#if those gorgeous eyes stared back at me from between my legs i’d melt on the spot

[the-travelling-witch]

NSFW! (WARNING CAUSE THE BLOG WAS MOVED HERE)

JUST KNOW BEE KNOWS HOW TO EAT A GIRL OUT TILL SHES SEEING STARS <33

HE COULD MAKE THEM SQUIRT SO QUICK (EATING IS HIS THING EVERYONE AND HES SO SO BEAUTIFUL)

Smut hc/fic on them when <333

Oc when?!? I’d love to see an oc based on that game

i guess i’ll just put it under a cut? (not a written piece though, just my answer)

with him being the king of gluttony that’s what i’d expect (i can’t wait to get to his h scene ngl), i mean his tongue must be super well practised from all that eating

i’m not opposed to writing for whb at some point in time but as i said, i’m currently not that far in the story and don’t have a good grasp on the characters yet, so i want to wait until i understand them better (i hope it’s apparent in my writing that i pay attention to characterisation? ㅠㅠ)

as for ocs, i have my hands full with my two (or three) obey me ocs, i already don’t write as much for them as i want to, so currently it’s only me, my s/i and i hshsh

[steddietogo]

So. This is my own take on Steddie meet cute at the Grammys (gets a little thirsty in the middle for a second so warning I guess??)

———

The buzzing in his veins feel too much to contain in Eddie’s body, his cheeks ache from grinning too hard. He grabs Jeff by the shoulders to shake him and Jeff takes it without complain, too busy floating in his own cloud nine to do anything about it. All four of them are.

They’re being carted off from one interview to another, it’s all hazy in his mind, all he can think of is that they won a fucking Grammy.

“We’re here backstage with Corroded Coffin with their first ever Grammy from the best rock performance category,” the interviewer is saying, then he turns to face the band, and shit. Eddie has to sling an arm over Gareth to keep himself upright. “So how are you guys feeling right now?”

“It feels very validating to get the recognition for all our hard work—” and everything else Jeff says barely registers. Eddie is staring, he’s distantly aware of it. But he should hardly be blamed. The man before him is dressed in a deep caramel suit, jacket cinching around a trim waist and bubble gum pink lips stretched in a smile as he diligently listens to what his band has to say.

“— and Eddie, he’s really put his heart and soul in this song in particular,” the mention of his name unceremoniously drags him back to the land of the living where his bandmates know him too well and are actively trying to sabotage him before the sexy interviewer. Gareth is innocently blinking up at Eddie with his I’ve-never-done-anything-wrong-in-my-life eyes, urging him to speak.

“Um,” Um? Seriously? “Mob Mentality is an especially significant song to me personally—” Eddie’s given this spiel a hundred times, not that any word of it is untrue, but the practiced response lets him zone out just the right amount to fully drown himself in the shade of hazel of the interviewer’s eyes, imagine them looking up at Eddie from between his thighs, full of tears— goddamnfuckstopit.

The man must notice, because there’s a gorgeous smattering of pink dusting his cheeks Eddie could swear wasn’t there before.

After, Eddie is pretty much bodily dragged away from there, legs refusing to carry him away. He twists even as he’s walking, desperate to keep the man within his sights for even just a second longer. To keep him looking at Eddie, which by some miracle, he still is. And like an idiot Eddie waves, wiggling his fingers at him.

The man raises his own hand in return, and then he’s turning away, leaving Eddie to mourn the loss of his attention. But then he hears it— Steve. The camera guy calls him Steve. Sexy interviewer’s name is Steve. That in itself would be enough to sustain Eddie’s daydreams for some time.

———

Predictably, its all over social media the very next day. Or more accurately there’s one particular clip circling the net like there’s no tomorrow.

Eddie Munson simping for hot guy at the Grammys.

The comments were the worst (best) part. Eddie hasn’t dated since coming out to the public. And the fact that most of the comments people have about him openly showing interest in another man is just nonchalance or excitement makes him feel much better about it.

Eddie’s heart skips as he sees the face from last night in the clip, looking even more gorgeous than in his dreams if it were even possible. And then there is also Eddie in those clips, practically undressing him with his eyes, right there in public. He looks like he wants to open him up and lick him like melted chocolate in a wrapper.

Eddie was so screwed.

———

Top comments:

user 80085: that man is stronger than me because I don’t think I’d survive Eddie Munson looking at me like that

CorrodedFC: Eddie Munson Rendered momentarily speechless? by an interviewer?? More likely that you think

you_call_me_munson: they need to date. Right this second or I’m stealing one of the hotties for myself

———

Part II

[dilemmaontwolegs]

The Proposition || n.f

Nick Fowler x fem!reader

Summary: You had always lived in the shadows of the criminal underground while most of your family were straight laced CIA like your late adoptive parents and Mace. You could never miss an opportunity to undermine the favourite child Mace and so you save Nick from her and offer him a position he can't turn down. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, unprotected sex WC: 1674 || Masterlist || Requests OPEN ||

Nick was regaining consciousness too slow for your liking so you upturned your chilled bottle of water over his head. He spluttered as the cool liquid slipped between his full lips and shot up from where he was sitting buckled into his seat. His large ringed hands swiped a 1000tc napkin from the table and wiped the water away before he glared daggers at you.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that, I saved your life.” You rolled your eyes and tipped the crystal tumbler full of amber liquid to your lips. “Would you like a drink?”

“You could have warned me.” He growled. “Your sister nearly killed me.”

“Please, Mace is not my sister, we were both just adopted by the same people.” You shot back after finishing your drink and pouring yourself another, plus one for Nick. “And where’s the fun in telling you everything? You were never in any real danger, Mace is too predictable. Also, as I recall you like keeping secrets.”

His lips tipped up at the corner as he accepted the drink and he took a sip as his fingers worked to unbutton his wet shirt. Those fingers were all too familiar to you and you licked your lips as you watched them bare his chest. The monotonous drone of your private twin engine jet was the only sound that filled the opulent space but there was plenty being said between your eyes. It had been months since you had last been in the same city as Nick and the familiar need emanating between your legs grew the longer he held your stare.

“This fancy jet got a room back there? Or should I just fuck you right here?” He asked as he placed his empty glass on the table and unbuckled his seat.

“What makes you think I’d ever let you near me again?” You said, tipping your head to the side as you sized him up. “You think I don’t know everything you have been up to, with Mace.”

“Jealousy doesn’t suit you gorgeous.”

“Trust me, this isn’t jealousy, just disappointment with a side of disgust.”

“Trust you?” He laughed. “I don’t even know whose side you are on.”

“The same as always, my own.” You answered honestly, head tipping back to look up at Nick as he towered over your chair resting his hands either side of your head.

“Would it make you feel better if I said she was just a means to an end?” His cobalt eyes were melting your resolve as his fingers traced your cheekbone before reaching your lips, his thumb pulling you bottom lip out from where it was pinched between your teeth.

“Everything is a means to an end for you.”

“Not you.” He said, stealing a kiss before you could stop him. “You’re pure pleasure.”

You sighed into the next kiss, his large hand holding the nape of your neck and ensuring you didn’t try to pull away before he erased all thoughts of escape with his tongue. When he pulled away breathless he had a sly smile that told you it was only the beginning and your fingers flicked the metal buckle releasing you from the confines of your seat.

Turbulence rocked you as you followed Nick down the aisle to the mahogany door that hid the private bedroom from the main cabin and his hand reached behind to stabilise you while the other slid the door open. His damp shirt was already sliding off his shoulders to the floor and you saw the new scars that littered his skin. The fading lines only added to his alluring features and you traced a few of them delicately as he lifted your shirt over your head.

“I have a proposition for you.” You said as he took his time leaving possessive marks across your neck. “Come work for me, I need security I can trust.”

“You run a pharmaceutical company.” He paused. “Why would you need security?”

“Because you and I both know the company is just a front for a more lucrative drug trade.”

“I had my suspicions.” He said as he sat on the edge of the bed, pulling you onto his lap.

“I can offer you more than you would ever make double crossing the CIA.”

You twirled the longer strands of hair at the top of his head in your fingers and watched his eyes for an indication of what was going on behind them. The blue orbs were cold and calculating as he pondered your offer so you left him to his thoughts as you reached into his slacks and palmed his hard cock while you waited.

“Can’t think when you are doing that.” He groaned as your thumb circled his head and felt the moisture collecting there.

“The Nick Fowler I know never stops thinking.” You said as you nipped his earlobe. “Let’s make it interesting…you have until you cum to make your decision.”

His hands gripped your hips and pushed you aside so he could cage you between him and the bed, his thick forearms bracing each side of your head and his thigh pushing yours open wider. This was the man who people feared, the man who had the capability of killing without remorse, but when he turned those icy eyes to you all you felt was hot.

“Do we have a deal?” You asked as your patience ran out and your need to be fucked overruled everything else.

“We have a deal.”

He pulled back just long enough to tear your jeans off and throw his to the floor but you took the moment of freedom to crawl up into the centre of the large bed. He took your movement as a game of chase, those predatory eyes locking in on you before he pounced. Your heart was pounding in the best way possible as he caught you by the hips and threw you back on to your back for him, his hands on your knees and opening them wide to see how wet you were for him.

“Always dripping for me ain't you baby.” He smirked, dragging his fingers lazily through your slit and gathering the escaping liquid so he could taste it with a satisfied hum.

He dipped his fingers back between your heat and spread your folds so he could watch the head of his cock force its way through your entrance, the sweet stretch of your body taking his and his head fell back with a growl when he bottomed out. Your back arched as his hands roamed your skin, rolling one of your stiff nipples between his finger and thumb while his other hand settled over your mound, teasing circles around your clit.

“Nick…” You begged as your nails raked down his chest, needed something to grip as he pounded his hips into yours. “Harder.”

He grabbed your knees and shoved them against your chest, knocking the wind out of you, and slammed himself home. The sounds of your mewls were just as loud as the sounds of his skin slapping yours and you could feel the warmth in your belly spreading as he hit the sweet spot deep inside you.

“You could have me…anytime you want…if you come and…work for me.” You struggled to articulate your thoughts as he fucked you stupid but time was running out to convince him to take up your offer.

“I can have you anytime I want now.” He growled as he watched the way his cock disappeared inside your sopping cunt.

“You are wanted by the CIA, MI6 and Interpol. You will be too busy trying to survive to have fun of any sorts.” You countered before you could no longer formulate an argument and your eyes fluttered shut.

“Look at me.” He ordered, grabbing your chin in his hand and pinching it until you opened your eyes. “Keep those pretty eyes open for me when you cum.”

Your eyes threatened to roll back into your head as his thumb pressed against your clit but you did as you were told and held his cobalt eyes as the pressure became too much and your core clenched around him, walls clamping down and earning an animalistic growl from deep in his chest. His name tore from your throat as the dam within you broke and your cries filled the small room as he continued to fuck you through your orgasm.

Your skin felt like it was on fire as his thumb kept up its assault on your oversensitised and swollen clit and you writhed beneath him as much as you could while he kept you folded like an obscene form of origami. You couldn’t hold his intense stare any longer and you screwed your eyes shut as you threw your head back into the eiderdown duvet as every muscle in your body shuddered as he sent you spiralling into another more intense orgasm.

“Fuck, yes.” He growled. “So fucking tight, gonna make me cum, baby.”

“Your answer.” You reminded him as your head spun from the high of endorphins.

His body shuddered against yours and you felt his hot ropes spilling from his cock, every thrust pushing it in deeper as he rode out his release and let go of your knees to collapse against your chest with a satisfied sigh.

“Answer.” You urged as you felt his cum leaking out of your folds and dripping to the blanket beneath you.

“I already said yes.” He kissed his way across your chest, his devilish tongue teasing your nipples. “But the 355 will realise pretty soon that I didn’t make it to Hong Kong.”

“Let me deal with Mace. It’s about time she found out just what I am capable of.”

[drakenology]

www.pornscape.com/janitors-closet-kirishima

janitor’s closet - kirishima x reader

categories: cunnilingus, blow job, riding, exhibitionism, slight degradation, unprotected sex, cussing, cervix kissin’, nasty hook up in the janitor’s closet.

author’s note: welcome to the pornscape! i hope you guys enjoy this event and this piece as well. please check out the others who have participated and as always, cum again ;). read the other works here

Hanamura Corp; a place known for legitimate business. Every employee including yourself was very capable of their job and it was wonderful to be a part of. But God was it fucking boring. Everyone there just ignored each other, did their job and clocked out once their shift was done and over with. With the exception of a few women you’d talk to around break time,  The entire building was often so quiet you forgot other people worked there.

One thing that made your job a little bit exciting was the escapades that took place every Wednesday in the janitor’s closet. The janitor who worked mostly Wednesdays was quite possibly the most gorgeous man to walk those halls.

Ejiro Kirishima; a sweetheart who worked as a janitor here at Hanamura Corp for a few years now. What he was doing working as a janitor and as not a male model was a mystery.

He was tall; 6′11 to be exact, with long red hair he often had tied back in a messy bun, strands of his hair cheekily escaping from the sides. Not to mention his body. Eijiro was an absolute beast of a man; his entire body was ripped. His arms were gigantic and covered in tattoos. The women of the facility often gossiped about the ginormous janitor who came by their cubicles with a warm smile and a tip of his cap. 

“God, he’s so sexy. I’d like to just jump his fucking bones.”

“I wonder what he’s like in bed. Probably an insatiable beast.”

“I just know his dick is huge. Fuck, I can only imagine.”

She guessed right. His dick is huge. How do you know that? Because you’re the one fucking him in the Janitor’s closet every so often. Every Wednesday when he worked, he’d walk past your cubicle and tap you on the shoulder. You’d turn and practically drool at the sight of him, knowing that in a few hours you’d be getting railed until you can hardly walk back to your desk. How this became so routine? Hell, you’ve long since forgotten. But who gives a fuck about the details?

“See you at noon?” He’d whisper in your ear, chuckling when you nod meekly. 12 o’clock was the time everyone usually took their lunch break which had proven to be the perfect time to get fucked on the job.

Once the clock struck 12, you slide your panties off under your desk and tuck them in your briefcase, a rule set by Kirishima to ensure that your cunt is exposed and ready for his filling. You walk towards the janitor’s closet; the one next to the women’s room and stand there to wait, awkwardly waving at the women who came out of the restroom with a weird stare. Suddenly the door opens and someone pulls you inside. 

Finally. He kissed you hard, his big stern hands grabbing and caressing your ass as if he owned you and everything attached to you. You moan into his mouth, wrapping your legs around his waist when he lifts you and pins you against the cold steel supply shelf. “Miss me, gorgeous?” Kirishima asks, his lips ghosting over yours as he hikes your skirt up over your ass, biting his lip when he feels you’re completely bare underneath. 

“You’re such a little slut for me, taking your panties off to come and get fucked in the janitor’s closet.” He starts kissing your neck, nibbling slightly to mark you just a little; he can’t help himself. 

You’re already getting so hot, your slick pooling at his fingertips as they run along your folds. He stands you on your feet and turns you around, getting down on his knees to worship your ass. His hands slap each cheek firmly, causing you to flinch and lean into the wall, ass sticking out for him. 

Before you can speak, his hands spread your ass apart, spitting onto your pussy. His tongue starts lapping up your slick folds as his hands squeeze your ass, your nails digging into your palms as you groan into your sleeves. You’re mewling so much you could swear someone could hear you, Kirishima’s thick fingers now sliding inside you while he stands on his feet. 

“Gotta get that tight cunt ready for me, baby. You like that?” He huffs into your hair, pumping his fingers inside you at a slow pace. You nod as you back your hips into his hand, Kirishima grabbing one hip to keep you still. 

“So eager. Stay still would, ya?” Kirishima taunts, speeding up his fingers as he smacked you ass to scold you. You yelp, the sting from the hit fading into blinding pleasure as he fingered you, your cunt squelching and making obscene  noises as you feel your legs turn to pudding. 

“Kiri I c-can’t, you’re gonna make me c-cum!” You whine, chewing on your bottom lip. 

“That’s the idea. Mm, cum all over my fucking fingers.” He urged, his fingers diving deeper into your greedy walls, your cunt sucking him inside as you cum with a hard clench. Kirishima smirked and pulled his fingers out of you, sticking them into his mouth with a moan at your flavor. 

“Good fuckin’ girl. On your knees.” He demands, pointing towards the floor. You obliged, moaning when you see him take his cock out of his uniform pants. Good lord, you don’t think you’ll ever get used to seeing it in all its glory.

He was impossibly thick and long, prominent veins running along the shaft and a perfectly soft and spongey head; the one that kissed your cervix with every thrust. You open your mouth for him, tongue lolling out as he sticks his cock inside. Your lips wrap around him, moaning at the taste of his skin as you bob your head. Kirishima takes a fistful of your hair and fucks your throat, hissing when you gag and drool all over his cock. Your hands start grabbing at your breasts, unbuttoning your top to pull them outside of your bra. 

“God, look at you..” Kirishima groans, you giggling when he pulls you off his cock with a lewd “pop” sound. “Such a dirty girl.” Kirishima takes his thick cock and slaps it against your wet lips, pressing between them to get your mouth open again. Sucking him off got you so wet; the sounds of slurping and gagging. All of his dirty words laced with pleasurable grunts stirred your insides as your cunt ached with need.

Every time his cock hit the back of your throat you moan, reaching your hand down to help relieve the ache in your core. 

“Shit..” Eijiro moans at the state of you, a usually prim and proper business woman on her knees for him looking so fucking sloppy. 

It was the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, taking his hand to pinch and play with your nipples as you suckle on his dick head, taking it and slapping it against your tongue with a love struck look in your eye.

He burned that image of you in his mind, wanting to revisit this moment later when he was alone while bucking his hips to get you to wrap those soft lips around his cock again. Your fingers rub lazy circles on your swollen clit, moaning around his dick as he fucked your mouth. 

“So fucking sexy, baby.” He hissed, pulling his cock from your lips and sitting on his haunches. 

“C’mere.” He demands, slapping his thighs to get you to sit in his lap. You straddle his waist, his length resting on your slick cunt. He grinds your hips against his, the under side of his cock rubbing against your swollen clit with a groan. Kirishima lowers his hand and gives you the filling you’ve been craving all week, pressing his length against your weeping hole and pulling your hips down onto his length. 

The dull stretch caused you to grab onto his shoulders and hold tight, bouncing on his cock slowly to adjust to his monster of a cock. It was all so delicious; Kiri running his thumb along your swollen bud with a satisfied grunt. 

“Fuck, I’m cumming already, Eiji- shit!” You wail, breathy moans leaving your lips as he ruts his hips upwards, one of his big hands grabbing at your breast, the other rubbing your clit in soft circles. 

“Fuckin’ hell, baby..” He groans, rolling your hips into his as his hands run along your soft ass, striking it harshly. You’re drooling into his shoulder, holding onto the shelf that contained cleaning supplies for good measure, trying to keep up with his movements. With all the shaking, all the cleaning products started toppling over, loud clangs of the metal shelf echoing through the small closet to mask your loud moans. 

You both let out breathy half giggles, melting into each other’s bodies as Kirishima reached up to wrap your hair around his hand to yank it, attacking your now exposed neck with hot kisses and nibbles. He stands on his feet, fingers pressed into your ass to keep a tight grip on you as he lowered you onto his cock. You see stars as Eijiro picks you up and drops you onto his thick cock, scrambled sentences leaving your mouth as your mouth hangs open in bliss.

Kirishima kicks over a bucket, the stupid thing in his path as he pressed your bare back against the cold concrete wall. He rolls his hip into yours, lips wrapped around one of your nipples, nibbling lightly. Grunting and high pitched whines fill the closet, your bodies practically sticking together from the heat you both omitted. Tongues intertwined with each other, hands traveling along naked skin as he hit your g-spot over and over again in a blind rage. 

“F-Fuck! I’m gonna cum for you, baby.” you squeal, toes curling so hard you feel a cramp coming on; Kirishima bucking into with more fervor as you both reach a climax. 

“’M gonna cum inside you. Gonna make you my fuckin’ cum dump.” He huffed, your eyes rolling to the back of your head with every hit against your cervix. 

You both grunt; Kirishima painting your insides white as he rests you both onto the floor, grinding his hips a few more times before pulling out his flaccid form. Your back laid flat on the cold floor, looking up at him with clouded eyes from all the tears you shed from your encounter. Sex with Kirishima made working at this stuffy place so much more worth it. As he looked down at you he helped fix your clothes, the timer on his watch beeping to signal it was time to get back to work. 

“Ya know, we don’t have to wait to see each other once a week. I could fuck you like this every day, every night...” Eijiro said, wiping the sweat from your brow. 

“Are you asking me out?” You tease, sitting up to button up your shirt.

“Depends.. are you saying yes?” He asks, raising his eyebrow as he adjusts his pants.

“Maybe.”

[hyogonokitsune]

hi love!!! I would please like to request something so jdneoe please I'm all blushy while thinking but imagine iwaizumi fucking you in front of the mirror in the locker room after hearing the Japan team talking about you, his precious girlfriend, how they would use you as some fucktoy, he knows you deserve way more than that

hajime knows all the players were watching by the door how you were almost breaking from the pleasure he was giving you, too lost in it you didn't even know they were there

pls this is basically mirror sex and unknown voyeurism for the reader 😭😭😭😭

ofc if you don feel comfortable you don't have to do it!! thanks a lot

this is my first-ever request, so as a prize you win a kissaroo from me to u 😘 this was a very fun idea anon, so thank you for sending it in! I was also blushing while writing it ksjdksdduhjd          

actual locker room talk, (semi-nonconsensual) voyeurism, mirror sex, overstimulation, creampie

2200 words

watching -- iwaizumi hajime x reader

He knew it wasn’t your fault; after all, you couldn’t help how cute you were. You couldn’t help the way the fabric of your skirt clung to your hips, the way the neckline of your blouse dipped down when you bent forward, revealing just a little too much skin. You certainly couldn’t help yourself from gazing at your boyfriend with those cute little bedroom eyes each time you visited him at work; it was a look that he learned early on was unintentional, it was simply your natural reaction to seeing him, and it was one of the little things he loved about you. That gaze was reserved for him and him alone, and it only appeared on your face when you thought no one else was watching.

But someone was always watching you; they just couldn’t help themselves, not when somebody as cute as you was wandering around the gym, trailing after Iwaizumi like a lost puppy, your sweet laughter echoing around the room. The looks they caught you giving to your boyfriend, a small indicator of what you were like behind closed doors, made it difficult for them to not fantasize about you.

Iwaizumi knew this, and to some extent he didn’t mind. Having a gorgeous girlfriend inevitably meant that other guys were going to think about her a little too much, but it didn’t matter what they thought to themselves, because at the end of the day it was him that you went home to.

What he did mind, however, was the way they talked about you. Crowded into the locker room after practice, unaware that he was just outside the open door, the team didn’t hold anything back.

“Did ya see what Y/n was wearing today?” Atsumu asked no one in particular. “That dress didn’t leave much to the imagination, huh?”

“Pretty sure she wasn’t wearing anything underneath,” Hinata said.

“Yeah, I saw the way you were starin’ at her,” Atsumu laughed.

“Can you blame me? When she bent over to pick up that ball….”

Someone whistled then, a low, long note. Several other voices murmured their agreement.

“If she’s looking for some balls to hold, I wouldn’t mind helping her out.” More laughter sounded out; Iwaizumi’s jaw clenched. He was frozen on the spot, unable to tear himself away from the disgusting conversation.

“Yeah? Why don’t you tell her that next time she comes around.”

“Bet she gives crazy good head.”

“Girls like that always do.”

“Fuck, I wouldn’t mind hitting that.”

“She’d probably just lie there and take it, too.”

“Not like I’d want anything else outta her, though.”

Their laughter rang out. Iwaizumi had finally had enough, forcing himself to turn and walk away; it probably wouldn’t have been a good look if the team’s athletic trainer wound up putting them in the hospital.

He definitely knew it wasn’t your fault; not you, his lovely girlfriend who had never asked for any of that attention. The fact that you just existing could elicit such disrespectful comments made him feel more frustration than he knew what to do with. More than the knowledge that other guys were thinking about fucking his girlfriend, he was more bothered by the way they had spoken about you, as if you were just a piece of meat, something interesting for them to play with. He knew better, knew that you were someone to cherish and take care of, someone he had gone out of his way to make feel good countless times.

But he also knew that their comments were, in the end, harmless. He certainly was never going to relay them to you, and as long as you could stay happy, blissfully unaware of what was being said about you, Iwaizumi could shoulder the burden of knowing the team’s true thoughts. He had managed to calm himself down by the next time he saw them, and was successfully managing to ignore what he had overheard.

Up until the next time you stopped by the gym.

When he spotted you across the court, chatting innocently to Ushijima and Atsumu, something in him snapped. He was hyperaware of the lustful way Atsumu was looking down at you, the way the muscles in Ushijima’s arm tensed when you playfully shoved him on the shoulder, laughing at something he had said. It was one thing to listen to the team talk about wanting to fuck you; actually seeing it so plainly on their faces was something else entirely.

Before he was aware of his own intentions, Iwaizumi was making his way over to you, putting a protective arm around your shoulders and tugging you away from the others.

“Y/n,” he said, his voice sounding oddly clipped. “Can you come with me for a second?” He was already leading you away before you could respond.

“Hajime? Is something wrong?” you asked, looking up at him. You could see the muscles in his cheek tensing as he clenched his jaw.

“No, baby,” he said, but you weren’t entirely convinced.

“Okay, because it seems like something’s bothering you,” you pressed as he led you into the team’s locker room.

“Nothing’s bothering me.” He pushed your back up against the row of sinks, large hands firmly gripping your waist. “Just wanted to touch you,” he said, head bending down to press hot kisses into your neck.

“Hajime, not here!” you said, but you made no effort to push him away. You sighed, melting into his touch, hands grasping at the fabric of his shirt as his mouth moved up to your ear, teeth nipping at the soft skin.

“Why not, princess?” he asked, voice low and husky. “Don’t you wanna see how cute you are?”

Turning you around, he pressed his chest up against your spine, hand weaving into your hair to tilt your head back so that he could kiss down your throat. You stared at your reflection in the mirror with wide eyes, gasping as his teeth sank into your skin.

“Don’t you wanna see what you look like when I’m fucking you?”

Your heart was pounding, legs trembling as his hands roamed over your body, lifting up your shirt and tugging down your bra to reveal your breasts. Your nipples hardened when the cold air hit them; Iwaizumi’s fingers brushed over them, pinching and rolling, making you moan softly.

“P-please, Hajime,” you said breathlessly, feeling his cock pressing into your ass. You grinded back against him, desperate for more contact. The wetness was growing between your thighs, soaking through your panties.

“Hmm?” he hummed in your ear. One of his hands moved under your skirt, tugging your panties down and letting them fall to your knees. “What do you want, princess?” he asked, sliding a finger along your pussy, making you squirm.

“Want your cock, please, baby, need it so badly,” you begged. In the mirror, you saw him grin over your shoulder. He tugged down his shorts and boxers just enough to free his cock, before flipping your skirt up over your hips to get a better view of you. He dragged the head of his cock between the folds of your pussy, his touch teasing.

“This what you want?” he asked, the tone of his voice making you shiver. You nodded, biting your bottom lip in anticipation. He pressed into you, groaning at the sight of your eyes fluttering shut as his thick cock stretched you out. His hands gripped your hips firmly as he bottomed out; you clenched around him, drawing another low groan from his lips. “Fuck, baby, you’re so tight.”

Iwaizumi loved the look on your face in the mirror, with your head thrown back and eyes squeezed tight, breath coming out in shallow pants as he started thrusting into you. It was clear that you had no thoughts other than how good he felt inside you, desperately wanting him to make you cum; but a part of his mind was thinking of something else. He was thinking about the fact that practice was almost over, and any minute now the team would be heading back to the locker room to find you there, shamelessly moaning from the way that he was fucking you.

“Open your eyes, princess,” he told you. “I want you to look at yourself while I fuck you.” You immediately obeyed, staring, mesmerized, at your boyfriend’s face in the mirror, his dark green eyes boring into you.

His cock was hitting that spot deep inside your cunt, making your whole body tremble. He dug his fingers into your hips, gripping you harshly as he fucked into you. Your pussy was tightening around him, letting him know how close you were getting.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he groaned, mouth sucking on the skin of your neck again. “Who’re you so wet for, baby?”

“Y-you, Hajime—oh, fuck—only you,” you gasped out, surprised by how much you were loving being able to watch yourself getting fucked. Your cheeks were flushed, hot breath fogging up the mirror as you came closer and closer to your release. “F-fuck, please don’t stop, baby, I’m g-gonna cum—god!” You had barely gotten the last word out before your orgasm washed over you, eyes closing again at the intense pleasure.

You were too wrapped up in your own world to notice the sound of footsteps getting closer, but Iwaizumi was all too aware of them. He was looking at the door in the mirror when the team appeared there, grinning to himself at the stunned expressions on their faces. He put a hand on your back, pressing you down until your chest was lying flat on the counter.

“You want more, baby?” he asked you, just loud enough for the others to hear.

“Yes,” you moaned, head nodding against the cool surface of the counter. “Feels so good…”

Iwaizumi started thrusting into you harder, the sound of his balls slapping against your cunt echoing throughout the room. You were quickly coming undone, breathing shallow and fast as your nails grasped at the surface beneath you. His name left your lips over and over, begging him to go harder, faster, to give you more.

He loved the way you felt around him, loved how easy it was for him to completely wreck you. Your cunt was clenching so hard around his cock, drawing him back in each time his hips pulled away from you.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he murmured into your ear as one of his hands reached around to play with your clit, the added sensation making your spine arch. “You wanna cum again, princess?”

“Mm hmm,” you whimpered, unable to say much else. You could hardly catch your breath with the relentless pace he set, the feeling of his cock so deep in your pussy making your mind go blank. He was rubbing tight circles over your clit, the friction sending you over the edge again.

With one cheek pressed into the counter, Iwaizumi could see half your face as you were cumming. He smiled at the way your mouth fell open, no sound coming out as he continued to rock his hips into you, not giving you a break for a second. He glanced up at the mirror again to find the whole team still standing in the doorway, watching intently as he fucked you better than they ever could. Several of them were palming themselves through their shorts, desire plain on their faces.

He increased his pace even more, fingers still playing with your clit, making you cry out. Your whole body was shaking underneath him; the sight of it drove him mad.

“T-too much, Hajime!” you wailed, but the look in your eyes as you gazed up at his face pleaded for him to keep going. The overstimulation was electrifying every part of your body, a tingling sensation running up and down your limbs as his cock slammed into you relentlessly.

“One more, princess,” he said, never stopping his movements. “You’re gonna cum for me one more time.” It wasn’t a question or a request, but a clear order. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from his, even as they watered from the intense pleasure, your vision blurring, body shaking uncontrollably.

“Fuck, fuck! Hajime!” you screamed out as your pussy clenched around him again, eyes rolling back. A string of curses and moans flew past your lips, dissolving into unintelligible babbling. If he hadn’t been gripping your hip so tightly, you would have collapsed from the intensity of your orgasm, knees trembling wildly.

Iwaizumi couldn’t hold back anymore. He leaned down over you, chest pressing into your back and lips latching onto your throat as he came, spilling his load inside of you. “You’re so amazing, baby,” he whispered, his words intended only for your ears.

Panting hard, he pulled out of you, fixing your clothes into place before tucking himself back into his shorts. Pressing one last kiss into the back of your neck, he looked up at the mirror. The hard look he gave the guys still standing in the open doorway was more than clear; without needing a word from him, they all turned to leave before you could sit up and notice them.

Iwaizumi wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you in close to plant a kiss on your temple. He led you out of the locker room, grinning at the way the team stared at you in the hallway, their eyes moving to look at his cum slowly dripping down your inner thigh.

--

➣ masterlist

[babybluebex]

of pubs and profs [tom holland smut]

➽ pairing: prof!tom holland x fem!reader (y/n) ➽ word count: 4.7k ➽ summary: you have what you consider the best night of your life, but discover that it was with the worst person possible. ➽ warnings: NSFW/MDNI. smut, explicit language, fingering/oral (f recieving), unprotected sex (i am begging yall to wear a condom irl) ➽ a/n: alright so... don’t fool around with your teacher pls. live vicariously thru y/n :) 

He seemed so out of place here. For one thing, a bar like this was hardly known for much good happening, and this man exuded good. He seemed fit, even as he sat at the bar, his face sharp, full of angles that would have been glorious to sketch, and he had caramel-amber hair that curled around his ears and the nape of his neck. He wore a dark blue turtleneck and slacks, a watch with a leather band around his left wrist. 

“You’re staring.” 

I jumped. I had forgotten that I was mid-conversation. “Huh?”

Zendaya scoffed. “You’re staring at that guy,” she said. “Like, staring super hard. Do you know him?” 

“No,” I mumbled. “He’s just…” I trailed off for a moment, then attempted to save face by taking a sip of my drink. “I like the look of him. Ya know?” 

Zendaya scoffed at me. “I like the look of him too, but you’re on something else here.” There was a pause between the two of us, and Zen’s mouth split into a smile. “Five bucks.” 

“For what?” I asked. 

“You can’t get his number,” Zen said. “I’ll give you five whole dollars if you get his phone number.”

“You don’t have five dollars,” I said playfully, with narrowed eyes. “You don’t even have two coins to rub together.”

“Right, and who bought your drink?” Zen asked. “C’mon, you need to put yourself out there. Ever since you and Jacob broke up, it’s been nothing but… Sad. Your room’s a cave, Y/N. Will you do this for me?” 

I cast a glance at the guy once more, and I sighed. “Why not?” I mumbled under my breath. “But I had better get that fucking money, or I’ll take away your apartment privileges.” 

“I pay half of the rent, fuck you,” Zen laughed. “Go. Go!” 

“I am!” I giggled, and I slid myself out of the booth. The pub was bustling with nightly business, and I edged my way past a group of girls to find a place at the bar. My plan of attack was to order a drink and strike up a conversation with this guy, and grab his phone number before I left. Lucky for me, there was an empty space next to him, and I leaned against the bar with my forearms. 

“Oh, hey, good lookin’!” the bartender, Jake, exclaimed. He was a close friend of mine, hence why I always chose to drink at this particular bar. Our freshman year, he lived in the room across the hall from me, and we frequented each other for screwdrivers (of both varieties) all year. Since then, we continued to grow close. “What’s cooking?”

“Not a lot, Gyllenhaal,” I replied, and our hands met in a quick dap. “Lemme get a rum and Coke.”

“Sure thing,” Jake said. “Gimme two minutes. We’ve got a bachelorette party in the back.” 

“No problem,” I replied, and I watched Jake slide to the other side of the bar. 

The game was now on. I looked over my shoulder to Zendaya briefly, just for long enough to gauge that she was laughing at me, and I cast her a look before turning back. Then, I looked back over my other shoulder, the one closest to the guy, and I caught sight of a book he had. “What’re you reading there?” 

He looked up at me with big brown eyes, and my breath caught in my chest. From far away, he was hot but, up close, he was totally something else. He had strands of ginger in his dark hair, and his fingers closed the book in order to look at the cover, like he himself wasn’t sure of what he was reading. “Chaos Walking,” he answered, and my eyes widened. His voice was gorgeous, pitched low, accented with a London attitude. “My mate told me I’d like it.”

“Don’t think I’ve read that,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “What’s it about?” 

“Well,” he began and laughed lightly. “A lot. Basically, though, it follows a boy who lives in a world with no girls, where you can hear others thoughts, and he meets a girl. It’s sci-fi and… I dunno.” 

“Is it a good read?” I asked. “You seem like you enjoy it.” The book was battered, the paper cover torn and creased, with the spine broken. It was a book that was well-loved, and I liked how his entire being seemed to reflect the book. 

“Oh, I love it,” he said with a smile. “It’s so fun, ya know? The entirety of the story is incredible.” Then, a beat passed, and he added, “I’m Tom.” 

“Well, hi,” I said and gave him a warm smile. “I’m Y/N. No offense, but this sorta place doesn’t seem like your vibe.” 

Tom gave the front of the book a firm pat. “It’s not,” he said. “I was waiting on a friend but he doesn’t seem like he’ll be joining me tonight.”

“I didn’t think so,” I said, wrinkling my nose. “You seem like a coffee shop kinda guy.”

“You don’t quite seem like the sort to be here either,” Tom told me. 

“How do you mean?”

“You don’t belong in a pub like this, I just know it,” Tom told me. “You’d be better suited somewhere else.” 

I shrugged. “I usually don’t leave my apartment to drink,” I said. “But I’m friends with the bartender and I visit every so often just to say hi.” A moment passed. “Wait, back up. Where would I be better suited?” 

Tom smiled, but it seemed more hesitant than before. “At the risk of being bold,” he started. “My flat.” 

“Jesus!” I breathed, and my face went hot. 

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “That was-- I’m so sorry--”

“No, no!” I said quickly. “No, it’s not a problem, I promise. That was bold, Tom, but I don’t mind it. As a matter of fact, I think you might be right.” 

“Glad we agree,” Tom said. “D’you wanna get out of here now?” 

“Sure thing,” I said. My skin prickled at the thought of him against me, and I laid a gentle hand on his arm. “Let me get my bag.” 

When I approached the booth, Zendaya stuck her tongue at me. “You lost,” she said. 

“Did I?” I asked, pulling my bag onto my shoulder. “Or am I going home with him?” 

“Shut up,” Zen laughed. “That was quick as hell.” 

“That tends to happen,” I shrugged. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting with Tom.” 

“I hate you,” I heard Zen mutter as I turned away from her. 

Tom’s apartment--his flat, as he called it--was just a short cab ride from the bar, and I had hardly passed through the front door before his hands were pressing into my waist and his mouth was on mine. In an instant, I had melted into him, and my hands tangled in the bottom of his shirt. His mouth tasted like whiskey, which felt totally in-character for him, and he carefully nipped at my bottom lip. 

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” Tom whispered, and he pushed my hair from my neck in order to brush his lips against my throat. No guys in my past had ever told me that in such clear terms, and my entire body ran hot at his words. A shiver ran down my spine, and he huffed a laugh into my neck. “Do you like when I say that?”

“I just like the way you talk,” I admitted. “Could listen forever.” 

“That’s an awfully long time,” Tom told me warmly. His slender fingers inched under my shirt to touch my bare skin, and he slid his hands to lay flat against the small of my back. His kisses lingered on my neck, and the feeling of his soft skin was so lovely. “Let’s start with tonight.” 

“I can manage that,” I laughed. “Bed?” 

As soon as I was down in his bed, Tom was working my shirt off. His hands were so strong and sure against me, and I had no hesitations in letting him do whatever he pleased. His kisses trailed down to my stomach and chest once they were bare to him, and the feel of his mouth on my hip made me take a fistful of those pretty brown waves of his. He just laughed and continued his pursuit downwards, and he rid me of my jeans and panties before pausing and looking up at me. “Is this alright?” He asked. 

“Yeah,” I said. “Just… Yeah.”

“Good girl,” Tom whispered, and I swore I died right there. He took my leg in his strong grip and kissed my inner thigh, and he placed the softest kiss to my quivering cunt. I immediately knew that I was in good hands, and I let my body relax and submit to Tom. His shoulders nudged my legs open further as he pressed his warm tongue to my wetness, and I bit back a moan as I tried to keep my legs from closing. I was already shaking, which was honestly embarrassing, but Tom didn’t seem to mind. In fact, it seemed to encourage him, because he placed a series of sloppy kisses to my throbbing clit that made me squeal. Then, his mouth went straight to where I was leaking, and an obscene slurping filled the air. Fuck, he was good. 

“Oh my God,” I whispered, and his fingers quickly joined his tongue. First one, then two, then his thumb met my clit, and I whimpered. “Oh, fuck, oh my God.” 

“No need to call me that,” Tom whispered. His breath was hot against my wet cunt, his voice raspy, and I couldn’t help the fluttering that enveloped his fingers. “Just my name will do for now.”

The combination of his fingers and mouth made my stomach quiver, and I knew that it wouldn’t be long before I came. I had never come just from being eaten out, and my heart raged against my ribcage when I dared to imagine what came next. His thumb moved slowly around my clit, and his mouth replaced it as his fingers moved in me deliciously. His tongue, so skilled and quick, took up his thumb’s previous job, and he took the throbbing bud into his mouth and quickly nipped it with his teeth at the same moment that his fingertips found home inside me. 

There was no hope of obscuring my moan. “Fuck!” I yelped, writhing in his grip. “T-Tom, fuck.”

“Do you wanna come?” Tom whispered, looking at me through his eyelashes. “Use your words, my darling, please.” 

“Please, please,” I gasped. My head fell back to expose my neck, and I squeezed my eyes shut. My breathing was ragged, and a shock of electricity raced through my whole body when he laughed into my cunt. 

“Such a needy girl,” Tom chuckled. “You don’t have to ask. Whenever you’re ready, just let me know.” 

He lapped at my wet cunt, tasting me like he had dreamt of this, and my hand went from his hair to his shoulder. His waves and curls fell into his eyes, but he kept at his work, even when I pushed at his shoulder. “Tommy,” I whimpered out helplessly. “I-I’m gonna-- You--”

“My darling,” Tom said. “I want you to come on my tongue. Let me taste you, babygirl. Come for me.” 

My bottom lip was bitten nearly raw, and it only became worse when he said that. I nearly tasted blood as he gave my cunt one last kiss, so much more gentle than what he had been doing before, and my hips stuttered as hot pleasure pulsed through every part of me. I grabbed handfuls of his shirt and tugged him close, and he came to lay with his hips between my legs. My vision was blurry with tears as I studied him, oh so close to me now, and I felt a tiny pride at his pink cheeks and glistening lips. That was all me. “Oh, thank you,” I whispered, and he sweetly kissed each of my cheeks. “That was so good.” 

“I’m glad,” Tom said. “Secretly, I pride myself in being able to do that.” 

“You should be proud of that,” I huffed. “Also… ‘my god’?” 

“That was in jest,” Tom began with a light laugh. 

“I know,” I said. My hands trailed up his back, hiking his shirt up to his shoulders, and he helped me in tugging it off. He shook his hair out once it passed his head, and I added, “It’s a fitting name, though.” 

“Really?” He asked, bracing himself above me. “Am I a god, Y/N?”

“Close to it,” I told him. I noticed the way that my hands were trembling as I went to his belt, and he must have noticed as well, because his hands went to my wrists. His hands fit all the way around my wrists easily. It wasn’t rough or dominating by any means; his hands slid up from my wrists to grasp my hands, fingers interlocking with mine as he pressed my hands down beside my head. 

“Take a deep breath, my darling,” Tom told me gently. His thumb made comforting circles on my hand, and my stomach went all fluttery at how serene it was. “You’re shaking so hard. Do we need to stop?” 

“No,” I told him. “I’m alright. I promise.” 

“Alright,” Tom said. “Let me know if we need to stop.” 

I nodded quickly, reaching for a handful of his hair, and I tugged him down to kiss me. I could taste myself on his mouth and, normally, that would have irked me, but with Tom, it only made my thighs tense and warmth spread through my body. My skin rippled at each touch of his fingers, and I let out little mumblings of his name as he kissed my neck and shoulders. 

A surge of boldness ran up my spine, and I moved my hands from where he had placed them back down to his belt. As it seemed was the norm, he was two steps ahead of me, because he was already in the process of leaning back and pulling off his pants. The bedroom was cast only in the soft light of the lamp beside the bed, but I still captured every freckle, hair, and ridge on Tom’s firm chest and stomach. He was the definition of the skinny white guy that had good dick. Or, at least, he gave good head. But someone that good at giving head had to be as skilled elsewhere, right? 

He was back on me in an instant, kissing my neck and making little marks on my skin as I shoved his pants down his thighs. Tom’s hands captured my legs and drew them around his naked waist, and I gasped aloud when I felt his hard cock brush against my cunt, already throbbing once more. In fear of seeming dumb, I didn’t intentionally look, but I could feel the weight of his cock against my body, and I stuttered, “God, Tommy..” 

“That impressive, huh?” Tom laughed.  

“Of course,” I remarked. “What, have you never been told you have a big cock before?”

Tom lifted his head from my neck, and I let out a giggle at his blown-wide pupils and red cheeks. “Where the hell have you been all my life?” He asked with a smile. He laughed, and I noticed the way that wrinkles formed right by his eyes with the extremity of his smile. That was adorable as hell. “You’re gorgeous and so funny, and you’re complimenting me like this? You’re perfect.” 

“I’ve just been waiting for you, I guess,” I shrugged and ran my hands over his built arms, rock solid like a statue. 

“Sorry it took me so long to find you,” Tom smiled. “Traffic was a bitch.” 

I laughed, my head falling back onto the pillows, and Tom situated the head of his cock at my folds. At the feel of it, I gasped, and he swallowed my gasp with a kiss. “Let me know if we need to stop,” he reminded me, kissing my chin gently. 

“I’m fine,” I told him, even though I was shaking so fiercely. Tom sank himself into me, and the deep rumble of his moan made my back arch up against him. “Fuck, darling,” he mumbled. “Cunt’s so tight… Squeezing the hell outta me.” His fingers dug into my hip, surely leaving bruises to later admire, and he snapped his hips forward so that he was fully in me. 

“More,” I whispered. I wasn’t sure what I wanted more of; I just knew that I wanted more of whatever he ended up giving me. 

My whole body thrummed with blood and life as he fucked me, pausing to pant into my neck and kiss my mouth. His back was taut with hard muscles and I raked my fingers down to his waist and back up to his hair. A curl had escaped the rest of his hair and bounced against my forehead with each thrust, and Tom and I each huffed out a laugh at it. Silently, I reached up and twisted the perfect curl around my finger, and Tom gave me another eye-wrinkling smile.

“F-Fuck, darling,” Tom muttered, and I could tell by his stuttering that he was close. The rhythm of his hips had slowed, but his grip on my waist and legs was as tight as ever. “So fuckin good for me, God.” 

“I’m getting close again, Tommy,” I told him, my voice shaking. I’m sure he already knew, what with the way my chest was hot and my breathing was erratic, but I still wanted to see the look on his face when I said it.

“Oh, me too, my darling,” Tom whispered. His hand fell from its place at my hip and came to rest on my stomach, just above the point where he had himself buried inside me, and his thumb-- that damned thumb of his-- slid down until he was playing with my clit once more. There was an urgency this time, though, his movements quicker and messier. With each thrust, his own belly quivered, and I desperately pulled at his hair. I needed him to come first. I needed to feel him spill himself inside of me. I needed to feel his cum leak out of me, to hear him laugh at the mess we made like I knew he would. I needed so much. I just needed him.

“Tommy,” I whimpered, keening into his touch. “Fuck, Tom--”

His lips crashed into mine, and that was all it took. My legs shook around his waist, and my vision went white-hot for a moment. His thrusts were messy, his waves and curls completely undone and hanging in his eyes, and he watched with a greedy gaze as I writhed under him. I pulled his head down into my neck and he resumed his work of nipping my skin and soothing the sting with his tongue, and I kissed the shell of his ear. “Oh, Tom,” I whispered, just loud enough for him to hear over the sounds of our shared gasps. “Please, for me?” 

He pulled himself from me and was spilling in an instant, covering my waist and stomach in his warm cum. He settled himself on his elbows above me once again, and I took care to brush those waves off of his forehead. His hair had gone super curly with the little bit of sweat on his forehead, and I bit the tip of my tongue. “Yeah?” I whispered. 

“Yeah,” Tom agreed. “Let me get you a towel. Stay right there.”

“Wasn’t really planning on going anywhere, honestly,” I laughed. 

When he returned, he was wearing a pair of boxers and a t-shirt that hugged his muscled frame. He sat beside me and carefully wiped me clean with the wet corner of a towel, and he placed a sweet kiss on my forehead. “Are you feeling alright?” Tom asked. “Can I get you anything?” 

“I’m fine,” I told him. “Thanks, though.”

“No worries,” Tom told me. “You’re welcome to stay the night, if you’d like. I must warn you, though, that I like to cuddle.” 

“I would have expected nothing less,” I told him. I sat up, testing my legs for a moment, and my cheeks went hot. “Umm… I don’t think I can walk.” 

Tom’s eyes went big for a moment, and he reached for me with a hesitant hand. “Are you kidding?” He asked. 

“My legs are shaking too hard,” I whispered and bit my lip. 

“Oh, my darling, I’m so sorry,” Tom told me, his eyebrows pitching up. “I truly didn’t mean to hurt you--”

“You didn’t,” I said quickly. “It’s… This is a good thing. I promise.” 

There was a brief exchange that ended with Tom giving me a shirt to sleep in and me promising him that I won’t try to walk until my legs quit shaking. We found each other again once in bed, my head fitting snugly under his chin, and his fingernails lightly scratched up and down my back. The feel of his strong arms around me, holding me in such a protective way, lulled me to sleep. 

The night passed under a thin veil of dreams. All too soon, an alarm began to blare, scaring me fully awake in a second. From the darkness, there was a groan of displeasure, and a grunt as the bed squeaked and shifted, and the alarm was turned off with a solid stab of a finger. “Sorry, darling,” Tom whispered. “I forgot I have an early morning today.” 

“You’re fine,” I whispered. The lamp turned on, and I was met with Tom, his hair messy and frizzy, his face flushed with good sleep. I stretched my arms above my head, allowing a quick squeal, and I said, “I should probably be heading out soon too. I have an eight AM.”

“Ugh,” Tom groaned. “I hate those.” 

“Right,” I agreed. “Who wants to learn at eight in the morning?”

“The poor instructor,” Tom laughed. His voice was lower than before, scratchy as well, and my chest warmed at the sound. He fixed his hair out of his face, and he turned to see me, still wrapped up in his shirt and blankets. “You look cozy.” 

“I am,” I said softly. “Wish I could stay for just a little longer.” 

“Pursuit of knowledge is an honorable one, though, darling,” Tom told me. “Would you like to shower first?” 

“No,” I said. “I have to go by my apartment to get my stuff and change clothes anyway, I’ll just shower there.” 

“Alright,” Tom nodded. He reached for me and I met him halfway, brushing my lips to his in a soft kiss, and he gave me a light laugh. “I need to get your phone number. I’d love to do this again.” 

“I’d like that too,” I said. I gave him a parting kiss, then worked myself from the bed. I stretched once more, feeling my back pop, and I found my bag by the door to the bedroom. I gave Tom my phone, open to a new contact listing, and he gave a mischievous smile before plugging in his information. “What’s that smile all about?” 

At the top of my screen, it read Big Dick Tom. 

“Oh, God,” I laughed. “That’s really gone to your head, hasn’t it?” 

“You’re the one who told me that,” Tom argued. “And, if someone tells you that you have a big dick, you take that shit to heart.” 

“Sure, sure,” I said quickly. “I’ll text you; maybe we can get dinner this weekend?”

Tom gave me a smile that was fit for a king. “Of course, my darling girl.” 

Tom ended up sending me home with the shirt I had slept in. It was for some carpentry school in Wales, but it was soft and smelled like Tom, so I didn’t really mind the odd reference. Just before I left, he had swept me up in his arms and kissed me, and he pressed his forehead to mine. “This might be premature,” he whispered. “But do you wanna be my girlfriend?” 

Zendaya slapped a five dollar bill in my hand when I entered the apartment. “Did you have a good time?” she asked.

“The best,” I told her. “He’s super sweet and a great time, and he asked me to be his girlfriend.”

“You said yes, right?” Zen asked.

“Duh,” I scoffed. “A hot Brit who likes me? I’m not letting that go.”

“Right,” Zen said, and the smile dropped from her face. “Well, while you were off getting dick from your new man, our literature professor dipped.” 

“What?” I asked. 

“Yeah,” Zen said, spinning her laptop to face me. She had an email pulled up from the head of the department, declaring that our professor, our beloved Dr. Osterfield, would not be teaching the course any longer. Buried in the text of the email, it said the name of the replacement professor: Dr. Holland. “I tried to look this guy up, but he’s not on Rate My Professor or anything.” 

“It’s halfway through the fuckin’ semester,” I groaned. “This blows.” 

“I just hope this new guy’s easy,” Zen groaned. “I can’t deal with a hard class right now.” 

The class was still held in the same room as before, and the general air was worse than a normal eight AM. At least, with Dr. O, he had an infectious energy that woke us all up. Nobody knew what to expect with this new guy. I hoped that, for my sake, he was cool. 

The door to the classroom opened, and a man said, “I apologize for the wait. It’s just my luck that I’d be late today…” 

My whole body went cold and my heart stopped. Tom. My boyfriend, my fucking Tom stood at the front of the small lecture hall, wearing the jeans and white buttoned shirt that I had helped pick out. “Well, this is a strange thing, isn’t it?” Tom chuckled, clasping his hands together. “I’ll explain, don’t worry. But first, I think maybe an introduction is in order.” 

He unwound his bag from his shoulder and opened it for a moment, and a whole new wave of dread washed over me. While he was in the shower, I had written him a quick note and stuck it in his bag. It was nothing more than “thanks, love. hope to see you soon xx”, but a smile split his face wide. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “Apparently, my girlfriend left me a little note. Hmm! Anyway, I’m Dr. Holland. Call me that, or Tom, or any variation of the above. I promise you, I’ve heard it all.” 

Tom settled himself on the edge of his desk and he fluffed up his hair a bit. It was then that a quiet wave of titters passed through every girl in the hall; a hickey. It was small, but it was there, right under his ear. “I went to school in London, where I’m from, before I got a degree in English literature from Cambridge. Then, I came to the States and managed to get my doctorate in it, and, who’d have guessed it, this is my first teaching job. Go easy on me, huh?.” My little note, written on a sticky note, was clasped in his hand, and I seriously wanted to die right then and there. My professor. I was stupid. Of course the stars had aligned (or misaligned?) to allow this to happen. And just when I thought I found the right guy, too. 

“Right,” Tom said. “Let’s look at the attendance, see what we’re working with, and I’ll let you guys fill me in on what Dr. Osterfield was covering.” 

The closer he got to my name, the colder my face went. I hated every single moment of it. “And… Y/L/N? Y/N?” 

I quietly raised my hand, then managed a meek, “Here.” 

His eyes trained on me, and I watched the same recognition flood his eyes. Quickly, though, Dr. Tom Holland averted his gaze back down to his computer, and he said, “There you are, Y/N… Can I see you after class?” 

[devil-in-those-eyes]

Invisible String Part 3

Good morning, guys! Honestly, i didnt think me posting was in the future but here we are lol. Ultimately, finishing the series in one part was the winner but last night my whole week fell apart and changed so I might not be able to write when I had planned too. So, I figured I’d share part 3 with you guys, to hold you over until I can get my hands on some free time to write. 

Parts: One, Two

Warnings: Swearing, maybe once. 

A/N: Italics are end of previous chapter

~~

           Mat was the first to speak, glancing up at you and taking his airpods out. “Hey,” his greeting came out on a pant, his chest heaving as if he just got done with a work out. His body was glistening with sweat and the t-shirt he was wearing was sticking to his skin, his hair falling everywhere as he ran his fingers through it.

           The sight alone had you squeezing your thighs together.

           “Hi,” you managed to squeak out, paralyzed in your spot on top of the counter.

           Mat walked towards the fridge and got a water bottle out, glancing over his shoulder and at you, “late night snack?”

           As his question filled the air, the ball inside your stomach continued to build as his eyes took in your shorts and t-shirt. The color in his eyes started to heat up and you felt a fire rise up, starting in your toes and flickering up your legs until it filled every inch of you and flamed inside your cheeks.

           Remembering he asked you a question, your hands tightened around the bowl and you cleared your throat. “Yeah. Late night work out?”

           Mat grabbed out a water and turned to face you as the fridge closed with a soft click. He moved to stand beside you, his back resting against the edge of the counter. “Just couldn’t sleep,” he answered, his deep voice filling your ears.

           As you moved to place the bowl on the space beside you, the outside of your thigh brushed his hand that was pressing into the counter by his hips and it almost stopped you in your tracks, suddenly thinking about how his hand trailed up your thigh while he slowly thrust into you. Shivers raced up your spine at that thought and you tried covering it up by asking, “got something on your mind?”

           Mat turned his head to look at you, leveling you with his gorgeous eyes and making your throat close up. It was hard remembering that you should be feeling guilty about sleeping with your best friend’s brother when he was standing this close, his cheeks rosy and hair sticking to his forehead. All those nights you let horrible and disgusted when you scrolled by his posts, or posts containing his face, just floated away in that moment and that should annoy you but it somehow didn’t.

           Mat didn’t answer but settled for silence and took his eyes off of you. You figured you poked too hard and sucked in a deep breath, looking down at your hands in your lap. You weren’t close with Mat, so you didn’t blame him for not giving you insight of something that was bothering him but you didn’t want any distaste between the two of you because you couldn’t go avoiding him the rest of your life.  

           “How come we were never closer?” Mat asked suddenly, pulling you out of your thoughts.

           You’d be lying if you never thought the same thing while growing up, but the answer was always pretty obvious. “You were always busy with hockey,” you answered, smiling nervously.

           You both stared at each other for a second. His eyes taking in every inch of your face, like he was trying to memorize it for the moments you two spent apart and you just couldn’t look away from him.

           “Would things between us be different if I didn’t leave that morning?” he whispered, his deep voice giving you goosebumps.

           You wanted to shake your head no because you two couldn’t go back there. Even if he didn’t understand or know about the promise you made to yourself, you would die if you lost Liana’s friendship over her brother.

           But instead of shaking your head no, you just stared at him, your lips parted and breathing in short puffs of air. You both played a part in the aftermath because he left in the morning, but you didn’t pick up when he called a few days after, and that’s when he didn’t bother to call anymore because it was clear you thought it was a mistake.

           Mat’s gazed turned down and you followed his eyes just as the edge of his pinkie finger brushed the skin of your thigh, moving slowly and softly, almost like you’d burst into thin air if he kept touching you.

           “Y/N,” Mat whispered.

           You were almost scared to look at him because when you did, it meant it was all over for you. Every second that ticked past meant you were that much closer to forgetting everything around you, how it could hurt his sister and how it would make you feel like you weren’t any better than the other girls that used Liana.

           You were afraid to acknowledge the possibility that Mat could block out the world around you.

           Mat murmured your name again and you watched his body turn towards you.

           “Mat,” you warned, your voice breaking with a gasp but the sound coming from your mouth caused more sudden movements from him, like his hand coming up to cup your jaw.

           He turned your head to face him, tilting you until his lips found yours in a mind-numbing kiss.

           You were right, he really could block out the world. The kiss pushing your scary feelings away as his body twisted until his hands were reaching down and pushing your thighs apart, making room for his hips.

           As his hands sent more flurries of shivers up your spine, yours reached to his chest, twisting his shirt and begging for him to be closer. The real shock to your system was the low groan he let out when your tongues touched, that was when his kiss got heavier and more tense. You could feel this ball building in your stomach, the ache between your thighs just growing until it was swallowing you.

           “Y/N…” His whisper fell into a moan when his big hands gripped your hips, holding on tightly.

           As his hands went up the length of your body, skimming over your ribs and brushing gently over your boobs, your hands fell down to his stomach, feeling his muscles tighten under your fingertips, behind his flimsy shirt.

           You moaned softly when his fingers wrapped themselves in your hair, tugging your head back so his lips could press against your neck. His lips felt like fire against your skin, the kind that didn’t stop unfolding and growing. The tip of his tongue dragging so slow it was like Mat had no where else to be, except in that moment with you.

           The vibration from your phone, followed by the ding, sounded like a canon going off but Mat just didn’t jump away, and his body swallowed up your jolt against his skin. The only thing he did was pull his lips away from your neck, bringing them to your ear.

           Despite just finishing up a work out, his cologne mixed with his sweat and it wasn’t entirely unpleasant but you didn’t get much time to enjoy the softness of the moment, feeling the sexual tension in his muscles melt away because you had to come back to reality.

           “We can’t do this,” you whispered, your voice shattering even though you tried to sound tough.

           “I want too,” Mat argued back, the sound soft and calming, his hand moving from your hair to cup your jaw.

           You pulled back as your hands pushed against his stomach but he didn’t give you a lot of wiggle room. He stared down at you with those heart melting eyes and you were left with nothing to say except his name, praying he understood.

           “We could be something,” he whispered, his frown and the pain in his eyes caused your stomach to drop further.

           “Liana,” was the only thing you said.

           His eyes shut as his jaw tensed, turning his head to the side. For a moment you thought he’d have another argument and maybe he did, but right now his brain wasn’t really comprehending anything other than he couldn’t have you. The hand on your jaw pressed deeper as he turned to face you, your eyes fluttered shut as his lips dipped down to graze your cheek.

           There were no words that could have been said to make this situation better and nothing he could say that would ease your ball of guilty anxiety, so he let his lips linger than what was necessary but you both felt the need for it. When he pulled away, he put full distance between the two of you and forced his eyes to watch you slip down from the counter.

           You could have sworn you heard a creek in the stairs but there wasn’t much you could hear over Mat’s soft breathing, part of you wishing you didn’t have to walk away from him. Despite your heart begging you to take the leap, be with him, your feet forced you away and you took the less than twenty seconds to calm your racing heart and to put on a happy face.

           When you opened Liana’s door, she was sitting on her bed, scrolling through her phone. She glanced up at you, “dude…. Where’s the snacks?”

           Oh, fuck. “I ate them,” you quickly lied as he moved to sit on her bed. “You took too long.”

           Liana snorted with a laugh, which then caused you to laugh.

           “What an ungodly sound.” You teased.

           “Oh, please, you snort too!” She argued, reaching over to smack your arm.

           “Not like that,” you argued, shaking your head as you both continued to laugh.

[daised-daisy]

Stay Instead

Ships: Logince, almost Roceit

Summary: After Logan had enough and moved to the “dark” side, Roman is devastated and can’t do anything but miss him. Then finally as he’s starting to move on, a special someone pays him a visit.

Word Count: 2,506

Warnings: Yelling, Roman gets very angry

~

It was a regular night, and Roman hated that. He hated that Logan being gone and Janus being there was suddenly normal. He hated seeing Janus sitting in Logan’s spot on the couch like it had been his all along. Roman sat at the other end of the couch, his constant glaring going unnoticed by its target. Virgil sat closest to Roman, but a bit of space stayed between them. He laid sideways with his legs bent. He was listening to music on his headphones while scrolling on his phone. After Virgil sat Patton, who worked on a cross-stitching project he’d started a while ago, but never got around to finishing. Logan usually read a book, but Janus read magazines. Logan held his books in one hand, his elbow resting on the arm of the couch. Janus usually held the magazine up in front of his face, but today he had it in his lap. Roman scoffed. He was going to get a cramp in his neck. He opened his mouth to tell him that in an all but helpful tone but froze when he realized something else was slightly different about Janus.

He was wearing glasses. Glasses that looked just like Logan’s.

Roman filled with rage and sadness as the sight tugged at his already aching heart. Tears threatened to spill, and his mouth curled into a scowl, his brows knitted together. He stood up, grabbing Virgil’s attention.

“Ro? What are you doing?” he asked.

“You can’t replace him! You’ll never replace him!” Roman shouted, ignoring Virgil and gaining the attention of the other two. He launched himself at Janus, snatching his glasses off his face and holding them tightly to his chest, tears streaming down his cheeks. “You’re not him! You can’t pretend to be him!” He sunk onto his knees.

“Roman!” Patton scolded, standing up. Janus held up his hand to Patton and looked at Roman as he continued to mumble weak insults about how Janus could never be like Logan. Patton hesitantly sat back, watching Janus and Roman closely.

“Roman, would you like me to sit in a different spot?” he asked, his voice gentle. Roman was familiar with Janus’s smooth tone. It was what he used when manipulating him. But this tone sounded different. It sounded genuine, though Roman was still hesitant to believe it actually was. He hiccuped and nodded nonetheless. Janus stood up, then kneeled down in front of the sobbing prince. Roman clutched Janus’s glasses tighter to his chest, keeping his eyes squeezed shut. Janus took off his glove and brought a hand up to his cheek. When Roman felt Janus’s skin against his cheek, he opened his eyes, letting the darkness give way to Janus’s warm smile. “Would it be okay if I sat next to you instead?” Roman hesitated before nodding again.

Janus slowly stood up, his hand leaving Roman’s cheek. Roman immediately missed his touch, which he didn’t expect. But Janus kept his hand held out. Roman looked at it unsurely. He reluctantly let go of the glasses with one hand and took Janus’s, letting him pull him up. Roman looked at the glasses in his other hand and held them out to Janus.

“I’m sorry,” he whimpered.

“I can’t say it’s okay, but I understand, and I forgive you,” Janus told him softly, then smirked. “Besides, I deserved it a little bit.” Roman giggled and wiped the tears off his cheek with his sleeve. “Also, if the glasses upset you that much, I won’t wear them. I can fashion up another pair that look less like… his.”

“Thank you,” Roman said. Janus nodded and led Roman back over to the other side of the couch, sitting down first to allow Roman to decide how much distance he wanted between them. Roman chose none, sitting right next to Janus and leaning into his side. Janus happily welcomed this, putting his arm around Roman. The prince closed his eyes and finally relaxed for the first time since Logan had left.

Patton smiled proudly and gratefully at Janus, who returned one as well. Virgil rolled his eyes but couldn’t hold back a small grin of his own as he turned back to his phone. Logan, on the other hand, wasn’t smiling. His face remained neutral as he watched from the shadows. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply to keep himself calm as he sunk out back into the dark side of the mind.

“I want to start tonight,” he said as he rose up in the dark side living room. Remus stopped shaking salt and pepper into each eye and looked at him.

“But I’m in the middle of an experiment,” Remus whined. Logan glanced at him and sighed.

“I already told you, Remus. Both salt and pepper will irritate your eyes,” Logan said. “And this setup is a disaster anyway. If you want proper results you’d need to have a equal amount of salt and pepper, but you’re barely even estimating it. It won’t yield proper results.”

“Fine,” Remus groaned, setting down the salt and pepper shaker, then standing up and waving Logan over. “Let’s get to the imagination.”

~ one week later ~

“Goodnight, Janus,” Roman said as they stood in front of Roman’s door, staring into each other’s eyes. “Thanks for sitting with me again. You make me feel a lot less lonely.” Janus smiled down at him lovingly.

“I’d do anything to make up for before, my prince,” he said his eyes briefly flickering to Roman’s lips. “Just don’t ask me to give you the most beautiful thing in the world because I don’t know how to give you to yourself.” He put a hand to Roman’s cheek, holding it gently. Roman giggled softly, a blush sprinkling his face.

“You’re so sweet,” Roman said, stepping closer. “Let me thank you.” Janus nodded, and Roman grabbed his face, stood up on his tiptoes and leaned in to kiss him. Janus’s heart sped up, fluttering as Roman got closer. He let his eyes fall closed and waited for their lips to meet.

“Roman.”

Roman froze in place, his eyes shooting open when he heard that familiar voice he’d been missing so much. He let go of Janus’s face, much to Janus’s dismay, and spun around to face the source, almost letting out a sob when he saw Logan standing behind him. Janus scowled.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice seething with almost disgust for the former light side.

“I came to speak with Roman,” Logan said, his eyes flickering between Roman and Janus. “Alone.” Roman looked back at Janus pleadingly. Janus scoffed but walked off anyway.

“Logan,” Roman breathed once they were alone in the hallway. He stepped closer and placed his hands on Logan’s chest, partially afraid his hands might go right through him and he’d find it was only an illusion. “Oh my god. It’s really you.” He laughed. “It’s you!” Logan froze when Roman flung his arms around him.

“Roman, I… there’s something I want you to see,” Logan said stiffly. Roman stepped back.

“What is it?” he asked. Logan bit his lip and hesitantly grabbed Roman’s hand, then let go again uncertainly.

“M-may I?” he asked. Roman nodded, holding his hand out to Logan. Logan took it again, feeling Roman’s slim delicate fingers, perfect for creating intricate crafts as Roman often did, rest against his palm and holding Roman’s hand with his own thicker, rougher fingers that hadn’t seen as many lotions and creams as Roman’s had. With his other hand, Logan turned Roman’s doorknob.

“Where are we going?” Roman ask with a raised brow as Logan pulled him into his own room.

“The imagination,” Logan answered, opening Roman’s portal and stepping inside. Roman followed curiously, still gripping Logan’s hand tight. “Look, I never know how to say this, so I’m going to show you instead.”

“Show me what?” Roman asked, then gasped softly as they came upon a candle-lit table under a pink canopy surrounded by rose bushes. Remus stood beside it with a proud smile, gesturing at it with his hands. He then bowed and slowly walked backwards away from it. “What is this?”

“I asked Remus to help me create it,” Logan said. “But it was my idea.”

“It’s lovely,” Roman said, continuing towards it. He knelt beside one of the rose bushes and admired its flowers. While he was looking away, Remus snuck back in beside Logan and changed his clothing to a dark blue suit, which Logan hadn’t expected. Before he could comment on it, Remus rushed over to his brother and sneakily changed his clothing to a cute red dress that he knew Roman liked.

He didn’t even notice the change until he stood up and felt a slight breeze against his bare legs. He looked down and his eyes widened, but his surprised expression quickly melted into a smile and he spun around, the skirt of his dress twirling around him.

He looked up at Logan, his face heating up at the sight of Logan in his suit. He was so used to Logan being a nerdy mess all of the time, seeing him so together like this was… different. But a good different!

“You look very handsome,” Roman said, suddenly not so proud of his own outfit, doubting he looked as good in it as Logan did in his. Logan walked up to Roman and immediately smothered those doubts.

“You look… incredible,” he said in a soft tone of almost disbelief. “Gorgeous, I mean! No, amazing!” He laughed. “I can’t decide which word fits you best.” Roman giggled, his face heating up even more. Not just from the compliment. Hearing Logan laughed so freely made his heart flutter. He rarely heard it before and it was so beautiful.

“Thank you,” he said. “For all of this. It’s wonderful.”

“Don’t thank me yet. The evening has just begun,” Logan said, taking Roman’s hand and leading him over to the table. He pulled out a chair for him and he sat down. Then Logan sat himself in the other seat across the small table.

“Baguette! Baguette! French words!” Remus’s voice came as he swooped in again, this time donning a chef’s uniform. Roman already felt like throwing up. Nothing Remus made could be edible or safe.

But to his surprise, Remus set down a simple peanut butter and jelly sandwich in front of Roman, and it looked like actual peanut butter and jelly. And it smelled like actual peanut butter and… Crofters!”

“Bone apple tea!” Remus said. Roman giggled as he watched his brother strut away. He looked back at Logan with a bright smile. Logan’s heart fluttered at the sight. He’d missed seeing Roman happy. He hardly saw him at all since he left the light sides and even when he occasionally lurked in the living room shadows to watch him and the others, Roman was always frowning.

“What are you staring at?” Roman asked. Logan blinked a few times and sat up from where he was leaning over with his chin held up by the back of his hands and his elbows on the table. Roman was still smiling, but now a blush accompanied it, making him all the more cuter.

“I... Looking at your smile makes me feel… happy!” Logan said, proud of himself for admitting his emotions. “A-and warm! On the inside, I mean.”

“Logan, you’re… acting different,” Roman noted, his brows coming together. He picked up his sandwich and took a bite.

“Different? Does that displease you? I can revert back to my original—“

“No, no! It’s a good different!” Roman assured him, and Logan relaxed, picking up his sandwich and starting to eat as well. “I like this Logan.”

“You like me?” Logan repeated, a grin growing on his face. He set the sandwich down. “I make you feel happiness?”

“More than that,” Roman admitted.

“And how does… Janus make you feel?” Logan’s lips curled into a scowl at just the thought of him and Roman together like earlier.

Roman sighed. “Conflicted. Confused. Unsure.” He frowned. “Bad.”

“Then why did you almost—”

“I don’t know!” Roman suddenly sobbed, putting his head in his hands. “Because I missed you and I wanted to pretend he could make up for you being gone but he can’t!”

“Oh no, please do not cry! I will make it better; just tell me how,” Logan promised, standing up. Roman looked up at him with tears in his eyes. He sniffed and wiped his cheeks with his wrist.

“Just…” he began, his voice shaking. “Come back to me.” Logan gazed down at Roman sadly and shook his head. Roman let out another sob, holding himself and hunching over. Logan quickly fell onto his knees in front of Roman and held his face in his hands, but Roman shoved him away and stood up. He started to run.

“Roman!” Logan called out after him. Remus popped back in.

“What did you do, dumb butt?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Logan said. “I just told him I wasn’t going back to the others.”

“He probably thinks that means you don’t want to be with him either, you idiot!” Remus scolded, shoving him towards where Roman ran off. “Go after him!” Logan started running. He caught up to Roman and grabbed his waist, pulling him back against him.

“Stay with me,” he whispered into his ear. Roman stopped and looked at him. He repeated. “Stay with me, Roman.”

“You mean… be a dark side?” Roman asked.

“There are no dark sides or light sides, Roman,” Logan said. “The only difference will be where you stay. They don’t listen to you anyway. Please, be with me.”

“I… I want to, but…” he began, though he couldn’t find the words to follow. He had no but. No reason to stay. He nodded and lunged forward, smashing their lips together. Logan held on tight to him.

“You’re mine. All mine,” Logan mumbled against his lips. He pulled back and smiled. “I love you, Roman. And I’m not ashamed of it anymore.” Roman smiled back at him.

“I love you too, Logan,” he said. “And I’m proud of you for letting yourself feel things. I’m so proud of you.” He wiped his eyes. “Oh god I’ve missed you. I can’t wait to listen to one of your informational rants or even just hear you scold me for being dumb.” He laughed a little.

“You want to hear my rants?” Logan asked. “But I’ve been practicing keeping them in so I wouldn’t annoy you if you agreed to stay with me.” Roman’s heart sunk.

“Oh Logan…” he began. “Of course I do. I love you so much. I love hearing you talk and watching you get excited about what you’re talking about.” He glanced up at the sky and smiled. “Come on. Let’s not waste any time.” He sat down, pulling Logan down with him, and pointed at the sky.

“Tell me about the stars, my love.”

[amiedala]

SOMETHING MORE (the mandalorian x reader)

CHAPTER 27: Conditions

RATING: Explicit (18+ ONLY!!!)

WARNINGS: sexual content, violence, & a brief scene of implied assault (it's the scene in the cantina in Canto Bight!! it's over in a few lines, but if you want to skip over them, it won't impact the story at all!) please let me know if there's anything else that needs to be tagged! <3

SUMMARY: “I—what?” you ask, trying to shake away the fuzzy feeling, “what are you saying to me?”

“I’m saying,” Din emphasizes, sighing, looking down at the Darksaber in his hand, “that I don’t have a secret family, and I’m never leaving you again, but…”

“What?” you repeat.

“I accidentally became the ruler of Mandalore,” Din admits. “And I don’t know how to get out of it.”

You stare at him, speechless, and then the bacta kicks in and everything fades to black.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: HELLO AND HAPPY SOMETHING MORE SATURDAY MY LOVES!!! i hope you love this chapter, it's 12k+ words because i simply could not stop writing. we are getting INTO IT ;) hope y'all love the dinova makeup scene hehehe ENJOYYYYYY!!!! <3

*

When you and Din first fucked, all the way back on Dagobah, you remember how gentle he was with you, how it stood out in such shimmering, stark contrast to the man and warrior he was everywhere else. He would pause, he would revere you in the dark, he would let his mouth make sweet love to you in between your thighs for hours. It was lovely. Him being gentle, taking his sweet time with you, it was lovely.

But you’ve just spent an agonizing month apart, you nearly lost each other forever to that looming darkness, and the baby’s not here on Kicker to be quiet for.

So when you grab at him, lustful and intentioned, the big, brave bounty hunter bends at your will. Again.

“You—” Din says, strangled, the second your hands slip down his face, “you don’t have to—if you’re not ready—”

“Shh,” you whisper, and at that alone, he quiets. You let your thumb lightly graze over the length of his cheekbone, eyes darting all over his face, taking in every single gorgeous inch. “I want the man who loves me to fuck me senseless.”

Din groans, the noise strangled and low in his throat. You grin, top teeth coming down on your bottom lip. “I used to—fuck—like to be in charge. A lot. B—but you talking like this, stars, Nova, I could cum from your words alone—”

“Don’t you dare,” you emphasize, closing all the remaining space between the two of you, swinging your legs up and over into his lap so that you’re straddling him. “It’s been a month, Din, a whole month without feeling you, without fucking. Give me a taste first.”

He makes another small noise at the base of his throat, and a horrifying thought flutters into your head, foggy and heavy.

“It—” you blink at him, stomach doing backflips, “It hasbeen a month without…sex for you, too, right?”

Din’s eyes flash open, dark and dangerous. “Are you serious?”

You feel your body start to shrink against his, your knees wobbling from where you’re straddling him, sliding down into his lap. “I—”

“You think I could even look at someone else?” Din asks, his voice low and electric. You raise an eyebrow. He tangles one hand in your messy hair, and when he sharply brings your head back with the force of it, the moan you’ve been holding back escapes out of your throat, easy and loaded. “That every time I touched myself, I wasn’t regretting every second of my decision to leave you somewhere because nothing compares to your warmth?”

Maker, he sounds betrayed. Like he can’t even believe that you’re suggesting it, which, come to think of it, you can’t really believe you’re suggesting it either, considering how much of himself he gave you back on the last planet, but you have to know, even if it’s hard to hear. You swallow. “You left me there, I didn’t know if we were—done, if you were breaking off our engagement—”

“Nova,” Din interrupts, and everything in your body goes white-hot, blistering. You’ve heard him say your name before—in love, in fear, in pain, in pleasure—but something about the timbre of it right now is halving you with lightning strikes. He’s somewhere still buried in your neck, and when his tongue brushes up and flutters against your strongest pulse point, you feel like you’re melting, all over Din’s lap, all over Kicker’s floor. “Even if I was that much of a total fucking idiot, even if I were stupid enough to truly let you go, do you really believe that any pussy in this galaxy or the next would be as good as yours?”

You yelp. All of that control that you had a second ago, it’s blissfully rushed away, a river running out of you, everything concentrating between your legs, low and wet. “Well,” you manage finally, your voice shaking, “prove it.”

For a second, a single, tantalizing second, Din just holds you there. You can feel the heat, the friction between your hips, his hand on your left one, anchoring you there and pulling you against his crotch. You feel his cock jump in his pants, and it makes that flash of desire strike through you again, regardless of how many times you’ve felt it do so before. “I love you,” he whispers, tongue dancing in and out of your ear, and when he pulls away from you and looks at you in the starlight, you want that to be it. That confession, that freedom, that honesty—and you being able to look at him straight in the eyes while he gives himself to you—that’s enough for you to cum right there on the spot, but you made him promise to hold out, so you grind your teeth together, control your breathing, and try to hold out your own challenge.

“That’s not what I meant,” you breathe, your hands coming loose to land on either side of his face. He closes his eyes into the safety of your touch, and, for just a moment, you press your forehead against his.

It’s over a flash later, when his eyes open, dark and possessive. “Oh,” Din smirks, “I know.” And then you’re being hauled up and out of his lap, and when he grabs you and pushes you up against the wall, face first, you let out a gasp that could rattle every single last star in the galaxy. “Tell me,” he whispers, “tell me if I’m going too far—”

“Din,” you interject, softly, your voice still shaky and uneven, “I thought I told you to prove it.”

All you hear is the rhythm of both of your breathing, and then your clothes are being ripped limb from limb, the tank top tearing straight off your back, your pants being shoved down to your knees. The sharp intake of breath that comes out of you is partially because off the immediacy of it, the urgency, and partially because of the shock of the cold metal of Kicker’s walls against your bare skin.

“You—” you start, as Din yanks down your trousers even further, “you bought those pants for me—”

“So?” he tosses up to you, and then you feel the rough fabric of the glove slamming into the small of your back, making it arch. “I’ll buy you new fucking pants.”

“Okay,” you pant, already halfway there and way past being coherent, “yeah, sure. I didn’t have that much of an attachment to those anyway—”

“Nova?” Din asks, and you toss your head backwards as you feel his scruff on the right side of your neck. “Open your legs.”

You do. You’re pretty sure everything you’re wearing is trashed, now, but at this point, you couldn’t care less. When you feel Din’s lips travel down your shoulder blades, your spine, stopping just on the small of your back, you shudder, the cold metal in front of you already turned warm from your touch. When his lips leave you, you think that’s it, that he’s going to shove his fingers in you, but Din drops, stealthy, like the practiced bounty hunter he is, to his knees. You inhale, exhale, all of your energy on expelling and intaking air, and then his tongue starts at the very back of your slit, and somewhere between your legs, before it finds your clit, he’s turned over, staring up at you with his mouth buried inside of you.

“Oh,” you manage, faintly, and there it is, the electric feeling of being pushed right on the edge, that white-hot numbness, everything falling and rising at once, “oh—”

“This is the part,” Din hisses, muffled slightly as he moves his tongue in and out of you, “where I’d normally tell you that I own you.”

“Don’t you?” you ask as he pulls off his gloves and pushes a finger inside you, and, stars, you can feel yourself clench, the way you take him in, like you’re hungry, like you’re insatiable, and you’d usually feel your cheeks flush from all of that pure, unadulterated desire, but you barely even register all the noises you’re making because Din’s drowning it all out with his touch.

“Not anymore,” he says, simply, and then he’s in and out of you, standing back of behind you so lightning fast that you can’t categorize how his mouth went from being on your pussy to back on the nape of your sweaty neck, but your knees buckle at the feeling of him pressing up against you, ripping every connective piece of armor off his body like it’s scalding him. “You own me. Every inch.”

You moan, wriggling your hips back as if to entice him, to make him just fuck you already, and you know how impatient you’re being, and that you should savor this, that this should last through the entirety of hyperspace for all of the lost time that you have to make up, but you can’t hold back.

“Tell me,” Din whispers, his voice just as breathy as yours is, “what you want.”

You inhale, exhale. He’s behind you, and you can feel the tip pressing at you, leaking a small bead of wetness that’s trailing down your naked body, and you’re so choked and consumed with this, with how much you missed it, that you have to take a second to compose yourself. Din holds himself there, patient—writhing, but patient—until you know exactly what to say.

“I want you,” you breathe, tilting your head just a bit, enough to catch a glimpse of his silhouette, “your every fucking inch.”

Din moans again, and then, before you have a second to prepare yourself, that’s exactly what you get. Your own moans eject themselves form your mouth, completely uncontrolled, animalistic, insatiable. With every stroke, the symphony of the noises that Din’s making gets louder and louder, one hand against your hips, the other tangled back up in your hair, bringing your body closer and closer to him like rolling tides.

“Cyar’ika,” Din whispers, his mouth contorting around the word like it’s holy, something divine, “oh, fuck, Nova, I—missed you.”

You throw your head back, eyes fluttering, everything dark and warm. Din’s other hand slips down to your bare hip, and he starts rocking himself deeper and deeper inside you, as if he’s trying to fuck away all the mistakes he made, as if he’s begging you for repentance.

“Cum in me,” you gasp, already shaking yourself through another orgasm as his hands tighten around you, as he buries his face in your neck, “mark me as yours.”

And, Maker fucking above, the way he screams your name as he does makes you ready to fall in love all over again. It’s like the first time. It’s better.

“I was right,” you say, finally, after both of you have sunk to the floor, throbbing and aching and delightfully exhausted.

“Yes,” Din agrees, automatically, his arm tightening around your midriff as you both try to breathe yourselves back to consciousness, “about what?”

You smile. As your vision focuses, you turn around in his arms so that you’re sitting against the wall, looking out at the stars you’re traveling past, grinning at the notion that you just had a supernova more brilliant than they could ever dream to have. “It’s not about deserving. It’s about belonging.”

Next to you, Din slowly untangles himself from the mess of your shared limbs and slides into his usual position on the floor. You smile at that, too, because regardless of how much has changed, this too, this mirror image, is still the same.

*

Hours pass. You don’t remember falling asleep, but when your eyes open lazily to the slow tilt of space around you, you’re swaddled in blankets and pillows, and your Mandalorian is cuddled up next to you. It still makes your heart jump in your chest, the knowledge that he’s yours again, that he belongs to you just as much as you belong to him. You still don’t think you forgive him, because that ache is bitter and horrible in the depth of your chest, but you feel how much you feed into one another, how much easier it is to fight off any incoming threats with Din next to you, and you make momentary peace with your broken heart.

“Hi,” he says, sleepily, his eyes fluttering open, “come back to sleep.”

“I will,” you answer, sitting back down and snuggling into Din’s bare chest. Everything else in here is dotted with luminescence—the stars outside, the lights you strung in the back of the hull—but it’s cold compared to him and his light.

You think he’s asleep again when you feel his lips moving, his chest rising and falling, the noise his voice makes vibrating where your ear is pressed against his ribs. “You said you have conditions,” Din whispers, “back there, on Takodana. I didn’t forget. What are your conditions?”

Your stomach does a small flip. You absolutely did have conditions, but right now, it’s nearly impossible for you to remember any of them. You’re both here now, where you belong, and space is quiet, and you’re not currently in any immediate danger, and you just had some of the best sex you’ve ever had—

Danger. It lights up, and you blink hard and then shoot upwards at the threats the both of you just narrowly escaped back on Takodana, the people that have been trying to catch you and hurt you for weeks. You feel the way your heart is pounding, and you immediately curse yourself from being distracted enough to not warn Wedge about the mysterious danger that’s rising from the ashes of the Empire, and Din follows you when you sit straight up, pressing the warmth of your blanket against your bare chest.

“Nova?”

“Um,” you say, holding up a single finger, “my first condition is that you come with me to tell the Alliance everything we know about these new troopers, and their new boss.”

He stares at you. “Can’t…can’t you just call your friend back on your commlink? Tell him what you saw?”

You press a cold hand to your face, and the chill grounds you. “I could,” you admit, “but the two of us just barely got out of there alive, and I think we need to literally call in the big guns. Besides, I—I have ties there. You’ll understand when you see it.” You flash him a small look. “It’s cold on Hoth. Really cold. Not a desert planet at all. You’ll love it.”

It’s still so strange seeing his face, like something out of place, but after a minute, Din’s quirked eyebrow relaxes. “Okay,” he agrees.

You nod, definitively, feeling his eyes on your naked body as you get up to point the nav system back towards Hoth, and when you slide back into your nest, he’s even warmer than you remembered.

“Din—” you whisper, and you’re not even sure what you’re about to say until he pulls you in, the low light casting parts of his face in shadow.

“Don’t worry,” he murmurs back, the promise barely air but so concrete, so powerful, “I meant it when I said I’m going to follow you anywhere.”

Kicker, like the habitual monster she is, starts screeching right before reentry onto Hoth. You untangle yourself messily from Din’s arms, pulling the closest blanket you have around your bare body again, tiptoeing over to where the dashboard is blinking and flashing.

“Work with me, baby,” you whisper, turning dials and pounding on wherever you think you could get it to quiet, “c’mon, what’s wrong with you?” You turn knobs and flip switches, and when Kicker shows you she’s clearly not slowing down, you turn to throw on whatever clothes are closest, and they’re the tatters Din tore off of you last night. As you run a systems check, you trade the ripped fabric for your orange jumpsuit, which is, thankfully, still untouched. You shiver as you zip it up over your bare chest, tucking your messy hair behind both ears, studying the panel of blinking lights and the volume of your glorious rebel of a ship. “Kicker,” you try again, exhausted, dragging your hands over your eyes, the stars exploding as you press against them, “please, I am so tired, tell me what you want—”

And then you spot it. Your shields, which have consistently been locked and loaded since you left Hoth last time, are depleted and tired. They keep flashing on and off, and you hesitate, peering out the front widow to survey the open space around you, checking furiously for any immediate enemies, trying to gauge if you need to keep them on until you land, or if you want to save the last bit of power for whenever you leave Hoth next.

“What,” Din mutters sleepily from behind you, “is happening?”

“She screams,” you answer, which is honestly completely self-explanatory, “when she wants to tell me something,”

“Nova,” Din says back, groaning as he sits up, pulling on all the underclothes he has, leaving the armor scattered and strewn all over the ship’s interior like a trail of shiny breadcrumbs, “she is not a sentient being, and you have the power to shut her up.”

You do. Then you turn, staring at him, trying to look menacing. “No making fun of my ship.”

A tiny smile surfaces across his face. It’s fleeting, but glorious. “You’re a real pilot again,” he says softly, “how does it feel?”

You grin to, bringing one orange-clad knee to your chest, resting your chin on it. “Like I spent way too long without it,” you admit, reveling in your pilot’s chair, slowly swaying from side to side as you observe him. “I miss the Crest,” you say, “every day, but being able to be in charge of my own destiny, to be my own captain, to fly something I could handle in my sleep—it feels right.”

Din looks at you, slowly striding over. You grab his bare hand as you pull him in closer, tipping your head back so you can stare up at him, and even in this position, you feel the way he’ll bend to you, how he’ll do whatever you want. That sense of power, exhilarating as it is, also feels unlike you, so you let him tuck your hair back behind your ears again, relinquishing small atoms of control until you’re both back on equal ground. “Are we sticking with Kicker, then?” Din asks, and you nod, fluttering your eyelashes at him as he strokes lightly over your cheek. “I think I might need flying lessons from you, then, Her Highness Rebel Rouser Pilotess of the Outer Rim.”

You grin. “Maybe we should write that all over the ship.”

“You write that all over the ship,” Din points out, gently, “and you’ll have even more of a target on your back.”

You sigh, long and heavy, and you feel the energy shift. Din moves to the copilot’s chair, and you swing the other way as you crest through the chilly atmosphere of Hoth, shivering the second you broach through the air, even though the cabin temperature is holding steady. “I was reckless back there,” you admit, voice small. “I was spending too much time trying to give them the best vocal middle finger I could muster up, that I wasn’t paying attention to the soldiers we downed. I’m not very good at the hand-to-hand combat thing,” you say, examining the ridges of your fingers, the way your knuckles bulge slightly against your skin. “I’ve always done so much better up in the air. But now, with my new—” you cut yourself off, flipping your hands over to study your palms, trying to envision where the Force works like a conduit underneath it, “powers,” you finish, halfheartedly, “I know I need to be down on the ground more, that I need more practice. I’m not even close to being skilled enough to beat multiple people.” You glance over at Din, and then back at the wicked handle of the Darksaber. Even though you know it’s not Gideon’s weapon, that it came from Mandalore, it still carries the symbol of so much darkness, so much hatred, and you shiver. “Especially if it’s going to be you and me against these new troopers, this new threat.”

Din’s staring at you. You turn your attention back to navigating Kicker down onto the snowy path that funnels down into the landing bay, watching as the whiteness of it all jut up in mountains and valleys around you, carefully moving into the spot you had to emergency evacuate a few weeks back. “What do you think it is?” he asks, and you can tell he’s asking because he believes you, but also because he has no idea. “Who do you think it is?”

You square your shoulders, pulling your parka off the hook it’s hanging on, glancing at the armor all over the floor. “I don’t know,” you answer, honestly, “but whatever—whoever—it is, it’s coming. That’s why we’re here. I’ve had visions of it,” you say, stretching your arms back to quickly braid the top layer of your hair, “a few times, but I have no idea. I—we—are totally out of our depth.” You look out the front window of Kicker, watching as a small squadron of orange jumpsuits starts to materialize in the distance, and a grin stretches itself across your face before you can stop it. “That’s why we’re here,” you say, tying off the braid and pointing with your chin, “because if anyone has advice on how to battle back the unknown, it’s the Alliance.”

You glace back over at Din, who’s still standing there, collecting random pieces of armor off the floor absentmindedly. His eyes are still on you. Secretly, you wonder if he always stared at you this much underneath his helmet, of his eyes never leaving your body is a new thing, or if it’s been one for the last year and you just had no idea.

“Are you coming?” you ask, and you’re trying not to push him, because you know if you tell him he has to, he will, no questions asked.

He nods, clicking the last piece of armor into place. You press on his pauldron, evening it out, and when you look up at Din, maskless, helmetless, your heart catches like it always does. “Yes,” he says, finally, his gloved hand gently finding your wrist.

You look to where he has his helmet in his other hand, and the second your eyes move, you feel his do too. Even out of your periphery, you can tell he’s staring at it as intensely as he does with you, internal battle of tradition versus newness loud and unencumbered in your head.

“You don’t have to wear it,” you whisper, reassuring him. You bring your hand up, touch your fingertips to the side of his face, brushing your thumb lightly over the bow of his lips. “But you can, if that’s what you want.”

Din looks back to you, then to the helmet, then to you again. You smile as encouragingly as you can, and he exhales, pulling the rim of it over his head. Your heart drops and rises as you watch him do it, conflicted with the knowledge of how hard this is, how hard anything is, how he’s like a ship without sails.

“You’ll like them,” you say, quietly, as you move downstairs and disengage the gangplank, “I promise.”

“Rebel girl!” Wedge calls through the frosty air, and you squeeze Din’s hand and smile as your boots meet the crunchy, snow covered ground. “Welcome back. Who are we fighting?”

“That’s what I’m hoping you’ll help me with,” you sigh, falling easily into Wedge’s paternal arms, feeling Din’s eyes scour over him underneath the visor. “Listen, we don’t have much to go on, but the threats are coming, and they’ve got the jump on us. Is everyone in the control room?”

Wedge lets go of you, nodding, stepping forward to shake Din’s hand. Din, adorably, has absolutely no idea what to do, and when Wedge grabs him, you can sense the flinch before it even happens, and then something in him relaxes. “You must be Nova’s fiancé,” he says, smiling. “I’ve heard so much about you. Pleased to meet you…”

You know he’s waiting for a name, for something concrete, and you freeze, not knowing how to intervene, if Din can willingly reveal his identity, and right before you’re about to fake some sort of emergency to hurry Wedge along, Din’s hand clenches over his.

“Din,” he says, quietly, but his intention is vivid and strong. “You must be…Nova’s contact. Friend. In the Alliance.”

You nod. Wedge grins back. “I am. Wedge Antilles. We could use someone like you,” he tries, as the three of you move forward into the small gathering of people who are greeting you, welcoming you back in, “if you’re ever looking for a career change.”

You laugh under your breath, trying to imagine your calculated bounty hunter rushing immediately into battle like the rebels do, but Din’s helmet moves over towards you, then back to Wedge. “Well,” he sighs, “depending on how much of a threat these new forces are, I might be.”

“Anything associated with the Empire,” Wedge sighs, dragging a hand over his face, “is a threat worth fighting against. I should know,” he tacks on, opening the heavy door that leads to the inside of the base, “I used to work for them.”

Both of you whip around to study his face, his expression. Din doesn’t know Wedge well, but you do, and your eyebrows narrow, trying to decide if he’s joking or if he’s being level with you. Wedge isn’t someone who does anything without intention, so it seems like he’s genuinely telling the truth, but at the look at your startled expression, Wedge scratches his head. Under the faded, white light of the hallways, you can see more greying in his hair than you thought was there the last time you saw him up close.

“I’m from Corellia,” he reminds you both, quietly, as you let him go in head of you to direct your small group of people into the control room, “I didn’t have much of a choice. Got caught up in the Imperial Navy because I wanted to be in the air, flew a few missions before I realized how much death and destruction I was contributing to. Defected, never looked back, joined the Alliance.” There’s a small smile on his face. “I met Luke,” he offers, and you follow the way his mouth moves when he talks about Luke Skywalker—that same sort of urgent intimacy you detected in the flickering image of Luke on the holotable the last time you were here. For whatever reason, it makes your grin match his. You glance over at Din as you stride into the bigger room, watching how Wedge tucks his expression away for later, but you can tell his mind is still on Luke.

“Glad you got back safely,” one of the generals says. His voice is low, gruff, and he has facial hair that’s stark white. He’s intimidating, stone-faced, but he seems to genuinely be thankful for your presence, so you smile brightly over at him.

“Listen up,” Wedge calls, barely louder than his normal talking voice, but all the conversation around the room quiets almost immediately, everyone’s attention focused solely on him. “Nova’s back, not because she’s out of danger, but because it seems like we’re all about to be in a hell lot more of it. I know we’ve talked about this for years, but it seems like whatever was left in the Empire’s ashes is rising up stronger and quicker than we’ve kept our eyes on.” You nod, confirming his theory. “I know most of us are veterans,” Wedge continues, his eyes aglow, connecting with every single person in the room, “and I know that we’ve already lost so many battles, so I understand if you’re tired. If you want to walk away from this one,” he declares, leaning over the table, and you take stock of the circle gathered around, all clad in orange, determination written all over their faces, “I’ll understand. I won’t hold that against you. But if you’re not prepared to fight this next one, you need to leave this room now and go somewhere safe.” He raises his eyebrows. People exchange glances with one another, but not a single one of them budges. After a handful of seconds, making sure to account for any delayed reactions, Wedge nods. “That’s what I thought. Okay, Nova,” he says, turning to you, “for our remarkable lack of Force sensitivity and our living on the outskirts of this mess, you seem to be the forefront authority on what’s coming. Tell us everything you can.”

You swallow. You knew this was what you were coming here to do, to direct the Alliance in the right path, to give them the most explicit briefing on this new evil, but you step forward, your mouth going dry, You haven’t had to do this part in years, almost a decade, and you got used to hunting rather than defending, hiding rather than attacking. Din’s hand squeezes over yours, just once, and that fortifies you enough to open your mouth.

“I’ve seen every corner of this galaxy,” you start, wringing your hands together to try and muster up the right amount of information to give these people, these people who are fighting alongside you simply because of your word alone. “I was born into the Rebel Alliance, and I’ve spent most of my life trying to keep our world here free of evil. Even when I dropped out after my parents died,” you continue, voice shaking a bit with embarrassment at the naivety of leaving, “I shuttled people to safety, regardless of what they were running from. I got myself into a serious bit of trouble, and I narrowly escaped with my life. Then I met my fiancé,” you say, pointing to Din, “and I spent a lot of time figuring out my own power. I thought…I thought what I had was just me being me,” you say, vaguely, swatting at a loose piece of hair fluttering in your face, “but over the last year, I’ve learned that I have the Force. Like my son. Like Luke Skywalker.” You swallow, making a fleeting second of eye contact with Wedge. “I watched when General Skywalker and Wedge destroyed the first Death Star, and then I watched when the Rebels eradicated the evil from this galaxy, even though I was out on my own then.” You sigh, staring at the luminary solar system projected on the holotable, steeling yourself. “You did a great job,” you say, softly, trying your best to follow Wedge’s example by making eye contact with the rest of the generals and rebels in the room, “really, you did. You made this place safe for us to live in again, and you were brave during a time when I wasn’t. And whatever part of the Empire is left over,” you continue, voice gaining strength as you undo your crossed arms to lean slightly against the table, eyes focusing on the little locator on the Hoth base, blinking a blue YOU ARE HERE to the rest of the room, “it’s not because you weren’t thorough. It’s because the Empire was conniving and cunning, and was built upon decades of secret creation, and no matter how many parts we cut off, there’s always going to be one lurking under the surface.” You look at Din, then back to the others gathered around the table. “We thought Moff Gideon was the most dangerous lurking evil left. We were wrong.”

“Who else is there?” another woman asks. You faintly recognize her face, but you can see by the way that her laugh lines are written around her mouth that she’s at least a decade older than you are. “What did we leave over?”

“That’s the thing,” you sigh, rubbing the place where your eyebrows burrow, pinch together, “When I see things, in my visions…they’re not always exact. I saw Luke coming back to defeat Gideon’s troopers, and I saw our kid being taken, but they were always foggy, hazy. When we were back on Takodana,” you say, inhaling a deep breath, “I felt something there, too. But I could tell this time that it was a premonition, that what I was feeling was a threat in the future and not one I needed to be fighting in that exact moment. But there have been concrete examples,” you say, finding your rhythm again. “Stormtroopers, a whole regiment of them, except they weren’t like the ones that worked for Darth Vader.” You swallow. “I could tell by their uniforms that they didn’t quite belong to ones we’ve seen before, but beyond that, they’re precise. They attack with intention, and they’re nimble and fast. They daggered me with a tranquilizer dart twice,” you admit, “and nearly killed the both of us back on Takodana.”

“They kept threatening us,” Din says, and you whip around to face him. In these situations, in anything more than a handful of people in a social setting, he usually doesn’t speak a word. Even when weapons are drawn, he chooses to act rather than talk, and so you close your mouth and let him. “They told Nova they worked for a different boss. A scarier one. One more…dangerous, and formidable, than Gideon.”

“That’s what scares me,” you say softly, your finger tracing a soft line over the hairs of your eyebrow. “Usually, Empire thugs like to rule with a sense of superiority, to threaten us with specifics. But the mystery surrounding this whole thing is what’s different. It doesn’t feel like a new era of the Empire. It feels like something darker, more sinister, that they’ve been working on to replace it.”

The general, the one who welcomed you back, stares at you. “Do you have proof of that?”

You know he’s not trying to judge you, but you can hear it in his tone. “No,” you admit, honestly, “no, I don’t have any concrete evidence that this is something new coming out of the ashes of the Empire, but I can feel it.” You swallow, looking around at everyone, trying to gauge if they’ll dismiss your intuition. No one, not even the man who spoke, even lifts an eyebrow. “Look,” you say, leaning forward against the table again, “I’m not in charge here. Frankly, I really don’t know what I’m doing, except when it comes to fighting them off up in space out there. But that’s not enough, and they’ve been after me—and my family—for months, now, and this kind of defense isn’t what I’m good at. And I have almost no specifics, I just learned I was Force sensitive a few months ago, and I don’t know what we’re facing up against. I’m not Luke Skywalker,” you tack on, a bit desperately, noting the way that Wedge’s expressions shifts when you mention him, “I’m not even a real Jedi. But I’ve seen a lot,” you say, eyes focusing back on the holotable, “and this—whatever it is, whatever evil is coming—is a real threat. And I can’t face it alone.”

You press your lips together. You can feel Din’s eyes on your face from where only one cheek is turned in his direction. Wedge, finally, steps forward, meets you in the middle directly across from you. “You don’t have to,” he says, and it’s with such determination, such finality, that it makes you exhale what feels like a month’s worth of bated breath. “Look, we’re all coming from different places,” he continues, gesturing to the array of people and aliens in the room around you, “but we have one goal, and that’s making sure the Empire, or whatever this is, stays dead and gone. I can be the figurehead, if you need a leader,” he says, and you nod, relieved, “but you need to be the one keeping us updated.”

“I can do that.” You grin over at him, standing up a little straighter, “especially if I have the rest of you behind me.”

“Well, then,” Wedge says, smile spreading back across his face, so warm in such a freezing place, “consider this your official welcome back to the Rebel Alliance, Commander.”

Your smile fills up the entire lower half of your face. “Thank you, General Antilles.”

Wedge looks around the room, and when you join him, you see the brief moment of lightness being shared by the rest of you. “Nah,” Wedge says, finally, “with what we’re doing, we don’t need formalities. We’re the new legion of the Rogue Squadron,” he continues, and your eyes bloom with tears around the edges. That was your mother’s team when she flew in the Alliance, all the people she told stories of when the night crept in. “Let’s get started.”

And when everyone moves in around the table to devise a plan, you feel Din’s hand clasp in your own, and when he squeezes it, you know he’s as proud of you as your parents would be, and you stop running. It’s time to fight.

*

A handful of days pass. You and Din share an empty bunkroom, huddled up together to keep each other from freezing. He still doesn’t seem like he’s entirely comfortable here, but earlier in the night, he ate in the mess hall with you. Even though it was technically after hours, even though no one else was in the room, he kept his helmet off for longer than a second, took the time to really enjoy his food. Now, you’re both naked, snuggling, wrapping the warmth of the blankets around each other’s shoulders.

In the past three days, you and the Alliance have devised a plan. Your job—and Din’s, considering he swore to follow you anywhere—is to go out scouting for these new troopers, to try to gain any sort of reconnaissance you can gather without drawing attention to yourselves. Wedge and the rest of the fractured Alliance—the new Rogue Squadron—will fly in small numbers of three or four to the deserted Empire outposts and connect with other allies in the New Republic to try and find out anything concrete related to this new boss, this new threat. Tomorrow morning, you’re leaving to fly around the Outer Rim, trying to go as undercover as possible wherever you land next, disguising yourselves—and Kicker—enough to hopefully travel relatively undetected.

“What’s the next condition?” Din whispers, bringing your attention back to him, the way his hands roam over the small of your back as he pulls you in close to him, your bare skin pressed flush up against his.

“Condition two,” you answer, pressing your cold nose into his neck, “is that I don’t stay on the ship anymore. Neither do you. Whatever we’re fighting, we fight it together.”

“Deal,” Din says, sighing. “Nova, I hated leaving you behind. I never thought you were…a burden, or something I had to keep an eye on. I just knew how much danger you could be in, especially in the last few weeks before…” he trails off, and you know how he’s kicking himself.

“I know,” you echo, out loud. “I know you didn’t think I was a liability. But you never let me fight my own battles alongside you, and now that I’m the one who’s putting us both in the direct line of danger, I have to have an equal standing on the ground with you.”

Din nods in the dark. You feel your hair tangle in his scruff, still slightly damp from the shared shower you took together an hour ago. “No staying on the ship.”

“The third condition,” you continue, snuggling in closer, “is that you hold me until I fall asleep. No complaining, no take-backs.”

“Nova.”

You giggle, the sound a soft, melodic thing in the dark. “I’m only half kidding. But the real third condition is that we talk about things and make decisions together. Unless, of course, we’re in the heat of battle, and one of us leads by example.”

Din sighs. “That’s only fair,” he allows, and he pulls you closer. “Does that mean…?” he trails off, and even though you’re half asleep, you can feel the weight of his unasked question, so you shift under the blankets to stare up at where you think his face is, only navigating by knowledge and touch alone through the darkness. “The other day,” he continues quietly, directly into your ear, “you said that you thought that—that me leaving meant that I was breaking off our engagement.”

“Yeah,” you manage, heart hammering in your chest.

Din swallows. You can feel it, in the pitch black, the movement of his throat. You map out his movements, trying not to pull away until he’s fully asked what he needs to. “Did I?” he asks, finally, voice low, dejected.

“I don’t know,” you answer, honestly. “I mean—you said you were coming back, but you left, and I didn’t know for how long. For a while, I…I acted like you were my ex, just to myself, so that I could try to protect myself from the hurt of it all, but…you told me you’re tied to me. I think I’m tied to you, too.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means,” you sigh, “you don’t have to win me back, anymore, but…if you wanted to propose to me again, I wouldn’t be entirely opposed to the idea.”

You can feel Din smile, a ghost of a thing, through the sleepy darkness. His grip on you tightens, and then he turns to wrap his body around yours, trapping all the heat in. “Is that how we’re playing this?”

You’re asleep before you can answer.

*

When you leave the base, it’s with a game plan in one hand and breakfast in the other. You and Din are heading to Cantonica. You’ve never been—its main locus, Canto Bight, was always a pit of gambling and crime, and after Jacterr, you never wanted to see anything remotely seedy ever again—but they have cantinas and loudness and clothing, and Din promised you replacements for the ones he tore off of you the other night.

Kicker’s been repainted, which wasn’t the original plan, but the planets that allied, nondescript ships are on—Dantooine, Tatooine, Naboo—have already been through the ringer, and you don’t want to implicate anyone else in this war on the new Empire if you don’t have to. She’s still very obviously a starfighter that belongs to the legion of Alliance ships, but with the remodel, everything’s been painted over with white and grey, disguising the orange. You’re still in your jumpsuit, because it’s about the one intact article of clothing you have, but when you land on Cantonica, you’re going to go in the first store you see and buy up a few sets of trousers and tops. Your other jacket, the one you didn’t wear when Din left you, is still hanging up, and you throw that on too, trying to counteract all the orange.

“What’s the plan?” Din asks as you’re taking off, and you level Kicker up and out of the landing bay.

“New clothes,” you say, winking at him, “food, reconnaissance. Trying not to die. Do you have anything else to add to the list?”

He hooks his fingers under the rim of his helmet, pulls it off. You’re distracted, almost immediately, eyes roaming over the contours of his face, trying to drink it all in. “Trying not to die should come sooner,” Din mutters, and you can trace a small smile on his lips.

“Good point,” you allow, pushing Kicker into warp. “That should always be the first thing on the list.”

For a handful of hours, you coast, kicking your feet up on Kicker’s dashboard, talking and laughing. You’re amazed at how easy it is, how it feels like everything in between, the distance, the darkness, has fallen away as you’re coasting through the stars. When you touch down, your mouth hurts from grinning, and you navigate to the northern part of the city, trying to find the cheapest landing bay. If you park on the outskirts, the loaners are a lot less demanding, so you pass over your credits, eyes scouring the ground for any potential threats.

Canto Bight is glittering, loud. The architecture here is almost all curved and chrome, and it looks like a flashier version of Coruscant, something that you didn’t even think was possible. It’s enough to keep you jumpy, make your skin crawl, but you don’t want to look dodgy, even though you know that you are far from the sketchiest figure here.

You look out the front window. “We need to get me in something that’s not orange,” you remark, wrapping your cloak around your waist like a skirt, pulling your jacket over your upper half.

Din’s looking at the armor that he took off earlier, shininess strewn over the floor. You know he’s going through another internal battle, trying to decide what the least conspicuous choice is, and you hand him his cloak.

“Here,” you whisper, draping it up over around his face, so only the bottom half is visible. “You can wear your helmet if you want, but—”

“It’s like a big, reflective beacon,” Din sighs, and you nod, biting down on your lip. “I can deal with this. I won’t wear my full armor, either, but I’d like to keep the weapons in my wrist plates.”

“Good call.” You hand him back those specific pieces, pulling your own blaster from the small armory on the lift side of the ship, and both of you make a simultaneous grab for the Darksaber.

Din stares at it. You stare back. “I don’t like that thing,” he says, voice loaded with disdain.

“Why do you have it?” you ask, tilting your head as your eyes map over the metal, dark and wicked. “Why keep something that you hate so much?”

Din sighs again, long and low. You know there’s more to the story, and you want to know it, but you don’t want to push him. “It’s complicated. I’ll explain,” he starts, as you lower the gangplank, “when we have a bit more time and we aren’t trying to stay undercover.”

You nod, slipping the hood of your jacket over your head. “I’ll carry it,” you offer softly, and as it hangs from your belt, you can feel that power, the way it burns, even when the blade isn’t ignited.

Canto Bight is loud. Everywhere, it’s loud, from the cantinas that people spill out of onto the streets, to the stores that you restored your wardrobe at, to the way noise filters in through the strange architecture. Everything here is amplified. You hate it, but there’s something alluring about it, too. You’ve stuffed your jumpsuit in your bag, sporting black pants and a black shirt, a new, heavier shawl in swirling patterns of browns. It’s warm and it’s soft and you feel like you’re wearing a blanket.

Din looks uncomfortable. That seems to be his standard mode of operation without his armor, but he’s just as shifty and paranoid as you are. Back in the shop, he got a black face covering, so between the hood and the makeshift mask, only his eyes shine through. Gorgeous and brown, flitting and concerned.

You’ve been walking around for hours, trying to pick up any clues that might lead you back to whoever’s after you. There are more sketchy people on Cantonica than there are non-sketchy ones, but all the leads you’ve followed have just lead to underground fighting or drugs, and when they look at you, you can sense they don’t have that special kind of malice and ruthlessness that the Empire thugs after you do. Your stomach grumbles, loudly, and Din takes your hand and pulls you into the newest cantina.

“Eat,” he says, immediately shoving a menu in your face. “Please,” he tacks on, after, the second he gets a glimpse of your face.

You do. You order kebabs and steamed vegetables and whatever delicacies they have to offer, and the table fills with bulbous platters and plates of food. You know Din prefers to have his face to the room, but you take over his usual position so he can eat without anyone making eye contact. He scarfs his food down, but you have a feeling it has more to do with the energy of this place than fear of being seen.

“This may have been a bad plan,” you admit, after your tummy is swelling up with the hallmarks of good food. “This planet seems to have one dead end after another.”

“You wouldn’t survive a day as a bounty hunter,” Din remarks, and you lightly kick him under the table. “Most of what I do—did—was just sitting and waiting.”

“I,” you say, with a lofty air of pompousness, “prefer not to sit and wait.”

“You love sitting,” Din counters, and you narrow your eyes. You can see his flash with mischief, even under his cloak, even in the low light, and you know he’s right, but you also don’t want to give this one to him.

A beat passes, and then the new band in the cantina starts playing a swinging tune, upbeat and jazzy, and you grin over at him, sliding out of your bench, heading straight for the dance floor.

“What are you doing?” Din hisses, hand closing over your wrist. “We’re supposed to—”

“Believe it or not,” you whisper back, nimbly plucking your hand free, “I can dance without revealing my identity. Most of these people in here are disguised. No one’s going to look at me twice.”

“Nova—”

“If you’re afraid,” you say, voice lowered, “you can just follow me out there and shield me.” This shakes him, you can tell. You wink, sauntering out onto the dance floor. You weren’t exaggerating. This place is full of people who don’t show their faces, and most of them are just swaying to the beat, moving and writhing out on the chromatic floor, spinning underneath the lights and colors. You haven’t danced in ages. Since you were first out on your own, before Coruscant became the place you almost died, you’d go out with friends you met in the cantina the day before, just to have someone to go with. When you were still traveling with Grogu, you’d spin around the Crest, trying to get him to move alongside you, but that wasn’t real dancing. Here, though, here in Canto Bight with your shawl obscuring your identity, you dance. Really, truly dance, your hips undulating, your arms moving to the beat, twirling and jiving underneath the lights, getting lost in the dance floor.

You can feel Din staring at you. A few times, you try to make eye contact with him, shimmying your hips suggestively, gesturing for him to join you, but he just sits there like he’s frozen. The tune changes, something slightly slower radiating for the band, the lead singer’s voice crooning and sultry. You close your eyes, trying to feel the music, only focus on the notes, the symphony.

Someone’s behind you. You sigh, a small groan, whipping around to face them. The man is tall, an orange tint to his skin, and you can tell he’s not fully human.

“I like a woman who knows how to dance,” he says, eyes lingering just a touch too long on the contours of your body.

“I do know how to dance,” you agree, “and I prefer to do it alone.”

“C’mon gorgeous,” he whispers, slimily, moving closer. You can feel his leg as it brushes yours, and you jerk away, knowing that your blaster is just on your thigh, that you can pull it out and knock him with it if he wants to try and touch you again. “Give me one dance. Let me take you for a ride.”

“No,” you say, heart flipping over, “I’m good, thanks.”

Quickly, before you can register, he’s grabbing your hips and flipping you around, fingers slithering into your belt loops, forcefully pulling your ass back to grind into him. The motherfucker’s hard. You take a second to respond, trying to decide between shooting him in the foot or kicking him in the groin, and when your gaze flits over to where Din’s sitting at the table, he’s not there anymore.

“Let go of me,” you say, “this is your final warning.”

“I’m just trying to dance with a pretty girl,” he whispers into your ear, and his pointer finger slips into the waistband of your pants, not quite prying into your panties, but you’ve had it. He’s going to get kicked where the sun don’t shine and you’re going to shoot his foot. You bring up your own, hard, between his legs, pointing the reinforced tip of your boot right where you know it’s going to hurt the most, and he starts yowling.

“I said, don’t fucking touch me,” you say, pulling your blaster out, trying to remain calm. The music is loud, everyone around you still dancing, without paying you any mind.

“You crazy bitch,” he says, still on the ground, trying to grab for your leg. You shoot his hand, just to stun him, and the blast gives him an electric shock. “I could have been the best you’d ever had if you gave me a fucking chance—”

“She’s spoken for.”

Din materializes, out of nowhere, and you look over at him, both relieved he’s here and annoyed that he didn’t trust you to fight this battle yourself. The man gets off the ground, swings at Din, and pushes his other hand onto you, his fingers dragging down the material of your shirt to the bare bones of your cleavage, fingernails digging over the fabric into your scar. You narrow your eyes and plant your boot on the side of his face, stomping him into the ground as hard as you can.

“I can speak for myself, you know,” you say, more to Din than the man, and when the fucker on the ground tries to grab for you again, you’ve had it. You’re exhausted from walking around, you’re tired from being chased to the corners of the galaxy, and you are so fucking sick of men trying to tell you where you belong. “But yeah, you creep, I’m taken. And if you don’t try to be a bit more respectful to other girls—if we leave you alive for long enough to hit on one again—you’re going to get hurt worse. Because I’m one of the nicer ones in this galaxy, and I didn’t shoot your face off on sight.”

He starts swearing at you, and Din moves, lightning fast, to grab a platter of fresh food off a nearby standing table, whacks the guy across the face. You see him spit out a few teeth as he’s knocked bloody and unconscious, and even though you know that it’s a better treatment than he deserves, heads turn wildly to the sound and the violence, and it doesn’t help that the band was in between songs and the only ruckus in the cantina is you and Din beating a creep into the ground.

People stare. You look at Din, who’s frozen, again, face still obscured under his clothes, but you can tell how hard this is. You don’t react, just take his hand and firmly pull him behind you, running out of the heat in the cantina into the cooler night. People are calling after you, and you know it’s probably not the wisest move to make a scene and then immediately cut and run, especially when you’re trying to stay undercover and not show anyone you’re the Force sensitive girl and her ruthless Mandalorian bounty hunter, but it doesn’t matter if Din’s not safe.

So you run, and you pull him with you. After a few blocks, you pull him around the corner of one of the strange, curved buildings, hiding in a small alley so that if anyone’s on your trail, they won’t be able to see you in the dark. Your breath is heaving, you can feel scratches over your scar, and you’re sweating, trying to cool down enough to take in air.

“Are you okay?” you ask gently, and Din nods, even though he’s stiff. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Great,” you exhale, heavily, “then you can tell me why you didn’t trust me to fight my own battle back in there when we just had the conversation about us being equals out here.”

Din looks back at you. Even in the dark, even with his face still half-obscured, you can see the guilt in his eyes. “Nova, I—”

“I know you were trying to protect me,” you sigh, dropping to the ground, pulling your shawl off your neck so you can press it against the coolness of the building. “I get that. And I’m thankful for it. But I’m not the same girl that needed you to kill every single thing that meant her harm a year ago.”

“I’m sorry,” Din says, his voice low but clear. “I—you’re right. I didn’t think. I saw that man touch you and I wanted to drop him right there, and I wasn’t paying enough attention to you handling it on your own.”

You smile. “Thank you,” you whisper, and then he’s standing over you, and you stare up at him, glorious and gorgeous even in the low light. “What are you doing?”

“Figuring out how to make it up to you,” Din whispers, and you let him pull you to your feet. “Would you rather be bent over backwards in this alley, or be eaten out for hours back on the ship?” His lips meet your neck, and everything is warm. You sigh, a small moan of a thing, feeling him write apologies with his tongue on your pulse point.

“Is both an option?” you manage, voice all breathy and high, and when he sinks his teeth into you to leave you with a hickey, something flashes in front of your eyes. For a second, you think it’s just the blinding light of pleasure, but when you try to flutter your eyes open, something’s there, obscuring you. A figure in a long, dark robe. Then flashes of light, red and blue, and your own mouth open and screaming, even though you haven’t moved. There’s something so unsettling about watching yourself move, watching yourself strike with light exploding out from around you, unable to warn yourself there’s someone behind you, unable to make yourself run away, and you yell again, except it’s coming from your own mouth instead of the one in the vision.

This breaks you out of it, just a bit, but you can feel yourself start running. Here, in your present day, feet hitting the pavement, even though your head is still in the vision. Whoever is attacking you is ruthless, lethal. The lightsaber you have at your side is no comparison to the evil behind you, and you run and run and run, swinging your arms, trying to use the Force in any desperate way that you can, and then you run into something.

You struggle. Hard. And then your eyes clear, and you can open them, and you see Din in front of you. Immediately, you stop kicking, You can see panic in his eyes.

“What the hell was that?” he asks, pulling you off the ground, wiping away the dirt kicked up in your attempt to get away from whatever that vision was.

“I—” you start, looking around wildly, “I had a premonition. Vision. Dream. Usually, when I have them, I’m in my own body, but I was watching myself this time. It—I’m okay. I’m sorry,” you say, looking back to him, trying to coax your hammering heartbeat back to its resting temperature. “We need to go back to the ship, I need to report this to Wedge—”

“Breathe first,” Din says, eyes darting around before he pulls his own cloak down. You stare at him, register his gentle but firm touch on your forearms, looking into his deep, brown eyes, trying to ground yourself. You nod, exhaling through your mouth, and, finally, you’re back at your baseline. When the two of you start slowly making your way back through the chromatic buildings, trying to find where you parked the skip, you take a few wrong turns and run into a handful of people.

One’s wearing brown, nondescript except for the seedy look on his face. Two are stormtroopers, one who’s pocketing a bag of spice. And the last man is the one you and Din just stomped on back in the cantina. You inhale, trying to step back undetected, but when you move, you feel the white armor of another trooper.

“We didn’t see anything,” you start, and the man who grabbed you in the club steps forward, grin evil and full of black holes from the teeth Din knocked out.

“I didn’t know you were so valuable, sweetheart,” he leers at you, moving forward. Din lunges, but he’s knocked back by the man in brown, and without his armor, he slams into the building, losing his balance. “If I had known you were worth this much money, I would have traded you straight in to the bounty hunters myself.”

“Could have saved a few teeth,” you say, cracking your neck to the side. “Shame you didn’t know beforehand.”

He moves closer to you. He’s gaunt and horrible in the moonlight, and the dried blood on his mouth looks like a gaping wound if you don’t fixate on it. You swallow. “What do you want,” you whisper, low and tired, positing it to the general group. “You want to turn me in? Get money for me? Why’re you after me in the first place?” You clock Din getting to his feet. The man in all brown strikes at him again, and Din dodges it. The troopers just stand there, holding you in place, while the man you attacked grins again, a broken smile full of venom.

“It’s not my place to ask questions,” he says, leering, “only to take you in.”

You sigh, looking up at the troopers holding you. Their uniforms are much more standard, rounded, normal. You can tell by action alone that they aren’t the ones working for whoever the new boss is, but you try it anyway. “How about you guys?” you ask, blowing a puff of air to get your hair out of your face, “why do you want me?”

You can see Din in your peripheral vision. You think he’s hurt, seriously hurt, but when you catch his eye, you know that he’s just faking it until you’re ready to jump into action. He’s righting his wrongs. You have the helm.

“Legend has it,” one says, voice strange through the modulator, “that you have the ability to use the Force. And that you,” he says, pointing at Din, “are the Mandalorian who almost died in the fight against Moff Gideon.”

“So what if we are?” you ask, and the man in front of you steps closer. Maker, he’s the worst. You can feel how hard the troopers are holding you back, so you try to relax, to get one hand free to call the saber into it when you’re ready. “What do you want with us? Why are there bounties on our heads?”

“You,” the man you attacked whispers, coming close enough that you can smell the vile blood on his breath, will be worth something invaluable to the Order.”

“Yeah?” you ask, brining your chin upward, trying to look frightened, to milk them for all the information they have. “What order?”

He grins. “With your power? We’ll use you over and over again, sweetheart.”

You’ve had enough. You sniff, hair in your eyes, and when he bends down to inspect you, you bring your head up, hard, under his chin. He cries out in pain, and you throw the Darksaber over to Din, who ignites it, cuts the man in brown down to the ground. You’re not sure if the severing of his arm was enough, but you dart and pull through the troopers, trying to use your size to your advantage. They tower over you, and even though you aren’t the nimblest or fastest, you’re good at getting on the ground and kicking the shit out of whatever else is above you. You roll and twist, and one trooper grabs you by your neck, the other one taking a crack at your knee. You yell in pain, and you close your eyes, throwing one against the wall, evading the other trooper’s arms.

“Now!” you yell to Din, and you watch as the Darksaber flies, fully ignited, through the air. You catch it like you’re built for it, and you twist around to go back-to-back, you swiping at the man in front of you, Din pulling the blaster off your hip to use on the two troopers.

“You have no idea what you’re doing,” the man spits, and you cry out as you slash at him, moving him back against the wall. “Even if you kill us, nothing will change. You want to know what the Order is?”

“I have decided that I don’t care,” you seethe, swiping at his foot. He’s quicker than you are, somehow, and he’s able to predict your movement. He cracks at your hand, and you yell, tossing the saber back over your shoulder to Din, grabbing the blaster out of his outstretched palm.

“It’s going to be even bigger,” he says, grabbing at your neck, and you shoot him in the foot like you should have back in the cantina. Howling, he falls back, but he’s still yelling at you. Behind you, you hear the cries of the troopers, and then silence. Din tosses the saber back, unlit, and you ignite it in your hand. You’re not great at this. You’re making mistakes. But you’re here, fighting your own battles, and you have your weapon against the bastard’s throat, the man you love in waiting behind you to back you up if need be. “You have no idea what’s coming.”

“More thugs?” you ask, pointing the tip of the saber underneath his chin. “I think I can handle that.”

He grins at you, blood spilling out of his slimy lips. “What died didn’t stay dead, little girl,” he whispers, and Din ducks under your outstretched arm to hold your blaster up, firm and strong, looking at the guy with pure hatred. “The Dark Side is coming for you. You’re never going to win.”

“Watch me,” you say, and then Din puts a bullet through his chest. “Fourth condition,” you say, trying to catch your breath, “you don’t let me fall.”

Din stares at you. “Okay,” he starts, and then you feel your consciousness fade back out into a vision, and before you land on the ground, Din’s holding you up. You can see it—the same scene as before—flashes of blue and red light, screaming. You’re on the other side, this time, watching yourself battle against something dark and faceless.

“Go!” you hear yourself scream, reverberating, and the you that you’re watching explodes in light. It’s so bright that you have to turn away. You cry out, and when you turn around, Luke Skywalker is staring you straight in the face. Except he’s not blonde, anymore, he’s old and grey and there’s a haunted look in his eyes. “Go,” he repeats, and presses something into your hand. Your eyes fly back open before you can make sense of it.

You come back like hurtling out of a dream. You gasp, and Din lets you down, gently, onto the ground. “Cyar’ika,” he says, and you can hear how scared his voice is. He pushes your hair out of your eyes, and you stare back at him in the moonlight, trying to get your bearings. “Novalise, what is going on?”

“I don’t know,” you answer, honestly, and then you hear a noise from behind you. You duck when the first round of artillery comes. It’s not stormtroopers, at least—it looks like angry villagers, maybe a militia they’ve formed to keep outsiders in check. Din’s hand is clasped in yours and he’s pulling you behind him, throwing the saber through the air until you can catch it in your palm. When you ignite it, you see the people balk, and it’s enough for them to step back to give you both the leeway to run. You have no idea where you’re going. There’s absolutely no indication where you are in the city. Din twists and turns, but the group is gaining speed, and they’re on your heels. They’re yelling, jeering, and the only thing in your head is the voice of the man who touched you, whispering what died didn’t stay dead. You’re cold, but it has nothing to do with the chill of the night.

You’re on the ground before you realize you’ve been shot. You yelp the second it registers, a slug buried in your calf. Din lifts you up and keeps moving, until another gun points at him and sinks one into his shoulder. He yells out, too, and both of you are just moving, running wildly away from your attackers. The second you spot Kicker, you ignite the Darksaber again, slashing at the closest men on your heels. Din ducks in front of you, pulls the blaster out, and keeps shooting as you climb the gangplank and get up the ladder. For a second, a slow, agonizing second, Kicker doesn’t start. And then you hear Din get shot again.

“No!” you cry, scrambling back down the ladder, brandishing the Darksaber. “Get away from him,” you say, voice as level as you can possibly make it. Din is gasping on the gangplank, bleeding profusely out of something on his chest.

The main raises the gun and you use the Darksaber to slice his arm clean off. You gasp at what you’ve done, staring at your hand, trying to reconcile how even your pulse is, how your palm isn’t even shaking. As Kicker bursts into life, you pull Din up the gangplank, scaling the ladder long enough to punch the coordinates of open space into the navigation system, and then sliding back down with a bacta kit to fix whatever’s bleeding.

“Fifth condition,” you say, voice shaking, “you wear your armor no matter how dangerous it is, because you are not allowed to leave me again.”

“Deal,” Din manages, weakly. You wrangle off his shirt. The bullet is lodged in between two of his ribs, but it doesn’t look like he’s nicked a major artery, so you breathe a sigh of relief as you begin to clean the wound. “I’ve already told you, I’ll follow you anywhere—”

“That,” you interrupt, “doesn’t matter if you fucking die on me.”

“Well,” Din starts, hissing the second the alcohol burns into his skin, disinfecting the wound, his stomach contracting. You stare at the pockmarks of all the other scars you’ve patched up. “That’s a—fuck—a good point,” he agrees, finally, and you carefully apply the bacta patch. The second it’s secured, you look around to his other injuries, scanning for anything else life-threatening, and then Din’s pushing himself up on the heels of his hands.

“No,” you protest, “not a good idea—”

“You’re shot,” he reminds you, and your eyes follow his all the way down to the bullet lodged in the muscle of your leg.

“Oh, yeah,” you say, distantly, “I am.” Silently, you assume your regular position—staring over at Din while he works, quiet—and when you feel Kicker shoot safely out of Cantonica’s atmosphere, you breathe a tiny sigh of relief. “Condition six,” you sigh, “is that we keep patching each other up after we’re being shot at.”

“That just seems like common sense,” Din mutters, and when you catch his eyes, he manages a soft smile. “Is that the last condition?” he continues, injecting you with the bacta shot before he bandages the wound, “because that seems like a notable place to end on.”

“I don’t know,” you say, softly, feeling the buzz of the bacta coursing slowly through your veins. Your face stretches into a smile, even though you know it won’t be the last one. But here, now, after you just fought off five men together, before you’re about to rendezvous with the rest of the New Rogue Squadron to try and stop whatever evil is coming, you think you both deserve a safe place to land. “I don’t know if that’ll be the last one. But I’ll tell you,” you sigh, adjusting, pulling him in closer, “after you marry me.”

Din stares at you. “I thought I was supposed to propose again—”

“Beat you to it,” you slur, “marry me, Mandalorian.”

He laughs. A real laugh, a genuine one. Maker, it’s the most glorious sound you’ve ever heard. He bends down to kiss you. He tastes like home. “Okay,” he whispers, tipping his forehead gently against yours. “But there’s something I have to tell you first.”

“Oh, Maker,” you sigh, feeling the bacta about to take its full effect, struggling up on your hands to face him. “Do you have another family that you haven’t told me about?”

“That…depends on what you mean by family,” Din says, slowly. Even through your drugged haze, you feel the weight of it. You sit up straighter, staring at him. “Earlier, you asked why I have the Darksaber.”

“Yeah,” you answer, eyebrows furrowing down the middle.

“Well,” Din continues, sighing, pulling it off of your belt, “I have it because I won it in battle with Gideon. And much to Bo-Katan’s dismay—and mine—apparently, that means it’s mine until someone else wins it from me.”

“I—what?” you ask, trying to shake away the fuzzy feeling, “what are you saying to me?”

“I’m saying,” Din emphasizes, sighing, looking down at the Darksaber in his hand, “that I don’t have a secret family, and I’m never leaving you again, but…”

“What?” you repeat.

“I accidentally became the ruler of Mandalore,” Din admits. “And I don’t know how to get out of it.”

You stare at him, speechless, and then the bacta kicks in and everything fades to black.

*

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as always, reply here or send me a message to be added to the taglist!!!

I HOPED YOU LOVED IT!!!! this chapter spanned over so much, but it was a joy to write. i took a lot of little liberties here and there with fudging the og star wars plot/timeline, but it's all to set up the sequel, and i promise if it seems like it's moving quickly, there's going to be more plot points described in way more depth later on! <3

SOME NOTES:

1. i do not know when SM will be over (i have this last arc to finish up & stuff to introduce for the sequel) but as soon as i know when we're nearing the end, i will let y'all know here & on tiktok (padmeamydala)!

2. yes i am pushing the wedgeluke agenda. they are in love. if you guys are picking up ~vibes~ it's because they're there. wedgeluke romantic subplot because, well, i want to and i love writing about my favorite little fruit luke skywalker & it's been so fun to write my interpretation of wedge!!

3. i've gotten a few comments and messages that are very critical of Nova and the way she's acting. i want her to have depth, and sometimes being a little selfish or not immediately rushing to convey messages to the Alliance when she's dealing with heavy and/or emotional experiences comes along with that! you are, of course, entitled to your opinions on Nova/her characterization/SM in general, and it's more than okay to voice those opinions to me, but please just know that she's written the way she is because she's coming into her own (and the girl has been through the RINGER lol), and she's flawed because i want her to have depth and her own merits, more than just a reader insert character or a love interest, because she's going to have much more of her own personality in the sequel. please just be respectful of me and my work, and please voice whatever you want to say with kindness <3

CHAPTER 28 WILL BE UP SATURDAY, JULY 3RD @ 7:30 PM EST!!!!

xoxo, amelie

[comfortwriting]

hi! can you write the number 16 from your prompts list with fred and a slytherin reader? also, love your posts ❤

A/N: It’s so nice to meet a fellow Slytherin!! Thank you so much for making a request, I hope you enjoy my lovely!

Prompt 16: Reading the diary entry over and over, your hand slipped into your underwear. 

Warnings: swearing and smut

For the second year in a row, you decided to spend your Christmas at Hogwarts instead of going home. You lied to your parents, telling them that you were drowning in books, parchment, and practical potion-making tests; but the truth is, you were only staying at Hogwarts because Fred Weasley wasn’t going home.

The two of you have what most would call a ‘love-hate’ relationship, you just found him incredibly infuriating but so fucking hot at the same time; going weak at the knees for him. The two of you got to know one another very well during a match of Quidditch, dodging his bludgers, and catching his cheeky grin when you did so. In the classes you have together he always tries to get you into trouble when he’s unable to get your attention, despite what your fellow house had to say about him - you were really into him.

You knew their dorm room would be empty tonight and that he and George would be scrambling into the kitchens at any moment, being given plenty of food from the hard-working house elves, making this the perfect opportunity for you to get your own back on the more daring twin.

Creeping into Fred’s dorm room quietly (incase you were met with a surprise) you spotted his bed and smirked, walking over to it. At least their bedrooms were warm, shame about the red being splattered everywhere - you preferred green, always green. 

Pulling a rope out of your pocket you pulled his quilt back and placed the rope on the bed, you had been practicing this for months now - you couldn’t get it wrong now; you needed to master turning this rope into a snake.

Looking up and down the bed to figure out if you should move the rope lower down or higher up, you noticed something poking out beneath Fred’s pillow. Pulling it out, you were now in possession of what looked to be a homemade diary, sporting a massive ‘F’ on the cover. 

‘I’ve hit the jackpot!’ you told yourself, ‘who needs a surprise snake from Slytherin when you’ve got this’

Part of you wanted to put the diary back under the pillow and to continue with your plan but the itch that started to spread inside you wouldn’t go away unless you were to give in, and who knows, the diary could just be another one of Fred's pranks waiting to trap someone who went snooping.

You chucked the rope onto the floor and took off your shoes, getting into Fred’s bed you made yourself comfy, you wanted to enjoy this. 

Flicking past the first few empty pages you finally found an entry, dated two years back. Sinking into his bed and embracing yourself in the warmth you started to read.

She looked at me again today, those eyes... her gorgeous eyes eating me up like I’m prey, they stand out, even more, when she wears green. She’s so beautiful, all wrapped up in her Slytherin Quidditch jumper, scarf, gloves, and hat, George tells me to stay away but I don’t think I can. 

You felt your cheeks burning but there were plenty of other girls in Slytherin, in order to find out if Fred was, in fact, writing about you, you had no choice but to keep reading. You skipped a few pages, reading another entry now dated from one year ago.

I just can’t take it anymore, having to sit next to her and not kiss her is the hardest thing in the world, even harder than getting away with coming home late when I’m back at home. I can’t help but chase her, I can’t help but make things harder for her on the pitch... I want her to know that I’m after her.

Yup. This whole entire diary was a shrine to you, a whole dedicated series of Fred’s feelings for you, and honestly, you were flattered.

Getting a little bit too hot you pulled the covers down and you took off your robe, once again flicking through the diary and picking another entry to read - this one the most recent of all, two days ago.

I can’t help but just stare at her soft pink lips, those exquisite breasts that show through her shirts, those stunning smooth legs that make me want to run my hands up them.

You breathed out heavily, the image of Fred touching you getting you excited. You took off your skirt, only laying in your shirt, tie and knickers.

I just want to grab her whilst she’s walking down the halls, drag her into an empty classroom and bend her over the nearest desk. I want to spread open those stunning legs and eat her out like I’ve dreamt about so many times before. My heart and cock ache for her, I’d do anything to have my way with her; making her cum with my fingers or on my cock, I want her to feel it all.

Reading the diary entry over and over, your hand slipped into your underwear. You completely lost yourself in Fred’s confession, imagining the acts he so desperately wants unfolding within your thoughts. Your index and middle finger coated in your spit moved in circular motions on your clit, one or two moans of Fred’s name leaving your mouth.

Without noticing while you played with yourself, Fred had entered the dorm room embarrassed at first of the sight of his diary in your hands but now he stared at you with hunger, desperation, and pure filth; the sight of you touching yourself over him made his cock hard.

“Need some help love?” He called out, his voice like melted honey.

You were startled at first, shocked that you had been caught in the act but then it dawned on you, this is exactly where he wanted you, he knew all along you were going to prank him and he still won.

Fred walked over to you, a smirk playing on his lips and his cock poking through his trousers. “Don’t stop all because I’m here”

You looked into his hungry eyes and bit your lip, Fred kicked off his shoes and took off his belt, climbing into the bed and on top of you. “I guess the only snake in the bed tonight is you” he smiled, noticing the rope, peeking out of your robe pocket.

“I’m guessing you’re all talk Weasley, you’ve gone into graphic detail describing what you want to do to me and I’m laying here, waiting.” You smiled back.

Your backchat caused Fred to crash his lips onto yours, the two of you kissing as if your life depended on it. One of Fred’s hands traveled down to your wet pussy, and two of his fingers dived inside of you. Moaning against Fred’s lips, your hand went to his trousers, tugging the zipper down.

Fred pulled away from the kiss “want to get you nice and wet before I fuck you” and attacked your pussy with his mouth, swirling his tongue around your clit whilst continuing to finger fuck you. 

You couldn’t take anymore, the tension had been brewing between you for too long, waiting suddenly became unbearable for the two of you. “Please fuck me, Fred. I want to feel you so bad.” You moaned out between breaths.

Fred didn’t need to hear it twice, he pulled away and sucked your juices off his fingers. He took off his trousers and removed his shirt, you copied him struggling with the last few buttons.

“Get on all fours” Fred ordered, slapping your arse as you did so.

Fred spat into his hand and spread his saliva across your entrance, without warning he started to pound into you, grabbing onto your hair.

“Fucking hell, Fred!” you moaned out, “you feel so good!” 

“Told you us Gryffindors weren’t that bad, you stupid serpent.” he teased. 

You had no idea that your relationship with Fred would come to this, the staring contests at breakfast, lunch, and dinner, the Quidditch matches and games he’d torment you in, the countless detentions he caused you to get. 

You were surprised you wanted him so badly, but then again how could you be surprised? You were being fucked senseless.

Fred’s hand marks were all across your arse, scratches all over his back, love bites on both of your necks, and your lip bleeding from biting it so hard.

Fred picked up his speed, fucking you harder and deeper in your new position (your legs upon his shoulders) he could feel your walls tighten around him, causing his cock to twitch.

“Fred, I’m going to cum” you moaned out.

Expecting Fred to give it all he’s got you were shocked when he suddenly stopped and pulled out of you, laying down next to you laughing. You were so confused and didn’t understand, did he not enjoy it?

“That's what you get for trying to put a snake in my bed” Fred smirked, pushing his hair out of his eyes.

The tension that almost broke free just became ten times worse. 

“You’re such a twat!” 

He laughed in response “George is going to be in the kitchen awhile, don’t feel as if you’ve got to disappear.” 

What the fuck just happened?

[writerpeach]

Shutter

Fromis_9 Saerom x Male Reader

5223 words

Categories: smut, oral, model! saerom

---

Read on AFF

Read on AO3

It’s not every day that a model walked into your studio who by every definition of the word, was perfect.

Dozens of gorgeous women came by each and every week, each one more beautiful than the last and you couldn’t ask for a better job.

The elevator doors opened and the woman scheduled for your afternoon appointment stepped inside your studio on the ninth floor, and you had never seen such an attractive woman with such stunning features.

Calling her gorgeous would almost be an insult. Words could not and would not do her beauty justice, or would be enough to describe how attractive she was.

She had dark shoulder-length hair and walked with confidence in an elegant looking black and grey dress and her sexy aura filled the studio.

“Hello, I’m Saerom!” she shyly introduced herself, a small smile on her rosy red lips and you melted just by hearing her voice.

“Nice to meet you, Saerom,” you replied.

“Please take care of me,” she said and bowed politely. Her hair and makeup styled perfectly, nothing looked out of place and the smile on her face only made her look even more beautiful.

“Shall we get started, Miss Saerom?”

Saerom nodded and you directed her to the set as you still had a few things to set up beforehand. She stood against the white backdrop, eyes roaming the bright lights and other equipment spewed everywhere, tripods and lights all ensuring that each model looked as best as you could make them look.

You readied your camera and glanced at Saerom, realizing how busty she was and what a curvy deadly body her dress showed off.

“Ready when you are,” you said as you removed your lens cap, giving one final check to all your equipment hoping to somehow do justice to the actual goddess standing in front of you.

Saerom flashed her best smile as you pressed the camera shutter and took the first shot of the shoot, capturing her beauty as best as possible. Her side profile was perfect, her features flawless in a way that they had been sculpted by the gods. Her striking jawline, her cute nose, her perfectly formed lips. The ideal woman put together as if to say it won’t get better than this.

Your finger moved faster than a cheetah hunting a prey, taking hundreds of shots per minute as Saerom displayed a variety of poses and facial expressions, each one perfect in their own way.

“How am I doing?” she asked.

“You’re doing amazing. The camera loves you.”

Truer words had never come out of your mouth. Saerom behind a camera was a natural fit, her smile beaming with confidence, every pose and angle flawless as she was. After all, when you’re being paid to be beautiful for a living you’ve really made it.

“Make sure to capture my best side.”

“You don’t have a bad side,” you responded. Saerom blushed cutely.

Two hours flew by, Saerom’s experience playing a huge part and even with makeup touch-ups and additional wardrobe changes there was time to spare.

“That should be a wrap. Thank you for your hard work, Miss Saerom” you said. You never wanted to stop taking pictures of her and definitely took more than necessary, but more was always better than less.

“Can I see some?” Saerom eagerly asked.

“It’ll take some time to get them all transferred and processed if you don't mind waiting,” you said as you removed the card from your camera and slipped it inside your laptop on the nearby table.

“Not at all! I’ll wait over here,” she said as she took a seat on the nearby black leather couch.

You had taken literally thousands of pictures and it would take some time to add them all, much less edit them. Sorting quickly through a handful of different outfits and looks you picked the best ones, doing a quick edit on them before transferring them over to the large monitor next to your laptop.

You gestured for Saerom to come over and she scurried over right away. Her eyes grew wide as she looked through the handpicked batch of pictures, proud of the hard work both of you had put in and the satisfying results.

“You’re an amazing photographer,” she shyly said.

“An artist is only as good as their art,” you replied, almost regretting spewing out such a cheesy line but earning another smile out of Saerom.

“We still have some time left don’t we?” she asked. Most of your appointments were scheduled in three-hour blocks, allowing plenty of time for preparations and in case something went wrong. And something almost always went wrong.

“You are correct, Miss Saerom.”

“Perfect. Can you shoot some more of me then?”

“I’d love to.”

Saerom returned to the set, the look on her face uncertain as you went to set up your camera again.

“I don’t have any more outfits to wear,��� she said, unsure of herself.

“There’s a closet in the corner with spare outfits, I don’t know your size but they should fit.”

Saerom hesitated for a moment. “That won’t be necessary.”

In a moment’s notice, Saerom acted on impulse and shedded her dress, baring her immaculate body and the incredibly sexy pair of matching lace black lingerie underneath. You weren’t expecting this moment of spontaneity and your jaw dropped.

“What?” she smirked. “You’ve shot women in lingerie before haven’t you?”

“Y-yes, but-”

“Then you won’t mind me getting more comfortable will you?”

“N-not at all-”

“Good.”

Saerom continued with a playful smile and kicked her heels off to the side, leaving her standing in the middle of the set barefoot in her underwear, the insane curves of her tight body front and center for your viewing pleasure.

Her full breasts were barely covered, showing abundant cleavage and the flimsy piece of lace did little to contain them, showing off the size of her perfect chest as if they wanted to escape from their prison. Her gorgeous legs led up to soft creamy thighs, and Saerom’s toned abs looked as delicious as the rest of her body, clearly the result of hours of work at the gym.

"Incredible," you said in awe.

"Like what you see?" Saerom asked with a cute giggle. You found yourself speechless.

"I've always wanted to be an underwear model. My company would never let me though, they love protecting my image," Saerom said sarcastically as her eyes rolled.

"You certainly have the perfect body for it."

"Thank you," Saerom said as her cheeks reddened. "I work very hard for it."

"It shows."

Saerom switched from shy and cute to sexy instantaneously as she flipped her hair seductively, running her hands through it as she lifted her arms over her head. Your camera shutter went crazy as you started shooting your newly undressed model, not wanting to waste a second.

"How do I look?" she asked as she bit her lip.

"You're very sexy, Saerom."

"Am I? How about some closeup shots then?"

Without even responding you practically ripped your heavy camera from its tripod as you detached it, closing the distance between you Saerom, taking a deep breath as you approached.

“Think of these as exclusive shots. Just for us,” Saerom said, showing off to the camera.

While the previous shoot was rather professional, Saerom was rather quiet for the majority of it, focusing on her poses and angles. Now that she was opening up in more ways than one you wanted to get to know her.

“Tell me something about yourself, Saerom.”

“What would you like to know?” she asked, pouting her lips at the camera.

“Something...interesting.”

“Interesting?” she pondered. “I share a place with eight other girls.”

“Eight? That’s insane. I can’t imagine how long the line for the bathroom is.”

“You get used to it, it becomes fun most of the time. Having time on my own like this is actually kind of weird for me now.”

“I’m exhausted just thinking about it.”

Saerom laughed and you could tell she was becoming more comfortable around you,

“It was difficult at first but I think I would be bored living by myself now,” Saerom said as she spun around on her heels and placed her hands on her hips, bending over enough to give a good look at her plump round ass as her eyes kept contact with your camera, trying to keep your pants from tightening.

“Fuck, you have a really nice ass, Saerom,” you blurted out even without thinking. She didn’t seem to mind.

“Thanks. It’s my favorite part of me,” she proudly said.

You couldn’t stop staring at Saerom’s heavenly sculpted backside, wondering how soft those cheeks felt, but you quickly tried chasing those thoughts away as you didn’t want a bulge forming in your pants in front of her.

“You’re one of the best models I’ve had the pleasure to work with,” you said, distracting yourself.

“Really? You’re just saying that to make me feel good.”

“I’m not. Most models that show up don’t give me any trouble, occasionally you’ll get a spoiled diva that shows up late and clearly doesn’t want to be here and it ruins the atmosphere of the whole shoot.”

You made sure to get closeup shots of every part of Saerom’s body, taking extra care in framing her ass perfectly before walking to the front of her sexy body and taking several shots of her wonderful breasts.

“But you walked in and this whole place lit up.”

“That’s sweet.”

“It’s the truth.”

Saerom paused. “What do you think?” Saerom asked, cupping her breasts. You felt your heart racing.

“They’re perfect.”

“How about a closer view then?” she asked. You zoomed in and aimed at her chest, but Saerom shyly smiled and aimed your camera down.

“That’s not what I meant.”

Before you could put any thought into her words Saerom reached behind her back and unclasped her bra, divesting it from her body as she exposed her sizable pale breasts, bouncing as they were freed.  

“Holy shit, Saerom.”

“How about you put that camera down and we have a little fun?”

Without having a chance to respond you got rid of your camera as Saerom’s topless body walked towards you, your eyes immediately drawn to her full round breasts and salivating over them.

“Do any of your models ever let you touch them?”

“I try to keep things professional.”

“That’s boring,” Saerom said with a seductive smirk as she grabbed your hands and guided them to her breasts, helping you squeeze them. You moaned at their softness and how they fit in your hands, the weight of her breasts, and how perfectly shaped they were made you lose your mind.

“You’re so perfect,” you said as you squeezed and groped Saerom’s tits, squeezing two perfect handfuls as her pretty pink nipples hardened against your palms as she looked into your eyes. The fabric of your pants constricted and there was no stopping it this time.

“You can touch all you want. Taste me.”

“I will,” you said hungrily as you crashed your lips against hers and wrapped your hands around her bare waist, The taste of Saerom’s cherry lips entered your mouth. You pulled her in tighter as she returned your advances, tongues dancing together as the scent of her perfume lingered in the air. You wanted Saerom, bad. You wanted to rip her panties off and fuck her against your set, forcing to pace yourself and keep yourself under control.

You broke the kiss and exchanged lustful stares, not wasting a second as you dove into her breasts, licking stripes up and down her cleavage, and brought your mouth to her tits and teased her sensitive nipples. Saerom moaned as you flicked delicate circles around each one before sucking tenderly, earning gasps and whiny moans.

Schedules be damned, you took your time with each of her breasts, giving each equal attention and not leaving your hands from her flesh, not moving on until her hard nipples were covered in your saliva.

“Mmm, fuck,” Saerom moaned, caressing your hair as you devoured and buried yourself in her tits. Playful licking turned into loud slurping, and when that wasn’t enough you nibbled on each of her swollen pink nubs, grazing on her stiff nipples in between your teeth gently as her moans grew louder and whinier.

With all of your attention on Saerom’s tits, you sucked and sucked with no intention of stopping until your lips were numb, looking up every so often to see the pleasure running through Saerom.

Meanwhile, with your mouth full of Saerom’s breasts you felt a hand move down to your crotch and squeezed as she felt you up through your pants which became painfully tight.

“I must be turning you on,” she giggled.

“You are, you really are. Fuck, you’re so hot, Saerom,” you growled.

“I could say the same to you,” she said. “I got you all worked up, didn’t I? It’s only fair I do something about it.”

Saerom stopped you in your tracks and led you over to the couch, playfully pushing you against it as you fell down and took a seat. Slowly lowering to her knees she rubbed up and down your thighs, biting her lip, watching as you removed your shirt in preparation.

“How many women have you fucked on this couch?”

“Not enough,” you smirked.

“Time to add one more to your tally then.”

With a sly grin on her pretty face, Saerom unzipped your pants, quickly yanking them with your boxers down to your ankles with your assistance. Your cock sprang free, throbbing in the cold air and Saerom’s eyes went wide at the sight of it.

Saerom licked her lips, feeling an insatiable desire and hunger deep inside her at the sight of your unleashed manhood. As she admired your rock hard shaft, finding herself unable to draw her eyes away as her long slender fingers wrapped tightly around your hard cock, applying firm pressure and began stroking you up and down, feeling every inch.

“You have a very nice cock,” Saerom said, lips curling wide as she pumped you slowly and drizzled her fingers with your leaking pre-cum. She kissed the very tip of your cock, making your whole body jerk as her soft lips explored your cock and traveled down your base.

Every kiss on your shaft was loaded with hunger, and once Saerom reached the end of your cock she flattened her tongue against your base while you watched her every move. You moaned as her wet warm tongue moved slowly up and down your shaft, giving delicate strokes until she found your sensitive tip and swirled around your swollen head, lapping up every leaking drop.

“Yummy,” she said, spitting on your cock several times and spreading it all over your shaft, jerking you off and keeping eye contact.

Saerom kissed your tip one more time before she parted her plump red lips with your cock, taking the first few inches of you into her warm wet mouth.

“Oh f-fuuck,” you moaned loudly as Saerom hollowed her cheeks and sealed her lips tight around your cock. Saerom sucked you off slowly and tenderly while her sexy gaze was glued to you, full lips sliding up and down your shaft.

With constant eye contact Saerom built up your pleasure, taking her time with sucking your cock, enjoying it just as much as she moaned around your shaft.

“Fuck, Saerom," you moaned and threw your head back."That feels fucking good."

She smiled with your cock in her mouth, the bright studio lights letting you see her face perfectly as she began to bob her head up and down, her tongue playing with the underside of your shaft.

Saerom upped her pace as she swallowed more of your cock inside her warm mouth, the redness of her lips fading as her dark lipstick began smearing on your shaft, combined with streaks of her spit.

Her pretty hands did not stay idle, using one to stroke up and down your thigh, digging her nails in as the other cupped and fondled your balls.

“So heavy and full," she said as her nose nudged against your cock and planted messy wet kisses on your balls."I'll make sure they’re empty when I'm done with you."

Saerom continued to pleasure your balls while jerking off your needy cock, licking wide stripes, and glazing your sack with drool. She sucked on each one tenderly, giving your balls equal attention and hungrily slurping on them individually as you moaned louder, letting your satisfaction be known.

Using both her lips and tongue all over your balls, Saerom blew hot air against each of them before bringing your cock back into her mouth. Those deadly eyes glued to your own as she sucked slowly from tip to base, swallowing up every last inch as you hit the back of her throat without any real effort.

“Oh god, Saerom…”

The satisfaction in her eyes was obvious as she took you down her mouth with ease, her throat tightening around you as she relaxed her muscles, not even letting out a single gag.

Her soft wet lips felt so good wrapped around your cock, and you instinctively grabbed the back of her head, guiding her movements as she bobbed faster, lips kissing your base with each stroke.

It wasn’t long before you encouraged an even quicker pace, Saerom hungrily slurping down every inch that impaled her throat, desperately trying not to go wild and fuck her throat as much as you wanted to.

Saerom kept your wet shaft deep down her throat, working her muscles and keeping her lips sealed around every inch as she played with your balls, drooling all over your cock.

"Fuck, Saerom. You're so damn good at that."

"I've had a lot of practice."

Saerom hummed and gave your cock one more slow satisfying slurp from base to tip, releasing it with a loud messy pop as she furiously jerked off your messy wet shaft.

Not even bothering to wipe off leftover spit and lipstick on her face, Saerom's lust-filled gaze focused on you as she made you wait in anticipation.

Keeping your cock in her small delicate hands, Saerom carefully made a show of

sliding her panties down her toned legs, tossing them onto your set.

"A little present from me. Keep them."

With barely any time to react, you stole a glance at Saerom's beautiful bare pussy as she straddled you, the warmth of her naked body radiating around you as her comforting thighs rested against your own.

Saerom really was like no other woman, as cliché as it sounded. You could see it in her eyes that she wanted your cock, not just for her own satisfaction but for yours, aching to share in mutual pleasure.

The way she held your cock in her hand, aiming it between her spread thighs and between the pink wet flesh of her pussy, slowly rubbing it against her folds was agonizing, deliberately teasing both of you with a sly expression on her face.

You understood what she was doing as Saerom continued to run your cock through the wet warmth of her hole, but that didn’t make it any less easy to hold out, each sensation running through your body making it harder to maintain an ounce of composure.

“Saerom…”

She didn’t say a word as she collected her slick on your shaft, mixing it with leftover saliva, coating your cock in her fluids. Saerom thankfully shared your impatience and knew when enough was enough.

“I’m so wet,” Saerom bluntly said, the first set of words that left her lips in several minutes.

In what felt like the longest few seconds of your life Saerom lifted her wide hips up in the air, aiming herself carefully, and sank down on the first few inches of your cock.

Saerom gasped loudly and you shared an equally loud groan at the feeling of penetrating her body, the intense sensation of entering her pussy for the first time was unlike anything else. There was a lot to take in. Saerom’s wetness surrounded your cock as expected, followed by extreme warmth and tightness that overwhelmed you.

Gently moving her body up and down Saerom took it easy at first, letting her wet walls be parted with more of your hard cock, clinging tightly around your shaft that gradually disappeared in between her thighs.

“How do I feel?” Saerom asked as she wrapped her hands around the back of your neck, using her hips and sliding up and down your cock, coating more of your shaft in her juices.

“So fucking tight.”

She beamed at your response, sinking deeper and deeper until she almost bottomed herself out and stopped just above the base of your shaft.

“You feel really good inside me.”

Her eyes closed and her head whipped back as you both moaned together and felt her tight walls squeezing you tightly, letting herself get used to the rock hard flesh fully entering her body.

“I need every inch inside me,” Saerom pleaded, not that you were in a position to stop her, letting her control every movement. You watched between her beautiful thighs every move she made as her slick lips gripped your cock, ensuring you never left the warmth of her body.

In one swift movement, Saerom lifted herself from your cock, moving so just the tip of your shaft was inside her, and slammed her hips down and impaled herself to the hilt, moaning at being completely filled.

“Fuck!”

Saerom didn’t allow herself any adjustment, she didn’t need it and neither did you as she smiled devilishly.

“Ride my cock, Saerom,” you demanded and your orders were followed right away as she began bouncing on your dick, her mouth agape as she threw her head back in pleasure. You snaked your hands around her slim waist and grabbed her ass with both hands, kneading the soft flesh and encouraging her to continue dictating the pace.

“Stretch me out...stretch my tight little pussy just like that. Fuck, I wish I could ride you all day.”

“I could always cancel the rest of my appointments.”

“F-fuck, don’t tempt me. But I have my own schedules after this too,” she frowned.

“Guess we’ll have to schedule another session then.”

Saerom nodded in response and your hands squeezed her cheeks tighter, giving her ass a few quick slaps as she gasped, looking at the way she was falling apart already as she rode you.

Continuing to test the waters you gave repeated smacks against Saerom’s plentiful backside, the satisfying sounds of both raised palms striking her bare cheeks filled your ears. Saerom whined cutely in response as her walls clenched around your cock with each impact, not using enough force to sting but just giving her body a little something extra.

“You like being spanked, Saerom?”

“I-I do.”

“I’ll have to remember that for next time,” you smirked. Saerom took the opportunity to increase the pace, allowing herself to adjust and found the perfect angle to take your shaft inside her, bouncing her delicious big ass on your cock.

“You’re drenched, Saerom. Do you always get this wet?” you asked. She hesitated before shyly nodding.

“It’s mostly your fault,” she timidly replied, establishing a harsher rhythm as she rode you with more intensity and fervor, her perfect set of tits bouncing hypnotically with every movement.

“I take full responsibility.”

Settling into the sharp pleasure Saerom gave in to her desires and rode your cock faster, covering the entire surface of your shaft in her slick as you explored her voluptuous naked body and ran your hands up every inch of her bare skin you had access to.

You started with Saerom’s creamy thighs, caressing them softly before moving on to her sexy toned tummy, feeling her tight sculpted abs against your fingertips. She reacted to every touch audibly as your hands made their way back to her luscious breasts, cupping them and keeping your hands filled as she slammed her ass harder against your cock, creating more pleasure.

"You ride me so well, Saerom," you said as you pinched her nipples, feeling her pussy tightening and more of her juices leaking out. You kept your hands filled with her wonderful pale breasts as her ass repeatedly slammed down on your crotch, using your cock for her pleasure.

"It helps that I love your cock," Saerom said as she rode you faster and faster as sweat began to mist all over of your bodies, thighs crashing against your own with every bounce.

"And I love you creaming all over my cock."

The mere act of Saerom taking your cock in and out of her body with ease was driving you crazy, her hot wet pussy wrapped so tightly around your cock you felt like you could burst at any moment.

You couldn’t keep up with all the sensations running through your body, each time Saerom’s ass smacked against your body brought you closer to the point of no return, her juices flowing down her thighs confirming that she was equally reaching past her own limits.

Saerom's tight pussy began pulsating around your shaft as she became breathless, every forceful slam of her full hips brought down on your body making her wetter and wetter as she was barely able to keep her eyes open.

"Are you close, Saerom?" you asked. It took several moments before she could form an answer, and even then she could only nod in response.

"I need you cumming all over my cock."

"I w-will, fuck. Can you cum with me?"

"I'd love to," you said as desperation and need filled her eyes, knowing neither could hold on much longer. You watched her riding your cock just a little longer before growing tired of being passive and grabbed onto her hips, thrusting deep into her tight dripping cunt as she impaled herself on you.

You wanted every bit of pleasure out of Saerom's body and you were going to take it.

"Oh fuuuck! Just like that!"

It took a few thrusts to find the perfect timing, hitting Saerom's spot at just the right angle, keeping a firm grip on her sweaty body and trying to match her rhythm, both of you working together to achieve your collective goal of reaching climax.

You couldn’t help but stare at her, watching her gorgeous features contorting every time you filled her to the hilt. The air in the room grew harder to take in as you drove yourself in Saerom with desperation, both aching for release. The loud slapping of hot flesh against flesh fought for dominance against the equally loud moaning escaping Saerom’s lips.

“Fuck, fuck, baby, I-I'm gonna cum!" Saerom cried out, the three most beautiful words you had heard all day as you held onto her body tight, preparing yourself for the intensity of what was about to happen.

"I am too, fuck!"

“Cum inside me, please, I need you to fill my tight little pussy,” Saerom begged, and you did everything you could to hold out just long enough to let her achieve orgasm first. You weakly smiled and savored the last few moments before the inevitable.

The final few seconds arrived as your breathing deepened, looking dead center into Saerom’s beautiful eyes filled with need and desire. Without another word you felt Saerom’s juices overflowing as her pussy tightened almost painfully so, thighs trembling violently as her cunt squeezed the life out of your shaft as she came, leaving a mess over your cock and wrapped her arms tighter around the back of your neck and desperately moaning into your ears as her body turned to jelly.

Saerom looked beautiful as her orgasm took over her body, unable to control the volume of satisfied moans leaving her lips as she slowly came down from her intense high. She rocked her hips back and forth to ride out her orgasm and helped you join her as you felt all the tension in your body being released.

Unable to take anymore your cock throbbed inside Saerom, letting out needy grunts and moans as you exploded inside her, emptying your thick hot cum deep inside her pussy and pumping her full of your seed as her body took spurt after spurt as she was filled to the brim.

She rested her head on your shoulder, swaying her hips to coax every drop out of you, the feeling of your warmth deep inside her satisfying her to no end.

“You feel so warm,” she faintly said as your bodies took a much-deserved rest and stared into each other's eyes, both trying to catch a breath at the wonderful experience you just shared.

“That...was...amazing,” you said, heavily gasping.

“It was. I haven’t been fucked like that in a while,” Saerom smiled and kissed you, giving you one more taste of lips as she savored the warmth left in her body.

She gradually lifted her body off yours carefully as your cock plopped out and the huge thick load you had left inside began slowly dripping out of her pussy, running down her flushed thighs. Responding only in tired gasps she tried to catch her breath, watching the mess inside her continue to show itself.

Both of you too tired to move let alone speak, Saerom knelt and licked your shaft clean and tasted your combined juices, lips slurping slowly from base to tip to not miss a drop.

She headed over to your workstation with your cum still dripping down her thighs, grabbed your camera and took several full-body shots of her naked sweaty body, running her hand through her messy hair and smiling for the camera.

"Thank you," Saerom said as she ended up in your naked lap again.

"For what?"

"For taking such pretty pictures of me."

"It's all part of the job. It's easy when I have such a pretty model."

Her cheeks reddened again, the smile etched across her lips something you couldn’t ever get enough of.

"I can't wait to see the full versions."

"I'll have them sent to your company by the end of the week. Just the ones for the magazine of course,” you said.

"I look forward to it. I had a lot of fun today."

"I did too, Saerom."

"Can I see you again? After work?" she asked.

"I usually don't finish until the sun goes down."

"I don't mind, I'll be pretty busy myself. Maybe I'll even take some photos of my own for you."

"Oh? I didn't know you were a photographer as well."

"I'm just an amateur," she shyly said. "It’s just a hobby when I have the time."

"I'd love to see some shots."

"I'll send some then. They might not be as risqué as what we took today."

"As long as you’re in them I’ll love them."

Saerom accepted your praise with a grin on her features and regretfully dressed and left quietly, leaving you tired, sweaty and in need of a shower with her occupied in your thoughts.

Whoever the next model was you knew they couldn’t compare to Saerom, and you couldn’t wait for work to be over.

[aarcanechaoss]

☆ Dazai has a girlfriend? ☆

☆ Smut + a little bit of crackheadness

Hearing the giggling of his coworker was normal, at least that’s what Atsushi told himself. The suicidal maniac was particularly chipper today and everyone noticed.

“Atsushi could you finish my paperwork for me.” His eyes widened and he pouted, “pleaseeee.”

“Dazai do your own.” Atsushi sighed.

“Ugh please! I’ll be late and then I’ll get in trouble and then I won’t get my present.” Fake tears welled in the man’s eyes.

“What are you on about now?” Kunikida piper up, clearly over Dazai’s weird mood.

“Ko will be mad I gotta gooo.”

“Who’s Ko?” Kenji asked. Naomi and Kyoka looked towards him with wide eyes, they wanted to know as well.

“Hm? Ko is my girlfriend.” He said nonchalantly.

Beat

“WHAT!” The agents yell. Dazai laughs, throws the last few pages onto Atsushi’s desk and slips towards the door.

“What’s the racket?” The President appeared around the corner with a raised brow.

“I have a date and must be off!” Dazai exclaims. Fukuzawa merely nods.

“Dazai.” Naomi called, he turned and tilted his head. “Why didn’t we know this? Who is she? What’s she look like? Is she beautiful? How long have you been together?”

“So many questions.” He smiles. “I can spare a moment to talk about my wonderful Ko!” If sparkles could appear in the air they would have.

“So-“ Ranpo prompts. What? He was intrigued as well- he hadn’t deduced that Dazai was in any kind of relationship.

“Well firstly, I like to think of work and private life separately. She’s a criminologist and I a private eye, we don’t really talk about work so I guess I just didn’t here. We’ve been dating nearly a year and she’s the most perfect woman ever.” His eyes gleamed in excitement. “She knows so many suicide methods it’s wonderful and she doesn’t think I’m weird!”

At that comment the ADA looked at Dazai with annoyance of course his girlfriend knows something about suicide methods to deal with him.

“Then why do you keep asking other women to die with you?” Atsushi asks.

“Hmm? Because I have to practice before I ask her. It’s a proposal after all.” The ADA stood still in shock as the man happily left the office on his way to his date. Once gone they erupted with questions.

“Do we follow?”

“He didn’t say what she looked like?”

“He seems pretty happy.”

“Wonder how they met.”

The president smiled at the mess but stood in thought. Dazai had unintentionally reminded him that he had to meet with his daughter in a few days to meet her boyfriend finally. That should be interesting.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Dazai walked along merrily, Kosuke was waiting at her apartment for him. His hands were tucked into his pocket, his fingers playing with the small Present in his left pocket. He bought her a necklace, nothing super fancy just a silver chain with two birds on it. Small, pretty and perfect for his favourite person.

The apartment door was beckoning him closer, his fingers twitched around the keys in excitement as he unlocked the door. Kosuke was waiting patiently at her dinner table, the food was warm and ready to be eaten when she heard the door unlock. Dazai walked in and grinned at the silver haired woman who quickly stood and ushered him to the table.

“How was work?” She asked.

“It was good but not interesting, just paperwork.” She rolled her eyes, she knew he’d probably give the paperwork to someone else to do. “Don’t roll your eyes I actually did most of it except like five pages. It was just signing things anyway... you?”

Kosuke sat beside her lover and smiled. “No new cases to look over nor and criminals to understand their minds. Anyway no more work talk eat up and then I’ll give you a gift.” She winked.

“Oh my my Kosuke I am indeed excited. Here for you.” He passed her the necklace box and opened it. She smiled and blushed, she loved it.

“It’s gorgeous... actually Osamu.” She bit her lip towards the handsome man. “How about we forgo dinner and get take out later? I’m not the best cook anyway.”

“My darling Ko, I’d love to skip to desert.” He reaches forward and captured her lips in a deep kiss, his fingers trapping themselves in her silver locks. Her metallic blue eyes closed slowly as she moved into the kiss, her own hands reaching forward to tug at him. “Bedroom.”

The adventure that was making it to her bedroom was difficult when making out and attempting to strip oneself of unnecessary clothes. Beneath her green dress was lacy underwear that he’ll have to remember she owns so he can toy with her another night tonight was something sweet and passionate, relaxing and needing. Finally being able to remove his pants he stood before her arms and neck bandaged while Kosuke herself wore a bandage around her neck.

Last week they’d spoken about this, how they wanted to show everything- yes they’d been together nearly a year but sex more often then not involved still wearing the bandages and they wanted to remove them, even if just for tonight.

Kosuke moved first, her hands trailing Dazai’s toned stomach, thumbs grazing small scars and bumps before beginning to undo the first bandage on his arm. His arms were scarred, his neck held a perpetual bruise from his hundreds of attempts and he knew she didn’t pity him, he knew she’d never say anything to push him away just as she knew he’d not be disgusted by the scar on her neck. He was lost in thought, staring at the underwear clad woman, he didn’t notice she’d undone the other arm. Her hands rested on his chest and she looked at him.

“I don’t have to take off this bandage.” She said. He stared at her.

“Take it off, I’ll take yours off too.” A hand cupped her cheek as he kissed her softly. Her smooth hands were quick and skilled as she removed the wrappings around his throat. Her thumb rubbed over the darkened skin before cupping his cheek instead. His own hands moved on their own, it felt strange not having the bandages on, he reached her neck and undid the bandage. The pink scar at the base of her neck spoke volumes and the rope burn that wrapped around her neck spoke even louder. If anything he thought Kosuke looked even more beautiful like this.

“You’re beautiful.” He whispered resting his hands on her hips as his lips pressed against her neck. She sighed. He lightly bit the soft skin to elicit a moan. Quickly he removed her bra and palmed her chest, moving the heat from his palms around her body. She melted into the touch, her own hands dancing around his body before trailing to his briefs. She snapped the elastic against his skin and he hissed softly.

Being that she was slightly taller she had to lean a tiny bit towards him not that he minded, in fact he loved it, he loved her and everything about her. She pushed him towards the mattress and landed beside him, he rolled over till he was above her and between her thighs. His length twitched and hips bucked forward when his lower half met with hers.

For a few moments that’s all they did, grinding against each other while their hands exploded the others body. Kosuke’s hands knotted themselves in his hair, holding him close as their tongues fought for dominance. She let him win. Dazai sat back on his calves and Kosuke raised a brow.

“What’s up babe?”

“Can’t decide if I want to eat you out or fuck you.” He shrugged.

“Fuck me now and then wake me up in the morning with that tongue of yours.” She smirked, he reflected her face with his own and quickly moved to remove their last article of clothing each. His hands smoothed over her thighs, spreading them a little.

“So impatient and wet my love.” He giggled. Kosuke went to speak but Dazai oh Dazai had swiftly entered her till he was balls deep.

“Osamu!” She exclaimed with a rather loud whine. He’d never get over those gorgeous sounds nor the way she’d claw at his back (or chest when she rode him). Did her nails sting? Yes. Did he love the sting? Also yes. Slowly he rocked into her a moan sitting in the back of his throat. Her back arched up as he made one quick movement to thrust into her just right, she exposed her neck and he couldn’t control himself as he began scattering kisses and hickies over the soft and sensitive flesh, he was going to mark her good and he hoped she would too.

“Fuck fuck.” He growled as his pace picked up, his hair stuck to his face with sweat, his arms shook as he lent over the tall woman and moved to kiss her again. “You’re so fucking beautiful you know.” He moaned.

“Osa-mu.” She moaned against his lips. “I love you.”

“I love you... I love you too.” He groaned, she clenched around him and fuck did that make him wild. His thrusts became quicker and more erratic and her legs flung around his hips pulling him closer, heels digging into his lower back. He moaned, loudly. “Are you close?”

“Yes... yes yes can I Osamu?” She pleaded.

“Cum for me.” He breathed, one hand snaked between their bodies and rubbed against the sensitive bundle of nerves and she lost it. Her body twitched and shook and clenched around Dazai’s as she came. Dazai followed quickly pumping into her sloppily as he came inside her. “Kosuke.” He moaned before collapsing beside her.

Somehow, someway they pulled up a blanket and fell asleep together- Kosuke would clean the sheets in the morning.

When morning came Dazai was delighted to see Kosuke was still beside him, breathing slowly with a hand on his heart. She liked to know his heart was still beating, it’s cute. Suddenly his mind flashed with images of the night before and a sneaky smile made its way onto his face as he looked to the woman cuddled to his side.

“Fuck me now and then wake me up in the morning with that tongue of yours.” She had said and oh how he planned to as he slipped beneath the blankets and from her grip.

Waking up like that was absolutely wonderful- she’d admit unabashedly as his tongue worked magic against her core. And by the time she’d returned the favour of course someone had to call right as he’d finished in her mouth.

“Ugh it’s Kunikida.” He groaned and pressed answer. “Yes?”

“You are late for work.”

“No I’m not I don’t work today.”

“Yes you- oh... I see your schedule apologies.”

“Could he not call so early in the morning.” Kosuke grumbled.

“Now now Ko you have plenty of time to mark me before tomorrow.” Dazai giggled.

“Oh I- uh... is that your girlfriend?” He kind of wished he was at work now, just to see the uptight mans face.

“Yep. Now excuse us we wil continue where we left off BYE.”

Back at the office Kunikda was brighter than a tomato as he stared at the paperwork in front of him. Atsushi waved a hand in his face to get his attention.

“Kunikida?”

“After a brief phone call we can assume those two have an active lifestyle and I called them in the middle of it.” He cried. Atsushi, Kenji and Kyoka blinked in confusion whilst Yosano laughed so hard she was doubled over.

Ah what a lively bunch.

[multiplefandomfics]

Finally

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Warnings: smut, Sargent kink, metal arm kink, slight dub-con,

Words: 2087

I had worked at Stark Industries since I left college. I was really good with computers and technology in general. Hence the scholarship to MIT. Tony Stark had found me there personally to recruit. I had been working there ever since.

Tony was a little eccentric… okay a lot but he was nice enough and payed very well. He even took me with him to the Avengers tower and later to the compound after the tower was destroyed, to work alongside him and Bruce Banner. It was magical.

After I helped them a lot fighting Thors’ handsome brother Loki in the battle of New York I officially became an honorary Avenger and moved into the compound. It was so surreal. Breakfast with Captain America, training with Black Widow and giving Thor and insight into popculture from earth. I loved the life at the compound.

One evening I went on a girls night out with Natasha, Wanda and Pepper. We dressed up and they put a shit ton of make up on my face. To me I looked ridiculous but the male population at home seemed to like it. Th guys shamelessly ogled me. They didn’t see me like that very often. I didn’t really care about any of their stares. Only one certain dark haired beauty constantly made me blush when he checked me out. I had a thing for Bucky since I moved here. I was so embarrassed because I thought he’d never want me like that. I was not skinny like Nat or Wanda nor did I have their charm. I was a total geek which I had no problem with but Bucky was drop-dead gorgeous. Why should he ever be interested in me? I never told anyone of my crush not even Nat and she had grown to be my best friend in the whole world. We arrived at the club at around 10.30 pm and it wasn’t too full yet so we sat at the bar and raised our blood alcohol level. After two beers and four shots I started to loosen up and grabbed both girls hands to go dancing. The mood was hot we danced closely and carefree. Celebrating our day off from saving the world.

“I have the biggest on him you know?” I slurred. “On who?” Wanda screamed over the music. “Bucky of course.” I explained as if that had been obvious. Nat opened her mouth as if to say something else but I interrupted her: “Oh my god! That’s our jam!” I almost wooed. That was the end of the conversation.

Suddenly I felt someone solid press against me from behind. I didn’t know who it was and I couldn’t turn around. Panic filled I looked at the girls when I felt the guy behind me kiss my shoulder blade. Pepper just smiled at me and Nat and Wanda had a look on their face like “go and get some girl”. So I let myself flow with it. They would have rescued me if something wasn’t right with him. At the end of the song he whipped me around and I was staring in the eyes of no other than Bucky Barnes himself. I must have had an obviously shocked expression on my face which made him smirk. “Hey doll!” he whispered in my ear. Doll? Was he serious? My panties were soaked immediately. In an instant I was sober again. He stared intensely at me with those big puppy dog eyes and I wanted to melt. “Wanna dance doll?” I just nodded still unable to form proper words. We started dancing to the rather slow song coming out of the speakers. It really helped me relax into him and before long I had my arms loosely around his neck and our faces were inches apart. The girls had vanished with knowing looks on their faces. “Wanna get out of here? it’s so loud. I’d like to talk.” he suddenly whisper yelled in my ear. “Sure!” I said confidently I really wanted to have a normal conversation plus I needed some water. He took my hand and pulled me away from the dance floor. But before we could completely leave another guy I had never seen before grabbed my ass harshly and slurred “Fine piece of as ya go there. Wanna go some where for a quicky?” I was disgusted but before I could say a word Bucky was in front of me. Between the asshole and me. I didn’t take Bucky for a macho but he flexed his muscles and you could smell testosterone in that moment. He even showed his metal arm that I thought was sexy as hell but normally he hid it from the world as a bad memory to his former hydra days but to ensure my safety he did anything. The problem was that the guy was really fucking drunk and didn’t even notice the threat in form of 260lb Bucky Barnes in front of him. He just pushed further: “Hey shithead let me to her she ain’t yours you just met her tonight.” it was so creepy that the drunk had observed me all night. “She is more mine than she’ll ever be yours.” Bucky gritted out through his teeth. It was so cute of him to defend me. So 40s actually. “You wanna fight? let’s do this.” the madmen provoked. If glances could kill the man would have been long dead. “Buck come on let’s go. You don’t need to do this.” I convinced him. He was mature enough to let it go and turned around to leave but the drunk couldn’t let it go and punched Bucky square across the face. I just sighed and rolled my eyes at the guy as Bucky lunched at him and threw a punch back. At least he used his right hand not the metal one or the mans head would have been bashed in. Immediately security came rushing towards us and friendly asked Bucky and me to go before they called an ambulance for the man on the floor. So we left, grabbed a cab and drove back to the compound. “You alright?” he asked me in the car. “Yeah. It was a little strange though. Thanks for saving me.” “Anyone would have done the same.” he replied and blushed a bit. “No they wouldn’t have. You’re a true gentleman Bucky Barnes. I appreciate your help.” I said and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Which seemed PG-13 if you considered the way we had danced earlier. “Can I kiss you properly?” he asked shyly. “If you want to.” I was a little shy now myself. He did what he had asked for and took my face into his hands and pressed his lips to mine. His hands stood in stark contrast to each other. One smooth and warm and the other cold and hard. I could hear the whirring sound of the metal plates shifting in his left one. I really had a kink for that thing. The kiss got more and more heated until we arrived. I threw some bills at the driver and we made our way inside and to my room. It was the last on the left at the upper floor. The moment the door behind us closed his hands were on my hips again. He grabbed the hem of my dress and pulled it over my head “No panties doll? Naughty girl!” he observed. He dragged the middle finger of his flesh hand through my folds and groaned at the wetness gathering there. “All for me baby?” “Yes Sargent all for you!” I tried to get him to pleasure me finally. He growled deeply in his throat and pushed me back on the bed. “I want you to sit on my face doll.” oh god I wanted that too. I had thought of him between my legs more than once but the real deal was so much better than I could have ever imagined. He laid on his back and I straddled his face. It was so strange that he was still fully clothed but I wasn’t gonna object then. I flung my bra across the room and touched my breasts as he pulled me down on his mouth and dove right in. The first contact of his tongue on my clit was like heaven. His strong hands on my thighs controlled my moving. Before long I was squirming like a fish in a net. This made him see that I was really close but I couldn’t form words to tell him. As he pushed one of his metal fingers inside my slick channel my orgasm broke over me. I gushed over his face and he was happy to lap everything up. He was still pumping his fingers inside me and holding me with the other arm even though I was very oversensitive after the intense orgasm I had just had. “Stop Bucky please. It’s too much.” I whined and he let me go as I fell to the mattress next to him. “that was just.. wow.” I panted and he licked his lips smiling. “You smell and taste fantastic doll so thanks to you too.” Soon I was eager again and grabbed for his clothes “You’re wearing too much sarge.” I said seductively. He let me undress him and then he was in an instant on top of me. Attacking my neck with kisses and nips that would turn into lovebites eventually. But I couldn’t care less. I wanted everyone to see who I belonged to from then on. “You ready?” he was as impatient as I was and I nodded. So he started to push past my barrier. I moaned in pain and pleasure “You’re so big sarge. Feels so good.” I moaned loudly. I couldn’t and I didn’t want to hold the noise back. He grunted in restrain. Bucky didn’t wanna hurt me so he went very slowly but at one point it was just too slow so I pushed my heels into his ass to draw him deeper. He got the hint and started moving faster and faster it was heaven. He hit my g-spot dead on. His length reached depths I never knew a man could reach. The pain and pleasure I felt when he hit my cervix was enough to push me into an amazing second orgasm. I clenched around him and that made his movements stutter. He suddenly pulled out of me and came all over my breast and stomach. It was sticky but oh so hot. He panted loudly and laid next to me on his back for a minute before getting up and taking a wet wash cloth out of the on suite bathroom to clean me up. I thanked him for it and felt my eyelids getting heavy. “So you mine now doll?” he suddenly asked into the silence. “I always was.” I answered truthfully and kissed him one last time. He smiled satisfied. “Good night.” I said before I finally drifted off.

The next morning I awoke with a slight hangover and a sore feeling between my legs. Slowly memories from last night came flooding back. I felt happier than I had ever been. Bucky was still snoring next to me so I got up silently, grabbed some comfy clothes and ventured towards the kitchen. I was so hungry after the events of the night before. I met Natasha and Wanda there drinking coffee and talking until they noticed me in Bucky boxer shorts and a t-shirt. “Mornin’” I grumbled because I knew I was in for a hell of a conversation. “So you and Bucky caused some trouble last night at the club.” Wanda remarked. “Yeah and then you were gone so fast we couldn’t even wish good night.” Nat chimed in. “I assume you did it last night. So how was it?” she added. “A lady enjoys and remains silent.” I winked at them. Suddenly I felt Buckys’ familiar hands on my hips and he murmured a “good morning doll.” in my ear. I smiled and bid him good morning as well. I just ignored the girls. Then a happy Steve came rushing through the door. “Mornin everyone. Did you all sleep well?” then his eyes fell on Bucky and me in close embrace and he just threw his hands in the air and called out “Finally!”

[acciofanfics]

Be Quiet (Harry Potter x Reader) SMUT

Request: Can you write a story where the reader (Slytherin) and Harry fall in love with each other and have their first time (smut pls!) and at the same time Sirius and the reader find out that’s she’s his daughter? Xo

Pairing: Harry Potter x FemReader

Warnings: Smut, very slight mentions of death, unprotected sex

Word Count: 2389

A/N: I forgot to specify the reader’s house! 😭 Also I didn’t do a whole lot of set up, let’s pretend their slightly older in Order of The Phoenix and this is set in when they’re staying in Sirius’ place? -S

———————————————————————

(Y/N) rapped quietly on the door, she supposed knocking on the door at all kind of defeated the purpose of trying to be quiet, so she abandoned her efforts and attempted to open the wooden door with minimal squeaking. “Harry? Are you up?”

Harry was quick to appear and open the door for her to come into the room. Honestly, he felt kind of bad, because it had been his intention to come to her. She had just beat him to it, but he supposed that wasn’t too surprising; she had always seemed to be more sure of herself than Harry had. “Yeah, come in. I was just about to go look for you.”

She didn’t need to be told twice. Harry was probably her best friend...or maybe Hermione, but that would only because she couldn’t share EVERYTHING with Harry (despite her desire to do so). She plopped on the bed and let out a sigh, a dramatic, but justified one. “This is a lot, right?”

“It’s a bit much sure… not entirely bad though?” Harry knew immediately what she’d been referring to. A bombshell for sure. One thing they had been able to bond over was the fact that she grew up without her parents, Harry was thankful that she had a much more loving and tolerant aunt and uncle though. She never knew who her father was, and her mother had died around the age of 3. She knew who her father was now though… the notorious Sirius Black.

(Y/N) knew that she had been kept in the dark for her own good. Most people still thought the man was a murderer and she knew her aunt and uncle just didn’t want her to grow up knowing that they shared the DNA. “I mean I guess not… Sirius is cool and all.” It definitely sucked that his name hadn’t been cleared to anyone not in the Order, but while not seemingly knowing a lot about what he was doing he seemed eager to try as much as he would be able to.

“I feel like I’ve been lied to my entire life and I get why they did it, but I wish I would’ve known.” (Y/N) sat up and laid her head on Harry’s shoulder. He’d sat down beside her after she’d laid back. “I suppose nothing really changes that much though.”

He could definitely relate to some extent. Harry constantly felt like he was playing catch-up, and he was always a step behind everyone in knowing about himself and his life. “Right.”

A silence fell over the pair. Harry wasn’t sure what (Y/N) was feeling, but he felt content. She always had a way of making him feel that way. Hermione kept pushing him to say something, and as much as he wanted to he always found a reason not to do so. Now for example would be incredibly inappropriate, she was already so overwhelmed it just wouldn’t be fair to add the weight of his feelings for her onto her shoulders.

“Can I ask you something completely off topic?”

“Anything.”

“Do you like me?” (Y/N) felt bad for blurting out the question. Now probably wasn’t the time and that probably wasn’t the best way to go about it, but at that moment it seemed like the most appropriate option.

Poor Harry was happy he didn’t have a mouth full or butter beer or pumpkin juice because there was no doubt that he would’ve probably spit it all over the bedding and the floor. He used to say that they were close enough that she could never surprise him, but that clearly was a lie. He often wondered if she was a Legilimen, because she seemed to have some sort of innate ability to read his mind. She also knew when he was lying to playing dumb probably wouldn’t be too much help in this situation, “Uh...yeah. Hermione says it's bloody obvious.”

(Y/N) chuckled and smiled, even though he wouldn’t be able to see it, “She says the same to me if it makes you feel any better.”

“You fancy me?” Harry always had a small suspicion, he didn’t think that Hermione would be constantly trying to get him to confess his feelings if she thought it would end badly, but still he had his doubts.

“You might be the chosen one, but you can be pretty thick sometimes…” She sighed and lifted her head from his shoulder. When he turned to see what was wrong she just planted a soft kiss on his lips. He immediately melted into it, he didn’t need to be told twice to kiss her back. He’d been thinking about doing it so long that it just seemed second nature.

Their foreheads stayed pressed together even when the urge to break away to breathe came. Her eyes were still closed, but Harry kept his open (he just needed to make sure this wasn’t a dream). “Would it be too soon to say that I’m in love with you?”

“I don’t think I’d use the word soon at all.” (Y/N) teased with a soft laugh.

Harry pulled the girl back in for another kiss, the second was even better than the first (which he hadn’t previously thought to be possible). She tasted like mint toothpaste, which probably now his favorite flavor as his tongue swept across hers. (Y/N) wrapped her arms around him, an act partially meant to pull him closer and partially meant to keep a grip on him so that when she laid down he’d come tumbling down with her.

Her back hit the mattress with a soft thud, and she found herself mildly impressed with Harry’s ability to gracefully follow her. His body resting between her legs and his hands on either side of her head. She wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled herself further into him, earning a small groan. Her lips curled into a smile against his skin, and she set herself on a mission to elicit a similar reaction, but not before whispering to him, “You have to be quiet, apparently my dad is in the other room.”

Harry rolled his eyes at her, but soon found himself forgetting what she’d said. Instead he was more focused on the feathery light kisses being trailed down from his cheek to his neck. He took a deep breath when she began to kiss his neck, her ministrations on the skin a new and very enjoyable experience. He didn’t even notice her hands sneaking under his shirt. He shivered slightly from her cold hands, but relaxed into her touch when she ran her palms across his chest and torso. “Whatever you’re doing for Quidditch is clearly working.” She hummed into his ear.

Harry chuckled and leaned up, pulling his shirt over his head and then helping her out of hers. He was kind of shocked by how not nervous he was. There was just something about her, he doubted there was anything in the world she could do to make him think less of her and he just had a hunch she felt the same (or least that’s the way she made him feel). There was little light in the bedroom, but he could still see her (barely, but he could). He hadn’t even thought about the fact they were in her pajamas and she probably wouldn’t be wearing a bra… she definitely wasn’t and he felt his voice catch in the back of his throat.

“This is the part where you tell me how good I look.” (Y/N) whispered playfully to him. She worried that perhaps she might’ve been ruining the moment with so much talking, but she also knew that Harry was aware she liked to make jokes to ease her own nerves. He was often the only one not taken aback by the sometimes poorly time sentiments.

“You’re bloody gorgeous.” His voice held no trace of jest and he didn’t even give her a chance to respond before he went back in for another kiss. The kiss was chaste, because honestly he wanted to give her a taste of her own medicine. When his lips met the skin of her neck (Y/N) found herself having to bite the inside of her cheek to keep her voice down. However, whenever he dipped lower and found her chest the action was futile. A sharp gasp tore through her throat at the new sensation and when to shower her breasts in kisses she no longer found holding back a moan a possible option.

The sound was like music to Harry’s ears and he began to crave hearing more like it was a song stuck in his head. He switched between her right and left nipple, carefully trying to pay the same amount of attention to each one, and he only found himself willing to stop whenever she rolled her hips upward and brushed herself against the erection he was now painfully aware of. To be honest, he wasn’t quite sure what was exactly expected of him. He definitely wasn’t entirely stupid on the subject, he knew WHAT happened, but maybe he was skipping an important step in the foreplay that he wasn’t aware of. He didn’t have much time to think too much about it, because (Y/N) wiggled out from under him. He would’ve been worried that he’d done something wrong, but when she began to shed the rest of his clothes those thoughts abandoned his mind. Really the only thoughts left in his head was her… and how she looked. Completely bare. In front of him. Merlin, he wasn’t sure there was ever a sight more beautiful and he doubted he’d ever be able to think of anything else.

“Care to join me?” (Y/N) hoped she wasn’t being too forward. This really was probably too soon… they’d just had their first kiss not even an hour ago and now she was lying on his bed completely naked. She’d been imagining this for far more than a few hours though. It was definitely not a fleeting thought… well it wasn’t to her. She hoped Harry felt the same.

“Oh! Yeah!” It occurred to him how lame it must’ve been that he was just sitting there looking at her and he quickly shed his left over layers too. Now they were both naked, and still just staring.

“This is okay with you right?” She drew closer to him again, careful not to touch him until she was sure that he also wanted this.

“Yes.” He thought she was bloody insane to even ask him that, but he wouldn’t say that to her (at least not right then).

That was all she wanted to hear, (Y/N) kissed him again, but this time it was different. It was full of anticipation and desire and their lips just moved together instinctively, because they were both too focused on the feeling of their bodies being pressed together.

This time (Y/N) didn’t have to pull Harry on top of her, this time he carefully laid her down and hovered over her. The tip of his cock brushed against her core and he was worried that he’d lose it right then and there. She whimpered and raised her hips to meet him. Their eyes locked and there wasn’t a need for words to ask permission or any questions. They both knew this was exactly what they wanted. Harry reached between them and drug the tip of his cock across her folds, his eyes closed when he slowly began to press himself into her.

Immediate pleasure washed over Harry and to put it bluntly it was far better than any late night with his hand. (Y/N) felt it too, not quite as intensely as she was still adjusting to the foreign feeling of being so completely stretched by him. The thought alone made her shift her hips. He was trying not to give into the desire to just completely ruin her, the thought had crossed his mind more than once if he was being honest and now that he was presented with the actual opportunity he was doing his best to be a gentleman.

“Harry,” He had always enjoyed hearing her say his name, and this was no exception. It was at least 10 times better when it came out more of a moan than an actual word, “Move already.”

He grunted a bit at the order, but obliged nonetheless. He pulled out slowly and then resheathed himself in her again. Each time a little faster and every little whimper or moan that came from her lips egged him on ever more. It didn’t take long for the somewhat uncomfortable feeling to completely disappear and soon her weak noises became a little louder. Harry would’ve been happy to have her screaming his name, the noise echoing through the hallways, but she was right. Her father was in the other room, as well as other people who would not approve of their display of affection.

“We have.. To be.. Quiet… remember?” His sentence was broken up by the thrusting of his hips, unable to find enough concern to completely stop his movements. Knowing he was right (Y/N) roughly kissed him. She wasn’t entirely sure that it would keep the noises at bay, but it was the only thing that she could say would have the potential to work at the moment. She was getting close, she could feel something like a spring in her body being twisted tighter and tighter with every thrust and then POP. A wave of relief and pleasure erupted through her body and a moan that sounded more like a strangled sob was let out. As cliche as it sounded, it completely undid Harry and he held her close, his face buried into her shoulder as he found the same pleasure she did and his hips stilled.

“Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“That was my first time.”

“Mine too.” He answered honestly.

“We’re pretty good at this.” She let out a quiet laugh as Harry pulled himself out of her and collapsed on the bed. She laid down beside him, her head resting on his chest.

“Honestly… I think we could go for a bit more practice.”

[parkerlyn]

ROs reactions to the MC going up to them and bowing, hand outstretched, saying "May I have this dance?"

💃🏻🕺🏽🎵🎶 yeeeessss I am soft for dancing!! (sorry this took forEVER it uhhh spiraled into 2k words haha. ROs names are colored for separated drabbles!)

Thank you for the asks! ❤️❤️

*At [insert event here] that involves dancing*

The Healer:

Their face has been lit by the swirling orbits of the dancers in front of the two of you, a slack-jawed awe frozen on their face as they watch the footwork of the closest couple. 

Which is why when you turn and ask them to dance, their expression throws you off kilter. Instead of the enthusiasm you were expecting, a chill falls over the air between you as their face morphs into...fear?

"Oh, uh-" The Healer seems to have dropped their confidence on the ground, by the way their eyes search it. "I'm alright really, I'd rather be a bystander."

"Really?” Your incredulous response brings back the light in their face for just a moment. “You?" 

"I'm..." They search the ceiling and the draped pillars now before muttering, "Imnotverygoodatdancingyoushouldreallydancewithsomeoneelse."

You blink. "Sorry, want to say that again?"

A sigh passes through their lips while they pull idly at their ear. "I'm...a little clumsy at these sorts of dances. Can never get all the steps in the right order."

Your face breaks into a soft sympathy and they can't help theirs relaxing in response. Still, you hold your hand out with resolution.

"We don't have to do the fancy steps, it's enough just to dance with you."

Reflections of you are clearer in their gold irises as their eyes widen, the smile spreading in turn. Finally, they take your hand.

"You do remember I literally crashed into you the first time we met, right?" At your expectant stare, they laugh. "Alright, but don't say I didn't warn you."

With that settled you lead them forward, feeling just the slightest bit of nervous resistance that melts away when you give a quick squeeze. You guide them to the corner of the dance floor away from focus, before turning and tentatively placing a hand on the luscious sash and decorated fabric draping over their shoulder, the other resting in their elevated hand. 

The Healer keeps their gaze locked to yours, uncertain what to do next and finding anchor in your eyes. Deliberately, steadily, you begin to rock to the right, then to the left, swaying your bodies in a gentle rhythm. Their eyes dart once with self-consciousness at the couples around you, before the movement hooks their focus back. Face transitioning into something more at ease, you feel them start to move with you instead of being moved by you.

The smile that illuminates their face practically jumps to yours, and they bring the hand they’re holding to press against their chest. Rumbling bliss echoes against your skin, their heart leaping to meet your palm at each beat.

“See?” you whisper. “You can dance just fine.”

They press their forehead against yours, eyes barely open. 

“Only because it’s with you.”

Oisein:

“Well, hello there.”

The sultry voice comes from your left as Oisein slides into your space. Though they’re wearing their mortalis glamour, the amount of embroidery on their clothes and the delicate jewelry adorning their ears, neck, and arms still gives them an ethereal sheevra-likeness that hasn’t gone unnoticed.

“What’s a gorgeous thing like you doing all alone?” Their eyes narrow, lip turning with a clearly mischievous intent. “Bored by all these stuffy mortalis?”

“Oisein!”

Grinning with no remorse, their lavender eyes cast back to the dancing crowd, the glints of light off their accessories casting shifting reflections on the columns around you.

“We do throw better parties though, you have to admit,” they murmur.

“Maybe... Though I’m not sure the last Equinox counts as a party so much as a...rampage? A riot?”

“What’s a party without a little chaos?”

The two of you laugh quietly enough to seem polite to those around you, almost in mockery of the mortalis niceties. 

As the laughter ebbs away, you just catch the slight shift of weight from one of their legs to another as Oisein fumbles with bracelets along their wrists. It’s clear what their real reason is for shadowing you recently, and you suppose you’ve played hard-to-get long enough.

With a flourish worthy of Oisein’s dramatics, you give a bow as the instruments and Soundweavers begin the next song. 

“May I have this dance?”

You're not sure what happens first, you finishing the question or Oisein grabbing you by both hands and hastily backing up onto the dance floor.

"Finally! I thought you'd never ask!"

"What, you couldn't ask me either?" You tease while they hold one of your hands up and lift your other arm on top of theirs, their palm gently pressing against your back between your shoulders.

"When have I ever made anything easy?"

The smirk is there for an instant before it thaws into something warm and affectionate, and the two of you begin to revolve around each other across the smooth floor. 

Colors swirl like a kaleidoscope as you keep your eyes fixed on them. The lavender, the golden blond, the emeralds and sapphires glittering while resting on their tanned and freckled neck. Compared to the pairs around you Oisein flows as naturally a part of the music as the notes themselves, your movements merging into a harmony between your bodies. 

Your view changes as Oisein dips you backward, your waist nestled and secured in the crook of their arm before they roll your torso back up against them. A low hum of delighted magic reverberates from their chest through yours when you’re fully upright again, and you can just hear them begin to sing with the melody enveloping you. 

Leaning into Oisein as far as you can without disrupting your dance, you catch the small hitch in breath before they reach a warm, steady hand to cradle your neck, saccharine voice continuing a private concert for your ears alone.

The Sage:

Even from a distance, you can see the Sage’s strained smile. To the dignitaries and figureheads around them, it must seem polite, polished, immaculate. But you recognize the tired creases at their eyes and the tightness of their hands, the anxious habit as their fingers brush the braids against their back.

They turn to face someone else, the soft yellow ribbon that usually holds their hair replaced by a brilliant golden clasp that glints against your eyes. It reflects once more as they give a seasoned nod and a bow of acknowledgement, before excusing themselves. 

You smile as you watch them search the crowd for respite, tense politeness loosening into adoring relief when their eyes catch yours. The smile tugs further at your mouth and you give a wave.

“I’m so sorry,” they exhale out as they come to your side. “I thought the conversation with the Ambassador would be much shorter, but I really should’ve foreseen the...” They search around you to make sure no one can overhear them. “-bragging and oversharing that he’s wont to do.”

“Were they at least fun stories, though?”

“Depends on your definition,” they whisper back, trying to control the smirk threatening to spread. “But I know for sure the ‘legendary beast’ he described fishing for off the coast of Han is a creature he stole from his daughter’s imagination.”

“Plagiarising children? Can the mortalis sink any lower?”

“You-!” The Sage tries to wave your words away, turning to make sure no one heard you but beaming with a conspiratorial excitement. You laugh at the reaction, and they cover their mouth to stop from releasing a laugh to match.

“Well,” you continue. “Do you think the Gold Sage might have a chance for a break with a commoner like me?”

With your question, they finally let the laugh loose and bring the base of their palm against the bottom of their eyes, the usual golden swoops under them painted further out and twisting into delicate, intricate patterns over their warm skin.

“I’d hardly consider you ‘common’,” they chide, eyes half-lidded. “But what did you have in mind?”

You hear the music crescendo, before putting on your best impression of a stuffy official, with an equally stiff bow and rigid arm outstretched.

“My dear Sage,” you begin with voice pitched in imitation. They snort at the caricature. “Would you give me the honor of a dance?”

“There's nothing else I’d rather do," they say with a more genuine response, reversing your hand to place a kiss on your fingers before they let you lead them to the dance floor.

Their fingers spread against your palm when you come to an open space, and they frame your body with theirs. A lilting waltz begins and their steps start to move like clockwork, precise and smooth, pulling you into the tides of golden fabric rippling at their waist.

Vivid, lively hazel watches your face, searching over your features with admiration while your feet glide beneath you. Any view of the other mortalis or the ballroom or the band blurs into the background, your eyes caught and tangled in the glow of their unbridled joy.

“...Think we could turn this into more than just a break?” they ask gently as you continue to revolve.

“I’d be happy to help you avoid the Ambassador for as long as possible, yes.”

“Perfect.”

The Magesmith:

You're not sure what you were expecting. Maybe not as much bluntness when you asked them to dance? But still, the crossed arms and resounding "No," stings a bit more than anticipated.

They shift awkwardly at your hurt expression as you draw your hand back, distracting themself by pulling at the tight, velvety dressclothes the Sage shoved in their face just hours before.

"It's not you," they continue softly, almost apologetically. "Just not a huge fan of crowds...and dancing."

“Right, of course," you trail off. You understand, really, but the rejection still burns in your core and in your cheeks.

Neither of you are fully sure where the conversation is supposed to go from here, and small talk has never been the Magesmith's strong suit. When you look up again though, you catch them click their tongue while exploring the area with their eyes.

"Come with me for a second." And now it's their hand waiting for yours.

Skeptical, you still take it, and there's a sweet tenderness as they close their heated fingers around yours and weave the two of you through the crowds to the outer rims of the party. Just beyond the last line of revelers, you see a curtain barely separated to show the balcony hiding behind it, hardly visible past the reflection of the gaudy scene you’re currently caught in.

The Magesmith releases your hand and presses their face against the glass with no regard for your surroundings, before nodding and turning to you.

"Here," they state, as if that's all the explanation they need to give. They press through the door anyway, beckoning you to follow.

Slight humidity hangs in the air outside, both warmth and chill prickling over your skin. In some wild turn of luck, the balcony is empty save for the two of you, and the Magesmith holds out their brass arm as the melody from inside trickles outward in muted cadences.

"You don't have to do this if you don't want to," you finally say into the silence.

"No, I-" They clench their fingers before relaxing them again. Brown eyes melt into their gentle admission.

"I want to," they breathe out. "Of course I want to."

They continue to stare into you until all you can do is believe them, and your hand moves without thought. When you do connect, a small noise escapes you at how confidently they pull you forward, and how smoothly their arm flows around you. There's a practiced step to the side as they move you to their hip, before unfurling you out and around, and closing back in so you’re facing them.

They're...good at dancing.

Your feet step in time with theirs as they rock backward, to the side, on the balls of their feet as they rotate you under their arm while keeping your hands connected. In some unfamiliar array of movements, your hand drops from one of theirs, sliding across their collar to the other with another soft spin.

Really good.

"Are you kidding me?" You practically hiss. They just snicker low in response, their lips now close to your ear as they pull you flush against them.

"Please don't tell anyone, it'll ruin my reputation."

The laughter that cascades from your mouth is bright enough to put the stars to shame.

[dbseamz]

The long awaited second half of my first fanfic!

This is the second half (Part 2 of 2) of “Truth and Love Revealed”, my fluffy Rocketshipping confession/first kiss fanfic. The first half worked as a standalone but I wanted to add more, and it turns out I’m a lot better at writing from Jessie’s POV. Or maybe I felt I could flesh it out more because I wasn’t trying to upload it on a Valentine’s Day deadline. Or both.

Side note, if anyone can walk me through how to use Ao3 (particularly the tagging system) I’d love to post both halves together there and reach more readers. I also want to add illustrations at some point.

Here it is:

The distant screech of a Dodrio woke Jessie shortly after sunrise. She kept her eyes closed--if that had been a dream, she didn’t want it to be over. And such a vivid dream, too--she thought she could still feel his arm around her shoulders, heavy and warm under the top of her sleeping bag...

Wait a minute.

Opening her eyes, at first all she could see was James’s sleeping face in front of her. His dark lashes brushed his cheeks, and the little wisp of hair he could never tame hung down, almost touching the pillowlike cushion of his sleeping bag. She could hear the faintest of snores; his mouth was slightly open, each breath making the hair that lay across his cheek flutter. 

For once she let her guard down and allowed herself to fully appreciate just how beautiful he was. It ached, to think of him that way, when she knew her attempts at finding love always went wrong. And that he seemed reluctant, even scared of the idea of dating a girl.

A soft sound interrupted her conflicted state. James was mumbling indistinctly in his sleep, his lips moving slightly before settling as he went quiet again.

His lips...she could still remember what it had felt like to kiss him. No dream of hers had ever been that clear before, or focused on one sequence of events so long instead of dissolving from one scenario to the next. A tiny spark of hope lit in the back of Jessie’s mind in spite of herself. 

And as she stared at his mouth, all soft and relaxed in sleep, she noticed the tiniest smudge of pink on his upper lip. It looked like lip gloss.

Her lip gloss.

It wasn’t a dream! She gasped and barely managed to keep from making some sudden sound that would have awakened James too abruptly, but he must have heard or felt something because the hand on her back moved a bit and his face twitched. The deep, rhythmic breathing faltered as his brilliant green eyes blinked sleepily, then he saw her and his face seemed to light up, those lips curving into a warm smile. “Good morning, Jess.”

She tried to speak and instead produced a sort of high pitched noise like a Pikachu might make if its mouth were covered. Instantly embarrassed, she yanked the corner of her sleeping bag over her head, hearing James trying not to laugh as he sat up.

“What was that for?” he asked, lifting the cloth away from her face. There was no teasing in his expression, just that wonderful soft smile she remembered from last night. When she had peeked through her eyelashes as he described everything he loved about her.

“It wasn’t a dream,” she replied. Half asking.

“Ohhhh...No, no it wasn’t.” He reached down and helped her into a sitting position on top of her sleeping bag, facing him.

“So…” her voice got fainter as she spoke. “Do you really…” Her mouth formed the words love me, silently.

Those gorgeous eyes looked straight into hers. “Yes.”

“I want to hear you say it.”

He met her eyes. Hesitating a bit, as if he too felt that all of this was almost too good to be true, he spoke. “I...I love you, Jessie.”

Tears trickled down her cheeks; she knew it would be clear from her expression that these were happy tears so she said nothing, only watched and listened as he repeated himself. Perhaps he was just as thrilled by the sound of the words as she was.

“Jessica, I love you. I’ve loved you for...so long. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to say this.”

So her faint hopes and guesses had been true? Part of her wanted more proof. 

Another part remembered that tiny pink smudge. 

“Then kiss me.”

He blinked, looking surprised, then smiled. He didn’t say anything aloud, certainly nothing as bold or cliché as I thought you’d never ask, but his face said he really had been hoping, and not quite believing, that she would make such a request. She puckered her lips and leaned a little closer, waiting. At last, he reached for her, one hand gently cupping the back of her head and neck, the other over her shoulder, his palm warming her back. Slowly, carefully, tilting his head just enough not to bump noses, he fitted his lips against hers.

His kiss was no less passionate than hers had been last night, but he was so tender and gentle that it was an altogether different experience. This time, the feeling of warmth didn’t fizz--it flowed, slow and sweet like sugar syrup. She leaned a little closer to him, eyes closed, and felt his silky hair brush her face.

Too soon, he withdrew, the hand that had supported her head brushing lightly against her cheek as he sat up straight again. Jessie blinked, reeling from the overwhelming sensation.

“How was that?” he murmured, his beautiful green eyes shining softly.

She reached for him, clumsily. “More.”

He laughed, sounding delighted, and scooped her onto his lap instead. She was almost as tall as him, so she had to scrunch down to see more than the side of his head. They shifted until he sat cross-legged and she sat sideways in the space between his knees, leaning back against the arm he’d wrapped around her shoulders with her own arm around his.

Lowering her eyelashes but not fully closing her eyes, Jessie tilted her face up, lips slightly parted. James looked at her, grinned, then leaned in to kiss the tip of her nose, startling a giggle from her. He laughed along with her, then kissed her cheek. And her chin. And her other cheek. And her forehead just below the point of her hairline, so light and tickly that she almost forgot that wasn’t what she had asked him for...almost. The laughter in his eyes reminded her.

“Ja-ames,’ she complained with a playful pout.

“Oh, all right,” he said in the same exaggerated tone, trying not to smile and failing. This kiss was just as affectionate, and she returned it eagerly, wrapping her free hand around the back of his head like he’d done for her. Pressed close against him, she could feel the thump of his heart, quick and strong.

A familiar voice cut through the warm haze in her mind. “Were either of yous gonna tell me about this, or was I s’posed ta wake up to you smoochin’ right in front of me?”

James started and pulled away. He and Jessie twisted around to glare at Meowth--or at least Jessie glared. James just looked rather guilty.

“Is there something you want us to tell you?” Jessie asked, more than a little irritated at the interruption.

“Um. No. Wait, yes!” The little feline’s face brightened. “Who confessed first?”

“Uh—”

“Me.” James’s face flushed pink.

“Ha!” crowed Meowth. “Wobbuffet owes me!”

They had bets on us?! Jessie made to move, but James squeezed her shoulder, urging her with his eyes to relax. She sighed and stayed put, but couldn’t resist saying, “Just so you know, fuzz head, I kissed him first. In case that evens your wager.”

She could feel James laughing silently as Meowth sputtered angrily and stopped digging in their bags for Wobbuffet’s Pokeball. “Hmph. At least I can tell ‘im I found out your secret first.” That thought seemed to cheer him, and he chortled to himself as he began packing away their small camp.

James must have recognized that Jessie was still annoyed, and seemed to be trying to distract her. He stroked her cheek lightly, and in spite of herself she leaned into it, squinting her eyes shut, savoring the gentle touch. He chuckled.

“What?”

Inclining his head toward Meowth, James replied, “I’ve seen him make the same face when someone pets him.” The amusement in his voice faded into mild curiosity as she moved her head slightly to stay in contact with his hand. “You’re touch-starved, aren’t you?”

“Mnph.” It made her sound vulnerable, put that way. And yet there was a part of her that did crave the simple feeling of contact, from the firm, reassuring pressure of his hugs to the delicate brush of his fingertips on her bare skin. It was hard to tell whether or not that came from her feelings for James specifically, but maybe he was right.

He had withdrawn his hand, looking concerned. “I didn’t mean you should stop,” she muttered, half reaching for his hand before he rested it on her cheek again.

That got even more of a laugh. “Just like Meowth.”

“Tell her all my embarrassin’ feline habits, why don’t you?” came the complaint.

“Says the cat who wouldn’t shut up about discovering our secret, when we weren’t even trying to keep it a secret. And besides, I know about ‘em al...ready…” Jessie would have said more, but James had started tracing her hairline with the tip of one finger, then sliding the side of his hand along her jaw. It tickled but in a very good way.

Delicious shivers ran up and down her spine, multiplying as he traced the curve of her ear. Her eyelids fluttered, and she felt as if she were melting into his arms. Maybe it wasn’t just touch she had “starved” for, she realized. Maybe it was affection, or the feeling that someone else cared deeply about her and found genuine joy in knowing she was happy. When James switched from caressing her face to running his hands through her long hair, Jessie let out a contented sigh and buried her face in the side of his neck.

In stories, the love interests always smelled like some poetic and improbable combination of scents. All Jessie could smell with her nose just above his jacket collar and his hair tickling her closed eyelids was a slight hint of sweat, too faint to be unpleasant, and something else, something sweet and distinctly floral…

She inhaled slowly. Roses. Of course. Either he used some sort of scented shampoo or the aroma of the flowers themselves lingered in his hair. Maybe both.

“Jess?”

She lifted her head to smile up at him. “I love you, James.” 

He cuddled her close. “I love you too.”

They sat like that a while longer, until James broke the silence again.

“So,” he said, sounding suddenly shy. “Will you...will you be my—”

“Your girlfriend?” she asked with the same hesitancy, hardly daring to believe what was happening.

He squeezed her shoulder gently. “I was going to say ‘my sweetheart’, but sure.”

“Oh—” 

Her throat was too tight to answer him. She nodded vigorously, hair bouncing behind her, and leaned in to kiss him but found that she couldn’t stop herself from smiling. Instead she nuzzled his cheek with her nose and hugged him tighter and was finally able to whisper, right in his ear: “Yes.” She swallowed hard, not wanting to cry again. “Yes, I’ll be your sweetheart.”

If he had been standing up, she suspected, James probably would have lifted her off her feet and spun her around, so happy he looked—and then sounded, as he replied; “Then I’ll be yours.”

They had things to do, surely. Traps to set, plans to make. Meowth was already grumbling somewhere nearby about “love-boids wasting time”. But it could all wait, Jessie reasoned, if it meant she could stay in her sweetheart’s arms just a little longer.