shut the fuck up.”

He’s not going as deep or as hard as before. Is he trying to be gentle with you? Now? He doesn’t need to bother. It doesn’t change what he’s doing to you, what he’s been doing to you for months now. He’s just trying to ease what tiny shred of conscience he has left. 

Gojo is watching your face, seeming amused. “Wait, was that your first blowjob just now? That explains why you were so lousy at it! No offense.”

You turn away from him, just wanting this to be over. All you want is to go home and take a bath, to scrub their touch away, to wash off the smell of their expensive cologne. 

Geto pumps in and out of you for a while longer, then grunts as he suddenly pulls out. Then you feel his hot cum splatter on your stomach. 

“You should’ve given her a creampie,” Gojo tells him. 

Geto rolls his eyes. “Yeah, because getting her pregnant would be a great idea. Idiot.”

Gojo gets off the table and leaves your limp body lying prone, your legs still spread apart, blood trickling out of you. He gets the marker, the one he’d threatened you with earlier, and starts writing on your body. At this point you don’t even have the energy to care. You think you hear Geto telling him to stick to places that would be covered up by your clothes. He’s probably afraid someone will find out what they did. 

Before they leave, Geto throws your shirt over you and says, “I’ll leave the door locked on our way out so no one comes in.” You look at him blankly, not responding. Are you supposed to thank him for this tiny speck of decency amidst a sea of abuse? 

Gojo grins at you as he puts his sunglasses back on. “We’ll see you tomorrow! And if you open your dumb slut mouth about this to anyone, we’ll make Moriyama’s life hell.” Then he blows you a kiss as the two of them disappear out the door. 

For a while, you just lie there, staring up at the ceiling, not thinking or feeling. Then you sit up and look down. The words are upside down for you, but still easy enough to read. Written across your chest is the word “WHORE” in all capital letters. On you lower stomach, Gojo has scrawled, “We popped this cherry!” along with an arrow pointing at your crotch. He even doodled a couple of cherries on a stem. 

With trembling hands, you pull your clothes back on and pick up your bag and book. You’re already sobbing by the time you make it to the door. 

Worst of all is the unsettling realization that you’re only halfway through the year, and now you’re stuck being the fucktoy of your bullies. This was going to be one hell of a year. 

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

A Fresh Start [24]

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Warnings: [18+ only] controlled training combat, self defense lessons, smut (we're finally here, folks), oral female receiving

Word Count: 6,444

Summary: When you made plans for your future they never involved being hired by a Mandalorian to baby-sit his adorable, green gremlin of a child. However, after your life fell apart in the span of one disastrous night, you found it to be the only feasible option you had left. Nevarro was a far cry from Coruscant, but the thriving community turned out to be exactly what you needed. Every day you spend in Nevarro you fall more and more in love with your new life, but when your past rears its ugly head you find that perhaps peace wasn’t meant for everyone.

[a/n: so sorry this took nine thousand years. i probably have more announcements here but i'm bone tired so let's get on with it lolol also lowkey i did not edit this one to the degree in which i should have i am so sorry]

#24: RIGHT BETWEEN YOUR THIGHS

"i'm not sure what this is between us, but i am sure that i don't want it to stop, whatever it is." -j.a. redmerski

What does one wear on a date where combat was the plan? It wasn’t a question you thought you’d ever be asking yourself, yet here you were. After staring at your options for another beat, you grabbed something you’d be able to move in. The more athletic clothing you owned weren’t really the cutest, but your goal with them was focused on utility. You could always save the cute outfit for your part of the date tonight. The idea of impressing Din by being competent on his date and then pretty on yours was appealing to you.

Din was dropping Grogu off with Peli until tomorrow morning. With every second he was gone, you found yourself more nervous. Being with Din was always so easy. That was part of the reason why you fell for him so fast. Having him as a cemented part of your day was natural. So, it made no sense that you would be nervous at all, but it seemed the butterflies in your belly didn’t give a damn about logic.

You wandered back out into the main room of the house and let your eyes glance over the decor you had already set up. The second Din had left the house you had tossed up the decorations. In preparation for tonight, you had food prepped in the fridge for dinner and you had hung string lights all over the kitchen and living room. A blanket was laid out on the floor with a few pillows just for comfort. It was a simple set up and initially it had excited you, but in the time it took for you to get dressed for your combat date your anxiety had grown. What if it were too simple? What if you didn’t know Din as well as you thought you did?

Before you could second guess yourself any further, you hurried out of the house. Din had told you to meet him at the tarmac which caught you off guard. You assumed this would be taking place at least on world. It made you curious as to what he had planned exactly. On your way to the tarmac, you returned the greetings to those who waved to you. A few even tried to stop you to ask about something medical and you had to politely point them toward the clinic where they’d find Aayla. Any other day and you’d linger to help, but you had a Mandalorian waiting for you.

You had only stepped a few feet onto the tarmac when a hand was suddenly in yours and dragging you through rows of parked ships. “Din?” You questioned the shiny, beskar covered man. “Hi to you too, honey.”

“I’ve had three different people try and stop me to ask about one problem or another.” Din grunted.

“Aw,” You chuckled, “I had people try to stop me for medical advice! Look at us. Staples of the community.”

“Today, they need to make do without two staples.”

It had been a surprise when Din pulled you onto the little starship, but you were completely caught off guard when said ship broke through the atmosphere of a small, green world. You gazed out through the glass at the greenery that formed the large jungle you now flew over. He said he was taking you to a nearby, abandoned and uninhabited moon.

“Din…” You breathed in shock. Maker, this no named moon was gorgeous.

“You said you missed seeing the color green.” Din replied simply. Your eyes snapped to him in awe. It had been a toss away comment made quite some time ago. Growing up on Naboo, you had raised with forests and bodies of water. Then you bounced from Coruscant to Tatooine to Nevarro where the ground was non-existent or dry. 

Din steered the ship toward a clearing in the jungle that sat on the edge of a cliff side where you had a view of the never ending trees. It was just shades of green and blue as far as your eyes could see. As soon as the ship was safely parked, you leapt out of your seat and rushed down the now lowering ramp. 

The air was cool and humid. You took in a deep breath and marveled at how the smell of earth and vegetation filled your lungs. Din’s heavy steps came up behind you, and you glanced over your shoulder to give him a broad grin. You were beaming in the reflection of his visor.

“So, this is okay?” He asked with an almost nervous tinge to his voice.

“Okay?” You laughed. “Din, this is…” You shook your head and threw your arms around his neck. Din didn’t hesitate to wrap his own arms around your midsection and hold you close. “Thank you for this.”

“You may want to hold off on thanking me.” Din chuckled in your ear. “We haven’t even gotten to the rest of the date.”

You pulled back with a smirk and held a finger up at him. “I think you mean ‘courting session’.” Din let out a soft laugh before letting his hands fall from your side. You watched curiously as he began to unlatch portions of his armor. Your eyes widened and you glanced around outside the ship as if there would suddenly be a crowd where there hadn’t been one before. “What’re you doing?”

“We’re going to spar.” Din replied simply. “I want to make sure you can defend yourself.”

“And you need to strip down… why?”

Din huffed, “I’m not stripping down. I’m just removing my beskar.” He shook his head. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

You crossed your arms with a quirk of your eyebrow, “Who says you’re not the one who is gonna get hurt here?” Din laughed while pulling off his chest piece. The laugh was accurate. There was no way in hell you were going to even land a hit on him unless he wanted you to, but you feigned shock and disbelief. “Wow. How smug of you, Mandalorian.”

Din tilted his helmet at you in a ‘really?’ manner while pulling his cloak off. It left him in just his dark brown flight suit and you shouldn’t have found the plain outfit as attractive as you did. You continued to stand there and stare with a smile as he pulled off his gloves and kicked off his boots. Din set his hands on his hips, and you motioned toward his clothes. “Feel free to keep going. I won’t mind.”

“Alright, enough.” Din chuckled and set his hands on your shoulder. He turned you around and lightly pushed you out of the ship. You laughed under your breath and once you stood where he wanted in the field by the ship, he let his hands drag down to your hips. You expected him to spin you to face him, but instead he just took a step closer. You sucked in a sharp breath through your nose at the feel of his chest against your back. In a softer voice, he leaned his head closer to the side of yours. “How much self-defense do you know?”

“Oh, you know, the basics.” You mumbled with a little shrug. If you had to quantify the self defense you knew it would probably add up to less than the basics. Suddenly, before you could even blink, Din’s right arm wrapped around your neck in a choke hold. Your eyes widened and your hands lifted to grip the crook of his elbow to try and pull him away. “Dank farrik!”

Din flexed his arm enough for you to feel it but it wasn’t cutting off your air flow. You felt nervous for a whole other reason. His helmet was pressed against the side of your face in this hold, and he was so close that you could hear the slight static hum of his modulator. “Escape me, ner kar’ta.” You swallowed nervously and tried uselessly to tug Din’s arm away from your throat. He chuckled and you tried to kick his legs but even when you did make contact he didn’t budge. “You can do better than that.”

You thrashed your shoulders with a grunt, but he locked his grip. Din lifted you up so your toes only barely brushed the ground and began to drag you backwards. You yelped in surprise and rapidly tapped against his arm⏤ the universal sign for giving in.

Din set you back down and loosened his arm to hold you by the arms, “You alright?”

“Yeah, I am.” You replied. “I just didn’t see myself getting out of that anytime soon.”

He chuckled and slipped his arm back where it had been. Din nudged you and your hands went back to the crook of his elbow. “Step one foot forward.” You stepped out with your left foot. “And use your other foot to slip to the side and turn around. You wanna⏤”

Without waiting for the rest of his sentence, you tried to slip to his right side, but the second you tried to turn you found his hold around your neck tighter as he pinned you to his side. Din let out a soft laugh, and you beat on his back a bit to try and pull out.

“You slipped out the wrong way.” Din said.

“I noticed, thanks.” You muttered.

Din loosened his hold enough that you could straighten back up. “Try the other way.” You did the same thing, but this time you spun toward the left. Now, you were facing Din’s chest with his arm resting on the back of your neck and shoulders. “Good. Now push me away.” With all your strength, you shoved against Din’s midsection and you stumbled apart. “Very good, ner kar’ta. Again.”

He made you do it a few more times with his arm tighter each pass, and it got easier and more smooth every time you did it. You did it one more time, grinning triumphantly when you pushed him away, but this time Din lunged to grab you. His leg hit the back of yours and you went sprawling back. A cry of surprise left your lips and you braced for the blow of hitting the ground. However, at last minute Din caught you and carefully laid you against the grass the two of you were practicing on.

You opened your mouth to complain, but found your voice missing. Din was straddling you with his knees pressed to the ground on either side of your hip. He held himself up so he was carrying his weight on his knees and not crushing you. The sight of Din towering over you like this made you ache with need. He was right there. You could drag your hands up his thick thighs and to his belt with such ease. If this was affecting him the same way it was you, he didn't show it.

The sound of overhead thunder from distant storm clouds made Din look up as he searched for the source. Seeing your opportunity, you sat up and threw yourself forward to push Din backwards. Caught off guard, he fell back and you threw yourself on top of him. “Ha! I⏤” You didn't register what Din did, his movements were a quick blur of color, and suddenly you were on your back again, “Hey!”

Din grabbed your wrists to pin on the ground by your head. Rather than straddling you, this time he was situated between your legs. Oh, Maker. This was worse in the best kind of way. Din tilted his head, “That was cheating.” 

“Whoops?” You gave him a sheepish smile. Din shifted so his weight was pinning your arms down rather than resting on the back of his calves. You swallowed the lump in your throat. “You know, I thought combat meant I was gonna get to punch and kick you more.”

“Should I be worried about how eager you are to punch me?”

You laughed, “Really though.”

“The chances of you being in an actual fist fight is lower than you being placed in a hold.”

“I mean, I’m planning to avoid both of those options.”

“I like that plan, but it’ll help me sleep at night knowing you at least know how to free yourself.” Din replied with a low chuckle. His hands lifted off your wrists to place a light hold on your throat. Your chin tilted up, making room for his large hands, and your reflection in his visor showed you that you were not hiding how badly you wanted him. Din didn’t apply any more pressure than the light hold he already had on you, but he did lower his face closer to yours, “You think you can focus and get out of this hold before we get rained out?”

You squirmed under him, hips shifting against his, and you felt his body stiffen. A slow smile crossed your face as you moved your hips more deliberately this time. Din let out a soft grunt, and you chuckled, “Guess that depends. You think you can teach me how without getting distracted?”

“Wayii, ner kar’ta.” Din murmured. He lifted a hand off your neck to grab your right hand and set it on the wrist of the hand still pretending to choke you. “Hold here and…” Din set your other hand on his left shoulder. “With this hold, you’re gonna pivot out from under me and put me in an arm bar.”

“Um, sure.” You said skeptically.

Din nodded to your left leg, “Put that foot against my hip so you can lift your other. You need it across my shoulder blades.” You tried to do as he said and it forced your hips up from the ground in a position that felt unnatural. “Good, good. Now that foot on my hip? Lift it and throw it over my head so both your legs are resting on my same shoulder.” With a grunt you did just that and it left the arm you had been holding trapped between your arms. Naturally, the hand that was on his shoulder fell to hold his wrist and you pushed your hip back down to the ground and it forced Din onto his back as you straightened your body. “Good, that’s⏤ah!” He tapped the thigh laying on his throat. “Good.”

 You let go of him, but the moment you did he was on top of you once more. You cried out, startled, but Din had his hands at your throats. “Again. Faster.” 

He squeezed just enough to get you moving. You followed his instructions, trying to remember each step, and you successfully got him into another arm bar. You let go of his arm so you weren’t accidentally hurting him, but you kept your legs where they were. One rested over his neck, right under his helmet, and the other on his lower chest. His arm bent so he could rest his hand on your thigh and he gave it a playful squeeze. 

Din began to laugh and the sound was so relaxed, so boyish, that it brought a warm smile to your face. You sat up, leaning back on your hands, and stared down at him. His entire body was relaxed as he lazily dragged his hand back and forth on your thigh.

“This position can’t possibly be comfortable.” You teased.

Din’s helmet turned to look back at you. “Ner kar’ta, I could spend the rest of my life right here.” He squeezed your thigh again and chuckled. “Right between your thighs.” Your face grew warm at his words and Din rubbed your leg. “You’re doing so good. Making me proud.”

You bit down on your bottom lip and watched as a drop of water plinked against Din’s helmet. Then there was a second, then a third, and then you and Din were in a downpour. You pulled your legs off him and the two of you scrambled off the ground and back to the cover of the ship. 

“Just… Just give it a minute or two.” Din stood at the edge of the cover so he could peer up at the now dark sky. “It’ll pass.” The clouds had rolled in quick and sudden, but they lingered. A full ten minutes passed and Din stood in his frustrated dad pose at the end of the ramp. You wandered down to stand beside him. He sighed, “I'm so sorry. If I had known it was going to rain I would’ve taken us somewhere else.”

“Din, this place is perfect.”

“It’s storming.”

“Yeah, but,” You set your hand on his arm, “We’re together.” Din turned his head to glance at you. “That’s all that matters.” The tension in his shoulders seemed to melt. You held your hand out to feel the rain against your skin. A thought occurred to you. “When’s the last time you felt the rain on your face?”

Din shrugged, “I fell into the Living Waters.”

“That’s called drowning,” You shook your head, “And it doesn’t count.”

“I took a shower last night.”

“Still not the same.”

He shrugged in response.

You squeezed his arm, “Well, this moon is uninhabited according to you. I can sit in the ship with the ramp up, and give you a second.” He tilted his head in what you assumed was confusion. “Everyone deserves to feel the rain on their face. Just to⏤ to feel alive, and we’re not getting any rain storms in Nevarro anytime soon.”

Din nodded once. You turned to walk back into the ship, but his hand slipped into yours. He squeezed your hand and pulled you out into the rain. You flinched at the first few drops, the cold water startling even knowing it was coming, and on instinct you lifted your head up so the rain splattered across your face. Din’s hand left yours but it was quick to find your skin once more. He cupped your jawline and you tore your gaze from the sky to his visor. His thumb dragged against your cheekbone.

“Close your eyes.” Din whispered.

Without hesitation, you let your eyes fall shut. Din’s hand fell away from your face. You heard the hiss of his helmet followed by the soft thud of heavy beskar landing on soft grass. More than anything in the worlds, you wished you could watch him experience this. Din let out a quiet sigh, close to a soft moan, and your lips twitched up into a smile. A pair of hands cupped your face and your own hands rose to rest on top of his. Din was close⏤ his body radiated heat. The tip of his thumb traced your bottom lip. 

“Gar're bid mesh'la.” Din murmured and he was close enough that you felt his warm breath fan across your mouth. “So beautiful, ner kar’ta.” Warm lips slotted against yours and you breathed Din in. As always, Din kissed you with every part of who he was⏤ every single time was its own unique experience. His hands roamed down your body, never leaving contact, until they found your hips. Din’s lips broke from yours but continued to brush against yours as he sucked in a breath, “I… You’re so important to me.” The hands on your hips slipped up and under your shirt. His touch hot against your cold, damp skin. “Everything, ner kar’ta.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck to pull his lips back against yours. The kiss was bruising. A desperate tangle of teeth and tongue in a attempt to get closer�� as if he wasn’t already pinning the two of you chest to chest with his strong arms. The kiss began to simmer in desperation, but the passion remained. Even when it seemed slow as you caught your breath, he continued to lightly press his lips against yours in soft, chaste kisses. As if he couldn’t stand being apart. 

“Din…” You murmured softly. Thunder rumbled overhead. The power of the sound competed with the pounding of your heart. Din nipped at your lower lip before dragging the tip of his tongue against the spot. You let out a soft sigh, and he pulled your lower lips between his own. His hands had slipped out of your shirt so they could instead cup your face and tilt your face at the ideal angle to allow him to continue his onslaught. He dragged his lips across your cheek until they pressed against the skin right under your ear. An involuntary shiver rocketed down your spine and you trembled enough that Din must have felt it.

“I need to get you out of the rain before you catch a cold.” Din mumbled against your skin.

You sighed and when he tried to pull back you trapped him by wrapping your arms around his torso, “That’s an old wives’ tale. Being in the rain doesn’t make you sick.”

“Fine, doc. I need to get you out of the rain before we get struck by lightning.”

“If you want I can make up some statistics about lightning strikes.”

Din chuckled, his chest rumbling with the sound, and you felt him kneel down. You stayed in place until the cool metal of his helmet pressed against your forehead. At the reassuring touch, you let your eyes flutter open. In his visor’s reflection, you saw what a mess you were. Soaked to the bone with swollen lips. You groaned, “Maker, I look like a drowned porg.”

“A very cute, drowned porg.”

You shoved at his chest with a laugh and Din chuckled and began to drag you back toward the ship. The two of you left puddles in the ship and you helped Din get his armor back on. It couldn’t possibly be comfortable with how wet his flight suit was, but he’d be parking in a populated area of Nevarro and couldn’t go without it. 

“I’m sorry we couldn’t do more.” Din said as you sat down in the co-pilot seat.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Don’t you dare apologize for the best first ‘courting session’ ever.”

Din let out a soft laugh and brought the ship up into the air. His hand reached over to rest on your thigh⏤ fingers curling into your skin as his thumb rubbed back and forth. You leaned back in your seat and despite the gorgeous scenery right outside the window, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his form.

There was never a lull in the conversation with Din. Talking to him always came naturally. It made you silly for ever being nervous about your portion of the date in the first place. After getting back to Nevarro, the two of you had gone back home and when Din saw the decor you babbled through an anxious explanation of your plans. He had been delighted at the sound of it. It took no time for the two of you to clean up after the courting session episode. Din traded his armor for a t-shirt and sweatpants, and you had tosses aside the wet work out clothes to put on a simple dress that made you feel cute with buttons down the torso.

Din hovered over you while you made food and helped despite you telling him he didn’t need to. Then, the two of you just enjoyed one another’s company. Back to back, eating dinner, and basking in the glow of the string lights you had hung up.

“This really is so incredible. Thank you.” Din said.

You set aside your bowl with a chuckle, “You don’t have to thank me for that, Din.”

“No, I do. I know this isn’t…” Din paused and there was a tension in his voice you couldn’t quite place. He sighed, “This isn’t typical. I’m sorry I can’t take you to a restaurant in town and sit across from you for a normal meal.”

“Din, you don’t have to apologize for that.”

“But⏤”

“I don’t care about any of that.” You shook your head. “I’d have every single meal, for the rest of my life, hidden away or in private as long as it meant I got to have them with you. That’s all that matters.”

You felt him begin to turn and immediately shut your eyes with a mumble that he was safe. Din’s fingers found the side of your face and you allowed your body to follow his movements as he pulled you to face him. His lips were on yours again with no preamble or hesitation. It only lasted a brief moment, pure and chaste, before he separated to lean his forehead against yours.

“You’re too good to me.” Din’s voice sounded hoarse as his hand traced the side of your face. “I don’t deserve you.”

“You deserve to be cared about⏤ you deserve to be…” The word ‘loved’ sat on the ip of your tongue, and you only barely caught it in your mouth before it tumbled out. You were confident of how you felt, and you were highly suspicious that Din was on the same page as you, but it was still terrifying to consider saying it out loud. “You deserve this and more, honey.”

“Have I told you how much I enjoy hearing you call me honey?” Din leaned back in and began to pepper kisses across your lower face.

“It’s come up a time or two.” You teased in response. He ghosted up your jawline, his breath hot on your skin, until they wrapped around your earlobe⏤ teeth nipping at it lightly. You couldn’t hold back a soft moan. “Maker, Din.” You felt his chuckle as he wrapped a hand around the back of your neck. Din carefully tilted your chin up and to the side so he could finish his line of kiss down your neck. “Keep this up and I’m… I’m not gonna want to get up, and I have dessert in the fridge for us.”

Din shook his head and dragged his nose up against the column of your neck to find your ear once more, “I have dessert right here, ner kar’ta.” His words, in that deep, honeyed voice, sent shivers down your spine. Want pooled in your belly as you melted into his hands. “Do you trust me?”

“Always.” You murmured. Din pulled away from you and you groaned at the loss. “Wait, no,” Din laughed at your whine and the sound was distant, “Come back.”

“Be patient!”

You heard his approach and felt him as he settled in front of you again. Din was wrapping something around your eyes and tied it behind your head. “That feel, alright?” You nodded in response and adjusted the blindfold to sit comfortably on your face. “Just want you to relax and not worry about accidentally opening your eyes or not. This okay?”

“Only if you start touching me again.” You grinned and tilted your chin up a hair. 

“Oh, mesh’la,” Din was quick to cup your face once more and he pushed you back to settle on the blanket softly, “I’m more than happy to.” You had never been happier in your choice of clothing than now with Din unbuttoning the front of your dress. One large hand cupped your breast while the other stayed wrapped around the back of your neck. Din let out a breathless whisper of Mando’a before adding in Basic, “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

You shook your head, “I swear to the Maker if you stop I’ll kick your ass.” Din chuckled and shifted so he could rest between your thighs. You accommodated him by letting your legs fall open to rest on either side of his hips. “I know how to do that now since you taught me.”

“Teaching you how to get out of two holds is a little different from kicking ass.” Din replied amused. His hand left your breast and you felt the tips of his fingers brush against the scar along your collarbone. You stiffened slightly⏤ more out of self consciousness rather than discomfort or fear. Din leaned down until his lips pressed against the skin there. “Do you know how beautiful you are, ner kar’ta? Absolutely gorgeous.” You buried your hand in his soft hair, letting out a sigh, and Din kissed your scar twice more before letting his lips taste the skin of your chest. “Breathtaking.”

His mouth found the curve of upper breast. Din was careful as he pulled your bra down and when the cold air met your now bare nipples you gasped. More breathless Mando’a filled the air and only ended when Din’s lips wrapped around your right nipple as his hand held the underside of your other so his thumb could trace lazy circles around that nipple. Din’s tongue circled your sensitive skin and you groaned⏤ hand tightening in his hair. 

The Mandalorian was new to using his mouth, but just like with kissing he was quick to pick it up and passionate about exploring with his tongue. All of his movements were focused and completed with the discipline of a bounty hunter. Even in a situation that was new to him, he used his body with confidence by dedicating to the action. Din’s mouth spent ample time tasting the skin of both your breasts, sucking and licking, and your entire being felt like it was on fire. Every inch of you craved his touch, you were drunk on him and were left a squirming mess under his strong hands. Pinned to the ground under his broad body and blind to everything but the sound, feel, and smell of him. 

“Maker.” You gasped and tugged on his hair. “You’re killing me, honey. It’s…” He let his teeth lightly graze your overly sensitive nipple and your back arched in an attempt to follow his mouth as he pulled up. “Fuck. It’s so much. Too much.”

Din squeezed the breast his mouth wasn’t on and then crawled up just enough to press a soft kiss to your lips, “Sorry.” He hummed and you could hear the smile he was wearing. “Just can’t help myself.” Suddenly, you felt Din’s hand brush against the outside of your leg. It trailed back and forth from your knee to where the edge of your dress laid. You were already an absolute mess but having his warm touch against your thigh was making the need for him a hundred times worse. “Can I taste you, ner mesh’la kar’ta?”

You sucked in a sharp breath nervously. Your teeth bit down on your lower lip briefly. It had been a little while since you had anyone go down on you, and with the way you felt about Din you wanted things to be perfect. The thought of Din not enjoying himself or just feeling obligated haunted your mind and the anxiety dulled the pleasure. “You know you don’t have to do that, right? It’s not⏤”

“Have to?” Din’s fingers squeezed into the meat of your thigh and your hips involuntarily rolled up marginally to find a source of friction to ease the ache in your core. “There is literally nothing I could want more. I cannot even begin to describe how often I’ve thought of this moment right here.” You gave a small, weak nod. He squeezed your thigh once more. “Wanna hear you say it, ner kar’ta.”

“Yes, Din. Want that⏤ want you now.” Your desire beat out any anxiety you may have felt. 

Din crawled down until he could press a kiss to the inside of your knee. His strong arm wrapped around your thigh, settling on his left shoulder, and you found comfort in that hold. You let out a relaxed breath. Din was safe. There was no reason to feel any anxiety in the arms of this man. With that, the anxiety began to ebb away and with every kiss Din laid on the inside of your thigh gradually traveling up the ache worsened.

The edge of your dress was pushed up with his left hand and it splayed across your abdomen. “This is my first time doing this with my mouth, mesh’la. Tell me if I’m hurting you.” Goosebumps formed across your skin at the cool air that now washed over you, but the weight of his hand seemed to burn straight through you. Din’s mouth pressed against your clothed heat. He kissed through your sinfully soaked underwear. 

“Din,” You gasped, your hand refinding his hair, “Fuck. Din.”

His right hand slipped under the side of your underwear to tug them down your thigh. Din kept your right leg on his left shoulder, unmoving, and he hummed, “Knee to your chest, mesh’la.” You did as he asked and he used the movement to slip your left leg out of your underwear. The second you were uncovered, Din groaned, “Good girl.”

He buried his face into your wet folds in desperation. What Din lacked in precision he made up for with eagerness. He mumbled words of Mando’a straight into your pussy between licking long stripes through your lips. Din worked in broad strokes of his tongue, and every few seconds his nose would find your clit. It’d either brush too lightly for you to fully enjoy or press firmly against it and send jolting strikes of pleasure straight up your spine. 

“Din, Din.” You moaned and he pressed in deeper, his tongue circling your hole. He hadn’t come up for air in a bit and you wondered how he managed to keep this up. Regardless, it was driving you wild. “Baby, please.” Din lifted his head and the sound of him panting was unbelievably attractive to you. “Shit, Din.”

“You alright?”

“Yes. Maker, yes, but…” You groaned. “I know you’re probably not meaning to do this, but you’re teasing me and it’s got me right on the edge.” Din shifted, you heard him chuckle, and before you could try to explain to him what you meant specifically when it came to his mouth, his thumb dragged through your folds up and straight to your clit. He circled it with insane precision and your mouth fell open in a silent cry as the arousal pooling in your lower belly grew and the ache almost sent you over the edge. “Maker! Din!”

Din pulled his thumb away and you were breathless. He placed a chaste kiss to your thigh where he could reach, “I’m not that unfamiliar with it, ner kar’ta. I told you I've used my hands.”

“Gotcha. So you were teasing me on purpose?” You scoffed and Din chuckled. You tugged on his hair and his breathy laugh grew louder. You grinned and shook your head. “You ass.”

“How about I make it up to you?” Din’s lips were back on you and this time he wasn’t just broadly tasting you. His precision had turned deadly and it was devastating how fast he drove you right back to that edge. “Taste so fucking sweet, mesh’la.” His tongue circled your clit before he began to apply enough suction that stars filled your vision. Your body began to tense as you spiraled into your quickly approaching orgasm. Din hummed and spoke against your clit, teeth and tongue brushing against it as the vibrations of his words buzzed against you, “Gonna come, ner kar’ta? Fall apart for me. Let me devour you.”

His lips wrapped around your clit again and the onslaught of his mouth had your orgasm washing over you. You let out a loud cry, his name garbled on your tongue, and as you came down from your high it felt like you were falling into a soft cloud. It was only then that you realized Din hadn’t stopped for a second. The slurping sound of him devouring you was downright filthy and you moaned again.

“Just like I said before, ner kar’ta.” Din dragged his wet lips up to kiss your abdomen in any random spot he could reach. “Could spend eternity between these gorgeous legs.”

You sat up on one elbow and blindly reached out to grab the collar of his shirt. “My turn, honey.” You gave his shirt a few tugs. “Want to taste you too.”

“Who said I was done here?” Din teased. He crawled up your body, still between your legs, and his hips pressed against yours firmly. You felt his hard cock straining against his sweatpants and he let it grind against your messy pussy. You reached down for the waistband of his sweatpants and Din’s hand rested by your neck to hold himself up while his other caressed the column of your neck and along your jaw. “I’m not done eating dessert.”

Your lips curled into a broad smile as you recognized the similar position you were in to what had been going on earlier today. Quickly, your right hand grabbed his left, the one holding him up, and before you could second guess yourself you let your legs kick up just like in the courting session until you were able to push him off you into an arm bar. This was the exact position he had been in last time, but this time you were unable to see him. Still, you felt your legs across his chest as you held his arm between your thighs. 

For a beat it was silent, and you were worried you had upset him in some way, but then he began to laugh. Without the modulator of his helmet, the sound was clear and downright musical. You’d trade your soul if it meant getting to see the way his face looked right now. You wanted to see his smile, wanted to see the lines that formed on his face when he laughed like this.

“Maker, you’re so perfect, ner kar’ta.” Din breathed as his free hand came up to caress your legs. “I can’t begin to… You’re… I…” He let out one more laugh. “Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum.”

“What does that mean?” You didn’t recognize those words.

“I’ll tell you one day. I promise.”

You chuckled, “Bold of you to deny someone who has you in an arm bar right now, honey.”

The hand you were holding between your legs suddenly tightened around your wrist and he pulled you toward him while pushing your legs off of him. With a yelp of surprise, he had you flipped so your arms and head were laying on his chest while your legs were sprawled out behind you. Din grasped the side of your face to pull you to his lips. His hand raked through your hair lovingly, and you sighed against his kiss. Din swallowed the sound of your content.

You felt so warm and comfortable against Din, and as if you hadn’t been aware of it before, it was startling how much you loved Din Djarin. 

mando'a translations:

ner kar'ta: my heart Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum: I will know you forever Wayii: Good grief Gar're bid mesh'la: You're so beautiful mesh'la: beautiful

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