#staring at him and grinding my teeth into a fine dust

[sillyabtmusic]

Kingmaker second fanclub - Dann

[bitterrfruit]

I am begging on my knees for a part two to cowboy price😭🙏

here she is!!! cowboy price part 2!! I really really hope you enjoy it ♥︎♥︎

18+ mdni - cw: spanking - ~2.8k words

John Price owns the ranch that neighbours your father's. You like to trespass. He teaches you a lesson.

Here's part 1! (and there will probably be a part 3 lol i'm having way too much fun)

Staring face down into the bale of prickling hay, sipping the turgid air like warm milk, you scoured your mind for your next apology. There was a long list of transgressions Mr Price could demand an apology for. Would he punish you for every single one?

Did you want him to?

His spread hand hovered over the skin of your rear, a threat – it ghosted over the fine fuzz and triggered ripples of gooseflesh to radiate out from the faint touch.

“I’m sorry for–” you uttered, barely a croak, “for making you chase me.”

The second you spoke it, your entire body tensed itself on instinct – girding itself for the discipline that would inevitably follow. Swift, and purposeful; he raised his arm, reeling it back like the string of a bow.

And he released it just as suddenly, hurling his palm downward rapidly enough to emit a whistle through the air; it collided with your ass in a sharp smack, over the same burning handprint he had already left there.

The force of it thrusted you forward, knocked a helpless squeal from your throat. You whimpered at the grit and dust grinding under your knees as it rocked you, your hands flat on the haybale turned to fists as you desperately squeezed handfuls of straw.

“Mhm,” he grumbled, grave and deep, “and?”

You swallowed air through your open mouth, your heart thundered in your ears – out of breath, but too wary to inhale deeply enough to sate it.

“For…” you hesitated, “for talking bad on your father.”

Keeping your hips still with his restraining forearm, he raised his free arm once again; you held your breath, squeezed shut your eyes in preparation for the blow. Swing. Smack.

Each collision of his vicious hand over the same spot burned worse than the last, as though his palm was adorned with barbs that pierced your fevered skin on impact. Yet a quiet moan slithered from your chest, slipped from your tongue, oozed like honey.

He drew in a grumbling breath, strained as he sucked it deep. Could he hear the pining titillation in your throat, dripping from each yelp? Might he hit you harder for it?

You winced, shivered, as his wide hand rested against the matching print that only grew more raised and more red by the second, the touch by turn warming and punishing. “Keep goin’.”

“I’m–”

Bitten off by a gasp as his fingers pushed in only slightly, burrowing into the pillowy flesh of your ass as though the squeeze was unintentional – the pressure on your near-broken skin inflicted an ache that made you whimper.

“I’m sorry for stealing cherries,” you force out, in a wet mewl.

He bore his dissatisfaction with a cocksure suck of his teeth. “Whose cherries?”

“Yours,” you squeaked.

“Mm,” he nodded, grinded out through a tight jaw. “Mine.”

Followed quickly your chastisement; the swish of his hand hurtling through the air, the ear-splitting crack of his open palm striking beaten flesh, the whine of twisted thrill that squealed out from your lips.

“My cherries–” he spat, unrelenting; again he lifted his palm, letting it hover in the air for a brief moment before he brought it down with a force.

Smack.

“–My orchard–”

Smack.

“–My hat–”

Smack.

“–My horses–”

Smack.

“–My stable–”

Smack.

“–My land.”

Smack.

The final blow threw a saccharine cry from your heaving lungs, dosed with a shameful squeak of desperation, wet and eager; eyes watering, your head collapsed into the haybale, prickly against your bright red cheek.

The skin of your rear stung numb, throbbing like a heartbeat, your knees shook with the adrenaline that riddled you from head to toe.

And as you adjusted your knees to balance yourself after he had knocked you off kilter – you felt the slick that had seeped from you, drenching your cunt in slippery syrup, the cool air biting cold at the saturated patch of your floral pointelle panties.

You could only suck your bottom lip between your teeth, biting down in abashment and guilt, self-flagellation for the burning heat that had pooled between your legs; almost as blindingly consuming as the white-hot sting of his hand-shaped brand.

He leaned back from you, balanced himself with his hand on your ass. Panting like a wolf, he wiped his brow with the back of his hand as though he had overexerted himself, broken a sweat in his outburst. Seemed to pause as he looked over his handiwork – had spanked you hard enough that you wouldn’t doubt how crisp the perfect outline of his hand would have been. Perhaps it was purple, speckled with the spots of broken capillaries and blood seeping under the hot skin.

But it mustn’t have been the damage he had inflicted that he was stuck on, as you heard his heavy breathing degrade into hoarse, animalistic chuffing; a broken grunt as though he had been kicked in the stomach.

You felt his thumb, slow and probing as though influenced by an unseen force – creep towards the cleft of your ass, running along the elastic lace hem of your panties. Teased the trim like it might slip underneath, but it didn’t. No, instead, he hovered it over the gusset, barely grazing the sodden fabric.

Eyes fluttering shut, you inhaled weakly, a quiet simper as he pushed his thumb into the valley of your cunt; wetting the tip with your fluid that soaked the thin cotton, dipping into you as though the single layer of fabric wasn’t the only barrier preventing him from plunging it deeper.

He must have felt the ring of muscle at your entrance tighten and twitch, an inadvertent reflex to his intrusion – because he abruptly tugged his hand away. You quickly released a sharp and feverish breath, cunt still pulsing around the painful absence of his finger.

“Alright,” he huffed, through teeth, as he rubbed the back of his head in exasperation. “Reckon you learned your lesson.”

You squeaked as you felt his pelvis press against yours, weighing against you from behind; as he leaned over you, reaching past you to pick up the cattleman that he had knocked from your head.

“Huh?” He persisted.

“Yes,” you croaked, realising his demand, you were quick to follow it. You leaned upright, kneeling still, as you tugged down the skirt of your dress to cover yourself; grimacing as the light fabric brushed over the burning welt on your rear.

With a hand on his knee he pushed himself to stand, sniffing in vexation as he dusted off his jeans. Bowed his head to put his hat back in its rightful place, pinching the leather crown with a single hand as he gave it a shimmy to adjust it. “Yes what?”

Through a whimper, you whispered, “Yes sir.”

“’Atta girl,” he gritted, “learned you some manners.”

You feebly swept a lock of your dishevelled hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear, too poignantly humiliated to think of anything pert to utter.

“Up y’get.”

It took you a moment to gather the nerve to stand, breathing carefully as you placed your hand on the edge of the haybale. Impatient, evidently, John bent down to you, slipping his broad hands under your arms in an effort to pick you up.

You yipped, wriggling away from his grasping hands as he hoisted you upright, and you landed on your feet with a wobble. “I can walk,” you bit.

“Yeah, right,” he groused, spinning you by the torso before hooking his arm around your waist; you yelped as he tossed you callously over his shoulder like a wet rag. “I ain’t letting you run off again, missy.”

“I wasn’t gonna run,” you whinged, but you mustered no resistance as he hauled you towards the stable door, kicking it open with his boot.

He snorted as he adjusted you on his shoulder, carting you out into the evening sun – appeared the sun had begun its approach to the horizon since you had run off from him, you forgot the days were beginning to grow shorter. The hum of the cicadas still blared just as loud as earlier, though, and the air just as warm, despite the fading orange glow of the sunlight.

Trudging through the long grass, no doubt towards his truck, he chided; “D’you expect me to trust you?”

You bit your tongue, scoured your scrambled mind for any retaliation. “I don’t want to get in trouble again,” you mumbled. 

“I don’t believe that for a second,” he sneered, “I think trouble is the only thing you want.”

The pressure of his thumb lingered against your entrance, a permanent impression that made your heart flutter at the memory. Perhaps he was right.

“That’s not true.”

“No?” He questioned scornfully, grasping hand digging into the side of your waist to keep you steady. “Then why’d you come back here, huh?”

You pouted, staring into the grass, watching the back of his boots rise and fall with each step. Would you tell him it was just to see him? Just to have him find and scold you? Just to toe the line? Long since crossed, wasn’t it.

“I wanted some cherries,” you lied.

“Uh-huh,” he scoffed, as the grass began to shorten, bleeding to the rubble and dust of the old road. You heard the deep click of a handle, the rattling of the truck door, the moaning of its old hinges as it swung open. “Was it worth it?”

You hesitated, gasping as he tossed you into the passenger door of his Chevy – you landed on your back across the worn leather bench seat, bouncing slightly in the fall, head narrowly missing the steering wheel.

“Yes,” you breathed, to answer his question, and he froze like you had caught him in a bear trap.

Stood imperiously between your knees, as your feet dangled out of the open door, skirt having been rucked up by the landing. He glowered down at you, lips in a thin and admonishing line, but his predacious eyes betrayed his stoic righteousness.

Glare clawed down your splayed form from your dewy lips, to the swell of your breasts, to the bare skin where your thighs met your hips. Catching a glimpse of the mound of your pussy from under the hem, hidden from him by the dainty fabric of your underwear.

He breathed raggedly through flared nostrils, put a white-knuckled hand against the top of the doorframe, casting a looming shadow over your body. His gaze was pointed, fiery, burned from lidded eyes - you felt the heat of his stare, it made you sweat, made your cunt ache unbearably for his attention.

Tongue squirming, too bashful to form a plea; you made your entreaty with a meek hand, tracing your fingertips down your stomach, catching in the pleats and folds of your linen dress. With a hook of your fingers under the hem of your skirt, you coaxed it upwards, coyly exposing yourself bit by bit. Watched cautiously as his lour raptly followed your movements, belying his stone-faced expression.

But he stopped you, or himself, with a pat of his hand on your thigh, just above your knee. Left it there. And he ordered, dark and strained;

“Settle down.”

With a moan of petulant defeat, you dropped your arm to your side.

“I’m takin’ you home,” he grumbled, reaching for your skirt – did so with purposeful cruelty, letting his calloused hand graze up your thigh as he grabbed the hem and tugged it downwards to cover your panties.

He took impatient hold of your knees and swivelled them inside the cab, before shutting the passenger door with a creaking swing and a loud slam. You sat yourself upright, wincing at the painful reminder of the lashings on your rear as it pressed into the firm leather seat. He marched around the truck and hopped in behind the steering wheel, you crossed your arms churlishly as you glared out the passenger window.

Peevishly huffing as he started the engine and accelerated off down the deteriorated dirt road, you bounced around in your seat, the vibrations of the rolling vehicle doing little to settle the sore throbbing between your legs.

“I’m telling my dad what you did,” you griped, rich with spite.

“You can tell ‘im whatever you want,” he scoffed, hanging his arm out his open window, wrenching the steering wheel in the tight grip of his closer hand.

“I’ll tell him you hit me.”

“Yeah?” He gibed, “Gonna tell him how worked up you got?”

Scowling, you felt your cheeks glow red as you glowered out the window. “I wasn’t worked up,” you fibbed.

“Mm. Sure seemed like it.” You could hear his smirk without having to look at him.

You fumed. “Sounds like you’re proud of yourself."

He only released a quiet and scornful huff of laughter in response to that. Nothing snide left to say, now that you’d accused him of purposefully arousing you. But he was right. It was all you could think about, writhing and sizzling in your mind and in your stomach; a fire that he had lit, and now he mocked you for being ablaze.

Daddy’s house came into view, two storeys high with a wrap-around veranda, cladded in chipped white siding and adorned in carved cornices. Sat atop a rolling hill of dry grass, surrounded by century-old white oaks that kept it shaded.

You could only sulk, keeping your arms vitriolically crossed and refusing to utter a single word until the truck rolled to a halt over the raw gravel of the turn-around driveway.

Your father was where you’d often find him; leisurely lounging on the wicker veranda bench, reading glasses on his nose and some dull book about the economy in hand. But he perked up at the arrival of Mr Price’s truck, an especially unfamiliar sight, one that would no doubt spike some suspicion.

John left the engine running and hopped out of the truck. You sorely begrudged the dire possibility that you’d be forced to return to your childhood home, stuck in the tedium of your quotidian life, left to only daydream about the events of the afternoon as you washed dishes and folded laundry.

So in the brief seconds you had before he stormed around to the passenger side, you slipped your hands under your dress. Tucked your fingertips into the waistband of your panties, bucked your hips as you shimmied them down your legs and plucked them over your feet. And you nestled them behind you, out of sight as John yanked open your door, beckoning with an impatient and commanding hand for you to step out.

You groaned as you followed his wordless demand, jumping down into the gravel and glaring up at him with a vindictive curl in your lips. You spitefully stayed still, then, not taking a step in any direction of your own volition, wary that he might glance upwards and spot the coquettish little calling card you left in his truck.

“Move it,” he ordered. 

You only pouted. “You’re a dick.”

With an exasperated roll of his eyes, he tugged your shoulder in the direction of your house – then lodged his hand at the back of your neck, under your hair, an authoritative grasp so that he could drive you by it. And he did, nudging you along, you stumbled awkwardly over your bare feet as you were carted towards your veranda.

Daddy pushed himself to stand, holding his hand over his eyes to shield them from the blinding setting sun as he ambled to the top of the deck stairs.

“Johnathan,” he spat, disgruntled and apathetic – just wanted to get back to his book, no doubt. And when he spotted you, last, of course, he queried; "That you, hun?”

You glared into the gravel, flushed with fervent humiliation, disguising it as malice.

“Found her trespassing,” John yelled, terse and irate. “Again.”

Your father hooked his thumbs in his beltloops, squinting down at him. “Fence is on your property, John. S’your problem if she fits through the gaps.”

“You need to keep a handle on your daughter,” John snarled, thick with derision, fuse running short. He released your neck with a slight shove, then, and you vindictively rolled your shoulder away from his lingering touch.

Your father snorted. “Looks like y’got a better handle on her than I ever will.”

Had enough, you stormed away from the condescending rancher, marching with your arms crossed towards the steps.

“Y’know what happens if I catch you back on my property, don’t you, girl?” John barked after you, a growl in his throat.

Shoving past your bewildered father as you trudged up the creaking stairs, you rolled your eyes. Concealed the coy smirk that curled in the corner of your lips, you answered with a grouse;

“Trouble.”

for the besties who asked to be tagged in part 2, here you go!! @lilliumrorum @stars4sar @itsalwaysbetternottoknow @iamnotfinedaddy @erajoie07 @rafaelacallinybbay

[jobean12-blog]

Slow Ride

Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader

Word Count: 3,002

Summary: Joel picks you up (sorta rescues you) and your attraction to him is instant even with the state of the world, but does he feel the same?

Author's Note: Honestly, my friend @lizette50 shared the gif below with me and just his hands on that steering wheel sparked 3k words of nonsense. I'm not only obsessed with his neck but also his hands (and the rest of him!) Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy 💕

Warnings: there's some tension- both sexual and other, softness, grumpy Joel, flirting

The gif below is from pinterest HERE

Pedro Pascal Character Masterlist

The sound of tires on the road draws your attention from your hiding spot but when they skid to a stop you stay in your unseen position and sneak a look. You can never be too careful and staying hidden and quiet has been an essential part of your survival so far.

But all your rational thoughts drain and every muscle in your body coils tightly as you lay eyes on the man that steps out of the old truck.

Before anything else registers, you notice the way he moves. His long, thick legs carry him surely toward the nearest broken-down car and when he bends over to check the gas tank you get a glimpse of his ass in the tight jeans.

With a huff of frustration he straightens and walks toward another car, this one closer to you, and you can see the hard set of his jaw, his eyes much the same as they scan his surroundings.

You can’t stop your gaze from tracking down over his broad shoulders and wide chest.

Without remembering to keep quiet you shift to get a better look and accidentally knock into a rusty metal part, sending it careening down to the pavement with a loud clang.

His gun is out and cocked before you even register your error and with shaky hands you stand up and reveal yourself.

He locks eyes with you across the small space of separation and you have the satisfaction of watching his shoulders relax and his eyes slowly peruse you from head to toe. Perhaps it was merely to check if you were armed…or infected…or maybe he just wanted to look.

Either way, it sets your nerve ends tingling and when his gaze lingers, warmth races across your skin.

“I’m not a threat,” you say, squaring your shoulders but keeping your arms and hands high above your head.

He still doesn’t speak and keeps the gun trained on you, his expression wary.

“I promise. I’m just trying to get to Jackson.”

At the mention of Jackson, his eyes narrow and he steps closer. You don’t budge.

“How do I know you’re not infected?” he asks.

“Well, I’m all alone and have been for days. I’d let you check me out but we just met…usually I have a man at least take me out to dinner first.”

Your joke gets the opposite reaction you hoped for. His jaw clenches and his teeth grind under the pressure.

“I do need a ride though.”

You lower your hands, smoothing them over your hips and brushing the dust from your knees.

“That is, if you don’t mind me bumming one.”

Your hope starts to slip with his extended silence.

He finally drops the gun and pinches the bridge of his nose.

You slowly walk forward and extend your hand to introduce yourself. He stares at it for a moment before taking it in his larger one.

“Joel,” he rumbles.

“You wouldn’t leave a girl stranded, would you Joel?”

“Fine. Get movin’.”

You slide a glance across the console of the rattling old pick-up truck and watch him under the cover of your lashes. He hasn’t looked at you once since loading you into the vehicle, instead keeping his dark eyes glued to the road, jaw still tight with obvious tension.

You were sure you caught him giving you another once over when you bent down to sift through your bag but by the time you felt his stare and peeked his way he was muttering something incoherent and running a rough hand through his hair.

“So…” you start, turning his way slightly. “How long is the ride?”

He shoots you a look that says, “are you serious?”

“Shouldn’t take us more than a day.” He grinds his teeth, something you’ve come to notice he does often, and lifts his eyes to the rearview mirror. “Long as we don’t run inta any trouble.”

“I see…” You cross your legs, hoping to appear relaxed. “Maybe we’ll see something cool on the way.”

His bushy eyebrows shoot up to his hairline but he doesn’t grace you by meeting your eyes when he asks, “ever been to Wyoming?”

You’re surprised silence keeps you quiet for longer than you mean to be and you see his hands flex on the steering wheel.

“Sorry, I wasn’t expecting you to ask me any questions.”

He sends you an unamused look. “Ain’t one for much talkin’ these days.”

You nod in understanding but don’t hide your smile. “And no, I haven’t. But I’ve heard it’s beautiful.”

“What do you plan on doin’ when we get there?”

With a shrug you turn to look out the window, tracing your finger down a smear of dirt on the other side of the glass.

“Help out of course…and I was hoping I could do some planting. You know grow food…or something like that...breed animals…farm?”

Your thoughts trail off as you realize how silly and inadequate your plan sounds but you turn when you feel the heavy weight of his stare and realize he’s studying you.

“You know you should keep your eyes on the road,” you say with a half-hearted smile.

He stares for a beat longer before turning his attention back to driving.

“Yeah because there’s so many other cars out here.”  

You gasp. “He makes a joke? Pull over, I think I’m feeling dizzy.”

He merely grunts in reply but you’re sure you catch the side of his mouth twitching with a smile.

“What do you plan on growin’? The weather can be pretty harsh in the winters.”

“Do you really want to know?”

He frowns at the windshield.

You let out a yielding sigh and start to rattle off a list.

“I dunno…I was thinking maybe…mangoes, bananas, pineapple! Oh kiwi!”

At his dark look you smile brightly to assure him you’re joking.

“Very funny.”

“About time you noticed.”

His gaze turns from the road back to you, raking down your body and back up to meet your face.

“Oh, I noticed sweetheart.”

The interior of the truck suddenly becomes too hot and you start to crack the window for some fresh cool air.

You try your best to settle into the seat and focus on the rush of the scenery, letting the tension filled silence stretch until he speaks again.

“What are you thinkin’ about over there?”

Unsure of where to take the conversation after that unexpected turn, you fall back on your humor.

“Kiwis..and mangoes and bananas..”

This time you see the corners of his eyes crinkle with a genuine smile and you cheer inwardly.

His hand relaxes on the steering wheel before tightening again, long fingers wrapping easily around the worn leather as he slowly slides along the curve, the action drawing your attention and holding it.

His hands are big, dwarfing the wheel with rough and calloused fingers. Your thoughts quickly drift away from tropical fruits and fill with the fantasy of how it would feel if he touched your bare skin.

You seek the air from the window but find it too warm and gently press the back of your hand to your cheek. Your skin is hot and it does nothing to alleviate the feeling so you let your hand drift to the top buttons of your shirt and undo them, leaving the material agape.

When he shifts in the driver’s seat you try not too look. Try not to notice the way his legs are spread wide and his jeans pull tightly between them.

He turns and catches you staring, holding your gaze before his drops to your lips. The hot look in his eyes, the one that continues to dip and linger on your exposed neckline, is hard to ignore and your breath hitches.

By the time you reach Jackson the air inside the truck is thick with tension and you throw the door open and take a deep inhale.

Tommy runs to greet Joel, his eyes shifting to you suspiciously. They talk in hushed voices, Joel standing with his head cocked, hands on hips and signature clenched jaw.

Tommy finally smiles your way and walks over to greet you. He’s handsome and much friendlier than Joel and you instantly feel welcome.

“I can’t believe you survived the whole ride with him,” Tommy jokes.

A laugh bubbles from your throat.

“I see you inherited all the charm and wit.”

Tommy’s smile widens and he casually throws an arm over your shoulder as he leads you into the town.

“I like her better than you already,” he shoots over his shoulder at Joel, who follows your steps with a scowl.

After you get settled in your new place Joel comes to retrieve you for a bite to eat.

“Hungry?” he asks

“Starving actually.”

His dark eyes study you before he gestures toward the large bar/hall with an arm held out. You walk ahead and feel the press of his hand at your lower back as he reaches to open the door for you.

You lean into his touch and search the space, feeling slightly overwhelmed as several sets of unknown eyes turn to examine you.

Joel’s fingers splay at your back, sending tingles along your spine, then slide over to the curve of your waist. He pulls you into his side and walks you to an empty table.

“Don’t mind them,” he whispers. “They aren’t used to new people.”

You nod and miss his touch instantly as he releases you to pull out your chair. Your meal is eaten in relative silence but you don’t miss how his eyes drift to you at every opportunity.

“You know,” he starts, surprising you once again by speaking first, “if you need help building anythin’ for your plants…your mangoes, I can help.”

You giggle at his joke and lean in closer.

“Do you know a lot about farming?”

He pauses with the spoon half way to his mouth and the corner of his lips lift slightly.

“Enough.”

You let out a playful scoff. “That’s convincing.”

“I can definitely build you plant beds…”

“I’ll take any help I can get,” you say with a smile.

The next week goes by in a blur of meeting new people and adjusting to new routines. You still can’t believe you’ve found a safe place to be. It may not last forever but for now you’re going to be nothing but grateful.

You seek Joel out regularly, stealing as much time with him as you can even if he remains quiet more often than not. He’s more talkative than before and always answers your questions, adding an occasional playful joke here or there, but seems to prefer the comfortable silence between the two of you.

It’s on one particularly warm and sunny morning that Joel scratches at the back of his neck, a feeling of anxiousness crawling over his skin. He tries to tamp down the twitch of alarm but it’s useless, the sense only growing stronger as more time passes.

Where did you say you’d be this morning?

He drops the tool from his hand and heads for the old barn shed, remembering your words about looking for some old planting equipment. He’s almost at the partially closed doors when he hears voices. At first he can’t make out the words since they are hushed but when he hears your clear, “no, move,” he pushes open the doors with a bang.

He enters the barn with his fingers digging into his palms and his breath coming in deep through his nose. Your eyes shoot wide when you see him and Jack, the man who has you cornered, follows your line of vision and steps back immediately.

“You ok sweetheart?” Joel asks through clenched teeth.

You look at Jack and narrow your eyes. “I am now.”

“We were just…” Jack starts.

Joel holds up his hand and steps closer to Jack. “If you ever have trouble understanding the word ‘no,’ again, I’ll be more than happy to explain what it means.”

Jack stiffens at Joel’s dangerous tone and warning words and with a barely perceptible nod he walks out without looking back.

Joel’s eyes follow him until he’s out of sight then he moves purposefully toward you with long strides.

“I’m sorry,” Joel says quietly. “Are you ok?”

“You’re sorry?” you repeat. “But…”

“I didn’t warn you. I shouldn’t have let him within ten feet of you.”

“Well you took care of it. I don’t think he’ll ever come near me again.”

“Better not,” he grits out. “Or he’ll have to deal with me.”

A small smile plays upon your lips and you take a step closer, resting your hands on his biceps.

“I should be thanking you.”

You stare up at him and in a move he never expects you lift your hands to his hair and slide them through his soft curls, pulling him down for a kiss.

For a moment you think he’s going to pull back but when your tempting curves mold to his body and you let out a soft moan he smooths one hand up your back and the other around your waist, tucking you into him as he deepens the kiss.

You whisper his name, brushing your lips to his and getting some air before you kiss him again. He walks backward until you hit the wooden wall behind you, his entire body slotted against yours so you can feel every inch of him.

“Fuck,” he groans out, maintaining intense eye contact when he traces your jaw with his thumb then gently sweeps it across your swollen lips.

“Been wantin’ to kiss you since the moment I laid eyes on you sweetheart,” he admits.

“Just kiss me?” you ask, trapping your bottom lip between your teeth.

He dips his head, his nose softly bumping yours as his lips hover above yours.

“No…not just…”

“JOEL?!”

At the sound of Tommy’s loud call Joel grumbles a curse and rests his forehead to yours. He reluctantly steps away but takes your hand in his and lifts it to his mouth, gently kissing your palm and then the curve of your fingertips.

He doesn’t say anything as he backs away and disappears between the doors with a tender release of your hand. You remain rooted in place, unable to do more than press your tingling fingers to your tingling lips.

When the rest of the day passes without any sign of Joel you start to worry you imagined the spark between you and maybe pushed him too far. Dinner time comes and goes and you still don’t see him but before you head to your small house to retire for the night you catch Tommy’s wife, Maria, outside and rush over to ask her if she’s seen Joel.

Her expression is somber before she answers.

“They left this morning,” she says quietly as she delicately rubs her belly.

“Left?”

Maria nods. “Trouble at the border. Tommy wouldn’t get into details but he seemed worried.”

You swallow thickly and thank her, letting her know to get you if she needs anything. Once you’re back inside your place you lean against the door and go over every interaction and every word, although few, between you and Joel.

Why didn’t he tell you and say goodbye? When would he be back? He had to come back…

Two full days pass with no sign of them. You linger at the window every morning and night, hoping to hear the distinct clop of hooves on the dirt.

It isn’t until midnight comes and goes and the clear sky is filled with twinkling bright stars that you’re awakened by the sound of a heavy knock at your door.

You startle from your sleeping spot on the couch and listen again, wondering if it’s your imagination.

Knock, knock.

“Sweetheart. It’s me. Let me in.”

You stand just beyond the threshold, your fingers hovering over the doorknob.

“Open the door for me darlin.’ I have to see you.”

The lock turns and very slowly the door opens.

You’re standing there in his flannel, barefoot and fragile.

“You’re back,” you state, your tone wary.

He waits for any sign of apprehension then brushes past you and spins around, taking you with him and bracing one large hand above your head to push the door closed with a click.

When he leans in closer and crowds you against the hard surface your lips part in awareness and his mouth grazes yours gently.

“I’m sorry I didn’t find you before I left.”

“Joel,” you start, shaking your head. “You don’t owe me any goodbyes…”

“But?” he adds.

“I was so worried…and I missed you.”

His fingers fall to the buttons of his shirt, slipping through the large openings at your waist and coasting over the front of your panties.

“Missed you too sweetheart. Been thinkin’ about how sweet those lips taste for the last two damn days.”

Without wasting another moment he brings his mouth down on yours, a low groan spilling from his throat. His hands cradle your face, his lips trailing along your jaw to your ear.

“Are you gonna let me find out if you’re sweet all over? he whispers.

Instead of answering, you thread your fingers through his hair and tug him down for another searing kiss. He presses you harder against the door and circles his hips so you can feel him hard along your stomach.

“You gonna give me a nice little taste darlin’?”

Your fingernails lightly drag down his chest, watching as his eyes darken and the muscles in his throat work over his hard swallow.

When your hands fall to the first closed button of his shirt, the one you’re still wearing, he groans and let’s his gaze fall to track the movement. You slowly unbutton it and drag a finger down, parting the fabric until you reach the next button and do the same, inch by inch exposing your bare skin.

“Fuck sweetheart, you’re drivin’ me outta my goddamn mind.”

@hiddles-rose @lorilane33 @kmc1989

[thissortofsorcery]

Finding out that Billy had never been with anyone comes as a surprise, to say the least. 

It’s been a month since Billy kissed Steve, pulled him close by the neck of his red sweater and slotted their lips together, pressed his tongue into Steve’s mouth and turned his life upside down. Steve can’t get enough of him since. 

All they’ve done in the past month is kiss, going so far as to roll around in Steve’s bed one afternoon, only for Billy to pull away abruptly once their hips touch. 

Steve watches as Billy lays back on top of the covers, staring at the ceiling, both hands clenched into fists. 

The thing is, Steve doesn’t mind that they’re not having sex. He’d gladly kiss Billy all day if that’s all he wants to do, but it weirds him out a little how Billy pulls away like he’s been burned when things were fine a second ago. 

“Are… You okay?” Steve asks, the words coming out slow and tentative. 

“Yep,” Billy says tightly. Steve’s having a hard time believing him. 

“You don’t look okay, man,” he tries. Billy only grunts in response. His face is twisted up in a scowl, but the look in Billy’s eyes is a little distant, like he’s… concentrating? “Is this a werewolf thing?” 

Billy’s silent for a long time, enough that Steve doesn’t think he’s gonna answer. 

“No,” Billy says, finally, and Steve can feel the zing of the lie in the air. He frowns. 

“You know I don’t care about that stuff, right?” Steve says. “Like, I know you’re extra strong and fangy, but I’m just as magic as you are.”

“It’s not about the fangs,” Billy spits out, showing actual anger for the first time the whole day. 

“So what is it about, then?” Steve insists, searching Billy’s face for an answer. Then his eyes flick down to Billy’s hands, which are still clenched tight. “Is it about the claws?”

“Shut up,” Billy says. Too quickly.

“Oh my God, it is!” Steve’s jaw drops, and he sits up abruptly. 

Billy grunts, half a huff and half a snarl, pushing himself off the bed and stomping toward the door.

“Wait, Billy, come on!” 

Steve reaches out, and his hand closes around Billy’s wrist. For a second, he thinks Billy is going to snap, is going to push him against the wall and snarl in his face, but Billy just… stops. He goes completely still, refusing to look at Steve.

“I’m sorry,” Steve pleads. He doesn’t feel right letting Billy leave like this, on this sour note, and the need to pull Billy against his body, wrap him up close, sticks to his throat. “I didn’t mean to push you. It’s cool if you don’t want to talk about it.” 

Billy lets out a harsh breath, and Steve can see his jaw tense like he’s trying to grind his teeth into dust. But his wrist turns in Steve’s grasp and slips through his fingers until their palms slot together, soft and warm. Billy turns around.

“It’s not…” Billy starts, then stops, twisting his mouth into a grimace. “I just don’t wanna hurt you,” is what he settles on. “Don’t give me that bullshit,” he adds when Steve opens his mouth to protest. “You don’t have invulnerable fucking skin. What if I lose focus at the wrong time, and my claws catch on your scalp? On your throat?” 

Billy finally looks at him, and Steve sighs, shoulders going lax, all tension leaving him in one moment. Billy doesn’t look angry. He looks tentative and unsure, and more open than he’s been the entire time they’ve been doing this.

“Okay. I get it,” Steve says, voice dipping to a low murmur. “I guess I wasn’t thinking about that.” 

“Yeah,” Billy says, and they go quiet. He does step closer, though, and half-leans against Steve, digging his nose into Steve’s neck. He can feel Billy breathe in deep, and Steve lifts a hand to wrap around Billy’s waist.

“I just thought… The girls you’ve been with, they’re mostly human… And none of them found out about you being a werewolf, so I…” Steve starts, but is cut off by a snort coming from Billy. The hot air from his breath tickles Steve’s neck, and he shivers.

“I don’t lose my focus around girls. Not like when I’m around you,” Billy says, barely above a whisper. Steve feels his breath catch, and wants so badly to say me too, you make me feel like that too, but Billy speaks again, dragging his nose across Steve’s skin as he lifts his head to look at him. “Besides, I never do more than make out with them. It’s never been a problem before.” 

Steve freezes, hand going still where it’s been stroking Billy’s side. 

“You’ve never…?” He lets the question hang in the air, and Billy stiffens. 

“That a problem?” His voice is carefully even, face going blank, and Steve panics.

“No! No, of course not. No,” Steve hurries to say, squeezing Billy’s hand tightly. “It doesn’t matter. Well, I matter a little, but like, not in a bad way, I just— I mean—” Steve takes a deep breath. “It’s okay. We can— We’ll figure it out together,” he says. Pleads. 

Billy huffs a laugh, lips forming that smug smirk that Steve once found infuriating but now only fills his stomach with warmth. 

“Yeah, alright,” Billy says, nosing at Steve’s neck again. “I guess I’d like that.” 

---

I set out to write werewolf smut but ended up with fluff instead, which is so on brand for me actually. I'm having a lot of fun with this AU right now.

[its-jaytothemee]

A Burden Shared - Part III: Relief

Pairings: Astarion x Tav, Halsin x Tav

Word count: 4,701; Tav POV; Final Part

Rating: Explicit, 18+; MDNI

Read on AO3

Previous

Summary: A group sparring session turns sour, and Astarion becomes very protective of Tav. Halsin goes to comfort Tav afterwards and ends up confessing some feelings he's had for a while now.

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Eventual Smut, Feelings Confessions, Spoilers for Act 3, Sparring, Protective Astarion, Soft Halsin, Tav needs a fucking hug, Oral Sex, PiV Sex

Author's Note: Third and final part, smut incoming. Thanks so much for reading!

Tav and Halsin walked back into the camp together, exchanging slightly awkward glances and conversation. He broke off from her with a smile once the camp was in sight. She gave a small wave and then saw a few of her companions wandering over towards her. Astarion, Karlach, and…Lae’zel? Astarion and Karlach were walking a step or two behind Lae’zel, Astarion was speaking to her, but Tav couldn’t make out the words.

“Hello, darling.” Astarion said with a slight bow of his head. “I do hope you’re feeling better.”

“Um, yeah. A little.” She was desperately trying to hide how anxious she felt at the moment.

“I’m glad to hear it, my dear. Now, I believe Lae’zel has something she would like to say to you.” He was trying to sound light and happy, but underneath Tav could hear a much more threatening tone.

“I believe I owe you an…apology.” Lae’zel said the last word through gritted teeth. Tav looked at Astarion, who smiled innocently.

“Lae’zel, you don’t have to–” Tav was cut off by a grunt from Lae’zel who was glaring at Karlach.

“No. I…insist.” Her jaw was so tightly clenched that Tav was sure she would grind her teeth to dust.

“I spoke out of turn earlier. There is not a single person here who has not benefited from your kindness,” she paused and took a deep breath, “myself included.”

Tav stood staring at her, only managing to blink in response.

“I acted rashly and out of frustration. You have proven many times over to be an effective warrior and leader. This culture is still new to me, and sometimes I still find the customs vexing. I am sorry.” Her jaw had unclenched slightly before she finished talking. By the end, she almost sounded sincere.

“Thank you, Lae’zel. Apology accepted.” Tav smiled and held out her hand, which Lae’zel took for a very tight handshake. She glared at Astarion before turning away with a huff to go back to her tent. Tav turned her attention back to Karlach and Astarion.

“Awful nice of Lae’zel to come make amends, eh Soldier?” Karlach beamed at her.

“Yeah…incredibly nice of her to do that. Entirely on her own.” Tav responded, her eyes shifting back to Astarion.

“Yes, well I suppose everyone makes mistakes from time to time, darling.” He was still maintaining his innocent smile.

Karlach started to walk away but turned back around to whisper not so quietly in Tav’s ear.

“It was all Astarion.” She winked.

“Yeah, I got that buddy.” Tav whispered back. She turned back to Astarion once Karlach had walked away. He was still smiling. A warm feeling spread throughout her body as she smiled back at him. Stepping forward, she grabbed him by the collar and gave him a long, gentle kiss.

“Thank you.” She whispered.

“Whatever for?” He kept his aura of innocence intact. Tav rolled her eyes at him.

“Deny it all you want, but you did something very nice for me.”

“How dare you!” Astarion looked properly offended. Tav just smiled back. “Those kinds of accusations could get you into serious trouble, my dear. Best to keep it just between ourselves.”

“Not a chance. I’m going to tell anyone who will listen that Astarion Ancunin did something selfless and kindhearted.” She teased, taking a step like she was going to walk away. He caught her arm and pulled her back into another kiss.

“Now now, don’t go ruining my reputation.” He said softly.

“Fine, it’ll be our little secret.” She leaned into him and placed her head on his chest. Feeling his arms wrap around her, she let herself relax into him for a moment.

“You’re not alone, Tav. I hope you know that.” He whispered.

“I do.” She replied.

They stood in their embrace for a while, Tav working up the courage to bring up her conversation with Halsin. She looked around to see if they were far enough away from the others to talk. Karlach had ears like a godsdamned bat.

“So…how was your little walk in the woods? It seems like Halsin was able to help lift your spirits a little bit.” He pulled away from her.

Tav felt her heart start to race and a pit of anxiety form in her stomach.

“Uh, good…like I said I just needed to clear my head…” She could hear the nervousness creeping into her voice. One of her hands shot up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“You’re being weird…why are you being weird?” Astarion asked, one eyebrow raised.

“Um…” Tav paused, she could feel herself starting to blush.

“You can tell me, Tav.” He smiled softly at her.

“You uh…you wouldn’t believe the conversation I just had with Halsin.” She laughed nervously.

Astarion gave her a confused look, then suddenly let out a very loud laugh.

“Ha! I wondered when you would come talk to me about this.” He said, still laughing a little bit. Tav really wasn’t sure if the laughter was a good thing or not.

“Oh did…did Halsin already talk to you?” She asked, trying to judge his reaction.

“Oh darling, he didn’t need to. The two of you aren’t exactly subtle. For fucks’ sake Tav, you nearly introduced yourself as ‘fuckable’ when we first met him.”

Tav’s guilt from earlier in the day returned tenfold. She hid her face in her hands, regretting her decision to even bring this up.

“Gods, you must think I’m horrible…” She said, thankful that she seemed to have run out of tears for the day.

“You? Never. There’s no need to be embarrassed.” Astarion took her hands away from her face and gently and held them against his chest. “Gods know I’ve stolen my fair share of glances at the druid. I mean I saw him coming out of the river after a swim once and gods above…” Astarion stared off past her for a moment before shaking his head and bringing his attention back to her.

“I trust you, Tav. If this is something you want, I…” He paused. “I’m not opposed.”

Tav’s head snapped up to him, surprised.

“You’re…you’re not?” She asked, trying to make sure she was understanding.

“Halsin has experience with this kind of arrangement. He’s someone who I would trust to navigate it respectfully. I don’t know that I’m quite ready to jump into bed all together yet but…” He looked down at her hands and squeezed them just a little bit tighter.

“I just have to ask,” his voice was now barely louder than a whisper, “you aren’t asking this just because we…because we haven’t…you know in a while.” He was looking at the ground now, watching his feet kick some dirt around.

“Astarion, look at me.” She moved one of her hands to rest on his cheek, lifting his chin up to meet her gaze. “I never want you to think that for a moment. Sex or no sex, I want you by my side, always. If you told me that you couldn’t do this, I would refuse him right away. I just wanted to know if this was something you would be open to.”

“I know that, I was being silly. I just needed to hear it from you.” He turned his head to kiss the hand she had on his cheek. “Go, have fun with Halsin. Far be it from me to hold your hunger against you.”

“Thank you…for trusting me.” Tav responded, hugging him again.

Astarion and Tav walked back over towards the rest of camp together, breaking off at his tent. Tav walked to Halsin’s tent to find him whittling on the ground in front of it.

“Making another protection charm? I would love something that keeps the mosquitoes away from my tent.” She teased.

Halsin looked up at her and grinned.

“Ha, I’m glad your sense of humor seems to have returned. Unfortunately, I’m not aware of the god who you must pay homage to in order to keep mosquitoes away.” He stood up, sitting his tools to the side.

“Surely Silvanus could help,” she continued, “after all they are considered one of nature’s creations. At least I would assume.”

“Given how often I’ve already prayed to him asking him to protect you, I would assume he’s already done everything in his power.” His smile was more distracting to her now than ever.

“Have you already spoken to Astarion? A delicate topic of discussion I’m sure, so please take your time.” He was trying to keep his voice light, but Tav could hear a bit of a nervous edge to it.

“I have.” She responded quickly. “He’s open to what you proposed.”

“That is most gratifying to hear.” Halsin suddenly had a huge smile on his face, one that Tav returned.

“So…what happens now?” She asked.

“Now? Now we will have each other, but not just each other.” He responded, still smiling. “I do not ask you to pledge yourself to me. You are all I want, but I only wish to share in your heart, not keep it entirely for myself. Let others know the joy of being with you as well.”

Tav nodded in response, taking one of his hands in hers.

“I understand…this is what I want.” She said quietly.

“Then meet me tonight, after the others have gone to bed. Come back down by the river where we talked earlier.” He kissed her hand lightly before leaning in close to whisper in her ear. “But do not expect to get much rest.”

The words caused Tav’s cheeks to flush and a shiver to run down her spine. Halsin slowly let go of her hand and walked away towards the center of camp where their companions were starting to gather for their evening meal. She smiled after him and caught Astarion’s gaze, who gave her a smile and thumbs up gesture. His eagerness on her behalf made her giggle a little bit.

The rest of the evening was typical of their group. They each had a plate with a mix of cheeses and dried sausage, accompanied by glasses of wine from the various bottles they had opened. Everyone was laughing and joking as usual, all evidence of their earlier drama seemed to have faded away to Tav’s relief. Most everyone came to check on her, making sure her injuries were healed and that she was feeling better. She tried to give them her full attention, but she was already distracted thinking about the night to come. Every now and then she would catch Halsin looking at her and her heart rate would quicken again. Her obvious lack of focus gave Astarion plenty of material to joke about for the evening. Quietly and lovingly teasing her about tonight and other nights to come. Hearing him able to joke about their new relationship status put her even more at ease.

Slowly but surely, all of her friends started to retire for the night. She caught Halsin heading off into the trees rather soon after he finished his meal. It took all Tav’s self-control not to follow him immediately. It wasn’t too long after that Astarion excused himself for the night, giving her a soft kiss before leaving.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, darling.” He whispered with a wink. She smiled as she watched him walk away.

Tav offered to clean up the rest of the mess left after their meal, making sure everyone was off in their own tents before she followed after Halsin. As she stepped into the bushes, her heart began to race again, just as it had earlier in the day. However, before she was running away from her responsibilities, from her obligations. Now, she was running toward the start of something new.

***

Tav broke through the trees into the cleared area near the riverbank. She spotted Halsin standing next to a nearby tree, shirtless and eyes closed, his outstretched hand resting on the trunk. It was a very clear night and the moon cast a soft light across his face that made her heart flutter. She took a few more slow steps toward him, eventually stepping on a small twig that caused him to snap his head towards her.

“Ah, there you are. I wasn’t sure if you would show, I started to wonder if this was all too soon.” He said with a smile. Tav could hear a hint of nervousness underneath his smiling face.

“Nonsense,” she responded, “this is something I’ve wanted for some time.”

Halsin’s gaze suddenly shifted, and she felt as if he was peering into her very soul.

“As have I. Still, this is like a fantasy. I almost dare not to blink, lest you fade away into the night as you did in so many of my dreams.”

Tav slowly moved towards him, closing the gap between them with each step.

“Push those doubts from your mind, Halsin. I’m right here with you.” She reached up and placed her hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath her palm. He closed his eyes and sighed heavily at her touch.

“Yes, you are.” He whispered, almost in disbelief. “You have no idea how hard it has been to contain myself. I almost dare not give in now or else I will devour you entirely.” There was a hunger in his eyes that Tav had never seen before. It was intoxicating, taking all of her energy not to drag him to her level and kiss him until she was dizzy. She held his gaze, taking long, steadying breaths to keep her legs from giving out from under her.

“Well, that is why I’m here.” She responded, desire dripping from every syllable. Halsin smirked in response, sending a pulse of excitement through her entire body.

“Nevertheless, I will be gentle.” He said quietly. With startling speed, he stripped the remaining clothes from his body, barely breaking eye contact with Tav.

“Or at least, I shall try.” He had a wicked smile on his lips.

A moment later he was all over her. His large arms wrapped around her shoulders and waist, drawing her as close as possible. Their lips pressed together tightly, yet somehow also in the most tender way that made Tav want to melt further into his embrace. She felt his tongue gently part her lips to glide over her own. His warm skin pressed against every inch of her, taking away some of the chill from the evening breeze blowing past them. She reached her arms up to curl around his neck, pulling him even closer to her. He was already hard, pressing his erection against her thigh. Suddenly, he lifted her up and she quickly wrapped her legs around his waist, clinging to him like he was a piece of driftwood, and she was a lost soul at sea. He pressed her back up against a nearby tree, continuing to hold and kiss her until she felt as if she was going to faint. The bark of the tree was rough against her back, a stark contrast to Halsin’s smooth hands on her neck and arms. Tav pulled away slightly, their lips still barely touching.

“I suddenly feel overdressed.” Out of breath, she breathed the words out back into Halsin’s mouth. He smiled against her lips, gently releasing her to stand back on the ground.

Tav slowly moved her hands down to where her shirt was tucked in to her pants. While Halsin’s eager kisses were still distracting her, she pulled the fabric slowly up to her neck. He reached up and helped to pull the garment the rest of the way over her head, just briefly parting his lips apart from hers to do so. The warmth of their torsos pressed against each other made Tav smile. She reached down towards the top of her pants and as she did so, Halsin started kissing his way down her body. Her hands fumbled with the strings at her belt as she was fully preoccupied by the trail his lips left down her chest and stomach. Suddenly she felt him gently tugging at the strings with his teeth, quickly undoing the simple knot. Their hands worked together to slowly pull the remaining clothing from her lower body. She kicked the garments away as Halsin stood and slowly took a couple of steps back away from her.

“Just as nature intended.” His voice was a low growl, causing a flush to come over Tav’s face and chest.

“Come here to me.” He said in the same primal growling tone, his hungry eyes looking over every part of her.

She went to take a step towards him, but suddenly he stopped and hunched over slightly. A slight magical glow surrounded him, highlighting every line and groove across his body. With another growl and familiar hum of magic, the handsome elf before her suddenly transformed into a large cave bear. The creature’s eyes still glowed with the same lust she saw in Halsin’s elf form. After just a moment or two, the golden glow returned and Halsin was standing before her once more.

“I…I’m sorry.” He huffed. “Sometimes when blood runs hot enough it can be difficult to tame the beast.” He looked away from her, suddenly seeming ashamed of his loss of control. The display had startled Tav without question, but she thought no less of him for it. In fact, she was rather thrilled that his desire for her made him unable to control his druidic transformations.

“I’m flattered that I have that effect on you, love.” She gave him an encouraging smile. “Now come back over here.” Tav held her hand out, inviting him back into her arms.

A relieved smile spread across his face as he took a step towards her.

“I need no further encouragement.” He said, still slightly out of breath.

With that, he took her hand and was pressed against her once more, backing her body up against the tree again. He kissed every inch of her jaw and neck, earning small moans and sighs from her with each one. She had one arm around his neck and one around his waist, her fingers digging into his skin trying to pull him as close to her as possible. His cock pressed against her hips, warm and hard. She brought one of her legs up to hook around his thigh and started to slowly grind against him, feeling him twitch against the movements. Halsin let out a long sigh against her neck, moving his hips in time with hers.

After a few moments, he broke away and started to kiss down her torso again. His hands were constantly moving, tracing small shapes into her skin, every now and then pressing his hands harder into her back to pull her closer to him. He let his mouth wander over her breasts, catching each of her nipples with a small flick of his tongue. She felt like a pile of ooze, whimpering helplessly at each gentle touch. Continuing down her body, his kisses became slower and more teasing. Before she knew it he was kneeling in front of her, hands gently pushing her legs a little further apart.

He continued his tortuous kissing around her stomach, moving his way to her inner thighs, lightly biting the soft skin. She dug her nails into the skin of his arms and shoulders, soaking in every sensation. As he continued to kiss and bite along her legs, his hands slowly made their way up the front of her thighs to her sex. His warm fingers moved around her folds, spreading the wetness around them. He used his thumbs to massage her, causing her knees to buckle but he held her up. They slowly slid up and circled her clit, one at a time.  Her entire core was aching under his touch. She was torn between pushing him to the ground and immediately taking him or letting him continue to tease her so this could be drawn out for as long as possible. Tav worked one of her hands into his hair, lightly caressing his scalp.

The movement caused Halsin to moan against her leg, which she returned in kind. She gently tugged at his hair, pulling him up to where his hands were eagerly pleasuring her. His fingers were quickly replaced by his tongue causing a loud gasp from Tav. As his hands greedily grabbed at her thighs and butt, his tongue swirled and flicked its way around her entire cunt. She could feel her legs starting to shake under the sudden change of pace, she tangled her hands further into his hair, pressing his face harder into her pelvis. She could feel his lips turn up into a smile at the motion, a small moan vibrating against her sensitive skin.

“Gods…fuuuuck…” She could barely choke out a word in between her gasping and whimpers.

Halsin didn’t let up, he continued to lick and suck, every now and then letting one of his fingers come up and help. She could feel her body building towards release as she concentrated on Halsin’s tongue tasting every bit of her. Her toes curled into the soft earth below her under the strain. With one final flick of his tongue, he took as much of her as he could into his mouth and sucked until she couldn’t keep herself from crying out in pleasure. She felt the wave of ecstasy ripple through her body as he slowed his movements to a stop, his hands still massaging their way around her body. Her knees were weak and her legs were shaking, but she still wanted more of him.

Halsin looked up at her, wiping his mouth on the back of his arm. He stood up slowly and pressed his body back against hers. As if he had read her mind, he leaned in and whispered in her ear.

“More?” He asked, slightly out of breath.

Tav bit her lower lip in response and drew him in for a kiss, still able to taste her own arousal on his lips. She pulled him down to the ground on top of her, wrapping her legs around his waist. He held her there for a moment, staring into her eyes. One of his hands came up to cradle her face, gently caressing her cheek. She smiled back up at him, wrapping her arm around his neck and pulling him in for another kiss.

He took the opportunity to slowly lower himself on to her, pressing his cock against her, but not entering her yet. Her hips instinctively moved up to meet him as he grinded around her folds, but it wasn’t enough. She moved one of her hands down to grip around him and started stroking up and down, holding him against her. He let out a surprised moan against her lips.

“I need more of you, Halsin.” She breathed the words into his ear.

“As you wish, my heart.” He replied in a low whisper.

Halsin let her guide him towards her entrance, hovering his tip just outside. Still holding on to his cock, she circled his tip around her, letting her wetness cover him. The movement earned her another low moan from him as he slowly lowered himself into her. They each let out a long sigh at the feeling. She let go of him to bring her hand back up into his hair, holding his head in place against hers. Slowly he filled her, pressing his entire length into her body. He paused for a moment and let her adjust to the sensation, she could feel him throbbing inside of her.

“You feel incredible, my love.” He whispered into her ear.

His words sent a shiver through her body, causing her to arch her back up towards him. Halsin placed one hand on the ground by her head to steady himself as he began to slowly thrust himself in and out of her. His other hand moved down to rub her clit at the same time. Tav closed her eyes and tilted her head back, letting her hips move in time with his. His thrusts started to get harder and deeper, the combination of pleasure from both his cock and his fingers threatening to send Tav over the edge. Her hands gripped his thighs, silently begging him to go deeper each time. Both of their moans and cries seemed to get louder each time he pushed back into her. Her legs were shaking again, one of her hands shot back up to Halsin’s face to pull him down and kiss him deeply. He quickened his pace even more, drawing quick shallow breaths through his nose as the kiss muffled their moans. Tav couldn’t hold on any longer, she threw both of her arms around him and pulled him as tight against her as she could. She cried out, burying her face in his neck. Waves of pleasure washed over her body, she could feel herself involuntarily spasming around him as he took his last few thrusts to find his own release. He collapsed on top of her, the weight of his body helping to subdue her shaking muscles. She could feel him pulsing inside of her, squeezing every last drop from himself in his final few thrusts. They laid there tangled together for a moment, both breathing heavily.

Tav had no other thoughts in her mind except for the relief she felt here in Halsin’s arms. The pressure of leadership gone, the guilt that soured her fantasies had vanished, all of the doubt she had felt over the past few days nowhere to be found.

Slowly, Halsin rolled to the side, propping himself up on one arm to face her. She traced the lines along the muscles of his torso, wiping away the small beads of sweat that had formed. The night breeze helped cool her warm, flushed skin. He pulled her close, pressing her hands against his chest and her head to the side of his neck. She lazily kissed along his neck and shoulder, listening to the small sighs they elicited from him. His hands softly stroked her back, wiping away some of the dirt and leaves that had stuck to her.

“Maybe next time we should bring a bedroll. Or better yet find a bed somewhere.” She murmured against him.

“The comforts offered by that type of furniture are not something I’m accustomed to.” He chuckled. “But by all means, if you find a piece up to the challenge, please let me know right away.”

She snuggled closer to him, listening to his heartbeat and soft breaths. After a few moments he pulled her up with him and led her towards the water.

“At least let me clean you up before we make our way back to camp.” He offered with a smile.

They waded into the river; the water was cool but not uncomfortable. Halsin moved out far enough where they could sit comfortably in the water, coming up almost to Tav’s shoulders as he pulled her onto his lap. He used his hands to gently pour water over her back and arms, rinsing away the dirt stuck to her. She leaned forward and kissed him softly, holding his face in her hands.

“Maybe we don’t have to go back just yet.” She whispered.

“Oh?” He was smiling back up at her, still slowly caressing her back.

“The night’s still young…and I seem to recall you promising that I wouldn’t get much rest.” Tav’s heart was racing again, her mind blurred with lust and longing for him. She wanted more of him, she needed to feel him against her for longer.

Halsin suddenly gripped her back, pulling her body tight against him. He pressed his lips right up against her to whisper in her ear.

“Well, I cannot allow you to go to bed disappointed, my heart.”

Tav couldn’t help but let out an excited laugh as he picked her up and waded out further into the water, eager to feel Halsin’s loving touch long into the night. And for many more nights to come.

[wordy-little-witch]

Hiii also 👀 im a degenerate so um.. do u have transfem buggy w shanks and/or CG nsfw headcanons?👉👈 i miss u n ur nsfw works lmao

Don't you worry your pretty, filthy little head, honey, mama's got what you need~ /t

I do in fact have a few mini bits n bobs, so I'll add em under the cut

Shuggy

Her head tilted back, lips parted as he left a burning trail along her neck. Blue lashes fluttered against flushed skin, her nails digging into his shoulders as his arm, tightly clinging at her waist, pulled her down against him even harder. Teeth sunk into a scarlet lip, and Buggy bit back a moan at the press against her body. Shanks grinned against her skin, his stubble scraping deliciously against the sensitive flesh. She scowled, fingers and palm moving to tangle into riotous red waves.

"Don't be such a fucking tease," she hissed, trying desperately to conceal the tremble in her voice.

Shanks, the traitor, only chuckled warmly. "Can you blame me," he asked, head tilting back to meet her gaze, his own lips smeared with remnants of her own lipstick, pupils blown. He looked ready to swoon or devour her - possibly both. More likely, both. He rested his chin on her chest, an awkward position with their height difference made marginally easier with her Devil Fruit and perch over his lap and thighs. He sighed dreamily as he stared at her. "I have the world's most beautiful woman in my lap. Any man would want to savor this."

She flushed darker. "Savor it next time, dipshit!" She squirmed, face painfully pink as she tried - and failed - to grind down. She spit a slew of curses, pulling his hair as Shanks simply laughed at her struggle. Just when she was about to split, to push him back, the arm at her waist tightened, the thighs beneath her tensing, lifting. Buggy had a split second to arch a brow, uncertain, then she was releasing a startled squeal as the world tilted.

"Oof!"

Shanks settled over her with a cheesy grin, his arm leaving her waist to give a teasing squeeze to her hip, snaking up her body, and deftly capturing her wrists. With his body pressed between her legs, her arms pinned, and his hair falling around his face like a curtain, Buggy could do little more than stare. Heat crept up her neck and face, down her chest. He maintained eye contact as he lowered to drag his tongue across her chest, skillful mouth closing around one bud with a pleasant hum.

Her toes curled, her head falling back as her spine arched. His chuckle against her skin only drew out another moan. "Come now," he murmured with a smirk, "can't my baby girl sing louder?"

She bristled, squirming. "I'm not gonna sing for you, a-asshol- oh!" She hiccuped through a moan as he ground down on her core. "Ch-cheap... shot...!"

"I can't help it, beautiful. You're just too cute for me to resist." He pressed a kiss to her jaw, her cheek, her mouth. "I want to make you come apart for me."

"Not so easy to break me, even harder to make me."

His grip tightened on her wrists.

She pointedly did not Chop away from his touch.

"I have ways to make brats behave."

She gave a shuddering sigh. "Let's see it, then."

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Cross Guild

If there was one word to describe how Mihawk and Crocodile left her, it would be boneless.

The only times that she didn't shudder to literal pieces was when they involved seastone in their play - never enough to truly harm her, but just enough to put her powers on pause, toeing the fine between lethargic and helpless. They had ways of grinding her body and inhibitions to dust, overwhelming her with sensations, showering her with their attention, and topping everything off with a hefty portion of sheer white-hot-sated-exhaustion.

They'd made her feel beautiful, desirable in ways that had nothing to do with codependent history or proximal connection. They loved her, loved her body only because it was the one she had. They supported everything they could, they respected whatever they couldn't, and they made her see stars more nights than not.

So when Ivankov whirled into her space with a beaming grin and a vial full of hope, she'd accepted with their support at her hips. Needles would not work on her, not normal ones at least - and the seastone it would need would negate Iva's powers in the first place. It had been long, arduous work to find other options.

The vial was opportunity.

It was slower than the hormone injections, but it was far faster than the typical options of transition - and far cheaper too. With 24 hours, things had settled after possibly one of the harshest agonies she'd endured.

And once thing settled, once she was glowing in her skin, any and all lingering pains and concerns laid firmly in the past, her lieutenants whisked her eagerly to their bed.

She'd expected the same level of passion and vigorous work as she'd grown used to.

She was proven wrong.

Crocodile pressed his chest to her back, one large hand cradling her side and hip. The golden curl of his weapon was pressed into the dip of her bent knee. As if the position were not revealing enough as it was, Mihawk settled happily straddling the logia user's thighs, his own palms pressed into the soft skin of her inner thighs, now marred with kisses, bruises, bite marks - far less and far gentler than their usual fare but no less crushing her with anticipation.

Under strict orders, under gazes more like infernos by intensity alone, she was ordered to touch herself.

They drank in her every motion, her every breath and whine and moan. Every twitch of muscle was cataloged by golden eyes, every whimper met with a distinctive smokey chuckle. Getting wet was an unusual experience, and when they had her part those lips and feel herself, she had to grit her teeth at the overwhelming emotions and sensation. Mihawk seemed committed to burning the exchange into his memory. Crocodile whispered sweet praises and dark promises into her ears and crown and neck between the occasional instruction to rub there or curl your fingers, good girl-

Buggy was held up and open and devoured by eyes alone as she was guided to the precipice, as she was given the chance to baptize herself under her own hands and touch and heat.

And once she was given over, once she was broken in, once she reached out and begged for them, for their touch, they converged upon her like beasts after a hapless little lamb.

It was far from the first time a night ended with Buggy deliriously reassembling. It was doubtlessly be the last

[violettduchess]

Hello Violet! For the Beach Event, may I request watching a meteor shower on the beach with Gilbert? Thank you!

A/N: an entry for @solomons-poison 's Summer Fun event. Here you go @atelier-the-atelier 💜

Gilbert x f reader

Mildly spicy content

WC: 1239

The sky above is an endless canvas of midnight blue, bespeckled with thousands of glowing silver stars. Before you, the sea stretches out to meet the sky, arms wide in welcome, ocean waves singing a soft song of reunion. The water kisses the shore, over and over again, white foam kisses that tickle your bare feet as you stand there, staring out into eternity. The night wind whips your clothing against the soft curves of your body and gently pulls your hair from its pins, as if doing Gilbert’s bidding, as if it knows how he likes you best: nothing restrained, nothing held back from him. You turn to look at him over your shoulder, to where he is propped up on his elbows beneath the sand dunes. Even from here, you see the intensity of his crimson eye as it takes you in, frames you within the beauty of the night, engraving the moment into his mind so it may forever be called forth when he wants it.

You gather your skirts in one hand and run back to him, your feet sinking into the soft, fine sand. He opens his arms and you fall into them, laughing at the thrill of being in his embrace, away from the responsibility of ruling, away from the austere walls of the palace, the tall forests and bare hills of Obsidian. You have both worked so hard, building up the country, building up a group of nobles you can trust, building relations to other countries, including your own Rhodolite. It was, in fact, after you both had stumbled into bed on the wrong side of midnight that Gilbert took one look at your tired face and announced he had an idea.

A small, private island off the coast of Tanzanite had turned out to be a brilliant idea. No one else on the island, no one needing anything from the imperial couple. No distractions, demands or concerns. Just you, Gilbert and the beauty of the beach, the blessing of solitude.

You turn within the circle of his arms, reaching up to brush his hair away from his forehead. God, you love him. A love so expansive that it sometimes feels like it might just break you into pieces, grind you into dust and carry you away into the ether. Gilbert smiles slowly, pulling you closer.

“Yes, Häschen? Is there something you want to say?”

You shake your head, instead leaning up to kiss him. By now you’ve kissed him a thousand times. You’ve run your fingers over every inch of his skin, tasted him in a hundred ways, fallen asleep next to him countless nights. And yet each time you press your lips to his, it feels new, another blossom sprouting in the arboreal shelter of your love for him. He shifts you both, laying you down onto the blanket, already pressing his body against yours. His cool fingers kiss your bare skin as he skims the scooped neckline of your dress, laughing huskily against your mouth as you try to arch up into his touch.

“Ah ah…..Geduld, meine Liebe.” Patience, my love.

You sigh your frustration as his hands run along the shape of your body, over your clothing, where layers of fabric suddenly feel torturous against your warm skin. You ache for the soothing coolness of his touch. And he knows it. He drops his head, white teeth nipping at the sensitive skin of your neck. One hand pins your shoulder down, the other stretches, expertly catching the damp hemline of your skirt and slowly drags it upwards, the backs of his fingers purposefully feathering over the bare skin of your calf, your knee, your outer thigh.

“Gil….” His name is seized by the wind as it leaves your trembling lips, carried away towards the black ocean and glittering sky. He bites the soft skin of your shoulder as his hand slides across the top of your thigh, fingers curling possessively inwards. Your eyes close, shutting out the world, as your body winds itself tighter, a mechanism in the hands of an expert engineer. One who knows exactly which minute adjustments of hips and fingers, teeth and tongue, will have the greatest effect.

You gasp as he traces filigree on the inside of your thigh, his touch teasing, cloyingly close to where you need him. Your body twists, trying to right the course of his fingers but they remain where they are, the maddeningly sensitive skin on the inside of your thigh, no matter how you move. 

Your laugh is fluttering ribbons of frustration and admiration, your eyes opening with the intention of catching his gaze and telling him to stop being so cruel. 

You gasp again but not because of your husband.

“Look…..” You grab his shoulder, pulling him away from your half open blouse and the rose-red kisses he’s been painting across your skin. Had he managed to undo the buttons with his mouth? Or his other hand? Or had he simply torn it? You have no idea. And right now it doesn’t matter. He looks up at you, his beautiful face flushed with desire, questions in the crimson depth of his eye. You point up at the sky. 

Velvet black is alive with light as several silver-white orbs streak across the sky, trailing long, glittering tails behind them. They burn white-hot as they fall like celestial beings falling from the heavens, aflame with holy light. Gilbert reaches up, removing his eyepatch, his gaze fixed on the sky.

His lips part in awe at the sight but he is quiet, drinking in the sight as the cosmic flames continue along their shimmering arc. He reaches out a hand without looking, knowing you'll take it and you do, threading your fingers through his as you watch alongside him in perfect quiet. Only the waves provide a soft accompaniment to the orchestral beauty of the meteor shower.

The only thing more moving than the living artwork of the sky is the feeling of experiencing it together. You glance away to watch him, his face another window to the divine, its beauty as heart-stopping as the meteors. He has gilded your life in silver, wrapped you within the tangles of his gossamer heartstrings and raised you into the light of a love brighter than any star.

The last shimmer fades from the sky, leaving only the memory of its radiance behind. You squeeze Gilbert's hand gently. He turns and he smiles, his eyes glowing like stained glass, backlit by the light of deepest affection. He tugs you towards him, clasping you against his chest as you fall back together onto the sand.

"I love you," you murmur in a voice smooth as sea glass, soft as the night wind.

Gilbert brushes your hair away from your face, his hand lingering behind your ear.

"Ich liebe dich auch," he answers in the language of his heart. 

Love, like the eternal movement of the sea, passes between you, carried by your words, tangible in your touching.

And then he shifts, rolling until he is above you, blocking your view of the night sky and filling it with something even more beloved.

His lips touch yours, his fingers wind through your hair, and you close your eyes once again, your heart radiant with a desire as bright and beautiful as any cosmic wonder.

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-writer @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @aria-chikage @redheadkittys @tele86 @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @rhodoliteschaos @kpop-and-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @queen-dahlia @aceuuuuu @scorchieart @bubblexly @joiedecombat

[chaotic-super]

Back To Krypton - Chapter 29

Read Back To Krypton on AO3 here!

Lena stays close to Bolt’s side. Unsurprisingly, she feels much more secure when she’s at the side of a massive dragon-like animal, who would have guessed?

It’s a little difficult manoeuvring through the hallways with Bolt, the Kryptonian ship not built to have a H’Raka roaming its halls. The cargo hold is plenty big enough for him but they aren’t leaving him behind so instead, they have to slowly coax him to follow them, the nervous animal unsure the entire time.

To be fair, the distraction that Bolt is giving them helps them not to panic too much about the prospect that the door to the ship was already open when they entered which means that any number of wild animals could be onboard waiting for them. That’s a fun thought. Not.

Kara leads the way, Alex barely a step behind her, occasionally grabbing at her sister’s arm to make her point the flashlight in another direction so she can see and making Kara more and more annoyed every time she does it, the feeling of being grabbed when she’s already on edge about to make her react in a way that is less than dignified.  

Lena notices the last time that Alex does it, Kara shrugs her off rather harshly and the hand not holding the flashlight is clenched remarkably tight. “Kara?”

Kara is quick to turn to check on her, protective at every turn. “Yeah? Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, Can you let Alex have the light and lead the way?” Lena nods to Alex, who just looks confused.

Kara looks equally confused but that just leads her to hurry up and hand Alex the flashlight, concerned about why Lena might need her to do that. The way she passes it to Alex is actually kind of aggressive, she pushes it into Alex’s hand without checking she’s got a good grip on it and barges passed her so she can get to Lena, oblivious to the harsh way she’s treating her sister.

Alex would be annoyed about it but really, she’s just happy to have gotten the flashlight to herself. They still have one more since two of the three packs are still with them but Alex knows her flashlight is right at the bottom of hers so she thought it was just easier to briefly redirect Kara’s whenever she wanted a good look at something than go searching through her pack when Kara’s light is already plenty bright enough to illuminate their way.

Lena waits until Kars is right beside her before reaching out to clasp their hands together, keeping Kara at her side and preventing her from straying. “Hey.”

“Wait, did you ask me to come over here so you could hold my hand?”

“Yeah, that and because if your jaw clenched any tighter, you’d be grinding your teeth into dust and there’s no dentist out here.” Lena shrugs, tapping her thumb against the back of Kara’s hand mindlessly.

Kara squeezes her hand back, grateful that Lena is so observant because she’d feel really bad if she hurt Alex in any way just because she’s on edge and overly reactive, something she can’t deny she is and something she wishes she wasn’t.

Alex keeps inching ahead, leading them through the ship. It’s a big ship but it isn’t too hard for her to figure out which way she’s got to head, they’re just heading from the back of the ship to the front, so it should be a straight shot. Should be.

They come to a point that makes them stop. They need to think and to evaluate their options.

Alex shines the flashlight around, letting them all see what their choice is before looking back at both Lena and Kara. “What do we do?”

Kara stares up ahead at the spilt in their path where the ship changes its shape, splitting into two separate floors as compared to the previous one they were contending with. “I don’t remember whether or not the control room is on the upper or lower floor.”

“Can you try and remember?” Alex pushes, apprehension sitting heavy on her shoulders and making her slouch despite her tensed muscles.

Kara just shakes her head, “I don’t know, Alex.”

Alex sighs harshly and it makes Kara feel the need to swallow down her guilt, upset that she’s upset Alex by not knowing even when there’s a rational part of her brain telling her that she hasn’t done anything wrong and Alex hasn’t even accused her of anything.

Lena steps forward, bringing Kara with her by their joined hands. “Can I have the flashlight for a moment?”

Alex hands it over without a fight, relinquishing it happily because it means she isn’t about to have to make the decision for the group and end up accidentally sending them off somewhere dangerous.

With the flashlight now in hand, Lena shines it at the walls, which are mostly just some kind of metal that is white and has small golden ridges across it in what is either a pattern or some kind of meaningful message she’s not privy to.

She runs her hand over the nearest part of the wall, letting go of Kara so she can inspect it much more closely, struggling to hold the flashlight and touch the wall with just one hand. “Hmm.” She hums as she thinks, her brain whizzing and connecting dots that she previously didn’t know could be connected.

“Alright.” She murmurs and then looks back over her shoulder. “Kara, do you know how to get into the control panels in the walls?”

“Yeah. I do know that one,” Kara manages to summon up a smile, glad to have an answer to at least one of their questions. “The whole wall panel will come off in a section. Here, let me.” She runs her fingers across the open space of the wall and over the little ridges she remembers her father cursing back when she was younger because they make it harder to find the groove needed to take off the wall panel, their whole design built to mask the gaps for taking the panels on and off.

It takes her a minute to find it. She knows what she’s looking for but Bolt is clunking his massive feet on the ground, unhappy that they aren’t moving anymore and his nerves are easily matched by both Lena and Alex because Lena is running her fingers over the grip of the flashlight, her nails dragging over the rubber grip to distract her from the overwhelming urge to run and hide. Alex isn’t much better, tugging on her sleeves and cracking her knuckles interchangeably.

Kara tries her best to ignore it and just keeps searching until her fingertips fall into the little divot in the wall, one that would have been much easier to find if there was electricity flowing through to the ginormous strip lights in the ceiling. She presses down and as she does so, the panel swings open like a door. “Got it.”

She pulls it open all the way before taking hold of the door and pushing it up and just as she has seen her father and her father’s colleagues do many a time, she lifts it right off its hinges and moves it aside, leaning it up against the panel beside where she’s working. “Ok. Light?” She gets Lena’s attention, holding her hand out for the flashlight that has been in all of their hands at the point.

Lena gives it to her but shuffles over to press into her side so she can see what’s going on inside the panel.

Kara begins to shine the light into specific parts of the control panel, taking stock of the wires and pipes and circuit boards that she’s just exposed. With nervous, shaky fingers, she reaches out to move some of the bundles of wires out of the way so she can see everything going on, lurching back in shock and fear as she uncovers a snake dangling from a pipe and staring right at her.

Lena stumbles back with her, her heart beating so loudly in her ears and her back pressing up to Bolt, who doesn’t seem to mind and has actually kind of settled a little in the wake of the pressure of her body against his winged side.

“What is it?” Alex asks, her gun suddenly in her hand and her finger hovering over the trigger.

“There’s a snake in the control panel,” Kara replies in a hushed voice.

Alex frowns. “Why are you whispering?”

“I don’t know.”

Alex shakes her head and takes the sword from the sheath at Lena’s side, directing the point of it into the panel and moving the wires out of the way to get back to the snake, an awful deep pink thing that is obviously a resident of The Scarlet Jungle, its skin the perfect camouflage against a lot of the plants, the colours close enough that it can’t be seen amongst a lot of the foliage, which is kind of terrifying.

Alex nudges the tip of the blade forward until she can see the snake and then quickly jabs it forward in an attempt to slice and dice it. Instead, it just falls to the bottom of the panel with the slightest bit of pressure, stiff and dead as a doornail. ���Well, that’s been dead a while. Think we should take it for Astra, get some bonus points for bringing her an extra sample?”

“If you get it” Kara curls her lip in disgust, “I’m not touching that thing.”

Alex gives it another jab with the sword to confirm it really is dead before she reaches out and quickly grabs its tail, moving quicker than Kara has ever seen her move as she whips the cover off the top of Kelex and drops the snake inside before covering it up again. “Ok, you can do whatever you were doing before again.” She waves back at the panel with a limp hand, stepping back because after picking up a dead snake with her bare hand, she’s done her part as far as she’s concerned.

Kara gestures for Lena to come closer again, something Lena is hesitant to do. “What is it you wanted to look at in here?”

“Something I’ve noticed in a lot of alien ships is that they put maps in their control panels, often not of the actual ships, but of the wires so you can find where to fix your technical problems but most wires are kept in the control room so if we follow the bulk of the wires, we find the control room.”

Kara’s eyes light up and she directs the flashlight down to the floor where the snake just fell before running her hand across it, brushing away all of the dust and dirt that has collected in there. Her efforts pay off too, she uncovers a laminated page full of Krytponese and a rudimentary design of the ship.

She picks it up and studies it for a moment. “I guess us Kryptonians aren’t like other aliens. I’ve got a simple blueprint of the ship labelled with what each room is. The control room is on the upper floor but has access to the room below it, which is the engine room. We can go either way and still get where we need to go, basically.

“Oh, ok.” Alex sounds happier now and suddenly remembering herself, hands the sword back to Lena before finally digging through her own pack to find her flashlight too so they don’t have to keep on passing Kara’s back and forth between them.

Lena takes a deep, composing breath, gripping the sword in her hand rather than sheathing it again, noticing Kara making sure her shirt is tucked behind the knife at her waist so she can get to it easily if she needs to.

They set back off, Kara keeping hold of the page she just acquired in case they need it and holding her flashlight at hip level, not being as careful to shine it in every nook and cranny now that Alex has taken over that job with hers, using the remote for the Kelex in her other hand to bring him along with them.

Together, they manage to make it to the door to the control room with nothing scary jumping out at them, something they are immensely grateful for, and it leads to them all sighing in relief collectively.

There’s a screen beside the door and a manual crank just below it and it doesn’t take much power of deduction to figure out that the door opens on its own when there’s electricity but since there’s not, they have to do this the hard way.

Kara steps up to the crank, neither Lena nor Alex making any attempt to do so, just looking at her expectantly so she tucks the map into her back pocket, folding it with a little bit of difficulty because of the lamination.

The flashlight gets clamped between her thighs and both hands are then free to start cranking, the mechanism is extraordinarily stiff and rusted so it’s very hard work that she’s not getting any help with.

She heaves and sweats for well over a minute before Alex puffs out an impatient breath, “Need a hand.”

Kara grunts, “I’ve got it.”

“You don’t look like you’ve got it, Supergirl.”

“Shut up.” Kara snaps, the annoyance making her all the more determined to manage it on her own just so she can prove to Alex that she’s just as strong when she’s powerless as when she’s under a yellow sun even if she knows she’s being silly. She’ll probably laugh about this when they are back on Earth waiting for the next problem they will have to solve.

With that surge of motivation, Kara pushes the crank hard enough for the door to open just a few inches, enough for her to be able to shove her foot in the gap to hold it open and be able to grip each sliding door to push them open that way since it gives her much more leverage to get them open.

They are instantly blinded by the amount of light in the room, the windows all letting in the light from outside, reflecting in a deep red glow from both the colour of the sun and the reflections of all the trees around.

“We made it,” Lena announces with a smile pushing past Kara to step inside, Bolt following close behind her and further pushing Kara out of the way, eliciting an indignant sound of pure offence.

“Rude.” Kara finally manages to get out, following her in and locating the main console immediately. She heads right for it, eyes pinned on her goal to the point where she trips over something because she’s not looking at the floor.

Kara lands with a harsh thud and skids across the floor slightly. “Ow!”

“Are you serious?” Alex guffaws but her laughter and her smile drop rapidly when she sees what Kara tripped over. “Oh shit.”

“What?” Kara asks, slowly pushing herself back up onto her feet and taking Lena’s hand as it gets offered to her. She sees Alex staring at something wide-eyed and instinctively rushes to see what she’s looking at.

A pile of bones just a couple of feet away from her has her stumbling backwards, Lena’s body preventing her from getting too far. They are very obviously Kryptonian and have been thoroughly licked clean. “Oh, that’s not good.”

“Maybe, maybe not.” Alex says, “We already figured the owners of the ships would be dead, come on, it’s obvious that the ship has been here for a while, I guess we know what happened to them though.”

Kara ducks her head, lifting it almost immediately when she realizes it makes her look at the bones when she does so, something she very much doesn’t want to do. It makes her feel physically ill to look at them and she’s really not in the mood for that, they have work to do. “That doesn’t make me feel any better.”

Alex’s eyebrows pull together in pity, “I know. It doesn’t make me feel particularly good either. Let’s just get the power back on and figure out what we’re going to do from there, alright?”

“Yeah, ok,” Kara says, trying to dismiss the awful situation so she can just get back on track. She turns back to the console she was heading for before she tripped and pulls out the chair in front of it, pausing before she sits down because there’s a big blood splatter across it. “Don’t sit in that.” She announces, pushing it to one side and instead looking over the controls while remaining standing.

Lena’s eyes are watching her closely, stuck between wanting to embrace her and make her feel better the only way she knows how to and wanting to let her get on with her task so they can get out of here, far away from all of the horrors in this tin can.

Kara works on the controls quickly, finding the power button and then her fingers rapidly working across the screens to bring the lights back on. It probably takes her less than twenty seconds to do so and it’s actually kind of impressive to watch.

She steps back from the console and for a moment, Lena is confused because nothing appears to happen, the system takes a few seconds to kick in before she hears the generators begin to come alive and then the lights flicker on, the console lighting up with it now that it’s officially turned on.

“Alright, so we’ve got light. Now we just have to move on to whatever the next step is.” Kara says, eyes flickering across the screens and console, trying to find something to give her a clue about where they should go next.

She pulls out the map of the ship from her pocket and scans what each compartment is and if any of them might hold anything that could help them get out of this ship and back to somewhere they can take off from and meet up with the others. They have everything they need and more, everything except an exit strategy.

“Uh,” Kara tilts her head as she spots something on the lower floor, “huh, it looks like there might be a little armoury section downstairs, that could definitely be helpful.”

“Are you kidding? That’s more than helpful.” Alex grins, looking over her shoulder but then moving back when she’s reminded that she just looked at a page that’s in a language she barely speaks. She recognises maybe six of the characters.

Kara cracks a tiny smile, “ok, let me see if I can check the system to get the doors open. It’s taking a while for it all to start working again, probably because it’s been sat idle for so long.”

After a little bit of clicking and tapping of the controls, Kara sighs. “The doors are jammed, those doors don’t have manual cranks down there, I’ll have to get the pressure systems going myself down in the engine room. Give me a minute and I’ll get them open, maybe by then the rest of the systems will be up and running.”

“I’ll come and help you.” Lena offers, partially because she feels safer with Kara but mostly so she can snoop at the Kryptonian systems, a little upset they don’t have time for Kara to explain all of this technology to her so she can study it. It’s incredible. Maybe there are blueprints in The Fortress of Solitude for Kara to show her when they get back to Earth though.

There’s a hatch in the floor just off to the side from the control panel and Kara makes quick work of opening it up and peering down it, wondering why there’s such a big hatch until she comes to the conclusion that it must be so big because it’s easier for the engineers and mechanics to get new engine parts in by taking the glass windscreen out and bringing it straight down into the ship that way.

It makes it easy to climb down the ladder and land on the metal floor with a quiet clang, the grates shifting slightly under her feet.

The lights definitely make it easier for her to find the piece of machinery she needs and she’s very happy she doesn’t have to wander around with a flashlight now, this is much better.

“Over here.” She calls out to Lena when she sees where she needs to work to get the pressure back to the doors. “Can you come and help me—”

CLANG!

Both Lena and Kara whip their heads around to see where the obnoxious noise has just come from and breathe out the biggest sigh of relief ever when they see Bolt splayed across the floor having just dropped himself down into a room full of very sensitive equipment a dragon-like animal probably shouldn’t be around.

“Bolt, buddy, what are you doing?” Kara approaches him, rubbing her fingers beneath his chin and smiling at him as he presses himself closer to her. “You’re basically a puppy, you know that, right?”

Alex peers her head down, “If you think I’m staying up here by myself, you’re very wrong.”

“Come down then.” Lena rolls her eyes and gets to work on sorting the pressure out for the doors, the system for it particularly easy to figure out, she’s seen a lot like it before.

Alex is at their side in an instant. “It’s creepy up there by yourself.”

Kara just shrugs and works with Lena, getting the pressure up to the level they need in just a few minutes and only a small amount of difficulty.

“Ok then, I’ll go and open up the doors now.” Kara is about to head up the ladder but there’s a small screen on the wall beside it, remarkably similar to the one outside the control room door. Upon further inspection, it’s clear that it’s a summary of the ship’s status and they can open the doors through it. Jackpot, they won’t have to head back upstairs then.

Kara flicks through the menu part of the screen first, trying to get to the door controls quickly so they won’t have to spend any more time here than absolutely necessary and also so she can get her hands on a weapon that will have some actual power behind it. A sword and a knife are pretty good but not against leopards with immensely thick skin, that’s just asking for trouble and they find enough trouble without asking for it.

“Damn,” Kara mutters. “I can’t open only the doors to the armoury, I can only open all of them. If want to only open certain ones I would need a key card or  handprint access, which only the crew have and for one, I’m not crew and secondly, we don’t have a crew member or a hand of a crew member on us.”

“I’d be worried if you did have the severed hand of a crew member, Kara.” Alex tries to joke but it falls flat, nobody is really in the mood for jokes, they just want to get out of there. It doesn’t stop Alex from awkwardly chuckling at her own joke though.

Lena starts climbing the ladder back up the stairs and only when she’s up at the top does she speak. “Are you guys coming? Just open the doors, we don’t have much of a choice so we might as well get it out of the way and then head off.”

Kara tilts her head, acquiescing and just doing what Lena says, opening up all of the doors so they have access to every room in the ship rather than just the hallways that run across the entire ship. Once that’s done, she climbs the ladder after Lena, taking her hand when it’s offered to help her up the last few steps. “Thanks.”

“No problem, darling,” Lena answers, with a tiny smile, her attempt at calming Kara’s nerves along with her own.

Kara’s nerves don’t calm though, especially when she spots what’s on the screen of the control panel now that the system has finally kicked in fully. “There’s a breach on the left side of the ship.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning there’s a massive hole in the side of the ship and we just opened the doors letting any animals that could wander in come right to us.” Kara runs a hand through her hair, stressed beyond belief. “We can’t not go to the armoury so we’re going to have to go through the ship even when we might run into a bunch of wild animals trying to do to us what they did to that guy.” She points to the pile of bones, her stomach churning.

Alex, whose head is just poking out of the hatch, gulps audibly. “Please tell me I just heard that wrong.”

Kara brings her hands up behind her head, turning her back on Alex and Lena for a second so she can think. “We need a new plan. The first step is to secure ourselves in here so we can make a better plan.”

Alex and Lena share a look, one that holds an entire conversation, one where they debate following Kara’s instructions but ultimately decide that they don’t have enough choices to try and do anything other than make for the crank beside the door.

Alex reaches it first, working to crank it shut as quickly as she can, wishing she hadn’t made a jab at Kara earlier because it’s much harder than she thought it would be. “Wait, we have power now, can’t we just shut it that way?”

“No, I set it to open all the doors and keep them open so it has to be done manually,” Kara answers quickly on her way to try and get Bolt back up the hatch, something she already knows is going to be hard work, even without having to watch her back down there.

She plants her foot on the first rung of the ladder and begins to descend but as she does so, she peers down to find Bolt huddled against the wall, beginning to whine and stamp his feet.

 She follows his line of sight to see exactly what has caused him to act like this and for a second, she freezes.

It’s too late, they’re inside.

She’s not leaving him behind, they can’t get home without him. She drops down the hatch, forgoing the rest of the ladder completely and does the only thing she can, she jumps onto his back and tells him to fly, her thighs digging into his sides as he tries to lift off towards the hatch, a space far too small for him when his wings are spread.

He gets caught but his front legs and the majority of Kara get through the gap, the pure strength in his front legs keeping them up while Kara climbs off him and onto the upper floor before gripping his head harness and pulling him up. Lena rushes over to grab the other side, not yet aware of the catastrophe that’s happening below them.

As they have him three-quarters of the way free, he lets out a mighty scream and a breath of fire, the sound deafening.

Just a second after the first scream, there’s a second and it just emboldens them to pull harder, to try and save him from the teeth and claws gnawing at him from below.

The pain and the help he’s getting seem to help him and on pure adrenaline, he tucks his wings and drags himself up and out of the hatch, sprinting his way across the room and pressing himself against the far wall, the door now shut, thanks to Alex, so he can’t escape the control room.

Kara flings the hatch door shut as quickly as she can and locks it. Searching for the poor H’Raka as soon as she’s done, her eyes are immediately assaulted with the sight of blood.

They have a severely injured H’Raka and they have been cornered into one room. They have nowhere to go.

Read 3 more chapters early on Patreon here!

[fett-djarin]

Stress Relief

Here it is! This is entirely self indulgent and filthy! Im a wh*re for the croissant guards

Also I headcanon Fox looking like how amikoroyoaiart draws him. her art is so good!

Commander Fox x f!reader

Crossposted on ao3

Rating: 18+

Length: 3.9k

Warnings/Tags: Oral (m receiving), that good sloppy toppy, office sex, cursing, light grinding, making out

NSFW BELOW THE CUT

Bringing the Guard their morning caf had become a tradition, of sorts. You knew the caf in the mess wasn’t good--in fact, it was barely even palatable. When you first started as a new secretary, it had been your timid way of offering friendship to the imposing troopers who worked so hard to keep the planet safe. They warmed to you quickly. Thire was the first to remove his helmet in front of you, plonking it down on your desk and taking a long pull of caf barely a second after you handed it to him. At your stunned look, he had just raised a brow and said, “Long patrol last night,” with a shrug.

As the others had become more comfortable with you, you had seen most of them without their buckets at some point--except for Fox. He always took his caf with a polite “Thank you, ma’am,” and retreated to his office. You knew it was against regulation for them to remove their helmets while they were on duty. But even when you dropped off the caf in his office, he was at his desk with his helmet on.

“He keeps it on so you can’t tell if he’s actually asleep,” Thorn told you one day. “I suspect he even does it while we’re standing guard sometimes.” You laughed aloud at that. The serious Commander Fox, asleep standing up. He was right though, you never would be able to tell.

The first time Fox removed his helmet in front of you, you hadn’t expected the gray dusting his temples, but honestly you weren’t surprised. The poor man was stressed beyond belief and worked half to death. You were more surprised that he finally did it in the first place. Fox sighed, running a hand through his unruly curls, before taking the caf and giving you a tired smile. He thanked you by name that time. You tried to ignore the butterflies in your stomach.

From then on, he had been without it more when you went into his office. You even caught him sleeping once--head resting on his folded arms, bucket set next to him--and had done your best to deliver the caf without waking him. Maker knew he needed the sleep more than he needed hot caf--if Thorn hadn’t told you he snuck naps with the helmet on, you would think he ran off caf and stubborn will alone.

One morning, after you had passed out caf to the others--and a little cup of whipped cream for Grizzer--Fox hadn’t made an appearance, so you made your way to his office to drop it off. You knocked lightly on the door. “Come in,” his gruff voice called, and the door slid aside. You smiled at him, noting the way his shoulders visibly relaxed at seeing it was just you. You set the cup down on his desk. You had just turned when a touch on your wrist stopped you.

Fox was looking up at you, helmet cocked to the side. “You know you don’t have to bring us caf every time you work, right? The boys better not be nagging you for it.”

“I know,” you said. “I enjoy doing it. And it’s the least I could do.”

“The least you could do?”

“You all work so hard. You deserve more, even if it’s just better caf.”

He squeezed your wrist gently. “You don’t owe us anything. It is our duty to the Republic--”

“I know, Fox,” you tried to hide your grin, and failed. “But you’re also my friends.”

That seemed to surprise him, hand falling from your wrist as he sat back in his chair and regarded you curiously. You made your way back to the door, pausing in the entryway and looking back over your shoulder.

“Have a good morning, Commander.”

“...You as well, ma’am.”

The door slid shut behind you. Fox slipped his helmet off, setting it on his desk and staring hard at the door you had disappeared through. His eyes flicked to the paper cup of steaming caf, brows furrowed.

It was the first time you had called him by his name.

Friends?

----

After that day, Fox seemed to be trying to talk to you more. Instead of taking his caf and running off, he would stay, either to chat or just hang around for a minute with you and the other Guards. Stone nudged Thire, who nudged Thorn, and they all looked over to where Fox leaned his hip casually against your desk and you were laughing at something he said.

“Did someone replace Fox while we weren’t looking?” Thire questioned under his breath.

“I’ve never seen him so...cheery,” Stone said.

You smiled up at Fox, worrying your bottom lip with your teeth. They watched as your fingers grazed the back of his hand where it rested on your desk. “Think something’s goin’ on between those two?” Thorn asked, gesturing vaguely over towards you and Fox with his cup.

“Absolutely.” Thire didn’t hesitate to answer.

The three quickly snapped to attention as Fox excused himself, heading their direction. You gave them a small wave. Thorn was about to wave back before Thire thumped him in the arm.

“Don’t you have duties to attend to?” Fox grumbled as he passed them, heading to his office. “Get to it.” You hid your laugh behind your hand seeing the three Commanders scramble to disperse.

Evening rolled around, and you cocked your head side to side, stretching your neck and shoulders. You had been going over forms all day, datapad after datapad, organizing reports and requests for the Chancellor and the Senate. Your shift was almost over, and you were getting ready to go home for the night.

Various members of the Guard had come and gone, leaving and returning from patrols. Senators and representatives had filtered through; less and less as the evening progressed. You were just getting ready to leave when Fox stalked through, back from his rounds, tense and practically vibrating with irritation. He didn't even spare you a glance as he disappeared into his office. If the doors weren't automatic, he likely would have slammed it shut.

You knew he had a thankless job--a job he had no say in having, either. Usually it was something to do with the Chancellor that got him so worked up. Half the time you thought Fox would strangle the man himself if he could. Maybe you should take Fox out to one of the cafes nearby, just for a second to breathe and not carry the weight of the Guard on his shoulders. Was that against regulation? It might be better to invite him back to your apartment. Or did that imply too much?

You pushed yourself up from your chair, mind made up. He could always say no. You wouldn’t be offended.

You paused outside the door to his office, listening carefully. You couldn’t hear anything from the other side. So, you knocked.

“What.” Fox’s biting tone surprised you, but you didn’t take it personally.

“Commander? I...It’s me,” you said hesitantly, and then wanted to smack yourself. Confidence. “Is everything alright?”

No response. You took the silence as a sign that he wasn’t interested in talking. That was fine. You didn’t want to impose if he needed time to himself. The door slid open just as you had stepped back, intending to leave. Fox sighed, jerking his head to direct you inside.

The door shut behind you, and Fox sat heavily in his chair at the desk. Another deep sigh, and his shoulders slumped. He pulled his helmet off, setting it aside, and you caught a glimpse of the dark circles under his eyes before he put his head in his hands.

“Commander Fox?” You took a tentative step forward, so you were close enough to reach out and touch his shoulder.

He looked up at you. There was still tension lining his shoulders, hands flexing into fists and then relaxing. Stress. He opened his mouth to say something, frowned, and then closed it again. He cleared his throat. “Did you need something?” You could tell he was making an effort to soften his voice, likely as to not snap at you again.

“I just wanted to check in, sir,” you said, coming around the desk to stand next to him, leaning your weight against it. “It looked like something was bothering you.”

He waved his hand in the air vaguely, brows pinched. “You don’t have to call me ‘sir,’ you’re not one of my men.” He looked like he was debating saying more, so you waited patiently, quietly, hoping he recognized that you were here to listen if he so needed.

“As you likely know, there’s a gala coming up. Senators, politicians, ambassadors, Jedi….” Fox huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s going to be a security nightmare. And the Chancellor,” he spat, venom in his voice, “has been on my case about patrols and the Guard. Always demanding more. We’re spread too thin, and not getting the support we need--” he cut himself off. He was getting himself worked up again.

You placed your hand over his where it was clenched into a fist on the desk. It relaxed under your touch. Fox heaved another sigh mixed with a groan. “I’m behind on paperwork too,” he glared at the stack of datapads sitting to the side. “I don’t know where I’m supposed to find the time to do everything.”

“Hmm,” you reached over and picked up one of the datapads, skimming through it, hopping up so you were now sitting on the desk. It was just a patrol report that needed Fox’s signature before being filed. “What’s your CC number?”

“CC-1010,” he answered instantly, then regarded you with suspicion. “Why?”

You signed the bottom of the form: CC-1010, “Fox,” and submitted it.

“What are you doing?” his voice seemed to have kicked up an octave.

“Helping you with your work. I deal with paperwork and holoforms all the time,” you said, picking up another datapad and scanning through the information. “Most of the time it’s to make sure there’s a document trail. Most of these probably don’t need an in-depth review, they’re not important. They just go in the archives and are never looked at again.”

“I--you--that’s illegal,” he sputtered. But he seemed more surprised than serious.

You raised a brow at him, signing his designation and name once again before submitting the next form. “Are you going to arrest me?”

“No,” he didn’t hesitate. Interesting. Then he had a thought. “Your handwriting doesn’t even look like mine.”

“Doesn’t it?” you showed him where you had signed. It was almost identical to his scrawling script. His eyes flicked between the form and your face, incredulity on his features.

“How…?”

You shrugged. “It’s something I’ve always been good at. Saved me a lot of trouble as a kid when I needed my parents to sign for something at school. Especially when it was a disciplinary note.” Fox barked a disbelieving laugh at that and you couldn’t help your sly smile. “Even if I didn’t mimic your signature, no one would notice. Or care. You could mark the lines with an X and it would go through; it’s only the acknowledgement they care about. You can even draw a loth-cat face and have that be in the archive forever as a signature.”

“Don’t you dare,” he threatened with a chuckle. “Some of these aren’t just patrol reports though. I actually have to read through the more important ones.”

You handed him a holopad as you picked up your third. “How’s this: we work on these together; if I find one that has important information or requires more than a signature, I’ll give it to you.”

He regarded you for a long moment, debating your offer. Some of the weight had lifted from his shoulders; he looked less tense, less overwhelmed, even less exhausted. Then he slowly nodded. “All right,” he said. “But you have to let me buy you coffee for once.”

“You don’t have to do that--”

“We’re friends. Right?”

That stopped you short. You did consider him and the other guards friends, but to hear him say that he also considered you one...it was nice. It made a pleasant warmth flutter in your stomach, and you couldn’t help your shy smile at his words. “Right,” you agreed. The soft upturn of his lips made your breath hitch. He looked so young when he smiled.

The two of you worked in companionable silence, steadily making your way through the stack of datapads. You had been correct--most of them were unimportant; standard reports and forms that required a signature purely for protocol. Every once in a while you handed one over to Fox for him to read through. Slowly, your free hands had crept together, and Fox hoped to the Maker that you didn’t notice how warm his cheeks had gotten. 

Your thumb rubbed soothing circles over the back of his hand, and he didn’t notice he was staring at the way your fingers moved rather than reading through the form you handed him until you cleared your throat. “Fox?” you asked quietly. His gaze landed on your lips. He wanted you to keep saying his name, he wanted to hear it again and again--

You brushed a stray curl back from his forehead. A tug on your arm had you stumbling forward off-balance, and you would have fallen if strong arms had not wrapped around you and pulled you into an armored chest. Heat rushed to your face at the new position you found yourself in: sat in Fox’s lap, his hand still entwined with yours.

Then he kissed you.

It was gentle, soft. His lips pressed to yours chastely, far more gently than you expected him to be, and you felt the datapad fall from your hand. The sharp clatter of it hitting the ground made Fox pull back, but then you grasped the back of his neck, twining your fingers in his curls, and pulled him back to your mouth. He tossed his own back on the desk with a groan as your lips met again.

You licked the seam of his lips, and he opened for you. Fox was content to let you lead. His hand gripped your hip, and he sighed into your kisses, melting from your affection. You don’t know how long the two of you stayed like that--tasting, breathing each other in, sharing languid kisses full of pent-up desire.

His wild curls were soft in your fingers, and he all but purred when you lightly scratched your nails along his scalp. The hard plastoid of his thigh plates was uncomfortable underneath you, and you shifted your hips slightly in an effort to find a more comfortable spot. The breath hissed out through Fox's teeth, and your face flushed with warmth realizing you had brushed against his codpiece. His fingers tightened on your hip and thigh, pulling you towards him, encouraging your hips to roll against him again.

It was an awkward angle, with you sitting with your legs thrown over his lap, but from the hitch in Fox’s breathing it was doing something for him. You hummed into his mouth before pushing yourself up, holding onto his broad shoulders for support as you swung one leg over so you were now straddling him, chest to chest.

“Better?” he rumbled, nipping your bottom lip before soothing the sting with his tongue. You squeaked as his palms cupped and squeezed your ass, tugging you closer. Both of you basked in each other's eager little breaths and soft noises, hungry and wanting for more.

"Mhmm." The new position allowed you to feel the firmness of Fox's codpiece against your center when you pressed your hips into his. Fox really appreciated the new position, with your tits against his chest and free access to grope your ass. He almost whined into your mouth at the steady slow grind you started against him.

You wanted to hear that noise again. An idea struck you. You wanted to taste him. One more deep kiss, then you shimmied back off his lap. Fox made a noise of protest and tried to pull you back to him, but you just grinned and shooed his hands away. The floor was cold on your knees as you settled between his spread legs.

“What are you--oh,” he cut off with a harsh breath as your deft fingers unclasped his codpiece and tossed it away. Immediately, your palm cupped the warm bulge at the front of his blacks. He shifted in his seat, and you noticed his cheeks and ears had flushed a shade darker. How cute.

“Commander,” you purred, slowly stroking him through the fabric.

“Y-yes, cyare?” His hands flexed at the arms of his chair. He was struggling to not reach out and pull you back on his lap. Normally so composed, Fox now looked wrecked with his lips slightly parted, kiss-swollen, and hair mussed.

“Will you let me suck your cock?”

Fox spluttered and fumbled at your bluntness. You bit your bottom lip, looking up at him from beneath your lashes, still slowly stroking him over his blacks. You could see him fighting with himself. Maker, he wanted it. He wanted to see your pretty lips wrapped around his length. But he also didn’t want you to feel like you had to--he also desperately wanted to pleasure you.

“Please?” you leaned forward and mouthed at his clothed erection, letting your spit soak the fabric. Your eyes locked with his, looking up at him with your best faux-innocent look, like you had no idea what you were doing to him. But Maker, you were hungry. You wanted him.

“Fuck,” the word sounded as if it had been punched out of him. His pupils were blown wide, black swallowing the rich brown of his irises. “Fuck, yes--”

You wasted no time in tugging the band of his blacks down. A shiver worked its way through him; seeing you on your knees in front of him was a dream--a dirty little fantasy he would never admit to. Many nights alone in his quarters or in the showers he had roughly fisted his cock to the thought of you in situations that were most definitely unprofessional, biting the back of his hand to keep his noises at bay. And now here you were, the sweet secretary, making his dreams become reality.

The sliver of warm skin revealed to you made you instantly want more, and you couldn’t stop from pressing a light kiss to his hip. Then you eased his leaking cock from his blacks. Fox hissed in a breath through his teeth as your hand loosely wrapped around him, pumping his length slowly. The precum that dribbled from the tip slicked your grip. He was thick and firm in your hand, like velvet-wrapped durasteel.

The first stroke of your tongue against his cock made him curse. You licked slowly, working your way from tip to base and back, tracing the pulsing vein that ran along the underside. Taking the head of his cock in your mouth, you tasted the salty tang of the precum that leaked from him. When you hummed around him, his hand shot to your hair, fingers winding through the strands. He didn’t push you down or pull you away; instead, he merely just...held on.

Fox’s breathing kicked up watching you worship his cock with your tongue and hands. You enjoyed watching him try to hold himself together, slowly making him fall apart piece by piece. Your head bobbed up and down his length, each time taking more of him. Your hand continued to pump and work the rest you hadn’t fit in your mouth. He breathed out a string of words in a language you didn’t understand, but from the tone it sounded like he was praising you.

All his little noises were making the heat coil in your core. Wetness pooled between your legs, and you clenched your thighs together for the slightest bit of relief. You closed your eyes to concentrate, focusing on the weight of his cock on your tongue, the heat of his body. You slowly took more of him in your mouth until you felt his tip bump the back of your throat. Breathe through your nose. Fighting off your gag reflex, you swallowed around him.

“Shit! Shit, mesh’la--” Fox cried out above you, feeling your throat constrict around his length. He tugged gently on your hair, and you pulled off him with a gasp. “Fuck, if you keep doing that I’m gonna cum in your mouth.” It was meant to be a warning, but he sounded too breathless for it to carry any weight.

“But Commander,” you looked up at him, enveloping the tip of his cock in the heat of your mouth and gently sucking. His thighs twitched under your hands, cock throbbing, and you pulled off with an obscene pop. “That’s the best part.”

You were messy, letting saliva drip from your mouth and down his cock. You sucked, licked, and kissed every inch of his length until it was sopping. When you ducked down to take his balls in your mouth, his breath hitched, hand tightening in your hair, and a low moan came from him.

“Gedet’ye, mesh’la, gedet’ye--” Fox choked out.

“Hm?” You pulled back, hand wrapped around his cock and continued to pump him tightly. You twisted your wrist when your hand brushed over his head. He was panting lightly, and looked deliciously wrecked.

“Gedet’ye,” he said again, “please.”

You smiled at him, and he felt his heart jump. You looked filthy, lipstick--Coruscant guard red?--smeared, lips and chin wet with spit. “I want you to cum in my mouth, Fox.” Then you brought your mouth back to his cock and sucked, laving your tongue over the sensitive head as one hand stroked the base. The other came up to cradle his balls, and he was done for.

Fox cursed up a storm in both Basic and Mando’a, nearly doubling over as his orgasm was wrenched out of him by your clever mouth. You kept your gaze connected with his, eyes hazy and half-lidded. Warm spurts of his release filled your mouth and you eagerly swallowed it down, milking his cock until he had nothing left. Subtly, you rubbed your thighs together, so turned on it nearly hurt. Seeing Fox fall apart for you stoked the fire of arousal in your core.

He had an arm thrown over his eyes as he slumped in his chair, chest heaving for breath. “Stars above, you’re going to kill me,” he said. You giggled, hands running soothing motions over his thigh plates, even though he couldn’t feel it through the plastoid. He looked boneless and sated, which was exactly your intention--well, part of your intention.

Then he was guiding you back up, cupping your cheek and kissing you hard. It was desperate, deep, filled with so much emotion that you couldn’t decipher it, you only knew that you felt the same. You moaned into his mouth. He broke the kiss, and you noticed the glint in his eye and his sly grin before he kissed you again, standing and guiding you back to sit on his desk.

“Now it’s my turn.”

[strawbxrryneptune]

Breathe, baby

Personal trainer!Southern!Bakugou

Porn with plot, unprotected sex, creampie, exhibitionism??, praise ig, implied pining, my shitty endings

Masterlist

♡♡

You loved the gym.

Not because you liked working out .

It was a pain when you woke up sore, or when you got sticky with sweat, even though the high of a workout is always worth it, and it meant you could finally fit into that tiny skirt from the mall you saw last week.

What you loved was how your undeniable attraction towards your new personal trainer made for good entertainment.

Katsuki Bakugou.

He was beautiful, new in your city, came from some place down south, and you're sure he knew every time he saw you how much you wanted him.

You couldn't stop gawking, always looking at his ass when he showed you how to do the squats, doing over his pure strength when he did pull ups.

You had arrived right on time, stretching before hand and making sure you looked good.

You strolled into your training room, already hearing some upbeat music and seeing Bakugou doing pull ups, grunting and muscles shaking from the slight strain.

You stand in the doorway, watching sweat trickle down his neck, into the wide neckline of his cami, which clung to his body, nipples peaking through the shirt.

His jaw was clenched, little huffs leaving him as he brought himself up again. The veins on his arms popped against his complexion, and you startled when you realized you were drooling.

You gave a soft cough, alerting him of your presence and watching as he hopped down, red eyes locking onto yours as his chest heaved, cheeks pink and eyes low. The headband holding his hair out of his eyes was slipping, so you went into action.

You dropped your bag on the ground, making your way towards him quickly. When you reached your hand out to touch him, he narrowed his eyes at you and stepped back, cheeks darkening further.

"Somethin' the matter, miss?"

You smile, body flushing at the way he draws out the formality.

"Oh, I just saw your headband was a little crooked. Wanted to fix it, was all."

He nods, giving you a once over before pushing it back up his forehead, turning to get a mat out.

"Oh I already did some workouts before I got here. Unless you wanna stretch me out some more. "

The wicked smile on your face doesn't go past Bakugou, his vermilion eyes widening as he steps back, grumbling under his breath as he turns back around, setting down two mats and sitting on one.

"We're doin' yoga. Noticed how yer' body was shakin' las' time so we're takin it easy t'day."

You give his strong back a dreamy smile.

Fuck, he's hot, healthy, and attentive? You could feels yourself start to swoon.

You make your way over to the other mat, sitting on your knees.

"M' gonna guide you through each pose, then we'll do em together, yeah?"

You let out a breathy "yeah" in response and watch as he rises to his feet, towering over you, before positioning himself behind you.

"Gonna touch you now."

Shit.

You feel a big, heavy hand gently land on the middle of your back, pushing you to rest on your elbows.

"Stand up, but keep yer' arms down f'me"

You raise your lower half into a standing position, arching your back forward. Bakugou goes to your front and squats, taking your hands and placing them in front of you so you're in downward dog position.

"Hold it there for 15 seconds."

You close your eyes and breath in, shuddering when you get a whiff of his musk, smoky and sweet.

"One"

"Two"

You peek open your eyes, looking up slightly to see him looking at his watch, counting the seconds down.

"Six"

"Seven"

You take the time to really admire him, his strong thighs, the way you can see freckles dotting the exposed skin, the way his shorts hug his waist, his top riding up on his abs and showing off a patch of hair trailing down..

"Thirteen"

"Fourteen"

You close your eyes at fifteen, pretending like you weren't just imagining ripping his shorts off with your teeth and running eager fingers through his blonde happy trail.

You're so caught up in your thoughts that you almost miss the way he runs his hand back down your spine, easing you down and murmuring a raspy,

"Good girl."

Before straightening up and walking over to the speakers.

Dazed, you watch as he puts on more relaxing music, walking back over to you.

"M' gonna try somethin' a little more difficult, kay? Let me know if ya start to ache."

Oh, you're already aching.

Aching for that di-

"Okay, I'll let you know."

He grunts in approval, twirling his finger for you to stand up.

He comes to your side this time, placing his hand back in the middle of your spine and bending you backwards slowly, humming when you reach your hands to brace yourself.

"Doin' such a good job fer me, yeah? Think ya can be a good girl and hold it fer 30 seconds?"

You almost audibly whimper.

"Mhm, I'll be so good Bakugou."

He starts counting, a deepness to his voice that wasn't there before, and you can feel your thighs begin to shake.

Bakugou can't take his eyes off of you, the way you bend so easily, taking his every word so nicely, eyes hazy and dazed and so so pretty.

The way your thighs shake makes him want to drop to his knees and sink his teeth into them. He wants to mark you up, leave bruises on your pretty ass and then kiss them better, eat out your sweet cunt and stuff you with his fingers when you get too loud.

He was raised with manners, though, and before he does any of that has taking your fine ass on a date.

"Thirty."

You breath out a shaky sigh, letting his hand guide you back down to the floor.

You look at the time, almost jumping in excitement when you realize your session is almost over. You need to get home now. Your panties are aboslutely drenched and you don't know how long you can go without saying something too bold.

Bakugou notices your excitement, raising a brow as he situates himself on his mat.

"Got smwhere to be, Miss?"

You flush, images of you with your hands between your legs and a certain blonde on your mind flashing through your head.

"Nope. Just wanna shower and eat my loneliness away."

He chuckles at that, sitting in lotus position.

"You have any plans?"

He looks up at you, studying your face for a bit, lips turning up slightly when you squirm.

"Nah. I got nuthin'."

You gulp, copying his position and fiddling with your fingers

"Well, uh. Do you wanna maybe.."

"Spit it out, angel, times runnin' out."

You bite your lip, the way he rasped the pet name had your head spinning.

"We could maybe get something to eat,, together? I can cook for you,, Like a date."

You're met with silence, and you feel embarrassment wash over you for a split second before you see a rough, veiny hand on front of you, then feel a warm palm on your face.

You look up and meet red eyes in searing eye contact, his lips curled in a smirk and cheeks dusted pink.

"A date, hm? I'd fuckin' love to Darlin'."

You squeal internally, missing his warmth when he pulls away to count to 30 once again.

♡♡

After stuffing yourself and Bakugou with some curry chicken, you invited him onto the balcony, sitting next to him on the swing seat.

You couldn't take your eyes off him the entire night. He was wearing a simple shirt and joggers, but the top hugged him so well and his sweats were low, riding up everytime he lifted something from the top shelf for you.

There a was a thick tension in the air. You wanted so badly to lean over and grab his jaw, to kiss him and make him groan, make him breathless with pleasure-

"Hey, ya listenin'? I asked ya a question."

You stratle, realizing you were staring at his face for too long.

"Sorry. I just wanted to kiss you- I mean,, fuck-"

Yeah, you shouldn't have drinking so much wine.

Bakugou’s eyebrows raise almost comically, eyes wide and lips pulling back in a grin, his handsome face inching closer to you until you can almost taste him.

"Ya wanna kiss me? Go 'head, I ain't stoppin' ya."

You immediately crash your lips against him, wasting no time in bringing your hand up to cradle his jaw, moaning when his big hand curls around your throat.

He tilts your head back, licking into your mouth and grabbing a thigh with his free hand, dragging you onto his lap. You roll your hips slowly, relishing in the groan it pulls from him.

He pulls away momentarily to suck at your bottom lip, biting down on it before kissing the stinging flesh.

He fiddles with the hem of your sun dress, gaze burning into you.

"Can I take this off, Darlin'?"

You pant above him, shivering at how sexy he sounded.

Damn, consent was hot.

"I don't know, can you?"

Your giggle is cut off by a moan when he flicks at your nipple through the dress, nipping at your collarbone.

"May I take this off, Brat?"

You whimper and nod, earning you another searing kiss before he pulls your dress up, watching your tits bounce out, taking a nopple into his mouth as his hand slides down.

He squeezes your doughy thighs in his hands, fingers pinching and kneading until he reaches your cunt.

You pray that he doesn't tease, you've been worked up for so long, and thankfully, he doesn't, slipping a finger into you and rubbing gently at your clit, picking up pace gradually and adding a second finger as you arch your back.

You pant and lean forward, hands lacing into his hair and hips grinding down onto his fingers. He groans into your nipple, moaning "harder" against you.

You comply, and he shudders, hips canting up to meet the downward roll of yours.

You feel your high creeping up on you, but you wanna feel him so bad, so you sluggishly push him away, earning you a confused grunt.

"Wanna cum on your cock."

Bakugou growls at that, lifting you up with one hand on your hip while the other pushes his sweats and boxers down, his thick cock springing free. You gape down at it, fat and veiny, flushed and dripping with pre as it twitches under your gaze.

His balls are fat too, heavy and round amd you just wanna take one in your mouth and suck till he creams from how good it feels.

Bakugou interrupts your staring with tap to your hips, slowly easing his way into you.

His thick mushrooms head pops in, and it burns so good. You feel like he's in your throat by the time he's all the way in, veins pulsing and dragging along your gooey walls. He leans his head back agasint the swing, mouth opening to pant as he move, feet digging into the ground and hips thrusting harshly into you.

His face is a dusty pink, eyes going crossed and drool starting to slide out of his mouth as he moans, hips picking up speed and fingers rubbing into your clit so good you almost collapse.

"Hah, yer so good, Darlin', fuck squeezin' me so good, gnna make me bussst"

"S'so close-"

"Mmh fuck, me too Angel. You wanna cum on my cock, Darlin? Cream all over me, make a mess of my balls and this cute little swing fuck fuck fuck- gnna bust baby, fill you up so fckin good."

You give a silent scream, arching your back and cumming hard, Bakugou following as he shoots thick ropes of cum into you, sliding down his base and pooling at his fat ball, still twitching.

"This is gnna be a bitch to clean up ain't it?"

@miggiisdumb @lady-bakuhoe

[no-droids]

Beginner’s Luck

Part Twelve of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 14.6K

Warnings: 👀👀👀 SMUT.  Oral sex (male receiving), cockwarming, sexual acts in public, the use of blasters and other canon-typical weaponry

A/N: Twas the night before Mando season 2, and all through the house—NO IM JUST KIDDING SDKSFKSVS anyways I am so sorry for not being here for basically all of last month but I could not miss this incredibly momentous occasion for anything. Merry season 2 my lovely baby yoditos

***

“Well,” a modulated voice gruffs expectantly from behind you, clearly tired of waiting.  “Turn around, let me see.”

“No.  I look ridiculous,” you sulk from the corner of the hull, refusing to do as he says.  You thought this was stupid from the very beginning and openly told him so, but you’re also a complete pushover for him with just enough backbone to be frustrated when you inevitably give in.  “And don’t you ‘sweet girl’ me, it’s not gonna work this time.”

“Sweet girl,” Din’s deep voice lulls through the helmet, raspy and soft.

Fucking fine, if he’s gonna twist your arm about it.  You spin around with a deep frown and a chrome visor stares back at you as you waddle forwards, and you don’t even need to look at the kid cradled in his forearm to know he’s smiling toothily as you clunk and rattle.  Once you’re standing directly in front of them both, you blow the stray hair out of your eyes and plant your hands on your hips, just waiting for the inevitable response.

Only, you don’t get practically any response at all from him.  He stays perfectly still and says absolutely nothing, and though the baby’s mouth falls open with happiness and he reaches for you, he doesn’t make a sound either.

“I told you,” you grumble after a few moments of pained silence.  “I look ridiculous.”

Still, nothing.  You purse your lips, shifting from side to side uncomfortably, and eventually your suspicion grows and festers until it finally bursts forth.  Oh for the love of Maker—

“I know you’re laughing under there,” you accuse with a growl.  He doesn’t move a single muscle but you don’t buy it, not for a single fucking second.

Then suddenly the helmet glances away from you and stares purposefully at the wall of the hull as the kid starts giggling, and you knew it.  You fucking knew he was laughing.

“You look great,” comes tightly through the modulator after a moment, and you pull your lip up into a snarl, vindicated in your findings but not happy about it.

“Is that how this is supposed to protect me?”  You wave your arms, hearing them squeak and clank like you’re a droid that hasn’t been maintenanced in centuries.  The rough metal jerks up and smacks your chin with the shoulder movement and you grimace.  “Make the bad guys laugh themselves to death?”

“It's bad,” Din finally turns back to you and admits with zero shame, and your cheeks burn at how stupid you must look right now.  “Way too big.”

“Too big?”  You blink at him.  “That’s your criticism?”

When he presented it to you, your first impression was some sort of brown paint—but no.  It’s fucking… rust.  It’s damaged and scraped up and it looks like it’s been through the ringer and back, and not in a way that gives it character.  There’s almost a literal hole in the fucking chestpiece and it’s dented so much that it actually creates more than enough space for your breasts, what the fuck happened—?

“You’re telling me you went from this—”  You ask pointedly, knocking your knuckles against the ill-fitting piece of metal and feeling it wobble against your chest, “—to that—” you tap the pristine, gleaming armor strapped to his body that easily costs more than probably quadruple your entire life, “—without any go-betweens?  It’s missing one of the shoulders, Din.”

He ignores you, flipping the chestpiece over your head with his free hand and letting the metallic clatter of it meeting the floor behind you ring out through the hull.  “I’d hoped at least something would fit,” comes his filtered sigh.  “This planet isn’t nice.”

That sobers you up a bit, and you feel your heart thump painfully.  “Are we on Corellia?”  You ask without thinking.

“No,” he tells you immediately, quelling your panic while pulling off your one singular pauldron.  “Tatooine.”

You’ve never heard of it, but from the grave undertone of his voice, you know the drill.  Different setting, same kind of people.  Smugglers, rogues, criminals—the type he’s used to being around and knows exactly what to expect out of them.  You always feel safe when he’s with you, but when he leaves?

“Oh,” you say, because you don’t really have anything else.  It’s quiet for a little bit, but then he continues on before you can come up with something to fill the sudden uncertainty on your end.

“I know someone here,” Din murmurs, bending his knees and sinking down to start undoing and pulling the shoddy thigh braces off your legs.  “Someone… nice.  It’ll be safe as long as nobody sees me leaving or coming back, and the kid would be happy to see her.”

Your eyebrows pull inwards, something… unfamiliar settling inside you.  Din doesn’t have friends, he’s made it clear that he doesn’t really like anyone that he knows well enough to introduce you to.  Even when he’s lowered himself in front of you and is technically undressing you, you feel a spark of… no, not jealousy, that’s crazy.  But for real, who is he talking about?

“Why can’t me and the baby just lay low somewhere remote like normal?”  You ask instead, but he shakes his head.

“No such thing,” he grunts, pulling off the other thigh brace.  “Tuskans or Jawas will find you even in the middle of the Dune Sea.”

“I like Jawas,” you blurt, having had many positive experiences trading with the little creatures on Arvala-7, but his helmet immediately tilts up to pin you in place and you shut up, feeling the tangible unamusement radiating from the thin blade of the visor even when the kid starts giggling again.  “I mean I… don’t like Jawas?”

Din sighs and rises back up to his full height, finally handing the baby over to you now that you’re not weighed down by that ridiculous getup anymore.  “You can either stay with her while I get the quarry or run the risk of pirates finding you drifting above the atmosphere,” he reasons bluntly, not mincing words.  “But it’s not a good idea to be stuck on the surface without protection, someone will find you.”

You bite your lip, hugging the kid closer to your chest for a second.  “Okay, that’s fine,” you murmur quietly after a moment.  “We can stay with your… friend.”  

You clear your throat and move to let him pass by to get to the cockpit, except Din doesn’t take a single step.  You blink up at him and after what feels like an eternity of no response, the helmet slowly tilts sideways at you and… oops.

Was that not subtle?  You didn’t know what to call her, genuinely, that’s why you hesitated.  You didn’t want to use the word acquaintance, it felt too detached for the fact that he said the kid would be happy to see her again.  That’s what’s called a friend, right?  

Maker, why are you being so weird about this?

Thankfully, you end up getting away with it.  After a few painful seconds of looking at every single thing in the hull besides him and humming a song you make up on the spot, Din slowly walks past and disappears up into the cockpit.  You take a deep breath and gently rub the baby’s ears between your fingers as the Crest powers up with a ferocious rumble beneath your feet.

***

It’s bright.  Fuck, it’s so bright here.  You hold the kid to your chest with one hand and shield your eyes with the other as the ramp slowly descends, dust immediately kicking up around it.  Din’s palm is resting against your lower back and his thumb gently brushes back and forth, but your heart decides to drop the very moment his hand does, and as soon as the ramp clanks against the landing platform, he’s striding down into the blazing hot desert sun without you.

Something in your chest squeezes and whispers to you that he probably doesn’t want to touch you when he’s about to see an old friend again, so you wait a few seconds of space before descending down the ramp behind him, not really knowing how you feel right now.  But you’ve barely taken a single step to follow when a woman’s voice screeches out from across a vast distance.  “Oh no, no no no—don’t you even think about it!”

Din slows to a halt at the end of the ramp and gives whoever it is a small nod, nothing beyond it, and if you weren’t purposefully looking at him for cues right now, you’d probably miss the greeting entirely.  You stand on your tippy-toes from behind his cape as a fiery little middle-aged lady in a mechanic’s jumpsuit marches up to him with an attitude that more than makes up for the height difference.

“You’re not allowed here anymore,” she pokes his chestplate brazenly with one hand and props the other on her hip, clearly not excited to see him.  “Not after the ruckus you caused last time, no sir, not on my watch.”

“That won’t happen again,” he gruffs shortly, not providing a single thing beyond it, and you blink.  What… what happened last time?

“It sure won’t!”  The strange woman agrees shrilly, crossing her arms and widening her eyes until she looks a bit like she’s been out in the suns too long.  “I’m still recovering, Mando!”

“I compensated you,” he reminds her, a quiet edge of frustration beginning to creep into his voice.

She suddenly narrows her expression at him, going from manic desert lady to sharp and discerning skeptic within a split second.  “How much do you think my life is worth?”

Din takes forever to respond, seeming to either be choosing his words very carefully or grinding his teeth under the beskar in frustration.  Probably both.  “I brought my ki—”

“You bring trouble!”  She bursts out, stomping her foot on the dusty landing platform and holding her ground.  “I don’t care how cute your little one is, go park your ship on some other poor soul’s hangar bay!”

He doesn’t say anything back, staying completely silent while you stand there awkwardly and wait for his response, and it’s almost like you… forgot.  How quiet Din can be, how unnervingly little he can choose to offer to conversations until he deems the information absolutely necessary to provide.  He allows you to forget that reserved nature of his.  He talks to you.  He never used to at the beginning, but somewhere along the way it just became increasingly common to hear his voice, both with a high-pass filter and blissfully without.  Now though, there’s just too long of a weirdly tense pause in the reunion for you to handle without doing something about it.

So you step out from behind him with the child in your arms, giving her an apologetic smile with as much friendliness as you can possibly put into an expression.

“Hello,” you greet her gently, musically, lifting the baby’s hand to give her a companionable three-fingered wave from the both of you while he coos.  “I promise I’m not trouble, but he did bring me along this time.”

Din and the woman simultaneously turn to look at you; her like you’re just as strange and jarring of a sight to see on this planet as the tiny unnamed boy in your arms and him like your voice by itself is enough to loosen his shoulders.  Though neither one of them ultimately respond to you, you can tell by the way his fists unclench that you’ve at least helped him relax, even if the frizzy-haired lazy otherwise ignores your introduction entirely.

“Now just what in Maker’s name are you doing with a poor little stowaway like that?”  She faces him and pokes his armor again.  “You runnin’ a charity out of that battered piece of junk you call a ship?”

“Three hundred credits to let them stay with you for a week,” he turns back to tell her, cutting directly to the chase.  Alright, so you don’t really understand their relationship at all at this point.  He said she was nice?  And yet he’s already bribing her that handsomely?

“Five hundred,” she immediately shoots back, and your heart sinks.  Fuck, there’s no way.  There’s no way he would spend that much, you’re going to have to find somewhere else to stay.

But… he doesn’t respond.  Which you now remember with a jolt of surprise, means confirmation.  Not wasting words agreeing, he’d say something back to her if he had an issue.  Maker, five hundred credits.  You’re starting to wonder if he’s really able to make any money at all doing this, or if the job is just… fitting for him, so he continues to do it.  He’s spending more and more credits on you every single time you turn around, and while you don’t feel great about it, you know Din well enough to know he’s stable and independent enough to make the decisions he wants to make.

So you just stand there and hold the baby to your chest, unsure of your place, while Din eventually turns around to face you.

Sometimes, if you’re being honest, you almost find yourself wanting to… do soft things with him that you know you shouldn’t while other people are around.  Granted, he’s never told you not to, but the last thing you want to do is undermine his reputation by unintentionally revealing his gentler side.  You want to give him a hug and maybe hand him the baby to say goodbye, but you don’t know if that’s how he wants to present himself to company right now.  Unfortunately, that ends up translating into you just looking at him and awkwardly waiting to see what he does.  Your feelings won’t be hurt if he just takes off without another word now that you know that that’s his intent—you promise, they weren’t hurt the first fifty or so times he’s done it.  You understand him, it’s alright, he doesn’t need to—

But then he leans in and lowers his voice until only you can hear it.

“I’ll be back soon,” he tells you, and you feel warmth creep into your chest.

You understand him.  Which is why you feel like you could almost burst with how much he didn’t have to say that but chose to do so anyway.  You already have a solid time frame—a week—which is more information than you usually get, and it’s such a small thing.  It’s insane; if you made a list, you’d have 1) talking to you, 2) knowing his first name, and 3) seeing a glimpse of his forehead as your top reasons why he might care just as much about you as you care for him.  That’s insane.

He takes a second to reach a glove out and rub the baby’s ear as he makes his adorable little baby noises up at him, before the helmet tilts back up just slightly to look at you.  

“Be safe,” he waits for you to whisper back.

And you think now is finally the time to go, right?  Except he waits just a few precious seconds more, just holding there, silently.  Maker, you don’t want to miss him, why is he doing this to you?  You’re trying to play it cool, see-you-later’s have been commonplace between you for nearing a full year now, so why does it feel like now is the first time he truly doesn’t want to go?

You hold the kid with one hand and start to reach for him the split second he turns to walk away, and you quickly drop it as the dry wind snaps through his cape.  He leaves and doesn’t look back.

Still, you watch him disappear, until eventually you’re reminded of your host’s presence with the tap of a wrench against your shoulder.

“Hope you know your way around a hyperdrive,” the woman says with a smirk.  Maker, Din didn’t even give you her name, you’re going to have to ask.  “Gotta repair at least two of ‘em by sundown.”

You catch the hefty tool with your free hand and turn to her.  “Pre-Imperial or post?  Never done a restoration, but I’m a quick learner.”

She blinks at you like that was probably the last thing she expected you to say, but you give her the same friendly smile from before and look towards the entrance of the hangar for the ships needing maintenance.

***

So Peli is… a character.

She’s quick and entertaining and whip-smart, but you worry that if she had a whip, she might actually use it.  She’s nice—she is, but she damn near works you to the bone once you prove yourself capable.  You don’t think she expected the extent of your practical knowledge of mechanics, she went into it assuming you were going to be useless and did a hard U-turn that very first night.  You both worked together to fix two malfunctioning hyperdrives by sundown, just like she told you she needed, but then she looked vaguely surprised and nobody showed to pick up until two days later.

The second day is more hectic, and the third day is worse.  You cradle the kid on your hip while you work one-handed, smudged grease all over your forehead and sweat sticking your hair to your neck.  Using Peli’s sonic shower never leaves you feeling clean no matter how many times a day you find yourself wanting to wash the dust and grime from your body, the same way yours used to back on Arvala-7, and you immediately get why her dark hair seems so frizzy and dry whenever you step out of the stall and catch sight of the similar rat’s nest on your head in the small mirror.  Hypersonic waves dry it out more than the blazing hot suns on this planet—you look the same exact way you’ve looked for decades and while you don’t mind hard work, you can’t stand the complete lack of water on this forsaken rock.

Din was right, though.  She is nice, but in a way that she never wants anybody else to find out about.  She cooks you food every night but expects you to clean the whole kitchen after, she lets you have free reign over the caf maker as long as you remember to make enough for her, and she allows you and the kid to pass out on the beat-up sofa in one of the secluded back rooms for the time being.  On more than one occasion, when she assigns you chores that require two hands and a steady focus to complete, you overhear her babytalk behind the control panel as she bounces the kid in one arm and plays with his ears.  It fills your chest with a quiet, subtle kind of warmth, and you understand why Din trusts her with him.

At least you stay busy—which, understatement.  She works you so hard that eventually she starts handing you tasks that don’t really seem… pressing.  Replacing the spherical joints on her three pit droids, hand-scrubbing the grime off the pots and pans she uses to cook the same two meals everyday, polishing the dusty windows overlooking the landing platform even though they’re caked over with dirt not even an hour later.  You realize soon enough that she doesn’t have nearly the workload here as she claims, periodically catching her playing cards with the droids while you’re busting your ass doing chores once all the real work has clearly been accomplished, but you’re not upset.  You like being busy, it’s how you’ve lived most of your life.  However, at some point, you actually end up running out of things to do.  After that, it’s like she has to actively look for tasks she still needs completed.

One morning you find her in the parked Crest, ripping open the guidance systems paneling and talking to herself.  You sip your caf and watch silently from the landing bay, hair pulled up in a messy bun and the baby on your hip as the suns rise on your shoulders and she mutters, whole sheets of metal being tossed out from the insides of the Razor Crest.

You've also learned she responds incredibly well to the prospect of credits, so you don’t spend too much time wondering what her goal is—find something in the ship for you to fix and then charge Mando extra for the materials whenever he comes back.

Hilarious though, as if there’s anything in your ship that actually needs fixing.

You spin around with a sigh and walk back into the hangar, knowing today will probably be the first slow day in awhile.

***

A few hours later, you’re invited to play a game of Sabacc for the first time in your life.

There are so many rules—so many suits and names to keep track of, so many values to memorize, only to be forced to choose one card after every round to keep just in case the rest of them happen to shuffle at random, which occurs at least once or twice every game.  There’s too much luck involved to figure out any sort of strategy; you feel like sometimes you’re hopelessly lost and end up winning anyways or you wager nearly your entire stack of bolts on a perfect hand and then you lose the entire thing regardless.

It’s an unpredictable nightmare.  But it’s something to do, and you’ve learned that playing just as stupidly as you bet allows you to easily stay in the game.  The baby sits in your lap and plays with one of your rusty metal gambling pieces while your leg bounces, and Peli grumbles under her breath once it appears you get ahead of her in winnings.

“Beginner’s luck,” she tells her favorite pit droid quietly, who focuses its singular eye at you in a way that somehow feels unfriendly and nods on a brand new swivel, courtesy of yours truly.

You don’t argue, because there’s no point.  The whole fucking thing is luck, but there’s no point.  You know enough about this game to know that you might give something away if you speak, so you keep your mouth shut and let her fill the void.  You know how to stay silent, you’ve learned from the best.  Wordlessly drawing a card from the deck and tucking it in between two others of the same value, you decide to trade one of your other cards at complete random and hope it all just works out.

“Ship looks like it’s brand spankin’ new on the inside,” Peli mutters into her mug out of nowhere, and you pause for a moment, before silently nodding at the offhanded comment and trying not to show how pleased you are by it.  “Was falling apart the last time I saw it.”

You keep bouncing the kid on your knee and fan out the cards in front of you, hoping his big black eyes aren’t reflective enough to reveal your hand.  “I have a lot of free time.”

“I can tell,” she acknowledges, crossing her legs and leaning back into her chair.  Peli sets the mug down and sighs.  “You’re a good mechanic.  I’d offer you a job here, but something tells me you wouldn’t even consider it.”

Now, you do smile.  But it’s a hidden one.  A fond one.  One you find impossible to fight when you’re reminded of him.  You miss him and ache for him and all those collectively angsty things, yes—but mostly you’re just… able to find a bone-deep solace in even thinking about him.  Your heart tightens, but it’s far less constricting than it is a comfort, a firm embrace.  It surrounds you in its safety; Din’s mere existence is your protection, wrapping around you the same way the beskar protects him.  Nothing can touch you.  You’re safe, from all the things you used to fear and all the new things you’ve learned to fear.

No, you’d never consider it.  This planet is too much like Arvala-7, just slightly more populated and dangerous.  You love the baby.  You love him.  You’d never consider it.

“Don’t you get bored?”  She asks you with a raised eyebrow, and your smile admittedly drops the slightest bit.  “Just waiting around for him to come back?”

You don’t have to think about your answer.  Of course you do.  If you’re being honest, it does feel a bit like your life is split between worlds—one with him, and one without.  Whenever he’s not here, you’re thinking about how much you want him to come back, and whenever he is here, you’re thinking about how much you don’t want him to go.  You’ve never experienced anything like that before.  There were a few local farmers scattered far across the arid landscape of the place you used to call home, and three of your neighbors all had kids around your age.  So you experimented when you were younger, since you never had much else to do in your spare time, but you never loved any of them.  You’d always go back home and continue to do chores, continue to look up at the sky and wonder what you were missing.

“Yes,” you admit quietly.

But what you don’t tell her is that in exchange, you get to see the galaxy.  You get to have experiences you’ve only dreamed about, take care of the cutest little baby you’ve ever seen and become part of a family.  You don’t know of anything you could want more.  Adventure, companionship, pleasure, and fulfillment.  Sure, you get restless, and sure, you don’t necessarily feel good about the fact that Din seems to be your driving force even when he’s away, but you know independence.  You know what it means to live for yourself.  You’ve done it long enough that you’ll never forget how to, you’ve experienced it more than enough to know you’re happy about throwing yourself off the cliff and falling into something different.  As much as it’s new and terrifying, it’s better.  Now you have other people to live for, too.  

You marvel at the change—not just from a year ago, but from a handful of months ago.  He used to terrify you.  You used to keep your mouth purposefully shut around him because you were scared of overstaying your welcome and being dropped off somewhere equally as remote as the place you grew up.  Never could you have imagined that the fiercest guardian the galaxy has ever seen would decide you’re also worth protecting.

No, you figure, you just need to… find something in addition.  Something else to also commit to, give yourself something to do.  You can practice the new self-defense maneuvers he taught you, that’s a good idea.  But maybe you can also…

You eventually decide to prompt Peli in a change in conversation.  “Hey, can I ask you something?”

“What do you want now?”  She takes another sip of her caf as if you’ve been bothering her about this all day long, and… well, it’s times like these that you wish you had a helmet, too, if only so you could roll your eyes.

“I’ve got a few pieces of rusted metal in the Crest,” you eventually tell her, careful with your phrasing and not sure how much you want to reveal.  “They’re in bad shape, but I want to keep them.  Could I use some of your tools here to hammer out some of the dents, dissolve whatever crud is on the surface?  I saw you have a forge back there that’s barely been used, just need the metal hot enough to be pliable without sacrificing its integrity.”

She furrows her eyebrows at you.  “But I still need your help with…”

You wait, but she’s got nothing and you both know it.  Still, you keep a pointed silence and wait for it, wondering if this’ll actually work.  This is what Din does, right?  Just refuse to say anything and make the other person crumble under the crushing quiet?  Miraculously, it proves to be successful—you watch her flounder for a response, her will wavering the longer you sit there and stare expectantly at her.

“Fine,” Peli finally acquiesces, and you grin.  “But only if you win this round.  What d’you got?”

You set down your cards to reveal your hand.  A perfect twenty-three if you’ve been counting right, unbeatable unless she or any of the droids managed to get the same, and you know it didn’t happen as soon as she takes a few seconds for mental math and then scoffs.

“Beginner’s luck,” you tell her kindly, pushing all your winnings back over to her side of the table with one hand and scooping the kid up with the other, before turning around and heading towards the Crest in search of Din’s old armor.

***

It’s late afternoon on day five and you’re on your back on a creeper seat, sweat dripping down your neck as you reach up to fiddle with the engine of a T-16, a Skyhopper similar to one you built yourself on Arvala-7.  They're not space-faring vehicles, they’re only capable of reaching the upper troposphere, but owning one allowed you to develop solid flight skills without ever truly being able to leave.  Honestly, you don’t think you’ve ever despised a ship more.

You know you’ve got engine grease all over and you feel like you’re boiling in your own sweat, but you’re almost done.  After this, you’ll be able to go back to working on your side project.

As soon as you’d been granted Peli’s direct permission to do so, you mixed the chemicals necessary to eat away at everything besides the basic structure underneath, and then spent all day yesterday manipulating the metal to better fit someone your size and shape.  You slaved over the wickedly hot forge and developed a whole new muscle in your arm from hammering and reheating, hammering and reheating.  You had to repair the way the chestpiece was tapered into a concave point by folding the thin metal back in on itself multiple times, strengthening it without flattening it back into its original shape too much, and then you ended up melting down some of the extra material from the needlessly large shoulder and thigh pieces to fill in the gaps.

Granted, you still have a ways to go on replacing the crushed magnetics box that was falling off the chestpiece and filing down the rough scrapes and sharp edges, but you’re now left with almost a full set of armor that’s a uniform dull silver in color and molds way better to your general figure than before.  You’re not a blacksmith or armorer by any stretch of the imagination, but you’re good with your hands and did what you could in the time allotted.  It looks better than you ever thought it would, and without access to Peli’s enormous collection of tools and machinery, you know it would’ve been better off in the trash.

Still, you have to finish this engine first before you can rip apart the control unit wiring on the armor to see how the whole set fits together and what else needs to be repaired.  You’ve been working on it for a few hours before you hear the door to the hangar open.  Yet, when you don’t immediately hear Peli’s voice calling out to you, or anyone else’s voice for that matter, your heart thuds in your chest with sudden excitement.

“You’re back early,” you tell the engine suspended over your head, knowing he must’ve already thrown the quarry into the Crest parked outside before coming to see you.  Right on time, footsteps approach and then a boot carefully catches the flat platform between your legs, slowly rolling your seat out from under the ship until the rest of the sunlit hangar is revealed to you.

You know you must look a hot mess right now.  Your hair is a disaster and there’s not a clean spot to be found on your body—sweat glistens and pools along every curve you have and you’re probably drenching the spare jumpsuit Peli let you borrow, but Maker, there he is.  Every time you see him is like the first time all over again, except this time the Mandalorian is looming like a giant over you, the helmet tilted down and silently taking you in.

Instead of settling you, his daunting presence gets you hotter than dual suns in the sky ever could.  Fuck, he hasn’t said a word to greet you, and yet you’re already wondering if you can entice him to shove you back under here and join you.

You slowly push yourself upright and he steps back just enough to allow it, but not an inch more than that.  You have to crane your neck up to keep looking at him, and he stands close enough over you that you wouldn’t have to reach far at all if you wanted to touch him.

And it’s crazy to think that… you absolutely could touch him, if you wanted.  He radiates danger, he hunts and tracks for his continued survival, he’s probably got fresh blood staining the dark fabric of his cape and he’s so fucking intimidating—and if you wanted to, you could touch him.  

Maybe you can partially blame your sore muscles as to why you immediately drop your head back down, but mostly you just want to stare at a part of his body that happens to align perfectly at eye level.  And fuck, nothing stops you from looking.  He doesn’t help you up, but he also doesn’t move so you can haul yourself to your feet, either.  He just holds perfectly still with his body standing tall over yours, content to stay exactly like this while your hand slowly reaches out to wrap around one of his ankles.

He’s so warm, his muscles flex strong under your palm as you let it drift upwards, biting your lip as you flick your gaze back up to the chrome visor and then down again to the apex of his thighs.  Your other hand comes up to scale the beskar strapped to his leg and you roll yourself forward slightly, wondering if he’d let you…

The black fabric stretching over his crotch just barely touches your fingertips before his hand is suddenly whipping out and grabbing hold of your wrist.

You gasp and jerk your head up to look at him, somehow equally hoping that you’re both in trouble and not in it at the same time.  Din’s abruptly chest raises with a large, labored inhale, as if he wasn’t breathing at all that entire time, as if he just now remembered the setting, the fact that he’s not alone on the Crest with you right now.  Peli and the kid have to be somewhere in the hangar, you know that, but…

“We’re leaving tonight,” he breathes out through the modulator, and you have absolutely no fucking problem with that at all.  “But… shit, but…”

“But…?”  You prompt, wanting nothing more than to let your hands reach back up to his pants again, but you settle for slowly dragging one palm up his forearm as his grip on your wrist tightens.

“Fuck, I wanted to take you somewhere first,” he groans like your feather-soft touch is actually hurting him, his hands suddenly dropping yours and pushing you away to clench into fists at his sides.  “Maker—why do you always f-fucking do this to me…”

You raise an eyebrow at him this time, the curiosity starting to mix with the heat simmering down low, the kind that you'd feel even on a frozen wasteland of a planet as long as you were with him.  All at once, you decide to channel him and his trademarked silence, enthralled by the incredibly slim chance that it will work equally as well on its creator.

“…Distract me,” he finally growls out an answer to the question you never asked him, sounding frustrated with you for reasons you still haven’t figured out, and your mouth is drier than the desert outside.  Oh stars, you feel… fucking powerful.  “From everything,” he goes on, talking honestly and openly, more words given to you in thirty seconds than he’s probably offered to anyone all week long.  “Fuck, I feel like I can barely do fucking anything anymore, I’m losing my fucking mind.”

Your heart slams in your chest, wondering if he possibly feels the exact same way about you as you feel about him.  Missing you whenever he’s gone, dreading the moment he needs to leave again whenever he’s with you.  The thought alone is enough to set off fireworks through your veins, pumping hope and excitement from your fingers to your toes.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe out, biting your lip in a way that doesn’t look or feel sorry at all.

“No, you’re not,” Din grunts, before reaching out and hauling you to your feet, and even if there wasn’t a flat seat under you with wheels, it’d still be awkward and uncoordinated as fuck.  “Shit.  I… I need to clean up.  Grab your things, go tell…”

Din trails off after a second, suddenly sounding at a complete loss.  You catch your footing and stare at him as he falters.  “Uh.  Go tell…”  He gestures with a sense of finality to the control room, as if he’s actually successfully communicating with you by doing so.  “Her.  That we’re leaving tonight.”

“What?”  You ask him, thoroughly fucking confused.  “What are you saying right now?”

“The woman,” he clarifies, clearing his throat.  “The mechanic, with the… droids.  Tell her I’ll pay her before we leave, but we’re g—”

“Peli?”  You blurt, completely flabbergasted at this point.  “Did you forget her name, Mando?”

“I…” he shakes his head slightly at you, like you should already know him better than that.  “Never asked.”

“But you—?”  You blink at him.  “But you said she was your friend?”

“You said she was my friend,” he immediately points out, with—oh Maker, just biting accuracy.  It wasn’t necessarily a jab or anything, but you still feel dizzy with how fucking spot on he is about it.  Yikes, you absolutely did say that.  You forgot.

“Oh…” you mumble, at a stunning loss for a response.  “Ha.  Oh.  Yeah, huh.”

There’s too many beats of awkward silence after that, probably because he’s just so blown away by your way with words that he’s just attempting to analyze the wisdom.  Stars, you’re making a complete fool of yourself in front of him, aren’t you?

“Were you jealous?”  He suddenly asks, and you jerk upright, your heart kicking up to a gallop in your chest at the question.

“I’ll go tell Peli we’re leaving soon,” you quickly agree and go to scurry away in abrupt panic, but he catches your wrist and hauls you back before you can get far.  You run into him with a gasp and immediately start to repeat your explanation for why you very suddenly need to depart, but the tips of Din’s fingers catch your chin and force you to look up at him.

“Hey,” he cuts your rambling short with a hushed murmur and the pad of his thumb brushes down your jaw.  “Tell me the truth.”

You don’t have an answer that won’t be incriminating, and you don’t think you can get the delivery right on a lie, not to him and especially not when he’s got you so cornered.  So you just keep completely silent and look up at him like a scolded child would.  Innocent, wide-eyed and scared shitless about the unknown consequences of your actions.

His helmet slowly tilts as he studies you, watching you look up at him for help.  His fingers gradually spread out across your jaw, flattening under the curve of your throat but so gentle, so careful that you’re almost worried he actually is mad.

“I’m sorry,” you immediately offer before he can say anything, your eyebrows pulling up in the middle.  “I’m so sorry, it’s just—I just…”

His thumb carefully stretches up to brush your bottom lip, and you…  Mind blank, no thoughts.  Stars, you’ve got fucking nothing.

“I’ve got nothing,” you admit, giving up before you can even try.  “There’s no reason.  I was jealous.  It’s stupid and I wasn’t going to say anything because I know it’s stupid, and I shouldn’t feel possessive over you but I do, and it’s stupid.  I don’t want anyone else to know you the way I know you, and I’m really sorry if that makes you feel weird, I don’t want you to feel like you can’t have—”

Your chin lifts slightly with the gentlest movement of his hand and the subtle pressure is enough to cut your mindless oversharing off.  Din’s voice lowers until it’s throaty and quiet.

“See that wall?”  He asks, keeping the visor pinned to you while carefully turning his hand to the right, and your whole head easily follows the movement as he guides it.  You have to blink your eyes into focus a few times, but then you immediately see what he’s talking about.  It’s a partition separating the welding room from the rest of the hangar.  He waits until you nod in the cradle of his palm, before leaning in and murmuring to you.  “If we were alone, I’d take you around behind it and show you exactly how that makes me feel.”

You pull back from him with a startled gasp just as a voice calls out from the entrance of the hangar.  “Well, look who finally decided to come back!”

Din slowly drops his arms and stares at you for just long enough to make you seriously worry that he’s going to say fuck it all and do it anyways, before finally turning around and greeting Peli with another silent nod.

She plants one hand on her hip once she’s standing right in front of him, cradling the kid on with her other arm, and you have to take a second to collect yourself now that you’re not at the direct center of his attention anymore.  “Sure did take you long enough, didn’t it?”

“I’m two days early,” he grunts in his immediate defense, but it’s like she doesn’t hear him.

“You’re leaving soon I hope,” she drawls while handing the baby over to him, who makes an adorable little happy squeak at seeing his dad again.  “You owe me five hundred credits.”

“It was five hundred for the full week,” he reminds her, and… he has a point.  Though it was never part of the agreement, you wonder if she’ll be willing to accept less compensation for having the burden of your company be lifted early.

“Five days count as a full week, far as I’m concerned,” she shoots back, and your heart suddenly sinks when Din’s shoulders tighten and he doesn’t respond.

“Peli…” you sigh from behind him before you even realize you’ve spoken aloud.

Your host quickly sidesteps your bodyguard to eye you dubiously, and at the same time, you also jolt and wonder what your goal is here exactly.  You’re ultimately just attempting to diffuse any tension sparking between them, you figure, knowing you’re probably the best mediator here.  She looks at you up and down for a long time, hard and judging, before the baby babbles something wordlessly and she sighs.

“I suppose we can just call it even,” she finally huffs, turning back to him.  “You’re lucky your girlfriend earned her keep, Mando.”

And then your jaw drops.  Holy shit, is she serious?  You assumed Peli valued credits above almost anything else, you never expected her to just… turn down the entire offer like that, so willingly.  Clearly Din didn’t either, because you both just stand there for a moment in front of her in a baffled silence.

Also… girlfriend?

Is that what you are to him?  Admittedly you haven’t talked to him about what to call your relationship, but then again, you’re a practical person and you never really saw a specific need to do so.  You care about him, he cares about you—what else is important?  You don’t need a title to recognize your value to him, and for some odd reason, calling yourself his “girlfriend” just feels like you’re a teenager again.  If you were actually looking for a different word to use instead, you wouldn’t be able to find it, but you know that one just feels… not enough.  Not old enough, not encompassing enough, not complex enough.  It’s an elementary school version of what this is.  And to refer to someone like Din as your boyfriend?  Maker, just saying it aloud would probably make his eye twitch.

“Uh.”  He stands there awkwardly, and you’re so blown away by both the sentiment and specific verbiage she used that you’re practically useless at this point.  Shit, what’s beyond girlfriend, you wonder?  Lover?  No, not good enough.  Partner?  No.  No, not wife, definitely fucking not—  “Thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Peli waves him away and spins around to leave, but not before throwing one final thing over her shoulder.  “That ain’t an open invitation to come back, by the way.”

All of a sudden, you just can’t stop yourself from breaking out into a wide grin, tucking your chin in hopes that she won’t see it with her back turned and decide to pounce on the display of weakness.  The three of you watch her stride out of the room and immediately bark an order at one of her droids to get back to work, who starts looking around in desperate search of something to do, and Din’s palm finds its usual place on your lower back as she disappears.

“What a nice lady,” you offer to him, and he gives you a wordless grumble in response.

***

So it’s a couple hours later and you think the kid might actually have the right idea this time.

You find yourself wishing you had a little hover pod of your own that followed Din around, one you could close the lid on and hide in while blaster fire whistles through the air around you like the baby is currently doing.  You’re trying to listen to instructions—you’re trying, but there’s a lot going on here.  Voices chatting, guns firing, targets being pinged, a lively little band playing in the cantina next door.  

When Din first led you through Mos Eisley and inside this specific adobe hut, if you’re being completely honest, you had hoped for food.  A comparatively large restaurant, perhaps?  Peli didn’t starve you by any stretch of the imagination, but her dinners were the exact same every single night, and you’ve learned to thrive on new things.  While you didn’t necessarily think he was going to take you on a… a date, or anything, you certainly didn’t expect him to take you to a shooting range.

Well.  Now that you think about it, this might actually be a date.

Luckily you’re hidden away in the furthest firing partition from the door, but even without the near-constant barrage of gunfire to your left, the distractions are still plentiful.  The kid actually reached down and pressed the button to close his crib himself as soon as the bright beams of plasma started zooming past and reflecting in his large black eyes, and oh how you wish that were you.  You don’t necessarily feel like you’re in danger or anything, but you’ve also never seen so many guns in one place before and you’re worried you’re accidentally going to hurt someone else.

So far Din has taught you the fundamentals for any firearm—always keep the safety on until you’re ready to fire, never point at anything unless you’re a hundred percent willing to shoot it, yada yada yada—and also the safety fundamentals for blasters specifically.  So, making sure there’s no leaks in the gas cylinder when you first load it, never letting a strong magnet get near the power pack, checking the surface of your target for deflection curves if you want to prevent a ricochet, or maybe in his case, inspire one.  He’s taught you your stance, he’s taught you how to read your sights, now all that’s left is just to… shoot.

Your arms raise up in front of you and the metal feels too heavy and awkward in your hands, and you have to hold the handle in your left and creep your right index finger all the up the side of the barrel until you feel the indented safety switch.  It clicks and you reset your grip to slowly ease your finger onto the trigger, staring down the sight, right at the bullseye.  Din is standing directly behind you next to the kid’s tightly closed hovering pod, arms crossed and just waiting for you to pull it.

Come on beginner’s luck, come on beginner’s luck—

You fire, and… well.  You don’t think you’ve ever seen a shot miss its target that spectacularly in your entire life.  You’re almost surprised the beam of plasma didn’t somehow ricochet back into the booth you’re both standing in, that’s how spectacularly you missed.

“Try again.”

There’s no amusement in his voice, nothing mocking about it.  Pure monotone under the helmet, as if he was just naturally expecting that to happen.  

No, you think in frustration.  You want to surprise him again, impress him with how quickly you can pick things up, turn him on like last time.  You just fucking know that would get to him—seeing you easily hit the target dead center with his own blaster, you know that would get to him.

You adjust your aim and fire a few more times.  Miss, miss, wild miss, miss.  Fuck, so many distractions, plasma flying in the corner of your vision and an increasingly heavy gaze from behind you.  Another miss, a miss, yeesh that’s a miss—

Alright, so you're just embarrassing yourself at this point.

“I think it’s broken,” you shrug in defeat, taking a second to find the safety switch and toggle it before going to set the gun down on the raised adobe platform separating the line of booths from the targets—but then Din suddenly snatches the blaster from your grip and extends his arm over your shoulder, firing off six rounds in rapid succession so wickedly fast that you jump backwards into his rock solid chest in surprise.  He doesn’t give an inch under the collision and even wraps his forearm tight around your tummy as he hits the bullseye with such deadly accurate precision that even the char marks and the line of smoke left wafting from the target’s center are razor-thin.

“Works just fine,” he grunts, setting the weapon back down again before urging you forward a bit.  “Go ahead, give it another shot.”

But you’re on a remarkable delay, just trying to process his sheer speed, how fluid and seamless the entire fucking motion was.  Fucking Maker, blink and you’d miss the whole thing.  He waited to grab the gun from you until you turned the safety on, but then… then how did he fire it so insanely fucking fast?  That’s like five different things he had to do with one single hand within a split second…?

“I turned the safety on,” you blink down at the blaster, clearly just trying to process.

“Yeah,” he agrees blankly, as if he’s unsure as to what specifically you’re so stuck on right now.

“So how did you toggle so fas—?”

He picks it from the shelf gracefully and lightning quick—as if he just can’t help but go that speed around his weapon—and then he twists it on its side, flexing his wrist back until the barrel is pointed upwards and you can clearly see his index finger extend all the way up to the safety switch, flipping it up and down while his middle finger rests over the trigger guard.

“How in the f…?”  You mutter, lifting your hand up next to his and positioning your fingers in the exact same L shape, only the tip of your index finger barely stretches an inch shy of the switch.  “Psh,” you huff, dropping your arm back down again.  “Design flaw.”

“For you,” he acknowledges, using the trigger guard to flip it back to its proper position in his hand like fucking spinning it like that is just the easiest and most natural way to handle the deadly weapon.  “This gun was made for me, it’s a feature.  Yours would be smaller and lighter, have the safety towards the back of the chamber instead of along the barrel.”

The words and the casual display of ability cause a rush of stirring excitement to burst forth inside you, suddenly giddy at the very thought.

“Wait,” you draw the word out with a grin, leaning back into him and gently nudging him with your elbow to make sure he knows you’re only mostly joking.  “You gonna buy me a blaster, Mando?  I did earn my keep this week, didn’t I?”

“Have to find one that fits a big enough sight first,” he mutters while setting the gun down on the table, and you scoff at him as his hands come to rest on your hips.  They squeeze and try to guide you forwards once again.  “Prove that you can at least hit the target with mine and we’ll see.”

“You only get to make fun of me if you give me a real answer,” you rule, planting your feet and refusing to budge.

“Okay, but we both know I’ll make fun of you anyways,” he sighs, and you have to dig your heels in and push back into him to keep yourself rooted to the spot.

“You’re not being a very encouraging teacher,” you accuse without trying to hide your grin.  “In fact I feel very discouraged right now and I think that y—”

But then Din suddenly tips his helmet closer to your ear and lowers his voice, cutting you off.  “Did you know that gifting someone a weapon is considered a proposal of marriage on Mandalore?”

Your smile quickly drops and you gasp, wholly startled at the implication and immediately trying to spin around to look at him.  “Holy shit, are you serious?”

“No,” comes his modulated grunt, tightening his hold and keeping you firmly facing forwards.  “Of course not.  Pick up the gun.”

Okay.

Okay, so that one gets you.

You immediately start giggling, painfully aware that this isn’t the time or place for it, but that one actually fucking got you.  Din easily guides and parks your gullible ass in front of the window carved out of dried mud before picking up the blaster himself and forcing you to hold it with your loose hands, grumbling under his breath.

Shit, okay, focus.  Focus, you can do this.  You clear the laughter from your throat and suddenly get deadly serious, staring your target down like it’s personally gone out of its way to ruin your entire life.  The blaster feels cold in your palms but not when Din’s hands wrap warm and tight around the back of yours, letting you hold the gun how it’s most comfortable for you before gently settling his fingers down over yours.  His chestpiece presses tight against your shoulder blades when he guides the gun up and out, and his arms are long enough to extend yours fully even though he’s behind you and still has some bend to his elbows.  He uses his feet to kick your ankles apart until they’re shoulder-width and then you both carefully find the trigger together.

He’s quiet and slow about it and the whole thing is one giant fucking turn-on.  Maker, chill out.  Chill out, he’s teaching you how to shoot.  This is important stuff, there are people around, chill out…

Din takes a moment to aim the barrel and his hold is so fucking steady, so unwavering and strong.  You wonder if it’d be too obvious if you pushed your hips back a little, you might be able to feel his—

“Fire,” Din murmurs next to your ear, and you pull the trigger without a second thought.

The bright red plasma beam launches from the end of the blaster and hits the target dead center.  You gasp, pulling the trigger again, and unsurprisingly, it’s another perfect shot.

He suddenly lets go of your arms and takes a small step back, but the second he removes his body from yours, the rounds start bouncing wildly off the edges of the target.  Your eyebrows furrow and you try to emulate how you think the angle felt before, but you can’t find it anymore and you’re just failing spectacularly.

When you decide to pause for a second, Din steps up close behind you and wraps his arms around you once more.  You can feel the exact moment he’s locked in his aim, and you fire wordlessly as soon as you know it’s going to hit.  Bullseye, right on the nose.

This time, he lifts just his hands away from yours, staying perfectly still otherwise and you swear you don’t move a single fucking muscle in your entire body before pulling the trigger, but it still hits the far corner of the target.

“It’s broken,” you shrug once again, and Din drops his helmet to your shoulder with a sigh.  “This gun was made for you, which means there’s obviously some mod you have installed that reads biometrics and ruins the shot no matter how good it—”

“Not even close, but that’s not a bad idea,” he tells you, watching you click the safety on and set the uncooperative blaster down.  “I can’t figure out what you’re doing wrong.   Are you just distracted?”

Uh, fuck yeah you are.  So much is going on and more than that, he’s here and he’s just… fuck, you know what he meant when he said he felt like he was losing his mind.  He’s your biggest distraction, all the time.  He’s still standing so close to you and the baby is still isolated and tucked away in his hovering sphere, and you take a moment to think about it.  

Yes, it’s… it’s possible that you may learn better by example than anything else.

“Can I watch you do it?”  You ask him, and Din shrugs before reaching around you and quickly grabbing the blaster from its mud shelf.  “Wait—” you tell him while he raises and extends his arm over your shoulder, and then you wiggle sideways as much as possible in the small booth to squeeze around behind him.  He doesn’t say anything as you swap places with him and scoot up behind him, but you can tell by his body language that he’s confused.  You wonder if he liked that position and watching you shoot his gun, even if you’re complete shit at it.

He stands in front of you for a second and you give him an encouraging, “Okay,” to let him know you’re ready, but then the helmet turns back to look at the target like he’s still unsure as to what you want specifically.  You keep your mouth shut and let him figure it out.  You meant what you said—you want to watch him shoot.  You want to watch him where he’s infamous, watch him do what he’s best at and let completely loose in front of you.

As if it finally clicks for him, Din turns to face the target and suddenly throws the blaster into his left hand while reaching down and pushing a button hidden under the hollow platform with his right.  You have to lean around his broad shoulders to watch the target slide backwards on its track easily triple the distance before squeaking and slamming to a stop.  Din stretches his non-dominant hand out and subtly tilts his helmet before firing six times, easily hitting the bullseye with just as much accuracy as before, and you frown when you notice the only shots that have actually hit the target so far have all been dead center.

He sets the gun down and stands there for a second, staring across the range like it’s nothing at all to him and it’s… remarkable.  Not that he’s a wicked shot, you’ve known that the second you laid eyes on his armor all those months ago.  No, it’s just… you would think this is where he’d thrive, if anywhere.  The entire place is full of smugglers, raiders, scavengers, mercenaries—occupations that define themselves by their grit.  They’re talking as much as they’re shooting, conversing in languages you’ve never heard but suspect Din easily understands.  But instead of fitting in, he’s just… there.  He doesn’t look comfortable, but he also doesn’t look uncomfortable, either.  He doesn’t look like he’s having any fun at all.

None of this is considered a hobby to him, you suddenly realize.  It’s not fun because he’s too good at it.  This is life.  This is going back to school for the most basic fundamentals of a job he’s excelled at for decades—it’s not interesting, he’s gaining absolutely nothing from practicing.

You try to think of the last time you’ve seen him truly in his element.  You think back on all the different settings—he looked out of place on Canto Bight, got into fights on Corellia, hated Coruscant, seemed stressed on Nevarro, and even on Naboo, even in the middle of paradise, he looked unsure if he actually deserved to be there with you.  Now here on Tatooine, where he has real people that he trusts, where he’s surrounded by like-minded individuals shooting his favorite things in the world, it’s like he’s still not able to fully let go.

Is it just you, you wonder?  Does he stand out more just because you’re the one looking?

No, you think.  No.  You have seen him relax.  You’ve seen him laugh before, you’ve seen him be himself with you.  

But… only with you.  A hardened bounty hunter that much prefers the company of a young woman and an infant to literally anyone else in the galaxy.

Fuck.  Why does that turn you on so fucking much?  It’s the display of prowess, the sheer skill he’s developed, how fucking deadly he is—and how you’ve felt him use that trigger finger to trace slow circles around your clit.  The Mandalorian standing with his blaster raised has probably been the last thing too many people have ever seen in their lifetimes, and yet watching from this angle just makes you feel protected, guarded, and… so fucking horny for him.

“Do it again,” you eventually murmur, touching both your palms to his back this time just to feel it.  You want to feel him shoot, you want to feel his muscles move with it.  You want to touch how mechanically he’s able to aim, you want to know if he’s loose or tense when he fires, you just want to… feel it.

Din grabs the gun and as he extends his arms out, you slide your hands up his back to rest under his shoulders.  He’s so broad, he feels so warm and strong, and his trigger releases are so steady that nothing above his wrists move.

Shit, before he’s even finished setting the blaster back down again, you’re already scooting up behind him as close as possible and carefully slithering your arms around his waist, hugging your body tight to his back.  Din stays completely still while your mouth presses against the fabric of his cape and your hands begin to slowly slide down his stomach.

He doesn’t say a damn thing, which makes it even hotter for some reason.  There’s no warning he gives you, no low growl of your name or sweet girl being dragged through the modulator.  He stays completely silent and holds there while blasters continue to fire from stalls to your left, and it gives you the thrill of your lifetime.  Big strong man holding perfectly still for you to touch in the middle of a crowded room.

Your hand slips under his waistband and sink down low until you can trail your fingertips along his cock, hidden from sight beneath the edge of the clay shelf.  The small sound you make at feeling it already firm and at attention for you gets lost in the noise of the shooting range, but you wrap your palm around it and give it a good, slow pull upwards, feeling Din’s back expand with a breath from the sensation.

“Do it again,” you whisper into his shoulder blade, slowly playing with his cock in his pants with one hand while keeping the other wrapped tight around his abdomen.

Din immediately snatches the blaster off the platform and fires it the very moment he takes aim, and you can feel his cock pulse in your palm as he lets off the shots.  Dead center, as always, but he clunks the metal back down with a bit more force this time and then lingers his fingertips at the sloped edge of it for a second, as if he’s considering whether or not he should hold onto it.  

You’re already wet between your legs, but it gets worse the longer he allows you to keep doing this.  His skin is furnace-hot and he throbs for you, and you trail your thumb up to check—oh, Maker, he’s leaking for you, too.  You drag the pad of your thumb over the tip and gently rub the wetness along the curve of his head, before easing back down to give the shaft another slow pull.

A quiet puff of air comes through the vocal filter, but that’s all you audibly get out of him.  Still, it’s more than enough to fill you with a wicked heat and a desperate desire for more.  So you bite your lip and glance around just to double-check that nobody else has wandered over behind you and the kid is still tucked away in his crib, probably passed out in the secluded darkness at this point.  And then you barely take a split-second to consider it before your knees are bending and you’re slowly sinking down the length of his body.

Din is a fucking statue.  He doesn’t do anything to allow your wiggling underneath the raised platform anymore than he widens his stance to prevent it.  Once you’re on your knees in front of him in the dim isolation of your hiding spot though, he takes a single step forward and pins his waist to the hardened clay above your head, and a thrill skitters through you at being completely walled in on all four sides.

You reach up to hook your fingertips in his hem of his trousers and begin pulling them down, so tight and achy between your legs that you want to shove your hand down between them already.  You don’t though, not yet, because you need two hands to be extra careful in getting his cock out.  You don’t even want the fabric of his pants to touch it, you want your mouth to be the only sensation he knows here.

At the very last second, you decide to pull the waistband down far enough to let his balls rest outside the confining clothing, getting increasingly hotter at the thought that this isn’t going to be sneaky and dirty, even if you’re in public.  Din’s wide stance and the floor-length cape hide you perfectly from any prying eyes behind his back, so it’s going to be soft and it’s going to be slow and he’s going to be comfortable while you go down on him.

Your mouth is already watering, so you bend down just slightly and lift your chin to gently drag your tongue along the smooth skin of his balls before anything else.  Honestly—you don’t think he’s expecting you to go there first, because his whole body suddenly jerks at the velvet soft sensation between his legs and you let out a low hum in response.  He can’t reach you down here unless he tries to, so you scoot your knees up a little bit and just decide to go for it.  This way he won’t be able to get it confused, he won’t pull you out from under here halfway through when you suck on his balls before anything else.  This is what you want from him, what’s right here in your mouth.

You switch to the other one and Din twitches with a filtered breath, the skin already tightening up and responding gorgeously under your tongue.  His hand hovers somewhere near the raised platform above your head, fingers curling in his leather gloves and caught right between stopping you and letting you continue.  While he allows it, you ease your way up and make it just tantalizing enough to make him ache without providing any real stimulation, slowly trailing your tongue up the length of his cock and pressing plush lips to the flared head.

Din exhales a shakily while you take your time, tasting the precum as his body produces it, just kissing and licking and purposefully refusing to touch him with anything besides your mouth.  Without being able to see the rest of him from this angle, you're left to your own devices—you’re so gentle and soft about the pleasure that you start to separate the man from the throbbing erection you’re currently playing with.  You begin to enjoy yourself without thinking too much about the struggle he must be withstanding right now, you moan softly against his heated skin even though you know you’re being a tease at the worst possible moment, but no matter how you decide to take your time with it, Din continues to allow it.  He endures.  Silent, perfectly still, until you eventually decide to wrap your lips around the head of his cock and flutter your tongue up underneath it.

But then he jumps and your eyes open when a deep, unkind voice from the stall to your left calls out, “Hey, Mando!  Gonna fuckin’ shoot or just stand there, huh?”

You can hear his immediate frustration in the blaster scraping against the shelf over your head, and you moan softly around his cock the second you feel him tense and start firing.  The smooth skin pulses on your tongue and you slide your fingers around the backs of his knees, opening your throat and slowly taking him deeper.  

And, for a man that has repeatedly fired six perfect shots every single time he picks up his gun, he falters after just three this time.

The heat of your mouth must be too overwhelming.  Too fucking good, too detrimental to his focus and composure to even perform the most basic tasks he typically excels at.  Like a seasoned mathematician that suddenly struggles to count to ten, a renowned author that can’t recite their ABC’s—Mando can’t even fire a weapon right now and it’s all because of you.  

He has to keep trying though, he has to make an actual effort now that you both know someone nearby is paying at least some sort of attention to his performance.  The sound of more plasma arcing through the air over your head slowly disappears into the background in a way that it never could while you were the one firing—you’re completely hidden and safe down here, you can moan low in your throat while keeping your hands around his knees and begin to bob your head without another thought or worry whatsoever.  Handling it is all on him.  He just needs to stay quiet, be still, and shoot his gun.  It should be the simplest thing in the galaxy for him, right?

Wrong.  So wrong.  You hear the way the bolts are pinging off the sides of the target now, you listen to him grunt and let off a few more shots that also sound like they miss.  Your soft palate lifts and you’re practically drenching yourself at how wide he stretches your throat while you take him down as far as you can, and there’s a moment where you’re holding there and you think about doing something about the dull ache throbbing between your legs.  But once you pull off him for air and automatically touch your drooling tongue to your palm, you decide this is what you want more.

Your slick hand wraps around his cock and starts to slowly jerk him off while your mouth moves down to attach to his balls once more, your touch gliding strong and wet along his entire length.  Din almost doubles over into the platform, his hips stuttering up for the first time at the hard stimulation you’re finally giving him.  His skin swells and tightens in your mouth—you can feel the tension locking his thighs down, you can hear the shots above you start to decrease in frequency, and you know he’s already close.

So you move back up to suck on the head of his cock again and slowly swirl your tongue around it, continuing to use your hand to pull steady and firm on the rest of his shaft, and you just close your eyes and wait for him to give you what you want.  His firing soon stops altogether and you squeeze your finger between your thighs and press hard against your clit, just needing to relieve some of the ache.  You keep doing that, you keep drawing circles with your tongue while slowly jerking the rest of him off into your mouth, and at some point, it all just becomes too much for him.

“Shit,” Din gasps, along with the sudden sound of metal skittering against the clay above you, and your eyes pop open in surprise.  “Ah, sh—shhhhh—”

Maker, did he just drop his fucking gun?

You start to pull back, but then suddenly a trembling hand shoots down and clutches tight under your throat, hooking hard behind your jaw to make sure you stay right there.

His cock starts throbbing and he shudders, slamming his other palm on the shelf and cumming hard in your mouth.  You’re already swallowing before he even gives you anything but Maker, you’re fucking desperate for it that your hand moves to curl your fingers against the exposed skin at his hips as if that’ll somehow help you get it sooner.  The first taste of him comes as soon as you dig in and drag your nails down his flesh, and Din is helpless to do anything else besides clutch your jaw tight and gasp raggedly while emptying himself down your throat.

He shakes and shudders and you don’t spill a single drop, clutching his hips and pulling him close to keep him in your mouth, and as he slowly comes down from that plateau, you lick every inch of him clean.  His fingers gradually lose their rigidity around your jaw and eventually, his fingers drop down to press gently against your throat while his hips pull back.

He slips from your mouth and you wipe the wetness from your chin, staring up at his cock wistfully and almost wanting to keep going.  Is that fucked up, you wonder?  What would he think?

He hasn’t moved yet, why isn’t he moving?  Your job is clearly finished here, no matter what kind of way you may feel about that.  The coast must not be clear, you have to assume.  Perhaps someone is wandering around behind him, maybe he’s still being cautious about the nosy person next door—all you know is that you can tell he wants to move but he isn’t, which likely means he can’t.  You know his cock must be so unbelievably sensitive right now, but he’s not easing his body back far enough away from the shelf to tuck it into his pants.  He’s keeping it right in front of your face and expecting you to stay there until he deems it appropriate for you to get up.

The longer you wait for him to step back and let you out from under here, the more your need sparks and grows.  What would he think?  That you’re so desperate for his cock that you still want it in your mouth even when it’s soft and spent?  Maker, he’d be fucking right on the money.

At some point, you can’t stop yourself.  You lean back up to slowly take his soft cock back in your mouth, and Din nearly spasms while you slip your hand under your waistband and widen your knees.

You don’t do anything spectacular to it—you’re not that cruel—but you do hold him on the heat of your tongue and keep him there, fluttering your eyes closed as your finger finally touches your clit.  Air puffs shakily through your nostrils and you think Din is actually shaking harder than you are, his body fighting oversensitivity while yours starts the race towards bliss.  He doesn’t stop you but it also feels like he’s purposefully trying not to, like everything in him is rebelling against the wet heat of your mouth but knowing you’re only doing this because you’re so painfully turned on.  You’re doing this because you need it, in spite of the electric shocks of wicked sensation it seems to be inspiring in him.

Your finger speeds up and you start gently sucking on the warm, giving flesh, and his hand trembles as it grabs at your hair.  Fuck, you don’t care if he thinks you’re desperate—you want him to recognize it, you want him to know exactly how much you love his cock—

That thought sends a dark thrill down your spine and pleasure burns bright and needy where you’re still rubbing your clit, dropping your hips and rolling them forwards against your hand.  And oh, your only lament is that you wish he was the one doing this.  You wish Din was building your pleasure instead of letting you use his body in search of your own, you wish it was his hand working between your legs and about to shove you over that ledge, but then again.  Something about this whole fucking scene is just so… undignified.  Debased.  And you’re getting off on it, quicker than you ever thought possible.

When you cum, you’re good and you don’t make a single sound when you cum.  You squeeze your eyes shut and your entire body jolts with every single shattering wave of ecstasy, and Din tugs a handful of your hair and slowly rocks his hips once, twice, fucking your mouth while you endure wildfire burning through your veins.  By the time you finish convulsing on the fucking floor of a Tatooinian gun range, you know you can go for another and probably get it equally as quick as that one, but Din is already pulling his cock out of your mouth and shoving it back into his pants.  You’re like jelly as your elbow is immediately caught in his arm and you’re hauled up from your hiding spot, dazed and disoriented.

The chrome visor stares you down and you want to shrink in on yourself, thinking he’s going to take your happy ass back to the Crest.  You should be in trouble, you know you should be in trouble.  Leaving the recesses of your dark cubby and coming face to face with your surroundings brings a brand new clarity to light—you totally should not have done any of that.  He was trying to teach you, for Maker’s sake.  He was taking the time to show you the valuable knowledge he’s gained regarding weaponry and self-defense.  Fuck, you even told him on Naboo that you wanted to shoot a gun, and he brought you here to do just that.

Except then he just spins you around and picks up the blaster from the adobe ledge in front of you, placing it firmly in your hands.

“Okay,” he pants quietly next to your ear, breathing hard and shallow through the helmet.  “Now you should be able to focus, right?”

Fuck…  Fuck, is he serious?  You can barely hold the damn thing, you’re shaking so hard.  How does this work again?  What does this do?

“Wh-What?”  You croak—fuck, your voice is gone.  “I… I can’t—”

“Try,” he encourages, helping your comparatively tiny hands flip off the safety but other than that, stepping back and leaving you to it.  Completely and hopelessly lost, you weakly twist around to watch him stand next to the kid’s closed metallic shield.  “Hit the target,” Din reiterates with a nod, trying to catch his breath.  “You can do it.”

You look back out with unfocused eyes to see it still all the way on the far end of its track, and there’s just absolutely no fucking way.  “I… can’t.”

“Hit the target and we can go home,” he tells you, and while you don’t exactly know what home is anymore, something tells you it’s somewhere in hyperspace.  A resting baby, a metal floor, a pitch black hull, and your cheek pressed against a warm chest.

It sounds… wonderful.

Inspiring a newfound kind of desire in you, you lift your arms as best you can and work so, so hard to keep them steady.  The target is in your sights and you do your absolute best—fuck, you really do, but you pull the trigger and the shot sadly bounces off the edge.

You drop your hands, already defeated and drained.  “I can’t.”

“Hit the target and I’ll buy you a blaster,” he ups the ante, and you instantly lift your dead arms again.  Fuck, come on, come on, you can do this.

You shoot.  Nope.  So you shoot again.  And then you shoot again, and again, minutely adjusting your wrists purely based on where the bright red plasma is landing and ignoring the scope entirely.

“A nice one,” he continues over the pew pew pew of you just continuing to fucking miss, fucking miserably, over and over again.  “Expensive.  Hand-crafted, one of a kind…”

Miss, miss, miss, and—no.  Just, no.  There’s only so much glaring failure you can take before you snap.  You finally stop shooting and growl in frustration, going to slam the metal down on its resting place.  “Mando, I ca—”

“Hit the target and I’ll marry you,” he says quietly, and you freeze just before impact.

… What?  N… No…

Miraculously, you somehow manage to calmly switch the safety on and set the blaster down before turning back to see the helmet staring at you, unmoving.

You… you know it must just be a joke, right?  Just a stupid extension to the one he made earlier, it must be.  You blink dumbly at him and flick your gaze between the visor and two large black eyes staring at you from the crib, wondering if you glitched or if you’re just hallucinating.

“Uh…” you hear yourself say, even though you’ve got absolutely nothing, but Din doesn’t offer anything else to fill in the gaps of your startled misunderstanding.  If you didn’t have such a wild fucking reaction to the words, you'd probably wonder if he actually said them or not—that’s how much he gives away.  Silent, so unbelievably silent when you’re begging him to give you at least something.  Is he messing with you again?  Is he just that confident that you’re going to fail?

It takes forever for you to turn back around and face the target, but you eventually do when he refuses to elaborate.  Your heart slams in your chest and you wonder what you’re doing even attempting this.

The moment you lift your trembling arms is the moment you know your heart is pounding too fast—your finger twitches with the wild rush of blood flow and you end up pulling the trigger way before you’re ready.  You fire before you’ve checked your sights, you fire before you’ve taken any sort of aim whatsoever, you fire spontaneously enough to surprise even yourself and it—

—it hits dead center.

Your stomach drops and a jolt of some rabid feeling punches through you, you have no idea what it is.  You whip around so fast that you get dizzy, seeing him standing there, completely still.

“That was just beginner’s luck,” you quickly reassure him, suddenly feeling faint.  Holy shit, holy shit, what the fuck just happened?  “Listen—hey, no, listen, I can’t get it again,” you explain shrilly to the utterly dead silence from him.  “Look, watch this, double or nothing.”

You spin back around, well aware that absolutely nothing about what you just said or what just happened made any fucking sense at all.  Beginner’s luck when you’ve been consistently awful at this, telling him repeatedly to listen when you’re very, very fucking aware he hasn’t said anything, double or nothing on a literal proposal as if double marriage is something that actually exists?

No.  Shut up.  Don’t even think that word, don’t think about fucking anything.  Fire, fire without thinking, just lift the gun and pull the trigger—

You do, and oh.  Oh, no.

“Uh?!”  Your voice comes out on a squeak, now in a complete fucking panic.  What the fuck?  No fucking way.  Perfect, perfect, the odds are fucking astronomical—another deadly accurate shot.  “Ah, um, okay, scratch everything I said—th-third time’s a charm?”

Wide-eyed and having absolutely no clue what you’re doing at this point, you fail to see Din slowly turn his helmet down and to the right as he stands behind you.  You go to lift your arms and pull the trigger, but then he suddenly reaches out lightning-quick and bumps your elbow upwards at the very last second.  

The abrupt push causes your shot to be angled off course spectacularly and you can’t do anything but look up and gasp in horror, worried it’s going to ricochet off the ceiling and land somewhere this building isn’t architecturally designed to absorb.  There’s just enough time to wildly wonder why the fuck he did that—

—but then, like pure magic before your eyes… the beam of plasma adjusts itself in midair.  

It fucking bends.  Across the length of your entire firing lane, it curves in a downward trajectory and hits the target with absolutely impossible physics.

Your jaw fucking drops and you whip your body around in dumb shock to see Din staring hard at the closed shield next to him.

… that’s not closed.

The baby tilts his head at you and coos happily, one ear tipping up while the other tips down, and you’re completely blown away.  Not only at the entirely unexpected demon-power display, but what specifically he was hoping to get out of it.  You’re still stuck, blinking down at the adorable little goof with abilities you’ll never understand.

Only, a hand suddenly grabs yours and drags you back to yourself.

“We need to leave,” Din says quietly, switching the lid shut on the hovering crib and pushing it towards the booth’s exit while tugging you along behind him.  “I don’t know how many people saw that, we need to leave.”

Sure enough, voices in the next partition over start picking up, likely the only ones in here who had a good enough angle to watch the physically unthinkable shot somehow meet its target, and your adrenaline quickly begins pumping while you keep your head down and power-walk your ass to the door.  You don’t know the kind of consequences that could potentially arise from others witnessing the kid’s literal sorcery, but you know you’d rather not take the chance.  The voices start growing louder as you three make your quick escape, beginning to ask others around them if they just saw that, but you’re already out of the rectangular adobe structure and long gone by the time anybody steps out of their panels to hear the uproarious accusations of cheating beginning to fly.

***

Stay tuned for the next part!

[finrays]

10) Aspire!

I’m on the boat for the first time in months... I queued this one up!

More Indenture... this is a weird, weird AU, and it goes FULL Scumbag Council... but I enjoy writing it.

Maybe you’ll enjoy it too!

In other news, I hate this guy, so I made him a devout follower of Ayn Rand, who I also hate... remember to piss on her grave if you’re ever in the area.

-

“Do you know what your problem is?” Gerard asks, running a finger along the chrome-plated edge of his desk as he rises from his chair, “it’s that you didn’t aspire to enough. You didn’t have the right kind of ambition.”

The Indentured, as always, does not reply. Stands with the same crisp, military bearing that all of them do, chin and shoulders held back in immaculate posture. The inscrutable visor of the helmet stays fixed on a point somewhere behind the desk.

There are days when it drives him almost mad; what point is there in a conquered enemy, if the enemy doesn’t know they’ve been conquered?

But on most days, the silence and the obedience suit him just fine. Fortunately for him (and for the task queue of this particular conscript,) today is one of those days.

Prowling around the desk, he begins to circle, examining the dented armor, with its smudges of dust and foggy sanitizing agents. This one has been at work, probably performing a menial task that could just as easily be done by a servitor. Something degrading, like cleaning an air duct, or retrieving samples from the planet’s surface.

The thought brings him vindictive pleasure.

“It’s the same problem that all of you have. A lack of vision. A lack of…”

Pausing to search for the correct term, he grasps at the empty air, as though he’ll find the answers there.

“…killer instinct,” he finally decides.

“I see it in some of our own, even. Some of the ones that Tshivhumbe recruited. So much brainpower. So many people who could have made trillions. But none of you did. You held back.”

It’s something that has vexed him for centuries now, even before the Faro Plague, and their exodus from the planet; that there had been so many people who had had every opportunity to take advantage of their natural gifts. Had been offered the world on a silver platter…

…and had turned it down. Had hobbled themselves, and willingly, citing ridiculous reasons that he was certain would sink them in the sharp-fanged business environment of the decades following the Claw-Back.

”The money is secondary.” “I want to give back to the world.” “It’s the right thing to do.” “We have a responsibility to care for this planet.”

At first, he’d tried to convince himself that they were doomed. That they were simply attempting to rise above their proper place, in service to higher visionaries. Like himself.

But eventually, he’d chafed at their very existence, as the world hadn’t dashed them against the rocks, or punished them adequately for their trespass. He’d even come into conflict with several of them, gloating at each victory over his hated opponents, and grinding his teeth at each bitter defeat, revenge never far from his mind.

He could almost feel their judgmental stares. The mocking smiles. The callous laughter.

It had driven him mad. It still drives him mad, from time to time, even with his ultimate victory over every one of his foes.

They’re all dead now, he reminds himself, or here, under my thumb. I’ve beat them. I’ve won.

Doing his best to shake out the irritation of memory, he jabs a finger against the Indentured’s armored chest.

“That’s why you’re here, and I’m where I am. Because you… you…”

All at once, the silence gets to him, and he feels his pleasure deflate into annoyance. Leaving his orbit around the armored figure, he returns to the desk, throwing himself down heavily in the plush chair.

I don’t actually even know which one I’m talking to. I’m just hoping it’s the one I want.

Raising a hand, he flaps it in the still figure’s direction dismissively.

“Go and shine the brass on the Odyssey; the tricentennial is coming up. I want to be able to see my face in the railings by the time you’re done.”

Without a word, the Indentured turns and sweeps from the room. Letting out a terse sigh through his nostrils, Gerard reaches up to massage at his temples.

Still getting under my skin, even after all these years and all those victories.

I’ll just have to find another, higher rung to aspire to.

[sinfulcries]

reader filming him and kenma fucking without his consent and black mailing him the next day, telling kenma that he won't leak the video if kenma becomes his slave. despite reader being toxic, kenma catches feelings for him and when he confesses, reader says he feels the same way and fucks kenma only to crush kenma's hopes by saying he was just joking & that he would never like him hehe.

tokyo afternoons . kenma x male reader

authors notes. holy shit this was really long and it took me a few weeks to write. i was planning on writing 2 smuts for this but i lost inspiration at the end </3 anyways, virgin kenma hits differently

word count. 3.1k

tw. blackmail, non consensual filming, manipulation, toxic && douche-y reader, sadistic reader, virginity loss, corruption, size difference, unprotected sex, ignorant kuroo, obsession, spitting, noncon at the end.

The air was hot. Tokyo has always been so warm but it was never this hot. Kenma’s pale skin started to sweat, cheeks flushed as golden eyes peered at the man who was sitting beside him. You always left a warm feeling in his chest-- always left his heart drumming loudly whilst his cheeks were flushed a bright red. You were addictive, one of the people who managed to effortlessly bring a smile on to Kenma’s face.

“You’re staring at me.” You broke the comfortable silence with a chuckle, Kenma snapping out of his trance as he turned away to avoid your hot gaze. “Sorry,” Muttering a half hearted response in reply, the blonde averted his gaze to the sky-- watching the harsh sunlight spread over tokyo’s vast horizon. “You know, You look really pretty when you were staring at me earlier.” Another sentence that came out of your mouth broke the comfortable silence once again, and Kenma eyed you cautiously, not wanting to believe the compliment. 

“Do you say that to every person you hook up with?” Furrowing your eyebrows at his response, you planted your arms on top of your thighs, resting your head in the comfort of your palms as you looked at the shorter blonde seated beside you. “Believe it or not, I’ve only said that to you.” 

A sweet-talker. That’s what you were. Trying to lure Kenma in with your velvety voice and your captivating stare. Again, you were addicting. And Kenma was bewildered that he managed to hook up with you, the most popular and well loved guy in his university. “You seem like the type of person to call your partner a slut in public.” 

“I do call my partner’s ‘slut’ in public. Not with you though.” You snorted, grinning as you faced the sky, taking occasional glances at the male. “And why is that?” Confusion laced in his voice, and eyes narrowed at your taller figure, you only smiled softly in response, lashes fluttering against soft skin as you whispered faintly, “You’re just different.” 

Kenma could barely form a response with how his skin turned hot quickly-- The heat of the sun accompanied by your words only making him more of a mess than he already was. Hearing the speakerphone play the familiar tone signalling that their break was over, you grabbed the back of the smaller boy’s neck before pulling his head in to connect your lips with his. You took the opportunity to tug on his bottom lip between your teeth before pulling away. 

“I’ll see you at my place, Kozume.”  You sing-songed whilst simultaneously standing up to catch your next class. Kenma was left to stare at your retreating form, cheeks dusted with red as he felt the warmth in his chest spread every time he thought of your lips on his own once more.

Time seemed to tick slowly-- and Kenma had to begrudgingly go through the whole day without thinking of you or the intimate little moment that you had with him a few hours ago. It was pure torture-- not having you by his side or seeing your smile or hearing your shameless attempts at flirting. It was embarrassing, but he knew that he was getting used to you and your presence. Running a hand through his coarse hair, he spotted you leaning against the wall outside of his classroom, a greasy smile plastered on your face as you diverted your attention from the ladies beside you to the small blonde. 

Kenma’s heart dropped. He knew you were popular and that he didn’t have the right to get jealous because you were never his to begin with, but did that intimate moment mean nothing to you? Did that kiss mean nothing to you? He was snapped out of his thoughts when you tapped his shoulder once again-- your deep voice ringing in his ears as you cupped his cheek tenderly. “-ma, Kenma hey?” 

“Sorry I zoned out again.” He apologised, forgetting about what upset him for a moment before removing your calloused hand that rested on his cheek. You frowned at the action but soon relaxed, taking his small hand in your own. “Don’t worry about it. Should we get going?” You asked, and Kenma tensed, heaving a sigh as he mustered the courage to remove his hand from your hold.

“I don’t think i can go to your place today. Just choose one of those girls to go instead.” he murmured, bowing dejectedly. Tilting your head in confusion, you slowly grabbed his chin, tilting his head softly so that his golden orbs could meet yours. “Are you jealous, Ken?” you cooed, pressing another kiss onto his lips as he could only hear the whispers of his classmates in the background.

Kenma started shaking, instinctively moving closer towards you, turning his head so that he could bury his face into your chest. Noticing Kenma’s change of behaviour, you glared at the group of girls gossiping, instantly shutting them up. “Mind your own business.” Your loud voice was heard throughout the semi-crowded hallway and the people who had witnessed the sight of you kissing kenma nodded frantically, scrambling away to leave you and kenma to your own devices.

“They’re gone now baby. You can stop hiding.” Grabbing his hips gently, the blonde slowly scanned his surroundings before hugging you again, a soft whimper leaving his lips as you stroked his hair soothingly, “T-Thank you.”

Smiling fondly you replied, “No problem. Let’s go, baby.” 

As the two of you made your way towards your apartment, Kenma couldn’t help but stare at your taller figure, huddling closer to your side once he felt the chilly afternoon air hitting his skin. “We’re almost there, kitten. Sorry I didn’t bring my jacket.” You apologised, instead removing your blazer and placing it on top of his shoulders. “You’ll get cold, y/n.” Kenma murmured worriedly, “I’ll be fine baby, don’t worry.”

His chest rose and fell quietly. The faint sounds of footsteps and your occasional humming were the only sounds that he could hear in the empty street. You both arrived at your place quite quickly. You politely opened the door for the setter, leaving your backpacks at the doorstep and discarding your shoes before making your way towards the kitchen. “Do you want something to eat, Ken?” You called out, opening your fridge to scan over the snacks you had. 

“No thank you.” Kenma declined from the couch, unbuttoning the first top buttons of his dress shirt and tossing his tie to the side. “Suit yourself.”

Making your way towards Kenma’s hunched form-- a grin wormed its way onto your lips, ruffling his hair once you crept up behind him. “Wanna go to my room instead? You can lay down more comfortably over there.” 

Kenma gratefully accepted your offer, taking small and reluctant steps towards the mattress. “A-Are you sure I can lay down here?” The blonde shyly inquired, unable to focus once your scent hit his nose. You smelt so good-- fresh and clean, just the way Kenma liked it. You laughed at his flustered expression once more, jumping onto your mattress before pulling him in so that he was on top of you. “You’re light.”

“A-And you’re really warm....” His voice was so faint that you could barely hear it. Kenma looked to face you, cheeks dusted with red as he ran his tongue over his bottom lip thoughtfully. “What’s on your mind?” 

“I was wondering i-if you c-could…” Kenma tried his best not to stutter.

“If I could, what, kitten?”

Closing his eyes, Kenma took a deep breath before murmuring, “If you could kiss me again....”

Not giving the setter a chance to repeat himself, you leaned in to kiss him-- snaking an arm around his slim waist possessively as you started to jerk your hips against his clothed cock. Kenma whimpered into the kiss, eyes shut tightly as he failed to notice your free hand propping your phone on the nightstand-- giving the camera a perfect view of what you were doing to the poor boy. 

“Ruin me, y/n-kun~” Kenma didn't have to tell you twice before a dark smirk made its way onto your lips-- hitting the ‘record’ button before trailing your kisses downwards, kissing and sucking on the skin of his jawline and neck. 

“Mm,” Kenma whimpered, grounding his ass against your growing erection, earning him a deep growl of his name. “Yeah baby keep grinding against my cock like that,” you praised, only making the smaller male comply. 

A whine left the blonde’s lips as he started humping his ass against your thick cock-- his head fuzzy and vision clouded with lust. He loved this so much-- feeling your bulge against his ass. If the tent in your slacks was already big enough to prod at his clothed entrance, he couldn’t imagine how big you would feel deep inside of him, rearranging his guts and fucking him like the useless cock sleeve he was.

Feeling your big hands caressing the soft skin that hid beneath his dress shirt, he yelped as your thumbs pressed against the flesh of his hip before moving upwards to roll his nipples between your thumb and index finger. “You’re so sensitive, kitty. Such a cute little boy…” you cooed, tugging on the hardened bud.

Kenma keened at your touch, leaning against your chest as you moved to unzip both his and your trousers, making both of your hard cocks spring free from its confinements. Kenma’s intense and love-struck gaze was trained on your hard cock, the sight making him subconsciously lick his lips. “Don’t just stare at it, Kitty. Put it in your mouth.”

He gulped. His pupils shaking and his hands sweating as he struggled to even touch your length. “I-I don’t think i-it would fi--!” You were getting impatient and soon you grabbed him by his hair, forcing him to take your fat cock in all at once. “Stop making excuses and take it like a good boy.”

You started fucking his warm throat-- a low groan leaving your lips once you felt the tip hitting the back of his throat. Kenma was inexperienced and you could tell by the way he was sobbing, frantically tapping your thighs signalling that he couldn’t breathe. You rolled your eyes, lifting his head up so that he could gasp for air only to fuck him a second after. “Breathe through your nose baby.”

Kenma’s tear filled eyes met yours and eventually, he started getting used to the feeling of your cock wrecking his pretty little mouth. His face was ridden with drool, the sound of gurgling, your deep groans and his frantic whimpers around your cock the only noise filling the room. 

“I’m about to cum, doll--!” You rasped, thrusting into his mouth a few more times before holding his head in place, spilling your hot cum down his throat. Your free hand came to cup his cheek, spreading the cum that dripped down his chin onto his cheeks, mixing it with his drool and his tears. “So fucking pretty.” you grinned, making him smile weakly in response.

You effectively flipped Kenma so that you were on top of him, Your fingers teasing the rim of his puckered hole as he squirmed beneath your bigger figure. “You’re a virgin aren’t you?” You mused, grabbing the bottle of lube from your night stand before coating your fingers generously with the cold gel.

Kenma blushed, turning his head to avoid your gaze as he felt his heart thumping loudly in his chest. “Y-Yeah..” He murmured.

Your gaze on the blonde softened, wanting to at least prep him properly before fucking him senseless. “Okay. I’m going to stretch you out first, Is that fine with you darling?” A curt nod was Kenma’s only response and You wasted no time in stretching his hole out. You started with one finger, thrusting it in and out of him until he got used to the feeling before moving onto two fingers. You took your time with him, making sure that he felt good before he told you that he was ready to take you in.

Glancing at the camera once more you grinned darkly before snapping your hips forward, burying every inch of your cock inside of Kenma’s ass. The smaller male mewled helplessly, arching his back as he felt full from your cock. 

“Mmm, Your cunt’s so nice and tight f’me” You moaned against his taut skin, snapping your hips forward to meet Kenma’s. The smaller male jolted forward, attempting to meet up with your pace only to rake his nails helplessly against your back.

Kenma felt your lips clasping around his hardened nipple, Your warm and wet tongue swirling around the swollen bud. The blonde cried out in bliss, toes curling as he came without warning, an amused chuckle leaving your lips. “You’re so sensitive, Kenma. You came so easily.”

“S’Cause you’re too big…” Kenma laughed breathlessly, feeling the bulge in his stomach as you moved inside of him. A fond smile replaced your hot expression and soon enough, you were peppering kisses all over his sensitive body, a string of whimpers leaving Kenma’s mouth as he begged for more.

As much as Kenma enjoyed the hot afternoon in your embrace with your cock buried inside of him. He failed to notice the beeping sound of your camera once the two of you were done with your little session.

The next day seemed like a blur to the man. After you approached him, Showing the video you took with a shit-eating grin on your face, He instantly begged you not to show anyone-- Even getting on his knees to suck you off in the senior’s empty classroom. Your smile was different-- it wasn't genuine and soft just like the one you had flashed him yesterday-- your smile was wicked, condescending. And it only made his heart break much more, seeing how mean and ruthless you actually were. Your actions were undeniably fucked up however Kenma still couldn't bring himself to despise you, And he hated how much you still made his flutter even if you were hurting his feelings without a care in the world. 

“Kuroo can I tell you something?” Kenma asked timidly, asking the chemistry major, making him nod attentively. “Yeah go ahead man.” 

“You know Y/n L/n right..?” The blonde’s voice was slowly becoming softer and Kuroo only hummed, “Yeah the attractive senior what about him?” Kenma gulped before continuing, “I-I… we had sex and he b-black mailed me..” 

Kuroo scoffed, laughing loudly at the words that left Kenma’s mouth. “Y/n? Fucking someone like you? I'm sorry Ken but fantasies are waaay different than reality. Have the video games been getting to your head? He’s way too out of your league.” Kuroo shook his head, trying to stop himself from laughing more and Kenma sighed exasperatedly, trying not to cry. 

“You’re really not helping, Kuroo.” He murmured as the rooster head only raised his hands up in defense, “I'm just saying! He would more likely go for me you know,” The older male cooed teasingly, wiggling his eyebrows. “Well I have a class to catch, Ken! Let’s hang when you’re less busy and also, get lots of rest.”

Kenma sighed at the man’s words as he was left alone to ponder. If his best friend didn’t believe him then, no one would. However as much as the thought consumed him, He soon craved to have you touch him lewdly once more. He craved you, Confusing infatuation with love. Kenma wasn’t in love with you, No, He was obsessed with you. And to think that he would have such feelings for, you, out of all people, made his situation much more pitiful. 

Before the blonde could think of anything to make his situation less worse, He felt his phone vibrating in his pocket, a text message that had been sent from you illuminating brightly on the screen.

Y/n-Senpai: Come over after class.

Although the text was simple and straightforward, Kenma couldn’t help but think about it for the rest of the day. Why did you want him to come over? Were you gonna delete the video? Several thoughts spiralled in his head but none of them seemed to answer any of his questions.

“Relax, Kenma, I’m not going to do anything.” You laughed heartily, making the blonde seated in front of you shuffle nervously. Your words were not exactly the most convincing, especially paired with the mischievous glint in your eyes. But he decided to keep shut, letting you speak first.

“Do you like me?” You spoke bluntly, And Kenma tensed at the question, hanging his head down low to avoid your gaze. You soon frowned at the action, grabbing the smaller male’s chin, forcing him to look you in the eye. “C’mon, Ken. Answer me.”

It was now or never. You were giving Kenma the chance to confess! He wouldn’t just throw this opportunity away, No! He was going to tell you how he felt right here, right now. “Y-Yes.” He mumbled embarrassedly, only to blush once he saw you smiling at him softly.

He was too innocent! You almost felt bad for playing with his precious little feelings, however, as much as you loved making the naive boy smile, You would much rather see him crying and wailing for you to reciprocate his feelings.

“Are you gonna say anything else…?” Kenma piqued anxiously, and you hummed in response, inching your face closer to his, “Do you want me to say anything?”. God-- How could he form a proper reply when your lips were merely inches away? The younger only nodded before you leaned in to kiss him. 

“I wanna fuck you.” Were the words that came out of your mouth. “I- Don’t think I want to-” 

Giving him no time to protest, you pinned him onto your couch, pressing your body closely against his as he let out a silent mewl. “Don’t be such a killjoy. I thought you liked me?”

Your change of personality only caused Kenma to sniffle, tears forming in his eyes as he clutched onto the couch’s fabric tightly.-- “I do but, I don’t want to--!”

He looked so pathetic! And it almost made you cum, seeing him look so pitiful and helpless. Your touch on his skin was hot-- Blazing and painful; It almost reminded Kenma of the hot tokyo afternoon he spent with you a few days ago, except this time, you were torturing him and taking advantage of how weak he was, especially when it came to you. 

You effectively shut the male up by spitting into his mouth, forcing him to swallow your saliva as your predatory gaze landed on his shivering body. “You don’t want to? Well then you’ll leave me no other choice but to force my cock inside of you, Kenma.”

[trvelyans-archive]

reunion

The curse of living in the same city your whole life in is that you see people from your past everywhere.

Sometimes it’s fine. Sometimes you run into one of your favourite high school teachers at the mall, or a retired librarian from your favourite library that somehow still remembers the book you checked out eight times in senior year. Those encounters aren’t anything to complain about – they’re nice, even. It’s nice to be reminded that people think fondly of you when you didn’t realize that they thought of you at all.

Sometimes, though, those encounters are not nice.

You feel bad, because you can tell that Gray feels bad. After all, he promised you that, no matter what, the paparazzi would not bother you tonight and then, as if that wasn’t enough, pre-emptively promised that he would also “make it up to you” if he was wrong. (And then you kind of hoped he would be wrong, so maybe this is on you.) But this is worse than the paparazzi. So, so much worse. And nothing has even happened yet.

“We can go,” he offers for what feels like the tenth time, his head pressed against yours as he smooths his thumb over your shoulder. “We can just go back to the apartment –“

“No. I’m not –“ You sigh in frustration. “I’m not letting anyone ruin tonight for us, alright? This is about you and me.”

“You say that, love, but you keep staring at them,” he murmurs.

You turn to Gray, who is so startled by the sudden movement that he sits bolt upright. Which is good, because you would’ve knocked your heads together otherwise. “Grayson,” you begin, placing both of your hands on his closest thigh and squeezing it for emphasis, “sweetheart, love of my life, I have to stay. We have to stay. I’m not going to let them intimidate me into leaving somewhere that I deserve to be because I’m scared. Okay?”

He stares at you for a second before smiling. “I like this side of you,” he says. His arm encircles you once more, pulling you flush to his chest. “Are you sure you don’t want to go…?”

You roll your eyes. “Later,” you promise, settling in against him. “I want to see what happens.”

It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve seen your old classmates since you graduated high school, and you managed to escape most of those situations without cringing yourself to death. This is different, though. This is the first time since convocation that you’ve been in the same room with any your bullies – and it’s not just one of them. No, no, it’s three of them, staring at you from across the room like they’re hungry sharks and you’re a little goldfish that swam into their path. And, sure, it’s not like they can do much with Grayson here – not only could he take them all in a fight, but he could probably have them arrested for trying to fight him in the first place – but still, they could take what little self-esteem you’ve built up since graduation and grind it between their teeth until it turns to dust. And then, you know, pour your wine on you or something. Objectively speaking, that would probably worse.

You can feel Gray looking at you with a worried expression. “It’s fine,” you insist.

“Of course it’s fine,” he agrees. He squeezes your shoulder. “I’m not going to let them hurt you.”

“They’re not –“

“I mean emotionally,” he says, predicting your protest. “There’s nothing they can say that I don’t have a fool-proof argument for. And if they try to, then they really are fools.”

You would weep if you were looking at him right now, so you’re glad for the distraction. Especially because it means you can see the exact moment that all three of them stand up and start walking in your direction.

Despite your sudden burst of confidence, you straighten up in your seat and push your shoulders back before dropping your gaze down to your outfit. This is a new dress – it’s an expensive one, too, that you bought specifically for tonight. Sally took a million photos at the store when you tried it on, sent most of them to Nick, and then started crying while trying to pick out a pair of earrings to match. Still, though – you don’t know a lot about fashion. Maybe it’s so last season or something. Or maybe there’s a stain on it that you can’t see but everyone else can, and maybe they’re coming to laugh at you. Gray would’ve told you so, though, right? He wouldn’t let you make a fool out of yourself, right?

They arrive at your table before you can ask him.

You can’t even remember their names, but they remember yours. No wonder – it would probably be hard to forget the name of the girl whose sandwiches you threw in the trash every day for three months straight in twelfth grade because Nick had always written your name on the plastic bags with little hearts around it. “Hey, Mari...,” the leader of the group says. “You, uh... you remember me?”

“Yeah,” you say as cool as a cucumber. Cool as a thousand-and-one cucumbers. “Hey.”

“Wow, this is…” He runs a hand over his hair. “This is crazy, huh? What are the odds?”

“It’s a small city,” you answer. It’s not, of course, but he laughs.

“Yeah, yeah, totally.” He turns to Gray. “And – wow. Can I just say –“

“No need,” Gray says, smiling. It’s not a real smile, though – it’s his “go the fuck away” smile, because he’s never mean enough to say it but he still wants you to know that’s what he wants. “Did you want something? Mari and I are just trying to enjoy our night, and we’d prefer some privacy.”

The leader looks between you two. “Can we – sit down?”

Gray opens his mouth to answer and then glances at you for input. You try your best to give them a real smile.

“Sure,” you say. Demons? Successfully fought. Now to get through what you’re sure will be an incredibly awkward conversation.

… Which will probably be a lot harder. Crap. Maybe you should’ve said no.

Two of them wordlessly sit down to Gray’s right, wide=eyed as the leader sits down beside you. “I’ve always been wondering if I’d ever see you around town again,” he says. He has dark brown eyes and short brown hair, and it looks like he’s already starting to bald. (Karma, bitch!) “Thought I might have to wait for our ten-year reunion,” he continues. “But – you’ll probably be too busy to go, haha.”

He doesn’t laugh – he really just says ‘haha’. At least you’re not the only one feeling awkward. “Yeah,” you say. “Probably.”

“We heard – you know, what you did.” He breathes out through his teeth. “What you’ve done. Can’t go into any store without seeing your face plastered all over the news. It’s so weird, right? You never – you know. You were so lowkey in high school, and stuff.”

You grit your teeth. Grayson’s grip on your shoulder tightens. “Yeah,” you reply before tilting your head. “What’d you use to say while you dumped my lunches in the garbage? Nick’s the hero, I’m the zero?”

His face blanches, and he opens and closes his mouth several times before trying to speak again. “Mari –“

“If you have something to say, you can say it.” You reach for your wine glass and nonchalantly take a sip, watching him over the rim of your glass. “Otherwise, I’d appreciate it if you left me and Gray alone.”

He glances at his friends, swallowing hard. “Okay,” he says with some sort of weird finality, raising his hands and clasping them on the table in front of him. When you look closely enough, you can see that they’re shaking. (Ha!) “Um – Mari. We thought we should come over and apologize for – you know – what we did to you in high school… it was messed up, y’know?” He sighs. “Kids can be brutal at that age.”

“I wasn’t.”

He stares at you for a second. If Nick were here, you think his chest would’ve burst open with pride. You, sticking up to your high school bullies? Not even you predicted that you would be able to do this. You’re in the middle of doing it and you still can’t believe it. “No, no, you weren’t,” he says. “You’re right. It was us. We were fucked up. I was fucked up. The shit we did… Man, I look back on it and I just… I just can’t stand myself.”

You understand the pain. That’s how you felt for years because of them.

“It wasn’t right, you know?” he continues. Now that he’s started, you’re not sure he’s going to be able to stop. He’s going to keep talking and talking until he runs out of air or excuses and you’re going to sit here the entire time until you hear him really, truly apologize. “We – we just – well, no one deserved that. Especially not you. And not just because – not because of who you’ve, you know, turned into. I – I would say this even if you were… If you were… you know… Not who you are.”

Would he, really? Would he apologize for being an asshole if you were his cashier at a fast-food restaurant? Maybe, to avoid you spitting in his drink.

“It was wrong.” He nods to himself, and out of the corner of your eye, you can see his friends nod, too. “It was super, super wrong. And you didn’t deserve it, no matter who you are now.”

“You’re right,” you say. “I didn’t deserve it.”

“Yeah. You didn’t. And I’m sorry. For everything.”

You glance over at his cronies, who quietly echo his sentiments and huddle closer together like they’re expecting you or Grayson or both of you to flip the table or something. Which would be funny, because Gray could do it without moving so they wouldn’t even see it coming. As much as you’d like to see the look on their faces if he did, though, you instead glance back at the leader again and smile. 

“Thank you,” you say calmly. “I accept your apology, and I appreciate it.”

He looks hopefully at you. “Really?”

“Yeah.” You nod. “It takes a lot of guts to own up to that sort of thing. It’s really mature of you.”

He sags against the back of the booth, sighing in relief and running a hand over his (balding) scalp. “Jesus. Thanks, Mari. Fuck, that was hard as hell.” He laughs to himself. “Had to give myself a pep talk all night just to come over here, you know? And Fortitude – you’re cool, man, but you’re super intimidating.”

You turn to face Grayson, who is still smiling pleasantly (but clenching his jaw a little too hard). Glad to know that this asshole picked up on the “fuck you” undertones. “That’s my job,” Gray answers. Whether or not he means as Fortitude or as your partner, you don’t know, but you agree either way.

“Well, I think we should head out.” The guy jerks his head at his two friends, who start to hurriedly pull out of the booth and get to their feet again. You still can’t remember either of their names. “It was great to see you again, Mari,” he says, tossing a handful of bills on the table. “Drinks are on me, as thanks for being so cool about everything. You’re – you’re awesome. Have a nice life, yeah?”

Your smile widens. “You too, Cassidy.”

He blinks at you. “Uh – thanks,” he replies. “Goodnight.”

Gray waits until they’re all out of earshot before he reaches for your face with both hands and turns you to face him. “Mari,” he whispers. “Fuck. You were amazing.”

Your cheeks heat up under his palms as he pulls you in for a kiss. “Really?” you say bashfully when the two of you break away for air.

“Really,” he responds, going in for another kiss like he can’t help himself. And he probably can’t – you came straight to the bar after he finished work, so an empty stomach combined with his three beers is probably making him a bit more affectionate than he’d usually be in public. Not that you’re complaining. “So brave, so strong, so powerful… So perfect. You’re perfect, and you’re all mine.”

You smile against his mouth, reaching up and winding your arms around his shoulders. “Mmm… now I’m really glad we stayed,” you murmur as his kisses start migrating across your cheek and down the side of your neck. “I should confront my bullies more often.”

“You should,” Grayson agrees against your skin. “If not for your benefit, then for mine.”

“Oh, no,” you say, smiling as you bury your fingers in his hair, “it’s definitely me that’s benefitting from it.”

He nips at your neck so that you let out a squeal before straightening up, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “Let’s get out of here,” he says, cupping your cheek. “Let’s go back home, my love.”

You kiss him again, just because. “You don’t have to ask me twice.”

It’s only when you’ve gathered your coats and headed for the door when you realize something, stopping in your tracks. Gray, who had been leading you out, stops when he realizes you’re not still following him and turns around. “What is it?”

“Oh my God,” you say, covering your face with your hands. Of course something had to go wrong. After all, you nearly got through something incredibly difficult unscathed – that would’ve been a first for you. Really, you should’ve seen this coming. “I – So I called him Cassidy, right?”

“Right,” Grayson says, frowning in thought.

“That’s not his name,” you whisper. “That’s – someone else. Oh, my God.”

He’s silent for a few seconds. You can’t tell whether or not it’s because he’s confused as to what you’re upset about or because it’s upsetting to him that there are more high school bullies of yours out there. Before you can say anything more, though, he kisses your forehead and gently pries your hands away from your face, kissing you again. “Good riddance,” he tells you after, eyes staring deep into yours. “That man doesn’t deserve for you to know his name, anyway.”

“I know, but –“ You laugh, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “It’s just funny, because Cassidy was…”

You look up into Gray’s expectant face and trail off.

“What?” he says.

“… Nothing,” you chirp, holding tightly onto his hands and heading for the front door while he trails behind you. “Nothing at all.”

“Mari –“

“It’s nothing, Gray,” you insist as you turn to face him. “Really, it’s nothing. Do you want to stand around and talk more about my traumatic high school experiences, or would you rather go home and –“

“Home,” he says.

“Okay,” you reply. “That’s what I thought.”

Which is good, really, because you don’t know how to explain that the reason you’re embarrassed is because Cassidy is the name of the bully that you had a crush on in high school. Before Gray came into your life, at least. And when you look at him, now, crowding you up against the wall of the elevator and kissing you again, you forget about all those high school bullies.

You just hope that Cassidy won’t intrude on you and Gray’s second official date as fiancés. That would be even more awkward than tonight.

-

inspired by this

[greenygreenland]

Date: Jean Havoc x Reader (w/ Big Brother Roy Mustang)

REQUESTED

-PRETEND ROY IS YOUNGER FOR THE SAKE OF THIS ONE-SHOT (say, like 20-ish) -sorry this took so long. I had an internship and it got a little crazy

-idc about the timeline because this is a one-shot and i’m not gonna use my big brain lmaooo

Summary: Overprotective Roy? Yes. You’re dating Jean Havoc and your bro watches your first date from the shadows.

Nervous. That was the first emotion you felt when you stepped out of the front door. Today was a big day, maybe more so than you’d like to believe. The sun shimmered overhead, where the sparse clouds drifted lazily across the sky. “Bye, Roy,” you called. “I’ll be back around sixteen o’clock.”

Roy was your elder brother by four years. If a guard dog had a human personification, it would definitely be him. For all your life, he wrote himself off as the responsible sibling. He acted like his grades were better than yours, like he was the one to take out the trash, or finish all the dishes before cockroaches decided to make home in them.

Anyone would have thought that to be true. After all, Roy was young and rose up the military ranks at an alarming rate. But you knew better, along with his close colleagues. Roy was stupid, overprotective, and impulsive. He would do anything that interested him, and if it didn’t, he’d pay no mind to it.

You prayed your brother would pay no mind today.

The front door slammed open with a creak. “Where do you think you’re going?” Roy inquired. He squinted at you as if you were about to do something stupid. “And what are you wearing? I hope you have shorts under that.” You rolled your eyes and adjusted the purse slung over your shoulder. 

This sun dress was a gift from Jean for your (age) birthday. The skirt flowed in the passing breezes like a flower, illuminating all the vibrant colours under the rays of sun. It was a beautiful dress. If Roy thought otherwise, you’d make him understand. “It’s called a dress, doofus.” you sarcastically replied. “Not like you’d know when you only see Riza in the Command Centre. Poor you. Haven’t gotten the chance to see her in a skirt, huh?”

Roy averted his gaze to the sky with a haughty huff. “What are you talking about? That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.” Heat rose up his cheeks. “If you’re implying I harbour romantic feelings for my First Lieutenant, then you’re--”

“A hundred percent correct.” you stated with a smug smirk. “I’ll be back around sixteen o’clock. Don’t burn down the house.” If Roy accidently did, you wouldn’t be surprised. He was the Flame Alchemist, and above all, your stupid big brother.

“Where are you going (Y/n)?” Roy called. You flung your hair over your shoulder with a bright smile that could have blinded even the sun. “A date, of course.” Okay, maybe it wasn’t a good idea to rub salt in a wound. What Roy didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. But then you saw look on his face. Nevermind, it was totally worth it to rub in his face: jaw agape, eyes as wide as saucers, and shoulders hunched down.

Ah, it was good to be you.

The city bustled with life. With the sun shining, and the beauty of living in your palms, you trotted down the street. There was nothing that could ruin your date.

"Jean!" Your tone was light as a laugh escaped your lips. "It feels like I haven't seen you in a while." 

Cherry red dusted his cheeks. He stuffed the unlit cigarette into his pocket and offered you a hand. In his other, he placed a single (f/c) flower between your hairclips. "I saw you yesterday," he said with a bashful smile. "What do you mean it's been a while?" You bumped shoulders playfully and intertwined your fingers together. "Hyperbole, Jean."

"Well, it's one hyperbole too many." He remarked with a grin. "Do you want to have sandwiches today or a hot meal?" You shrugged, leaning against his shoulder. It was comfortable to have him hold you like this as you made your way down the street. He always had this secure way of linking your arms with his.

Off to the side, Roy couldn't say the same. It wasn’t like he planned on following you. Curiosity just swept him out of the house. And besides, what you didn’t know, wouldn’t hurt, right? Right.

Roy wished Jean didn’t hold you like you were some stuffed animal. For all he knew, Jean was just playing you. It wouldn't be the first when he had over fifteen other girls in the past four months. If Jean broke your heart, he'd be sure to fry the man up to a crisp. "Damn him," Roy grumbled. He pulled down his fedora and adjusted the glasses over his nose. "What makes him think he can touch (Y/n) like that?"

You suddenly laughed loudly at some joke. “Stop!” you cried, playfully smacking his arm. “That’s the worst one I’ve heard all week!” 

Roy slinked out of the shadows with a low huff. He shouldn't have worn such a thick jacket. It had to be over twenty something degrees today. But that was no matter because you were being whisked away to the park--by Jean! Roy hurried down the street. Since when did you get lunch? And what was Jean going to do to you?

"The park's a good place." you noted. “Let’s go there.” The bag from Sally's Sandwiches hung from Jean's arm. It swung back and forth as he happily pranced along the street with you hand in hand. "Good thing I remembered to bring a blanket this time. We can sit under that tree."

Oh, what was Jean going to do to you? Roy couldn't stand the thought of you walking with him like that. There had to be an ulterior motive to this 'date'. Maybe Jean wanted to leech off you for money, or maybe he would try seducing you in the park? Roy shook his head. No, no.

Jean wasn't a bad guy. Maybe Roy was thinking too far ahead. But what if he wasn’t? What if Jean pulled some sneaky plan?

You crossed the street just as a car wildly swerved. Its tires screeched against the road like nails on a chalkboard, grinding against stone until it came your way. Roy frantically popped out of his hiding space. "What kind of idiot would--"

Suddenly, you slammed a hand into the ground. The stone transmuted, blocking the car from any unnecessary collisions. It smacked straight into the wall, smoke and steam rising from its engine. "(Y/n)!" cried Jean. "Are you okay?" He frantically placed a hand on either of your shoulders and looked you up and down. A smile rose to your lips. "I'm fine. Not even a scratch."

A sigh escaped Jean's lips. "That's good. I don't know what I'd do if you got hurt." You placed a gentle hand to his cheek and pecked it (Roy wanted to gag). "I'm an Alchemist. It'd be a shame if I went down by a car."

"Don't joke about that," Jean chastised. He hooked his arm with yours again and led you away from the screeching onlookers and police. "I don't know what I'd do if I lost you."

Roy blinked. Did he hear Jean right? 'I don't know what I'd do if I lost you'? What was that supposed to mean? “Look at them, being all lovey-dovey...” Roy continued after the couple. They passed through a field of forest green grass, where flowers bloomed in straight, uniform lines all around. It was a beautiful spot to have a picnic. 

You swung your arm, hand in hand with Jean. The sun kissed your heads from the Heaven’s, illuminating a bright happiness Roy couldn’t look away from. Urgh. He wanted to kick something, or better yet, set a tree on fire. How could you two look so perfect? You were only (age) and that was far too young to be dating. 

Besides, you had a career in the military. If your little ‘relationship’ was sealed with a ring, you’d be separated. “Did they even think that through?” Roy grumbled to himself. He gritted his teeth together and ducked behind a bush. 

“Excuse me sir.”

Roy glanced over his shoulder with a false smile. “Ah, what is it?” A little boy ball up and down in his hand. The glare on his face could have been intimidating, but Roy was Roy Mustang. He wouldn’t let some kid look down upon him. “Are you lost?”

The kid clutched the rock so tightly his knuckles turned white. “My mama said to watch out for creepy people. I think you fit well, Mr. Pervert.” He took a step back and launched the ball at Roy’s head. “Take that!”

“What are you talking about?!” Roy exclaimed. He jumped out of the bushes and brushed the leaves from his jacket. Boy, it was getting terribly hot in the sweltering heat. Poor Roy found himself losing what little patience remained. “I’m not a creep, kid! Where are your parents? If I was a creep, you would have been kidnapped already. I’m just trying to make sure my sister...!”

At that very second, you so happened to come to a stop. At that very second, you so happened to stare. At that very second, you so happened to recognise a face among strangers.

Roy was royally screwed. 

The little kid pointed at Roy as if he were the most wanted criminal in all of Amestris. “Lady!” he screeched. “I saw this guy watching you since you got here! He’s a creep! Call the cops!” Jean squinted at Roy. At first, he actually believed the kid was telling the truth. What kind of normal person wore a winter coat, a fedora, and a pair of sunglasses if not to deal drugs in the alleyways?

“Hold up...” Jean blinked owlishly. “Colonel, is that you?!”

You released Jean’s arm. “Oh, it’s him alright.” A menacing glare rose to your face as you cracked your knuckles. What was Roy supposed to do? The wrath of his sister was not something he could brace himself for, especially when she could be just as impulsive as Edward Elric.

Roy waved his arms in denial. “I don’t know what that kid’s talking about. I just happened to pass by, and in the process, I ended up dropping my wallet, which turned out to be in the bushes, so--”

“Save it.” You cracked your knuckles and pulled on a glove. “It’s time to crank up the heat, because we’re having fried Alchemist tonight.”

Anger. That was the only emotion you felt as you chased your big brother around the park. Today was supposed to be a big day. You planned to walk around, maybe go shopping, and spend the night wandering around with Jean for a whole day. But no. Your stupid, idiotic, big brother had to be the creepy party crasher.

[theladyofdeath]

Tempting the Fates {Chapter 6}

Summary: It’s the final semester of Aelin Galathynius’ collegiate career and she is so beyond ready to be done. Her schedule is packed full of nursing classes and labs designed to test her knowledge and hone her skills for the real world and her “big girl” job. However, she needs one last elective to graduate, so she decides to study a subject she’s always been fascinated by: Mythology. Who would have thought that a class about gods and goddesses living complicated lives would end up complicating her own in such an unexpected way?

A @snelbz x @tacmc collaboration.

Word Count: 3080

** N S F W **

Chapters will be posted every Wednesday.

Tempting the Fates Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

Aphrodite

– Goddess of love, beauty, and desire

The second Aelin stepped into Rowan’s apartment, silence ensued. With the door shut behind them, Aelin felt like his apartment had significantly shrunk in size since the last time she had been there. 

Granted, everything looked the same. The blanket that was draped across his leather sectional in his living room still laid in the same spot, his television was still quietly playing a hockey game, and his laptop sat on his coffee table. Only, this time, there wasn’t a mug of coffee next to it but a nearly-empty bottle of beer. 

“So,” Aelin began, just as Rowan said, “Sorry, it’s a mess.”

Aelin blinked, looking around at his pristine apartment. “This is what you consider a mess?”

Rowan looked around before chuckling, nervously. “Yeah, well, there’s….dust.” 

Aelin nodded, slowly, continuing to look around. “Well, here’s your clothes,” she said, at last, holding out the bag.

“Thanks,” Rowan muttered, taking the bag from her outstretched hand before tossing it aside. “Do you…want a drink or something? I was just doing some grading.”

“Grading and drinking?” Aelin asked. “Quite the combination.” 

Rowan shrugged. “Only makes the shitty papers a little bit better to read.”

“Have you read mine yet?” Aelin asked, before she could think better of it. Rowan hesitated, and Aelin shook her head. “Wow, that was an inappropriate question. Sorry.” 

“No, it’s fine,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “You could have asked me that in class and I’d have answered it. I have.”

When he didn’t go on, Aelin cleared her throat awkwardly. “I’ve never taken a mythology course, so I don’t know much about it, save for what Disney taught me. Which apparently was all wrong, anyways.” She tucked a loose hair behind her ear and cleared her throat again. Maybe coming here was a bad idea. “But music, I do know a lot about, so Apollo seemed like a safe bet. Even if I’m sure I sounded stupid and-.”

“You didn’t,” he interrupted, leaning against the counter. “Your essay is the only one I’ve read that seemed like a real opinion piece, and not like you’re trying to blow smoke up my ass and impress me with your knowledge. This is an introduction class, remember? You aren’t supposed to be a scholar of mythology yet. I liked how honest it was.” 

Aelin blinked. “Really?”

Rowan nodded, his eyes remaining on hers. It made Aelin’s heart beat a little bit faster. “Yeah, it was great. I love to hear your thoughts, and I’m excited to hear more of them.”

Aelin nodded and took a deep breath. She should have turned and walked out, told him goodbye, but she couldn’t. Her feet were glued to the floor, her heart nearly ready to beat out of her chest. Her thoughts trailed to the last time she was here, when she’d met the most abundant amount of pleasure she had ever received, and left smitten and wanting more. 

From the way the light in his eyes shifted, Aelin knew that Rowan was thinking the same thing. 

“I should go,” Aelin said, quietly. 

“Yeah,” Rowan agreed.

Neither of them moved. 

“You could’ve kept the clothes,” Rowan continued, swallowing. “You didn’t have to come all the way here.”

“I thought you’d want them back,” Aelin said, even though she wasn’t really sure that she even truly believed that. 

Every second more that Rowan stared at her, and she stared back, a throbbing formed between her thighs. Rowan said, “You look better in them than I do.” 

Aelin swallowed. “I should go,” she repeated.

“Do you want to go?” Rowan asked, hardly more than a whisper.

Aelin remained where she was, watching him, her chest rising and falling, rapidly, with each heavy breath she took. 

She slowly shook her head, and before she could form an intelligible thought, Rowan was coming toward her, taking her waist into his hands, and claiming her mouth with his.

She melted into his touch, her hands diving into his hair, holding her against him. He wasted no time, lifting her and setting her on the counter behind her, and stepping between her legs. Aelin gently nibbled on his lip and he opened for her, his tongue sweeping into her mouth just as hers did the same. His hands were still sitting on her waist, but hers were less than idle.

Finding the hem of his shirt, her fingers ran over the abdomen muscles she couldn’t get out of her head. He pulled his lips from hers as a shudder wracked through him and he let out a shaking breath.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you,” he admitted, pulling her to the edge of the counter and grinding against her.

Aelin’s lashes fluttered as she let out a soft moan. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, either.”

His lips were on hers again, hungrily, longingly, and all conversation faded away as Aelin pulled off Rowan’s shirt and ran her hands through his messy, short silvery hair. 

Rowan muttered a curse against Aelin’s mouth, and she felt a fire ignite within her core. She wanted it. Gods, she wanted it, wanted him. She knew it was wrong, knew there were boundaries that shouldn’t be crossed, knew the schools had rules, knew employers had rules, but as his mouth trailed from her lips to her neck, just beneath her jaw, Aelin had a really, really hard time caring about any of that. 

His hands slid beneath her top, feeling cool and needy against her skin. 

“Tell me to stop and I’ll stop,” he murmured between the kisses that trailed down her neck. She knew he would, too. One word, and it was done, over.

But, despite the rules, she begged, “Don’t fucking stop.” 

That was all Rowan needed to hear. He pulled her shirt over her head, his lips immediately finding her skin again. His kisses trailed from her neck to her shoulder and he pushed the strap of her bra down. His hand did the same with the other and as soon as the straps were free, he reached behind her and unclasped it.

Dropping his head, his mouth closed around her nipple and his tongue circled the sensitive peak. Aelin’s moan was louder than she meant for it to be, but Rowan didn’t try to stifle it. Instead his hand found her breast, rolling her other nipple between his fingers.

Aelin swore, and it had Rowan moaning, muffled, palming her breast as his teeth tugged on her nipple as his free hand made its way into the back of her leggings. 

When he realized that she wore no panties, he was about to combust. 

Aelin’s hands dove into his hair and she pulled his head back. “I need you. Now.”

Rowan’s only response was finding Aelin’s mouth again with his own, and shoving his sweatpants down onto the kitchen floor. His hard length was on perfect display inside of his boxer-briefs. When Aelin palmed him, he grabbed her off of the counter and carried her into the living room, dropping her down onto the couch. Before he covered his body with hers, he yanked off her leggings and tossed them aside. 

He groaned as she continued to rub him through his underwear until he finally couldn’t take it anymore, needing to feel her skin on his. He intended to take them off, but only got as far as freeing his length before she wrapped her hand around him and stroked once, twice. His head fell into the crook of her neck and he did his best not to look like an inexperienced teenager, but he bucked his hips into her hands, groaning again.

This was all he’d been able to think of for the past few days, ever since he saw her in his classroom. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought of taking her against every free surface in the hall, as well as in his office. He didn’t have a chance to explain that to her though, as she shifted beneath him and lined him up at her entrance.

She was all slick skin and warm, soft wetness and he pushed into her. With a breathy sigh, her head fell back, eyes rolling back, and he took advantage of her attention elsewhere to look down at where they were joined. Watching as his hips rocked into hers, he breathed her name, gripping her hip and fighting the urge to press her down into the cushions with his weight.

Aelin’s hands snaked around the back of Rowan’s neck and she pulled him against her, kissing him, urgently. Rowan pulled out slowly before thrusting himself back into her, over and over and over again, relentlessly. It felt so good, so right. He kept his pace, pushing into her harder each time, until she was screaming, his name falling from her lips continuously. 

Rowan’s moan became muffled against her neck as her knees began to quiver around him. As he felt her come, he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold on much longer.

When he came, Aelin was clinging to him, still coming down from her high.

Rowan’s body fell against hers, and her body remained wrapped around his as they caught their breaths. 

She was unable to stop herself from running her fingers up and down his back, even going so far as to brush them through the short hair at the nap of his neck. There was no question what he would say after he pulled out and cleaned her up.

This was a mistake.

We shouldn’t have done that.

You need to go.

Aelin wasn’t sure which it would be or if it would be some mixture of the three. All she knew is that it would hurt.

Seeing him in class every day, knowing that this connection existed between them, aside from just sex, was going to hurt.

Pulling back, his green eyes found hers and she braced herself for him to ask her to leave.

But then he kissed her again.

“I was going to order dinner,” he said, lips still brushing hers. “If you want to stay.”

Aelin hesitated, but not because she didn’t want to stay. 

Rowan picked up on it, though. “Or, if you don’t want to…” he began, pushing himself up off of her.

Aelin shook her head and held onto him, pulling him back down on top of her. “No, it’s not that, it’s the opposite.” She laughed, quietly. “I was just…preparing myself for you to say…anything but that.”

Rowan’s eyes softened as he nodded, slowly. “So…you do want to stay, then?”

Aelin brushed his damp hair off of his forehead. “Am I allowed to stay?”

“Right now, what we’re allowed to do is the last thing on my mind,” Rowan breathed, leaning down to kiss her softly. “Right now, all I’m thinking about is ordering dinner and having you here with me.”

She nodded, smiling softly. “That sounds nice.”

“Okay,” he replied, returning her smile. “Stay here. I’ll be back.”

“Okay.”

Just as he did the last time, he returned with a warm rag, wiping her off and cleaning her up. He also returned with his shirt, the one she’d intended to return, rather than her clothes.

“I’m on the pill, by the way,” she said, glancing over at him as he pulled his own sweatpants back on.

He blinked once, as if he’d just realized they hadn’t used a condom.

And he’d come inside her.

“I…really should have asked before I just assumed.” He rubbed at the back of his neck again. “I’m sorry.”

Aelin chuckled, quietly. “Don’t worry. If I wasn’t prepared, I wouldn’t have let you inside of me to begin with.”

“Fair enough,” Rowan said, sitting next to her on the couch. “In my defense, our last…encounter is still a little fuzzy when it comes to the little details.”

When they’d been together last, there had been a lot of alcohol…and Rowan couldn’t remember if he’d used a condom then, but he couldn’t imagine that he had.

He sent up a quick thank you to the gods for the creation of birth control.

Now, he put his arm around Aelin as he pulled up the menu to a little local Mexican restaurant a block down the road. “What’re you in the mood for?”

Aelin hummed and looked through the menu as Rowan scrolled through it. “Chimichanga. And a taco. Make it two. With a side of rice. And a bowl of queso.”

Rowan gave her an amused glance as he entered all of her requests into the cart.

“What?” She asked, huffing a laugh. “You’re the reason I worked up an appetite.” 

“Fair enough,” he laughed and pressed a kiss to her temple. He ordered their food, thankful that his favorite restaurant down the road was still serving margaritas to-go, and then set his phone aside.

It was quiet for a minute and when he glanced over at Aelin, she was brushing the end of a lock of her hair over her lips.

He loosened it from her fingers and she looked over at him. “What’s on your mind?”

She shrugged. “I’m trying to figure out where we’re going from here, what we’re doing…”

She was still only wearing his shirt, her leggings and own shirt still strewn somewhere around his kitchen. He turned to face her, brushing his thumb across her cheekbone. “It’s been less than a week and I can’t get you off my mind. I’ve tried, but… I don’t want to.”

Aelin hesitated. “I feel the same way. But….your job-.”

“I’ll keep my job-.”

“And my future-.”

“I won’t ask you to do this if you don’t want to do this,” Rowan said. “I’m more than willing to keep us a secret. I just want to be with you.”

“I want to be with you, too,” Aelin breathed. “But is it really a relationship if we have to hide all the time?”

“You won’t be in school forever,” he said, taking her face into his hands. “Soon, you’ll graduate and then we won’t have to hide anymore.”

She was quiet for another moment, so he added, “You wanted to date me before you found out who I was. If you’re not interested anymore because of that, I get it—.”

“It’s not that,” she replied, leaning into his palm. “I just worry about the consequences.”

“Damn the consequences,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss her. “And we’ll be careful, to make sure nobody knows. Not a soul.”

She made a face and for a second, he got worried, but she said, “I may have gotten wine drunk on Tuesday and told my roommate. But she’s my best friend, and she wouldn’t tell anyone.���

Chuckling, he nodded. “I got whiskey drunk and told mine. So we’re even.”

That made her laugh and the sight and sound loosened the strain in his chest,

“How do we do this?” She asked, covering one of his hands with hers.

“Carefully,” he said, and kissed her, slowly. “And one day at a time.”

“I can do that,” she said, and climbed into his lap, straddling his waist.

“Me too,” he promised.

“We’ll have to lay down some ground rules,” he replied, his hands immediately finding her ass. He hadn’t forgotten she wasn’t wearing underwear. “Like minimal contact in class. We can’t seem too…familiar.”

She nodded. “That’s reasonable. And no special treatment from you. I’m still your student, whether we’re having sex or not.”

“Special treatment?” He chuckled, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, like you can’t grade my papers or exams easier because we’re sleeping together.” She was running her hands over his bare chest, following the lines of his tattoo. Her eyes met his and went wide. “Or harder. Not unless you’re willing to give extra tutor sessions.”

Rowan rolled his eyes, but leaned up, capturing her lips in a kiss. “I promise, I’ll treat you just like every other student I have. Except for the fact that we’re having sex. That is just for you.”

“So,” she mumbled, acting shy all of a sudden. Rowan thought it was adorable. “You’re saying we’re exclusive?”

Rowan’s eyes softened. “I sure as hell don’t want to be seeing anyone else.”

“Pretty sure that’s the definition of exclusive,” she said.

Rowan huffed a laugh, his fingers gripping her ass a little tighter. “Then yes, smart ass.”

Aelin’s grin widened. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

Rowan pulled her closer into him before kissing her, yet again.

He liked kissing Aelin.

He didn’t think he would ever grow tired of kissing Aelin.

“So what excuse should I give to women when they throw themselves at me?” Rowan asked. “You know, since I can’t tell anyone that you’re my girlfriend.”

She snorted. “Do women throw themselves at you often?” His raised eyebrow was enough of an answer. That and Aelin was living proof that, yes, women did throw themselves at him. Chuckling, she said, “Right. Maybe the old, generic excuse of I’m working on myself right now. Don’t really have time for a girlfriend.”

She dropped her voice an octave when she said it, doing a horrible impression of Rowan’s deep voice, but he laughed. “I guess that would work. And you’re obviously so focused on your studies, 

since it’s your last semester, that you don’t even have time to think about dating.”

“I do take my studies seriously,” Aelin said, and though her tone was stark, her eyes were playful.

“I can tell you do.” Rowan was leaning in to kiss her again when there was a knock on the front door.

They both jumped, Aelin going so far as to climb off of his lap, when Rowan realized it was their dinner.

She blushed as he went to retrieve it, grabbing two glasses for the margaritas.

“Are you going to jump every time we order food?” Rowan asked, sitting next to her with a pile of to-go boxes. He handed her a margarita.

Aelin chuckled as she took it. “Are you?”

Rowan sipped from his glass as he grinned. When he set it on the coffee table, he said, “I guess this will just take some getting used to.”

“I guess it will,” Aelin agreed, pulling her knees up on the couch as she began to flip open the boxes. “But I’m okay with that.”

Rowan leaned over to kiss her, softly, as he said, “Me too.”