#you have even made people question their sexuality because of how gorgeous and gentle you are.

[nimomo-mo]

Vent

[cuffmeinblack]

Tease

Leander Prewett x f!reader (she/her)

Tags: explicit | dry humping | public sexual activity | shame kink

1.8k words

ao3 link

Summary: Leander finds himself with a beautiful girl on his lap, and a big problem.

A/n: Did anyone ask for this? No. Consider this an offering for Kinktober since I have no time to actually do it properly. I wasn't even sure how to tag this. Is there a word for coming in your pants? You get the idea.

The party was already in full swing as the common room around Leander thrummed with energy, excited babble and raucous cheers. Another Quidditch victory secured, and now he got to bathe in the glory for a few hours before the harsh reality of exam season hit in the morning. He sat down on an armchair as his teammates filled the others, tired but glowing with pride as Garreth fetched some drinks. Leander had barely time to get comfortable before an influx of his housemates from the pitch, all cheering and eager to give the team as many handshakes possible. Including her.

They'd been friends for years, but something had changed. Perhaps it was simply a matter of them both maturing, but Leander found himself watching her more often these days. Sometimes she'd catch him staring, offering him a warm smile in return. She always looked good, but the way her hair had that softly tousled look after standing in the windy stands gave her a distinctly sexy look—like she’d just been ravaged in bed. Leander had had many such fantasies involving her, and he was busy remembering one particularly delicious one when she approached him. 

“Congrats, Lee. You did so well out there,” she said earnestly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Thanks. Team effort though, you know,” he replied.

She was about to reply, until Garreth returned levitating around a dozen bottles and mugs, people all around him ducking out of the way.

“Drinks are here! Are you joining us?” he directed towards the gorgeous girl now standing far too close to Leander as she turned to reply.

“I’d love to.”

“Brilliant! Oh, there’s no seats. Leander, get off the chair and let the lady sit, will you?” Garreth said.

Leander was almost on his feet before she placed a small palm against his chest and pushed him back down. He almost stumbled under the gentle direction, but only because he’d been so blindsided by her touch.

"That's fine, I'll sit on Lee's lap. You don't mind, do you?" her innocent question still made his cheeks flush as Leander nodded.

"Sure, yeah…"

She perched her (perfectly round, supple) backside on his thighs, as elegantly as a lady might side straddle a horse. Leander almost breathed a sigh of relief that she was far enough away to remain out of his grasp. Garreth handed her two drinks and she passed one back to him, raising the glass in a toast before pressing it to her (alluringly plump) lips. The beer was cold and delicious, and definitely stronger than he'd remembered.

"Garreth, what's in this?"

"Eh? Oh, I chucked a bit of whiskey in," the faraway voice replied.

Of course he did, and it had gone straight to Leander's head. Judging by the flush of colour up her neck, he'd say the same about the girl on his lap. She did flush so prettily; the softest shade of pink that crept from underneath her blouse, gently spreading to her nape. Leander tried hard not to let his gaze linger on that area, even when her head tilted and hair swept to one side to expose her glowing skin. He blinked and licked his lips. Surely, that had been deliberate. One doesn't usually stroke their fingers down their neck when merely brushing their hair out of the way…

Leander drank deeply, the cold beer and burning whiskey at odds with each other as it slid down his throat. His gulps grew larger the closer she inched back on his thighs until there was simply no room for him and his glass. She was busy talking to Nellie, paying him no mind, her arms gesticulating wildly and body rocking, twisting and shuffling and great Merlin she was pressed into his crotch. Her gorgeous, round cheeks pressed against his manhood—enveloped in her softness, it took all his concentration and willing for his cock not to swell.

"Lee, didn't you say Natty was coming?"

"Er, what?"

"To Hogsmeade next week. Isn't Natty coming?"

She twisted slightly to face him, causing the most unbearable friction in his trousers. He looked up at her (why did he do that??) and locked onto those glazed eyes and parted lips that seemed to beckon him. Fuck, that had done it. His blood had rushed south and there was nothing he could do but let his cock swell and endure the embarrassment as she leapt from his lap in disgust. 

But it didn't come. 

"Erm, yeah, that's what she said," he replied weakly.

She smiled and returned to the conversation as Leander sat in disbelief with a raging boner. Surely she could feel it. Worse still, his hands were now utterly useless by his side, with no drink to distract him they twitched with desire to grab and hold every inch of flesh he couldn't see or already feel. He wanted nothing more than to pull her harder on top of him, grind his hips against her to rid himself of this insufferable aching tension. The thought only made his cock throb with want, his drink and lust-addled brain finally moving his arms to have his hands rest on her hips, long fingers gripping the soft flesh that begged to be grabbed as he fucked her senseless.

He took a deep breath, ridding himself of the thoughts as he searched frantically for a distraction. Out of the corner of his eye, Leander noticed that Amit had gotten shakily to his legs and clutched his stomach, before stumbling off in the direction of the bathroom to raucous applause. 

"First one down! Thakkar's such a lightweight!" Garreth laughed.

He laughed despite his current predicament, and so did she—a great belly laugh that sent vibrations through her body. He almost fucking moaned as his head dropped forward against her back, fingers digging into her hips that little bit tighter. Had his face not been pressed against the back of her ribcage, he might not have noticed the hitch in her breath. Was that a good gasp or a bad gasp? He was mulling over the implications when she undeniably, absolutely intentionally rolled her hips against him. Slow, deliberate, the warmth of her heat practically radiating through her skirt as she pressed against his aching cock.

The air was stifling, his skin burning and head swimming. Gods, the fabric of his trousers was fit to burst its seams if she carried on like this. He might just look like a drunken fool slumped against her back, and for that he was thankful. The truth was much worse. His cock was leaking precum into his trousers, and all he could do was sit there and hope beyond all hope that she didn't move from his lap. That would be quite the sight if she did.

Well, he was shit out of luck.

His heart almost burst from his ribcage when the pressure relieved on his legs and she leaned forward. His brain scrambled for an excuse for her to stay, half tempted to pull her back onto him. His reactions dulled by alcohol, he simply sat there and spluttered, but she didn’t vacate her position entirely, only lifting off the bulge in his trousers slightly to procure yet more drinks. Leander had to admit this angle was fantastic. Back arched and shapely behind hovering tantalisingly above him, she looked ripe for the taking. If only he had the nerve to bend her over the side table beside him and have his way with her—that would certainly solve his problem.

“Want a shot?” her sweet and sultry voice came from over her shoulder.

She settled back into his lap, shuffling far too slowly to get comfortable again. Leander clenched his jaw and looked up at her, gawping at the way she bit her lip so tantalisingly. There was no way this was not wholly intentional, and the glint in her eyes told him she wasn’t done with him yet. She passed him back a shot that he didn’t particularly want and definitely didn’t need, but he threw down his neck anyway. Maybe dulling his senses would help his situation.

“Thanks,”  he muttered.

“You’re welcome,” she whispered.

"Why are you…"

His question was interrupted with another shuffle of her body, miniscule movements back and forth that rubbed him just right. 

Fucking hell.

"That's…not helping," he gasped.

"I think it is."

If her intention was to finish him, then yes, she was helping him along the way quite nicely indeed.

"Please…"

"Lee, you're such a naughty boy."

Then she giggled. She fucking giggled whilst rubbing herself against his cock in the middle of the common room, surrounded by their classmates. He should have been mortified, terrified—he supposed he was, but the fact of the matter was he’d never been more aroused in his life. The absolutely unbearable tension, the fear, the shame—all of it a heady concoction ten times stronger than the whiskey coursing through his veins. That last shot had burned his throat and was only now working its way to his head, which he laid again on her back.

She was chatting away again, the whiskey clearly having a complete opposite effect on her as she bounced enthusiastically against his crotch. Every little laugh, clap and excited wiggle sent him closer to the edge, the pathetic realisation that he was about to explode into his Quidditch trousers now a full-blown conclusion. His arms encircled her waist, breathing heavily against her back, hair wafting a delicious floral scent into his nostrils.

“He’s so drunk,” a voice who might have been Nellie said.

“He is, bless him. I think he’s falling asleep on my back,” the vixen on his lap replied.

The girls giggled and by the time they’d said their goodbyes and she’d continued her slow torturous teasing, Leander’s cock was twitching against her heat, ready to burst. Merlin, she was so fucking warm and soft…

“Lee?” she whispered over her shoulder.

“Y-yeah?” he managed to gasp, not daring to look up.

“You should feel how wet I am.”

Leander whimpered and gripped her waist tight as he came, her words finally pushing him over the edge he’d been teetering on for what felt like hours. He could feel her fingers digging into his thighs, hear the pounding of her heart and heaviness of her breath as he filled his trousers and made an awful mess of her, besides. There was no escaping the sheer amount of his release now saturating the fabric of their clothes. He bit down on his lip hard to stop himself from moaning whilst his orgasm pulsed, blood rushing away from his already oxygen-starved brain. He was so relieved that he forgot to be mortified for a few blissful seconds.

"I'm sorry…"

"Are you? I'm not," she replied, shuffling around to sit sideways on his lap.

There was her face in all its flushed glory, pressed against his own, their noses brushing, her lips ghosting over his. She was breathing almost as heavily as himself, chest rising and falling in his periphery. And then she kissed him for the whole room to see. Not tentatively, but fiercely, hungrily. Her hands were in his hair and his were already underneath her shirt despite the calls for them to 'get a room'. Maybe that wasn't such a bad idea.

[uriayx]

GABRIEL DANIELS X AMON - FLUFF

I couldn't sleep so hard that I finally wrote something

“You should have been sleeping an hour ago.”

That’s most of what Gabriel tends to hear at this hour. Of what I tend to hear from him, actually, but in all technicality, I don’t need sleep. I just…get bored, from time to time, and sleep whenever I’m bored and Gabby needs his rest. But tonight, I guess something changed. Maybe he had a bad dream, maybe he had been up all night. But I found him scrolling his phone, at 4am in the morning.

“I know,” I heard him mumble, flipping over so he could plug in his phone. His hair was all tangled, and his body trembled slightly with every movement, I noticed. His face was pale, and his eyes kept darting around anxiously, as if waiting for something to happen. “I just…”

“You just what? You keep doing this, and then never telling me what’s wrong.” I had donned the human form for this specific interaction- while sometimes the true form was a comfort to him, tonight it was not. I sat on the end of his bed, wondering if I can just crawl in and hug him, try and make it all better. But something stopped me, for some reason I still won’t or can’t explain.

Gabriel didn’t answer my question, by the way- rude. He turned over, trying to just ignore me, maybe head back to sleep. I sat closer to him and peeked over at his face.

…oh. That’s why he was shaking. He was crying.

There are only a few times where I’ve seen Gabe cry. I know he cries a lot- just never around me, because it makes him feel…weak, I guess? I’ve seen him cry during sermons, and I’ve seen him cry over Kayden’s future, and I’ve seen him cry over Jane’s passing. But never over just some silly nightmare. I saw the tears that stained his face and gently wiped them away.

“I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what you need or what’s wrong,” I said quietly after a moment that was far too silent. Gabriel looked up at me and managed to sit up, flopping against my shoulder and just starting to sob his small heart out. I sighed and adjusted so I could lie next to him, keeping inky black waves of unkept and tangled hair out of his face and in my hands. I’d studied the way he comforted people- for my own gain, of course, for the simple need to manipulate. I would never be seen actually trying to comfort mortal scum…

Such a…gorgeous, broken, perfect mortal scum. He only managed to stop sobbing after a few moments of my silence and gentle fingers through his hair, and he didn’t say anything for a long moment. “Amon?” He whispered after those moments, like a desperate prayer. I made a hum, so he knew I was paying attention. “How come you decide to stay with me?”

“What do you mean?”

“The hell do you mean, what do I mean?” Gabriel sat up, seeming like he was feeling a cold and empty sense of rage that only came from grieving and thinking for far too long this late at night. “I’m everything you should stand against- a priest, a man of God, somebody who takes too much and knows too little. You should despise me, shouldn’t you? I’m not anything compared to you, in your prowess, your powers, your form, your-”

I pulled him back down and stopped those words with gentle kisses- not just on his lips, on his face and down his jaw, too. Nothing explicitly sexual- even I know sometimes it’s just not the time. “Shh.” I said gently. “How about we just not think for a couple minutes while you try to go back to sleep, yeah?” All I felt was a quiet nod, and spindly arms wrapped around what would be my waist in this human form, calloused and scarred hands resting on my back- scarred from too many thoughts, too many prayers.

I kissed the top of his head, thinking to myself. It was quiet in here…much too quiet. No wonder he had nightmares in this environment. And no wonder I had to use that spell so much just to get him to sleep… “How come you don’t have a nightlight in here or something? No wonder you get nightmares, you’ve got phobias that the dark doesn’t help,” I say quietly, trying to sound soothing. It’s surprisingly easy, considering I just had to copy Gabe’s tone that he takes when talking to disciples.

“Childish,” I heard him mutter.

“It’s not childish to need comfort.”

“And why do you care so much?”

I don’t answer, because I don’t know. I don’t know why I care so much, why I hold him tighter every time he sniffles, or why I kiss his head and muss with his hair when he’s feeling hard on himself. I don’t feel these things, so why should I care if some stupid human with pretty eyes and a tired smile does? What does it matter to me?

…it matters a lot to me, I realized. And it’s starting to piss me off.

Gabriel is asleep now. I’m writing this so that he knows and remembers that this happened, and so I remember what happened, and what I say to him. I was thinking about the question from before- why does it matter to me?

I’m a demon, a servant of Asmodeus. I don’t need some human with kind hands to guide me on some “right path.” My path is set, or that’s what I’ve been told.

But you, Gabby. You’re the one who made me reconsider. You’re the one who made me want to care for people, care for you, and your stupid destructive habits. You’re the one who made me feel somehow more indescribably human and warm inside every time you do something to help others. You’re the entire reason I’ve remained in this realm of existence, and I think you will forever be that reason.

I know what you’ve been thinking lately, Gabriel. And I know you’re not reading all this, because by the time you see it you’re probably groggy and will tell yourself that you’ll read it later, and then put it in a drawer never to be seen again. But I think I really do need you, in no way that Asmodeus taught me. I want to be the reason that you smile for once in your pathetic little life.

I think I’m in love with you. And I hope to any God willing to listen to the failure of a demon who has lost its purpose that you remember that the rest of your days.

-Amon. 🖤

[silverdelirium]

So it's like this Fluffy fic where we lose our virginity to Draco

GODDESS | D.M

summary: soft!draco taking your virginity

warnings: corruption kink?, loss of v card, soft sex.

———

you didn’t know if it was the way he was running his hands down your hair all the way to your back or just the thought of being so close to him that had gotten you like this.

and it seemed like a scratch you couldn’t seem to reach no matter how much you squirmed in an attempt to get rid of it. draco, your boyfriend of 2 months now, took notice of it, growing concerned that you might be hurt.

“baby, you alright?” he piped in a soft yet concerned tone.

“i don’t know- my stomach is feeling weird.”

draco shot up at that, cursing himself internally for not doing anything sooner. you squealed at the sudden movement, since you were laying on his chest, he brought you up with him.

he turned you by your waist so you were straddling him. his eyes searching your face and body for any type of bigger pain. “what does it feel like, love? tell me. i’ll get someone to bring you something” he soothed, trying his best to keep you happy.

“i-” you cut yourself off with a sigh, looking down at his hands that were settled innocently on your thighs, your breath hitching. “it feels all fluttery and tingly right here.” you mumbled, rubbing your lower belly.

oh, thought draco. his dick perked up at this in his trousers. he gave a mere chuckle and said, “darling... i can relieve that. but i have a question to ask first.”

you beamed and nodded at him to continue.

“has somebody ever touched you here before?” he asked before cupping your clothed cunt. the material soaked. you gasped at this, the feeling unfamiliar, you weren’t even aware that you were... wet. you obviously knew what happened when someone gets aroused, but it had never crossed your mind fully. too caught up in schoolwork and the people around you, you never got some time to give yourself some time. draco knew this and made it his mission to help you relax in your own thoughts when you started dating.

“i- no.” you admitted shyly. face heating up by the second. “baby, look at me.” he demanded, tone still soft, he let go of your sex and brought his hands to your cheeks instead, making you look at him. “is this okay with you? will you let me help you feel good?”

you wanted this. of course you did, but... what if you didn’t meet his expectations? you never did this before and according to what you’ve heard it could’ve made you bleed, people say it hurt! you didn’t want that for draco or yourself for that matter.

“i just- what if i’m not exactly what you expect me to be draco? what if it doesn’t feel good?”

“are you asking if it won’t feel good for me or for you? because i assure you that the sight of you alone could bring me more pleasure than anything in the world” he replied, tone now a bit harsher, almost offended that you thought of yourself that way. yes, draco had done things before but they didn’t mean shit to him. he could go his entire life without any sexual relief if it meant you were pleased.

“both” you muttered, head dropping down in embarrassment.

“sweetheart, if you really want to do this, let’s do it. i’ll be with you every second of it and if you’re not ready then i could wait a lifetime for you.” said draco, once again grabbing your face and bringing it up to his eyes. heart swelling at the mere sight of you.

you looked into his eyes and saw nothing but sincerity in them. so you gave it no more thought and nodded with a small smile. making him smile back at you and delivering a sweet kiss on your forehead before traveling down to your lips.

and as you continuously made out, he flipped you both over and laid you down on the soft pillows of his bed. disconnecting his lips from yours to kiss down your heck, sucking gently enough to leave hues of a light purple on your neck.

he tugged at your sweatshirt and broke contact with your neck. “y/n, are you completely sure?” he asked, needing to hear you say that you were okay with this.

you nodded, desperate to get on with it. “i want words my love” he demanded, yet the soft tone not breaking and gave your waist a reassuring squeeze. “yes draco” you whispered in a breathy tone. draco gave you a small smile and kissed your forehead as he lifted your shirt up, chucking it behind him once it was completely off, he sat down on his knees and took off his shirt too, as to give you some type of calm.

he swallowed hard and tried not to immediately dive in between your breasts but instead leaned down and kissed you passionately while he took of your skirt. you finished kicking it off your feet and broke the kiss for a moment to take a breath. and at the same time you saw draco look down at his girl in only your underwear. you gave herself a pat in the back for choosing a nice set for today. his eyes were blacked out with lust, pupils dilated more than ever. you was shaped like a greek goddess in draco’s eyes and he was willing to fight anyone who thought otherwise.

“sweet merlin” he breathed out. his trousers straining now more than ever. but he knew how to control himself, for you.

he lifted his gaze up to his girlfriend’s gaze and saw how her expression was more flushed than usual around him. he leaned back down to pepper kisses on her chest, reaching behind her back which she slightly arched, giving him the consent to unclasp her bra. and he did with a few fumblings here and there.

draco pulled back a little to get a good view of her bare breasts and jesus-

she truly was a goddess.

“baby you are so damn gorgeous, i’m the luckiest man alive” he mumbled, massaging gently her tits and giving the nipples experimental kisses, which were rewarded by sweet whimpers and heavy breaths of y/n.

“can- can i take them off pretty girl?” he asked, hands at the waistband of her panties. “yes, take them off please”

he got them down slowly, throwing the soaked material at the sight. and draco was sure he could’ve easily just came right then and there, but this was about y/n, not him.

“my god, baby” he grunted as she spread her legs lightly, craving those praises. he could now fully see her naked body, pretty tits, gorgeous figure and dripping pussy, all for himself.

he caught her lips with his as his hands went from playing with her soft breasts to travel down to her heat. her breath hitched as he got closer, yet managed to continue to make out with him, his tongue lovingly exploring her mouth.

and as he finally reached the place she needed him the most, he pulled away from the kiss and leaned down to suck on her nipples, making her release a soft moan as she ran his hair in her hands. his hands found her clit easily and drew gentle figure eights on it, her legs spreading wider and a firm moan passed her lips, making him almost pop out of the coffins of his pants.

“shit dray- just like that” she moaned out as his pointer finger continued playing a bit faster with her clit and his middle went lower to tease at her entrance, his fingers now covered in her juices. he slowly inserted his middle finger inside her, grunting lowly at the tightness.

“ah! yes draco fuck!” she cried out when he started to move it inside and out repeatedly, increasing the speed by the second, his pointer finger now joining the middle one slowly as his thumb took over the stimulation on her clit. “i- dray my stomach-”

he detached his mouth from her tits and looked up at her. she looked absolutely flawless, mouth agape and pretty sounds escaping it, eyes slightly hazed and brows furrowed.

“cum sweetheart, let it go for me” he rasped out. and she came without hesitation, all over his fingers, drenching them on her arousal.

y/n was brought back to reality from the state of bliss to the feeling of her boyfriend peppering kisses on her cheek, trailing down to her collarbone. “how was that my love?” he asked, voice laced with adoration. “i-it was good”

“you did a great job baby”

“dray i- i want to go all the way please” she admitted, tone slightly laced with nervousness. “are you sure princess, you know i can wait.” he said, moving to press a kiss on her forehead while massaging her side with his other hand.

“i’m- i’m sure draco please” she pleaded, moving to grip the hem of his pants, doe eyes staring up at him.

“your wish is my command” he smirked, tossing his pants off.

he positioned himself on top of her again, his hands on either side of her face, her legs were tightly closed, the anxiousness of not being enough for him slowly coming back.

“can you spread this pretty legs for me baby?” he questioned, one of his hands coming down to massage her thighs. “i- draco.” she said, voice slightly shaky.

draco took notice of this and removed his arms from beside her, instead sitting up on his knees, grabbing hers and placing a kiss on them. “what’s wrong baby, do you want me to stop?” his tone full of concern.

“what do i do if it hurts?” she asked, fumbling with the bed sheets under her with a cute frown on her face, not meeting his eyes. “baby i’ll be gentle. i’ll never hurt you you know that.” he stated.

she took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment, gathering her thoughts together. “you know what. yes, let’s do it, just be gentle please”.

“of course my love” he said before reaching for her hands and interlacing them together and once again bringing them to the side of her head.

y/n spread her legs wide enough for him to fit in, his painfully erect cock now in line with her opening, twitching slightly.

draco reached in between them and took his cock, pushing it inside her tight cunt slightly, she gasped at the stretch. he looked up and she gave a reassuring nod, draco pushed in more and watched as her back slightly arched. once he was further inside she released a small whimper, the first tear falling, yet she brought him down by his neck, smashing their lips together.

“move” she mumbled out between kisses, but he heard her clearly, moving in and out slowly, she gasped at this and bucked her hips up. the pleasure increasing every time he moved. subsiding the pain.

he then found a rythm and started to thrust into her gently, yet enough to pleasure them both immensely.

“dray-” she moaned out. “that’s right baby, say my name.” he grunted, eyes greadily watching her face contorting into pleasure. she moaned louder when he reached for her clit, amplifying the pleasure, her legs slightly shaking. “fuck yes, just like that!” she whimpered, back arching when she felt that bubbling sensation close again.

he gave a moan of his when her walls clenched around him. with the sight of before imprinted in his mind and the feeling of now, he wasn’t gonna hold much longer. “shit- are you close my pretty girl? gonna cum on my cock?” he asked seductively. she gave a weak mhm, not trusting her mouth to give a coherent answer. “then cum baby, wanna see you fall apart for me” he rasped out.

she came for the second time that night with a loud cry of his name. him following behind as he quickly pulled out. still stimulating her clit to ride out her high. he quickly came on her stomach at the mere sight of y/n cumming.

once they both climbed down from their high, he landed beside her, breathing heavily. but quickly recollecting himself and reaching for y/n, carrying her to the bathroom as he peppered kisses on her head.

he sat her down on the toilet so he could fill up the bath.

he sat her down on the tub, him behind her.

“you did amazing baby” he murmured in her ear as she collected the bubbles. her face heated up as she mumbled a thanks.

“once we clean you up we can go eat whatever you want and then cuddle for the whole day, hm?”

“yeah” she chuckled, face still heated up as he massaged her scalp with some shampoo, pressing kisses in her shoulder every now and then.

“my goddess” he murmured, wrapping his arms around her waist and pressing his cheek against her head.

———

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[reids-rendering-reality]

Guys My Age

Summary: Y/N is the newest addition to the BAU team and Spencer appears to have taken a special liking towards her. The only problem is, he thinks he’s too old for her. However, that’s all about to change when they share a hotel room.

(A/N: I’m such a sucker for the hotel room trope so I combined it with two of my other favourite ideas: Spencer being older than the reader and catching her doing yoga)

Type: fluff + a sexual innuendo or two

Warnings: dirty thoughts, insecurity about age, age gap, anxiety, yoga?

Word Count: 2.1K

Spencer Reid’s POV

I pulled the handle of my satchel over my shoulder as I sighed. It was a very long day in a small rural town somewhere deep in Alabama. Everyone else had gone back to their hotel room, besides Hotch and I. There was just something about this case I couldn’t get out of my mind. The feeling of being so close to the final piece of the puzzle, as if it were on the tip of my tongue but I couldn’t grip it. Yet I had to let it go for the night and get some rest. The much needed REM sleep could give me an entirely new perspective on this problem to me tomorrow. At least that’s what I hoped.

On the walk to the hotel room I was getting increasingly nervous, the more rooms I passed in the hallway. This small hotel did not have enough rooms to accommodate the whole team separately. They only had four rooms for the seven of us. JJ and Emily had immediately paired up, just like Rossi and Morgan. And Hotch being the team leader took the single room. Leaving me with our newest and youngest member, Y/N.

It’s not like I didn’t like her. That’s not what it was at all. Just, she made me a little bit nervous. She was so beautiful that sometimes I couldn’t get out any words around her. And that says a lot because I always have something to say. But as cheesy as it sounds, in some moments there is not a single fact that I can recall. 

But the elephant in the room demands to be heard. She is younger than I am. And that by a lot. By exactly ten years and three months. That appears to be a lot. I don’t really know why, but that bothers me. We are both adults, but because of social conventions at our age, I feel as though it is inappropriate. Yet if I were 60 and she were 50 or I was 80 and she was 70, no one would even blink at the gap. Yet because we are young it matters. I feel sad when I think about it because I like her a lot. And when we talk I don’t notice the age gap. In fact, I’d even go so far as to say that it wasn’t even there at all.

What surprised me as I was having these thoughts and neared the room was the fact that I actually considered asking her out. Since Maeve I have not been on a single date. And who said she would even be interested in anything beyond a casual friendship or even colleagueship with me? That’s not even considering the amount of courage it would require for me to tell her. But it’s not like that would be a fruitful endeavour.

And that was the last thought I had before I reached the door to room 179. A prime number. Prime numbers would be my lucky numbers if there were such a thing.

As I rummaged around my pockets and satchel for the key card I noticed the sound of music coming through the door.

“Gotta thank him he’s the reason

That I’ll find what I’m looking for.”

I heard a woman sing over the sound of an electric guitar. I still hadn’t found my key card.

“Guys my age don't know how to treat me

Don't know how to treat me.”

My movements stopped when my brain registered the lyrics. Guys my age…?

“Guys my age don't know how to touch me

Don't know how to love me good.”

My breath hitched and I gulped, key card in hand. Did she mean that? Could it be possible that she would be interested in someone ten years older than her? The feeling of hope was beginning to form in my brain, scenarios of what could be clouding my vision. But they were quickly pushed aside by a dark storm of self-doubt. Because most people don’t listen to lyrics as closely. The lyrics to a song don’t mean anything to them. Did they mean anything to her?

I realised I had been standing in front of the door for way too long and gathered all my confidence to go inside. But nothing could have prepared me for what I was about to see. After closing the door behind me and tucking away the key card into my bag I turned around for the first time.

There she was. In the middle of the room in front of the two twin beds on a yoga mat. Her front leg was bent as she stretched her back. She was only dressed in skin tight pants and a matching bra that complimented the way her body was contorted. The soft light from the night lamp next to one of the beds made her skin glisten just noticeably as if it were glowing. I could feel my eyes widen as I my brain finally added up the pieces of what I was seeing.

“Oh, hi Spence!” she said gleefully turning her head towards mine, “I was feeling a little tense after sitting in that conference room all day. I hope you don’t mind.”

I didn’t even bother to attempt to talk, I could feel how dry my throat was and how my lips would not listen to any command I would’ve given it. So I just shook my head and pulled my eyes away from her as she moved her upper body towards the floor, holding herself up by her ellbows. I walked towards the beds in her general direction trying not to notice how gorgeous her ass looked now that her body was turned away from me. That I even had that thought surprised me and caused a blush to rise to my cheeks. I was thankful that she couldn’t see my face in that moment as I loosened up my tie. Taking a deep breath to calm my nerves, my attention drifted back to the song.

“Don't know how to love me good

So I'm never going back”

There was nothing in that moment that could keep me sane. My wildest dreams could have not come up with this scenario. It felt utterly unreal.

As the song ended I saw her change positions again from my peripheral vision.

“You’re awfully quiet today,” she said while turning the music down.

I noticed panic begin to fill my brain. She wanted to have a conversation.

“I um- it’s been kind of a long day,” I said and cleared my throat, while deciding whether or not it would be a good idea to turn around towards her.

“Have you been at the station the whole time? You must be exhausted,” she responded and continued when I didn’t answer, “I thought you could show me that show you’ve been gushing about.”

How was this real life? My brain began to lose control of my executive functions as my body turned around to face her. She was now sitting on the floor, legs stretched out in front of her, her hands wrapped around her feet as she looked up at me. The low-cut top she was wearing gave me a perfect sight into the curves of her-

I dared not continue that line of thought, already flustered enough as it is.

“Really? You’d be interested in watching that?” I said and blinked.

Her lips spread into a smile, twinkling her eyes, “Yeah, of course. The way you described it makes me really curious.”

“We could watch an episode or two before going to sleep, if you want.”

I just had to take this chance. Even if I could only begin to have a friendship with her, I wanted to be close to her because for some odd reason, I couldn’t bear to admire her from afar.

So not long after, I was setting up the odd hotel room tv to watch the show. It took me the entirety of her taking a shower so that I was only standing back up when she was walking out of the small bathroom in a white bathrobe and a towel wrapped around her head. She smiled up at me as she walked past me, her hand brushing my arm so casually that I questioned whether it actually happened. 

I hesitated again before sitting down on the bed. Was she going to get dressed in front of me? Because no matter how much my amygdala wanted me to see that, my frontal cortex wasn’t going to allow it. I forced myself to look through my satchel in an attempt to find a distraction as I waited for her next move. But luckily, she didn’t tempt my brain too much into overdrive.

I felt as if there was a higher power not willing to spare me for the night when she came out of the bathroom a second time, now something someone might call dressed. She was in a loose light coloured satin pyjama set that showed off her legs perfectly. And as if that were not enough to torture me for the night, she joined me on my twin bed with her bag of chips.

“I hope that’s okay with you, then we can share snacks,” she said so innocently that I almost believed it. But I could still hear the song ringing in my ears and I noticed her eyes take a short glance down at my lips as she said it. I was almost convinced that I wasn’t imagining things.

What really sealed the deal was that I noticed her scoot a tiny bit closer to me every once in a while. At first I could only feel the warmth she radiated, but after about 30 minutes I felt the bare skin of her arm against mine. My breath quickened, which I was sure she had noticed.

I knew the episode off by heart. Which was to my advantage because then my brain could run in a speed that I could barely follow. I tried my hardest to calm down a little bit, which was hard when I could feel the movement of her body as a whole-hearted laugh filled her throat.

“Y/N,” I whispered with all my courage. It was so low that I almost thought she wouldn’t hear it, but she turned her head towards me her eyes following a few seconds after.

Her eyes met mine and it was like I could feel my neurons firing electrical signals throughout my entire body. And just like that, in one swift movement she had grabbed my face by the back of my head and pulled me into her lips.

That was the first time that night that my muscles began to relax as I eased into the sensation of her soft lips moving against mine. It was as though I was beginning to lose myself in the kiss, all insecurities about her feelings towards me or my inexperience gone.

When she ultimately pulled away and rested her forehead against mine, we were both panting gently. My whole body felt warm with the feeling of her breath on my skin and her hands still in my hair. I didn’t dare open my eyes, still afraid that I would wake up from this idyllical dream.

We both didn’t know what to say as we pulled away further and looked at each other. I wanted to say something, to let her know how I felt, but once again, my brain did not follow my commands.

“Did you know when you kiss someone for the first time it causes your dopamine levels to increase for a short period of time? It also makes your heart rate and the oxygen supply to your brain to raise,” I heard my voice say in something between a whisper and my normal talking voice.

“For the first time, huh?” she grinned a little at me.

I reached for her hand and gently took it in mine. I moved her palm over my shirt to the centre of my chest. I could feel my heart race through her hands and I know she could feel it too. She looked up into my eyes again with a look on her face that told me all I needed to know.

[dangerouslyallaboutdraco]

With Me

A/n: post hogwarts, lots of muggle references, mostly fluff but sexual connotations towards the end 

"You're coming out tonight, right, Y/n?" Draco asked Y/n from across the lunch table.

The six of them; Draco, Pansy, Theo, Daphne, Blaise and Y/n, were sat in one of their favourite muggle London lunch spots. It was not too far from the ministry of magic where they were all employed and they served the most delicious sandwiches. 

Theo and Pansy both gave them the side-eye, the couple insinuating something to Y/n. “Yeah, sure.” It would be their usual Friday night at their local pub or maybe club, where they would mix with the muggles in an attempt to override the hatred their parents built into them. 

It was the same thing every week and it was a tradition none of them ever wanted to break. Blaise would bring his wife Luna, Daphne her muggle boyfriend Jack, Theo and Pansy together always, Draco, and Y/n. 

“We should go back,” Daphne mentioned, picking up her water bottle and getting up from the table.

The rest of the group followed her, getting up and making the walk back to their offices. 

The rest of their days did drag on, as Friday’s usually do. Although it seemed Pansy had been busy from the look of the ‘official’ memo she sent out to the other members of the group, letting them know that instead of a pub they would be going to the theatre. It wasn’t their usual plans which excited Y/n and by the look of it, Draco sitting across the board room table from her. 

When they were finally finished with work and had returned home to change into some more appropriate nightwear clothing, they met up at Blaise and Luna’s house which was well out in the country. 

“Are we ready to go now?” Pansy asked, rallying the group once Daphne and Jack had finally arrived late as usual. 

“I still don’t get why we’re not just going out clubbing.” Draco moaned, his green velvet suit looking very dapper. 

Pansy rolled her eyes at him, they had always had a relationship of siblings and she was acting like the elder now. “Because you don’t need more numbers of girls in your phone. That’s not what phones are for.”

He huffed in return and used the floo powder to travel to London. 

The city always seemed to be bustling and Y/n had to take a minute to take it all in once they got there. Draco was the only one who noticed, pulling her to get her out of the way of other pedestrians. 

“Watch out, love.” He said softly, his arm still on her waist. His gentle nature was something new, only developing with the people he loved, after Hogwarts.

“Sorry.” She stuttered out, trying not to blush with him around. 

He smiled his soft little smile. “Don’t apologise, you ready to go?” Draco asked, finally turning his head away from her and to the rest of their group who were walking ahead of them. 

Y/n nodded and the pair continued walking behind them almost together but just far enough it could be seen as coincidental to their friends. 

Once they were finally at the theare, Draco brought them all a round of drinks.  His new soft nature led to him doing things like that as well; rounds of drinks, dinners, parties and fancy birthday presents. 

They all drank a lot. Round after rounds as they watched the play. And like normal they had a great night. 

“We’re going now, do you want to come to our and take the floor to your place?” Pansy and Theo offered Y/n, knowing she was the only woman in their group leaving alone. 

Y/n was feeling rather like puking from all the alcohol now in her system and an hour ride with Pansy and Theo making out was not appealing. “No, thanks. I’m just going to take a cab home.” She told them.

“Alone? That’s not a good idea, come with us.” Pansy defended, always the good friend. 

“I’ll come with you,” Draco said, suddenly next to her and wrapping his arm around her. Pansy subtly raised her eyebrows. “And then go back to my place.” He added, noticing Pansy’s expression. 

Y/n shrugged, hoping the answer was good enough for Pansy and Theo to let her go without them, then she could convince Draco to let her go alone and have a peaceful taxi ride to her place. 

Pansy agreed, letting them walk off to the taxi. It wasn’t hard for them to find one and Y/n got in. 

“You don’t have to come with me, Dray, I can get home myself.” She told him quickly but he ignored her, getting in the car next to her. “Fine then.” She mumbled. 

He rolled his eyes but smiled. “I’m not going to let you go home by yourself.” 

Y/n just looked at him, with a glare before turning her attention back to the cab driver and telling him her address. 

The cab ride was much shorter than the one to Pansy and Theo’s, only 10 minutes she had to sit in that cab with Draco and stare out the window.

Once they got to her apartment Draco followed her closely inside. She got to the door and unlocked it, turning back to look at Draco. “Come in.”

He obliged, walking in and taking off his coat and walking over to her wine fridge. “What are you doing?” She asked him. 

He didn’t reply, he just got out some vodka he could find. “Why do you keep it in here? That’s weird.” He continued to fumble his way around her kitchen getting some glasses. 

“Personal preference.” She shrugged, taking a seat on her couch. 

Draco walked over, giving her a glass and sitting next to her with his own. They sat together in silence, drinking far too much vodka added on to their previous drinks. 

Y/n finished the drink before Draco, putting her glass on the table before  getting up to go off to her bedroom. “You can go whenever.” She told him as he looked up at her. Something came over her and she placed a gentle kiss on his forehead, something she’d only ever done once before. 

She didn’t stick around to see how Draco reacted, she just sautered off. After she changed into a satin set of pjammas, she got into bed and sat up against the headboard, reading a few pages of the book she was trying to get through. 

Draco peaked around the corner of her door with a slight tap on the doorframe. “What are you reading?” He asked her, walking over closer to her so he could get a look at the pages. 

“Just a muggle book.” She commented, flipping him the cover to look at. He hummed in agreement and it was only then that she noticed how close he was to her, she could almost feel his breath on her neck. 

He stood there for probably a few seconds too long. “I’m going to go.” He said, pulling himself away from her. It was like he was magnitised and every time he had to go it was painful. 

Neither of them expected what happened next, her hand reached out to grab his. “Stay.” It was the only word he ever wanted to hear leave those soft, parted lips in such a delicate way. 

He didn’t argue he just nodded and went to her ensuite to get undressed. When he came back she was still sitting in bed but it was obvious she had been watching for him to come out, her eyes darting back to the page. 

“Guest room?” Draco asked, he was admiring her closed now. Taking in her cheekbones and perfect nose. She looked prettier than ever now, no makeup, no fancy dresses, she was just her. 

She shook her head at his question. “Stay with me.” Those were the words he was waiting to hear. “If you don’t mind.” She quickly added, hoping that he wouldn’t. 

“Not at all, my sweet girl.” ‘My’, he really said ‘my.’ Y/n was trying not to look at how beautiful Draco was, standing in front of her in just his underwear. She had seen him this intimately before, once back at Hogwarts but he was more built now. The lower amount of stress and consistent eating really looked good on him. 

He could tell she was admiring him and the tension in the air was building. But he let it go as he slipped into the covers next to her. They almost couldn’t resist touching one another. 

Y/n made the first move. She quickly swung her legs over his hips, so she was stradderling him. He didn’t stop her for a second, all he did was lean up and placed his hands on her cheeks before kissing her with more passion than she’d ever experienced. 

She returned the heated kiss, messily smashing her lips onto his. It was the perfect mix of passionate and built-up tension they’ve had for years. 

“I’ve loved you forever.” He pulled back to smile at the gorgeous woman sitting on his lap. 

“Draco.” She smiled. “I’ve loved you even longer.”

He flipped her over so she was now lying down and he was on top of her. “Nuh-uh.” 

She retaliated by using all her body weight to flip him back over, although she was convinced he was allowing her to because he was far physically stronger. “Yuh-huh.” She replied with a wide smile. 

He repeated the same move but flipped her the opposite way, smartly pinning her hands above her head so she couldn’t move. She wiggled around a bit, playfully squirming around. “You’re a little minx, aren’t you?” He grinned as he traced his fingers down from her lips. 

“Draco, do something.” She pleaded as she thrust her hips out, his finger close but just not close enough to where she really needed him. 

And that was enough to get Draco to be with her.

[all-about-seggs]

A pact in blood-

Rating: 18+, Explicit

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Fem! Reader

Word count: ~3K

Warnings: Semi-incest (Satoru is your cousin/ distant relative), masturbation, Cunnilingus, fingering, hand job, the relationship is a bit messed up, yandereish undertones.

A/n: This takes place when he's still in the academy.* Image source*

“AA-ahhh! Please don’t- don’t stop…”,

Your broken pleas reverberated through the room as Satoru’s deft fingers worked their way in and out of your sopping wet hole. You gripped the sturdy jacket that covered his shoulders, folding the fabric between your fists was the only thing you could do to maintain the last shred of composure you had.

He was like a passing cloud who offered you momentary relief and was on his way as soon as your were done, the fragments of longings that remained on your body etched deeper after every night.

Position after position, he went from your pussy over his lips to eating you out ass up and face down, all for the pleasure you couldn’t seem to get by yourself. You were now splayed out on his lap, face buried in his neck and one arm draped over him for support. Waves of his sweet scent and the euphoria assaulting your senses at the same time, taking you closer and closer to the edge.

It’s been quite some time now but the memory of your first encounter with your unfairly gorgeous cousin Satoru has been etched into your mind as if it happened just yesterday.

You were in the manor of the esteemed Gojo clan for a family event and even though you didn’t shared the same surname you were related nonetheless and were hence invited. It was a four day and three night celebration where the entire place was abuzz with excitement.

It didn’t really mattered to you, being here with a go with a flow kind of attitude, you just minded your own business until spoken to and not mingling with the faceless crowd of people you didn’t even knew the names of.

Thankfully your room was in the separate building which was a little bit further from where all the riotous events centered around. After just half a day of being in the middle of the chaos you wanted to find a way to unwind and that’s when it happened.

Stark naked and two fingers up your little cunt, there was no explaining or bullshitting your way out of this situation when the heir of the household, Satoru Gojo himself walked in in you. Feeble attempts to cover yourself and half hearted stutterings died in your mouth as soon as the young man opened his.

“ Wrong”, the deadpan reply of his made your already shaken up state worsen. Panic flooding in your system begged you to make excuses or atleast request him to not speak of this to anyone, after all families of high status are nothing if not conservative and you didn’t wanted to cause anyone any trouble.

“ I meant, y/n chan, that you’re doing it wrong”, not paying any mind to your internal conflict he continued speaking form where he stood near the door, “ don’t you know how to masturbate? I thought you were in highschool?”

His genuinely perplexed tone made you reconsider your previous opinions about the heir to the clan. Satoru, a guy who walked in on a relative masturbating, was supposed to show courtesy and leave the second he entered but instead he was rating your technique, which in all honesty may have been lacking indeed but you were desperate to cum and he seemed to pick up on that.

“ Since you’re clearly having trouble getting off”, he loosened the obi of his particularly formal kimono and shifted his uncovered ocean blue eyes towards your form, “Want me to teach you?”, his question made you gulp, then gauge your eyeballs out in disbelief. Sure you weren’t closely related and have only spoken once or twice but you attended all the occasions and holiday celebrations at their place and knew that your relationship was only platonic. His offer to cross that line made you flinch back at first.

Heaving a sigh he closed the door and sat cross legged on the tatami mat next to your futon.

“ Relax, t’s not a big deal”, flashing a toothy grin he leaned forward until your noses touched.

“ Afterall, I AM your big brother”

“ wait- you’re also in highschool!”, You retorted, “ I bet you’re a virgin too. So what CAN you teach me anyway?”, overcoming the initial embarrassment, your mouth started moving in its own accord only getting encouraged by his laid back demeanor.

“ Pfttt- so you get defensive when cornered? How cute!”, he giggled, a smile teasing at his lips at your obvious attempt to hide the shame burning in your core.

“Don’t worry, I know my way around a pussy just fine”, light hearted words fell effortlessly from his mouth and you could swear half of your brain was short circuiting because of his crude way of speaking. For all his regal appearance, he was just like any other highschooler, a year older than you but his stature and delicate features gave him a magestic aura that exceeds that of people decades older than him.

Just by the few encounters from the past, you figured he wasn’t one for following traditions or rules if it didn’t suit him. He was way above the rest, in his own distant world everytime you saw him, the school he went to, the things he had experienced were all different.

Forgetting the other's existence after passing each other by with a few formalities exchanged was all you had done with each. You two were never close or even friends but now the chance presented itself to take your non existent relationship to the extreme end through your bodies.

You wanted this.

To feel good. The hormones of youth pumping your impulsiveness you relax your muscles and lie on your back. You could clearly hear Satoru’s playfully indifferent chuckle from above when you slowly part your legs to show him the sides of yourself that even you have never completely seen.

“Just this once, okay?”

He said he was just teaching you how to masturbate but it wasn’t that simple. The only person to get naked was you and the only person who experienced the mind numbing pleasure, was also you. He only needed his deft fingers and mouth to make you feel better and for a while you didn’t even question.

That one lesson of self pleasure which you both were supposed to forget turned into an entire session as day after day Satoru would show up at your parents house unbeknownst to a soul and you both crossed the same lines of platonic relationship everyday.

The euphoria was endless but with a single rule that you weren’t allowed to touch him in turn and it goes without saying that the two of you never went all the way. It would always start with small talks about the day, even when you’d be talking, all your focus was on what was to come next.

That’s why after a few weeks of the detached pleasure he provided you, it got you thinking what he actually wanted from you. Satoru had already seen, touched and tasted all your body had to offer, never revealing any of his own.

You wondered if he ever felt sexually frustrated by always giving and never asking for anything in return. You knew he was not THAT nice. At least that’s what you believed considering his sadistic streak in bed. He did seem to be enjoying himself when he's messing you up so maybe he didn’t have many sexual urges that he needed to satisfy and was just acting on curiosity or maybe he had someone else, someone older with more experience who he didn’t constantly had a upper hand with and was able to see them as an equal. This thought alone made your chest tight, with an unnatural pain that threatened to break your heart.

You had to catch your darkening train of thought before it reached to the conclusion you were most afraid of. Knowing full well that this was just a fleeting moment that is only supposed to be enjoyed through a lens of carefree thinking, you push the budding feelings of the some very complicated emotions out of your system. The surge of jealousy you felt may have born out of falling in love with a family member but it was wrong on so many levels.

A love that starts with lust never ends well for anyone but as you were laying in his arms, the control over your body handed completely to him, your mind wondered how things would feel vice versa.

“ You seem distracted y/n”, Satoru looked at you, with his glasses off the beautiful azure eyes hidden beneath a delicate layer of white eyelashes filled your vison.

“ I’m obviously not doing it right if you have time to get lost in your thoughts”, putting you down on your bed, he started to move away and for a minute you got your hopes up, thinking your chance to finally have him completely and you cursed yourself for wanting at the same time. But no amount of berating would scrub off the insatiable thirst you had, for its roots had already made their way to your heart.

“Please let me help you too”, these few words took a lot of guts, letting go of all the inhibitions and threads of morality you fix Satoru with an unwavering gaze.

“ That’s okay babygirl, I’M the one who does the teaching here afterall”, you saw what he was trying to do, his airy yet gentle tone didn’t left much room for argument but the gray zone of your relationship was blurring to the point of confusion urged you to give into your clamoring emotions.

Without a second thought you jumped on him with all your might, closing the distance he put within seconds to cover his mouth with yours. You knew how much you weighed but despite your aggressive actions his sturdy form didn’t even deter form his position while catching you. You twirled your tongue over the roof of his mouth, the taste of your juices still lingering in there.

Hoping to have proven your resolve that wasn’t going to settle for getting brushed aside you break the kiss and look expectantly at him. An invisible bond between the two of you taking shape, strengthening the magnetism that attracted you to him.

“ That eager for my cock are you?”, Taking your face in one of his huge hand he makes you look straight at him, “You really want more? More than I'm already giving you?”, just one more push. You thought, with just a bit of coaxing, you were sure Satoru's wishy washy rules would crumble to make way for your upcoming actions.

“ I do. I know exactly what I want but”, steeling your nerves you face him, eye to eye, “ What do YOU want?”. The question was simple but the conflict swirling within Satoru’s eyes was evident and for the first time you realised that maybe this wasn’t just a case of casual hookup for him as well.

“ I want all your firsts. That’s all.” After a short stretch of silence he spoke, ironically the borderline obsessiveness of his glib response, like magic, cleared away the fog was previously clouding your mind. The nonchalance of his smirk should've been the red flag that made you rethink your life choices but the heat of the moment only seemed to ignite your lust.

Not uttering a single word, you quickly work on shedding him off his cloths, he doesn’t make any attempts at stopping you this time around, this knowledge pulling a smile out of you. By the time you reached for his boxers your hands were shaking.

Whether from excitement or nervousness you couldn’t tell but looking down through the veil of his heavy eyelashes, Satoru’s passion was evident.

Eyeing up his exposed body you still for a moment to take it all in. You ran you hands through his sculpted chest and down to his abdomen, your nails scratching the surface of his defined muscles. All of his masculinity contrasted with his oddly sweet scent and velvety pink lips that never failed to lure you in for deep soft kisses.

There’s no doubt girls must be always fawning over him and his perfectly smooth skin was something that even made you jealous. You were so captivated by his looks that you had to shake yourself free from your lovesick stupor .

You feel him up a little, hands running across his toned chest, you drag your nails through the rise and dips of his abdomen down to the contours of his defined V- line before turning your attention to his hardening member. Your breath quickens as your trembling fingers hook beneath his waistband.

Taking out his pulsating member you run your eyes up and down his entire length. He was big, to say at the very least. Bigger than you'd expected and more than you thought you could handle but backing out now would be straight up hypocrisy when your drooling mouth said otherwise.

With your ass right next to his chest, you start licking and sucking his tip with fervour, not wanting to waste even a single drop of his cum that you wanted so bad. You heard him moan lightly behind you, his voice only fuelled the fire that was burning your core. Having never given a blow job to anyone before you struggled in keeping a steady pace and his girthy cock didn’t make it any easier on you.

In just a few minutes you jaw ached and your entire face hurted but Satoru showed no signs of cumming.

In your own world again, you racked up your brain to figure out how to please him when suddenly you felt a hand climbing up your thigh. With the other hand he gripped your hips and pulled your lower half until you were straddling his mouth.

“ It’s a lot better like this don’t you think?”, as he spoke you felt his breath caressing your nether lips and you shivered in delight at the new position.

He snaked his hands in between your thighs and spread open your slit, glistening with your dripping arousal using his thumbs. Every single fold of yours now in display Satoru licked his plush lips before leaving open mouthed kisses on the exposed skin. His lips pulling out a series of appreciative hums as you desperately try to focus on your own actions.

Taking his hard length half in your mouth and half in one of your hand you tried to match the skilful movements of Satoru’s tongue that relentlessly lapped at your clit. After a few minutes of trying and failing to suck him up properly your senses got completely clouded by the heavy onslaught of that familiar release you had gotten used to.

You wanted to ask him to stop so you catch up to him but he the vigor in his actions and your own overwhelming surge of desires made you decide against it, the broken stings of his name died down with you still half choking on his length.

The only thing your lust laden mind could decipher except for pleasure was shame. To you, it was shameful how, being the one who asked to touch him, you were the one tethering near the edge. Before long your convulsing pussy was dripping with your juices, trickling down from his face that was still buried nose deep in your crotch.

Messing you up always filled Satoru with a kind of affection that he didn’t thought he was capable of.

Your cute whines getting muffled by his cock that you could only take half way past your llip sent waves of ecstasy down his spine. The cum that kept on flowing from your aching hole that he was the first to taste and the last as well took him to a high that no amount of pleasure could.

He couldn’t decide whether he wanted to be the provider of your everything who had complete control over you or if he just wanted to spend hours into the night, praising every fibre of your being that was so eager to make him feel good. This duality of his thoughts confused him further and in that moment he knew he had to see this to the end.

Your heavy pants was the only thing that could be heard in the otherwise silent room, guilt and pleasure leaving you tongue tied. You move yourself from above him, your quivering body falling like a sac just beside his own.

“ I’m sorry! I couldn’t make you-“, before you could finish your breathy apology he brought up a finger near your frowning lips to quite you down.

“Its okay sugar, it was your first time. Not a big deal.”, the soft notes of his voice took the edge off of the disappointment you felt, “I told you. I’ll teach you everything.”

Those eyes. Two shining orbs of brilliant blue gazed at you in the same way you found yourself staring at him. Watching over you like it was their birthright and oddly enough, the scrutiny made you feel completly at home just like the warmth of his long arms that wrapped themselves around you.

" Realx Y/n, I'll be very thourough with my teaching, afterall,", your heart thumped loudly in your chest in response to his smooth voice, "I don't do things halfway.

The pleasent fatigue that had taken a hold of your body slowly dissipated but the growing haziness of your mind got you wondering if you were falling in deepness of his ocean blue eyes but as soon realization hit you, you were already halfway through blacking out.

That you’d never be forgiven for wanting.

From that moment on, you knew.

Part 2? Idk you tell me(╯︵╰,)

[earlgreydream]

therapy.

| dark!bucky x reader | smut |

requested by @fitzfiles​ 

cw: infidelity, dub-con, ethical violations

“How is it going so far? Is it helping?” 

“Yeah, it’s going well. He’s... a little intense sometimes.” Your confession left your lips with ease. Too much ease. Parker always knew how to pull the honesty out of you.

“I think the best therapists are supposed to be.”

His loving smile spread warmth through your chest. It was so unlike James’ cold eyes. Everything about Parker was warm, inviting, and friendly. He was your best friend, your roommate, and more recently, your boyfriend. You loved him, and he was perfect for you. Parker was the sunshine in your life, the bright spot that broke through shades of grey. 

“I’m really glad that he’s helping, Y/N,” Parker’s gentle touch on your arm was followed by a sweet kiss. 

You shouldn’t have pictured someone else’s face when his lips touched yours. 

“Me too.” 

“Let’s order food from that Romanian place you like in uptown,” his fingers laced in yours, pulling you to the couch. You couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across your face; he knew what you needed. 

“Even dessert?” you asked hopefully, your head dropping down onto his lap.

“Of course,” he grinned, opening his laptop to order your dinner. He let you pick the movie playing while you dug into Romanian take-out, and Parker had you laughing until your sides split.

Parker was perfect. He knew what you needed without being told, and he balanced you. He was patient, bright, and lovable. Parker was a giver. You couldn’t have asked for anybody sweeter and more loving.

“Baby,” you murmured, crawling on his lap as the movie credits rolled.

His hands went to your waist, and he gave you a delicate kiss. You tried to deepen the kiss, but it felt innocent, even as he kissed you harder.

“Parker,” you murmured, leaning back.

“Let’s have sex.”

“Are you sure? I know you have to be up early in the morning,” he asked, and you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Of course I’m sure, you’re my boyfriend and I want to.”

With that, he picked you up and carried you to your bedroom, ceremoniously undressing you and kissing your body so gently it was almost hard to feel.

He moved into missionary, his elbows on either side of your head, his body flush against yours. Little kisses were peppered to your face as he slowly rocked into you. His thrusts were slow and shallow, and he rubbed your side as you tried to pull him deeper or push up against him.

“You feel so nice, honey,” Parker said, pecking your lips.

You hated yourself for growing discontent, finding yourself just wishing he would hurry up. You nearly praised when his fingers went to your clit, thinking it would finally be enough. You weren’t so lucky, his gentleness extended even to the filthiest of his actions. He was caressing you so slowly it was just as useless as if he wasn’t touching you at all. You finally gave up and faked an orgasm, moaning softly and increasing your breathing, holding him close to you as you shuddered.

He pulled out and came in the condom, rolling off of you and getting up for a towel. You stared up at the ceiling, feeling utterly discontent.

You sat up when Parker returned, and you kissed his cheek and told him you’d clean yourself up, and take a quick shower before bed. He didn’t seem to object, and you shut yourself in the bathroom, desperate to get some space.

You cried silently, your tears and sniffles drowned out by the stream of water. It washed over your muscles, surrounding you with warmth and easing the tension. You eventually resided yourself to getting back in bed with him, feeling suffocated as he spooned you. You didn’t understand how it was possible to adore him so much and want to run as fast as you could out the door.

The weather was terrible. If the view out your window and the sound against your roof wasn’t enough, the news channel murmuring softly on the television confirmed it. The city was being drowned in a thunderstorm, the streets flooded with rainwater. The sky was almost black from the clouds, and you struggled not to let your mood darken along with it. You felt stormy on the inside, your stomach twisting with doubt and discontentment. Parker being home that morning made you feel impossibly worse, and you were willing do get soaked in order to have some freedom from his attention.

“Do you want a ride to the office, Y/N?” Parker offered, frowning as he looked out the window.

“No, I’ll take the subway. No sense in making you late for work. I’ll see you later, okay?” you kissed him before heading down the street underground to catch the train. 

Bon Iver filled your ears as you waited for your train, nervously tapping your feet. The heat and dampness made your clothes stick to your skin, and you felt suffocated. Your anxiety spiked, and you pulled at the sleeves of your windbreaker, about to snap when the train made stale wind whip through your hair. 

You covered your face with your hands, wiping the tears away that had escaped. Overwhelmed didn’t even begin to crack the surface of how you felt, and emotion came rushing up in your chest faster than the train sped down the rails.

People flooded out onto your station, clearing the way for the new passengers to board, everyone rushing to get to work, or school, or far away from whatever haunted them.

You took a deep breath and stepped onto the train, trying to calm down. Your therapist would have a field day if you turned up at his office this anxious. The prospect made you shudder.

A few months ago, you had began seeing your therapist, James Barnes. After repeated anxiety attacks in the presence of your boyfriend, he had encouraged you to go to a therapist for help. You’d finally agreed to take him up on it, deciding it would be helpful to talk through some of your issues. James was a highly praised therapist, recommended to you by several people. Your acquaintances sung his praises, and you decided it wouldn’t hurt to try.

You definitely had not been prepared for what you were met with. A young, gorgeous man with intimidating steel eyes, who got you to spill your secrets and insecurities was the last thing you expected. All it took was looking into his intense gaze for the honesty to fall past your lips.

 James Buchanan Barnes tore the truth from you effortlessly. 

You stepped onto the subway platform, ascending the stairs and pushing through the small crowd of wet people trying to catch their trains. You pulled your hood up as you ran across the street to the office. The beautiful glass building reached the sky above you, holding the offices of many self-employed New Yorkers, including James. 

You walked inside the modern lobby, the secretary nodding at you as you took the elevator up to the seventeenth floor of the high-rise. The glass and tile were all grey in the light of the storm outside, fog obstructing the view outside of the windows. You were trapped in a grey bubble. 

“Y/N?” James stood as you entered the office, the door open and inviting you in. 

“Hi, sorry I’m a few minutes late, the storm is really bad,” you apologized.

“Of course, it isn’t a problem in the slightest. I expected it. Go ahead and have a seat.” 

His voice was deep and smooth, and his slight smile eased some of your nerves. You sat down on the couch, across from the dark blue chair he stood from. You watched him move, and his hand brushed your elbow softly as he walked by. It was like when Parker touched you, but it felt distinctly different. 

“Can I get you some water?”

“Please,” you nodded, your eyes wide as you watched him lean over a drink fridge. 

His hands flexed as he twisted the cap off of a water bottle for you, the action making you blush slightly. You lifted it to your lips, hoping the water would calm down your nerves a bit. 

James sat down across from you, stirring a cup of tea and waiting for you to speak. When he realized that you weren’t going to start on your own, he set down the tea and leaned forward. 

“Want to talk about what is on your mind, Y/N?”

Your eyes traveled from your lap to meet his gaze. You took a deep breath before speaking. 

“I’m uncertain about my relationship,” you finally admitted. 

“Your relationship with Parker? I thought it was going well,” James head tilted a bit.

“It is going well. It’s perfect, in fact. Parker is too perfect.”

“He’s too perfect, or too perfect for you?” James asked, and he wondered immediately if he was too harsh. He noted the way your hands squeezed the bottle of water you held.

You startled at the question, feeling exposed. He was your therapist, but you didn’t like to be called out.

“It’s not like that!” your voice came out sharper than you intended. 

“What’s it like then?” He asked in a much softer tone, attempting to understand what you were trying to tell him.

You hated how patient he was, keeping his voice even. Those steel eyes gazing deep into your soul. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap... It’s just that I guess I think he’s too perfect for my taste. It’s not him, or his fault, even, I’m just bored. I feel like that makes me a terrible person,” you sighed, dropping your head into your hands.

“You don’t need to apologize for expressing your frustration. So, Parker isn’t your taste, that’s okay. It doesn’t make you a bad person. If he’s not it then he’s not it.”

You weren’t convinced.

“Why does he bore you? This is recent.” James had noticed he seemed less fond of Parker recently, but he was surprised by your confession. He didn’t expect you to so openly admit you had tired of him, especially when you’d repeatedly mentioned that he was the stable, gentle force in your life.

Your face flooded with embarrassment, and James’ curiosity was killing him. He could’ve guessed by your reaction to his question, but he waited for you to speak.

“Does this have something to do with him being ‘too perfect’?” He pressed.

“I guess you could say that. He is so sweet, he really is. But he doesn’t satisfy me sexually...”

“Because he’s kind?”

“I want something, someone, more dominant. It’s stupid, but Parker is too vanilla. It feels like a high school fairytale, and I want something fiery and intense. I want things he would never do,” you confessed the truth, and it sounded horrible in your ears when you said it out loud.

“So the problem is your sex life.”

James’ insidious curiosity was getting the better of him. He’d immediately taken notice of you over his other clients, admiring you in tight jeans and short skirts. You were charming, and you completely enraptured him.

He had never been so enamored, and he felt devious for feeling the way he did. He imagined you when he touched himself in the shower, your sweet voice and shy blush, innocence pouring through you as you confessed your deepest secrets.

James studied your reaction to the statement. Your fingers nervously pulled at your sleeves before coming up to your soft lips. A rosy pink spread across the apples of your cheeks and tips of your ears, warming your face.

You grew shy, unable to escape his steel gaze. You wanted to sink into it, get lost in him, instead of swimming and struggling for air in your empty relationship.

You shouldn’t have these thoughts about your therapist.

You shouldn’t imagine his lips on yours.

You shouldn’t imagine his hands on your body.

“Y/N,” James spoke, calling your attention back to his question.

The problem is your sex life.

“Yes, he doesn’t pleasure me,” you forced yourself to answer.

“I’m sorry to hear that. What is it you’re looking for? Is it something you can discuss with him?” James asked, wanting to hear your fantasties. 

Your face was burning, but the truth spilled out of you.

“Tell me what you haven’t told anyone.” It was a command. 

“I want something rough, and desperate and needy. I want to feel wanted, like he couldn’t survive without touching me... I have to control every aspect of my life, and I want to be dominated, and just... let go of that control. I want to be held down and roughed up, and I want it messy and explosive,” you confessed, your fantasies pouring out of you, filling James’ mind with filthy fantasies of fuckign you over his desk. 

Before James could answer, the electricity cracked, plunging the two of you into complete darkness. You screamed, jumping out of your seat. Your heart was pounding, startled by the shock that snapped the tension in the room.

“You don’t need to be frightened, not with me,” James’ voice was soft, and you felt his hands on your arms and his breath against your face.

Your heartbeat stuttered in your chest, the air catching in your lungs. His touch overwhelmed your senses, and all you could see in the dark was the silver eyes that pierced into your mind.

“Y/N, it’s alright. Hey, are you okay?” He turned on a battery powered lamp, soft light spilling into a small circle around you.

“I’m fine, just startled,” you stood up.

“I’m sorry we were interrupted-”

“Not your fault. But I’m going to head out,” you interrupted.

You were embarrassed and shaken up, and the large office felt suffocating. He caught your hand as you went for the door, his hands much larger than your own, making you feel small. You hesitated, gazing into molten steel as he tried to keep you in his safety.

“At least let me walk you out,” he said, turning on the flashlight on his phone. 

James never ceased to surprise you.

He opened the door for you, letting you slip by him. The building was dark, and the lack of power turned the two of you toward the stairs. You watched your steps, his hand on your back as he guided you through the dark stairwell. 

You halted on a landing, and James looked to you. 

“Turn off the light,” you whispered hoarsely, your fingers wrapping around his wrist. He did as you asked, darkness swallowing the two of you.

It wasn’t just a metaphor anymore.

“Y/N?”

“James.”

Before you could give it a second thought, you grabbed his navy blazer, pulling him into a rough kiss. He pushed you up against the wall, his hands going to either side of your head. His lips were heavy against yours, and he kissed you like he was starved for you. This was what you craved, heated, fiery intimacy. 

Your fingers slid up his chest to thread through his dark hair. One of his hands went down to your hip, squeezing you and pushing his knee between your thighs. James overwhelmed all of your senses, filling your mind as you breathed him in. His tongue slotted against yours, swallowing your moans as your hips rolled forward against his. 

When you finally broke to catch your breath, your head felt like it was spinning and the floor swayed under your feet. 

“I can make you feel desired, I can make you forget everyone who came before, until my name is the only one you can remember, the only word that leaves those gorgeous lips.” James’ words were hot against your cheek, his lips ghosting along your jaw as he spoke. 

Heat washed through your body, and you felt like you could collapse. Your phone rang in your back pocket, and Bucky’s presence was suddenly gone from your body, leaving you alone in the dark. 

His flashlight turned back on, and the two of you silently went down the rest of the stairs, until you made it to the lobby.

“Next week, Y/N?”

“Next week,” you nodded before the door slid shut. 

You hesitated before going out into the pouring rain, hanging back in the lobby. Your phone rang again, Parker’s second call. You stared at the caller ID for a moment before answering it, putting the phone up to your face. 

“Hey, what’s up?” you asked, fighting to keep your voice as calm as possible. Your nerves were all sparking, and your heart raced in your chest, still in the aftershocks of your brief intimacy. 

“The power is out here, are you alright there?”

“No, we ended the session early. Total blackout.”

“Okay, baby, do you need me to come get you? Otherwise we can meet at home?” Parker asked, worrying for your safety. You held in your sigh, rolling your eyes up at the ceiling. 

“Let’s meet at home. The subways are still running.”

“See you soon,” Parker said cheerily before the line went dead. 

You slid the phone into your pocket before braving the storm, quickly taking cover in the crowded subway station. Your hand went over your mouth, and you watched the stations whiz by as you tried to process the last hour. 

Your fingers traced your lips, the feel of James’ kiss burned into your skin. 

Your hands were shaking so bad you could hardly get the key in your front door to unlock it. When you finally kicked it open, you left your raincoat and boots in the foyer, shaking out your wet hair. Parker called your name, a bright smile on his face, and a New York-style pizza box in his hand. 

You knew you should’ve felt guilty, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it as you were faced with the relationship that had long lost its momentum.

“I grabbed some lunch, because I figured there wouldn’t be power to cook here.”

You thanked your boyfriend, taking a slice and sitting down in the kitchen, praying the power would return soon and you could distract yourself with netflix. His kiss tasted like novocaine. 

You desperately wished that Parker’s arm around your waist belonged to James.

It was the slowest week of your life. Every spare second, your mind wandered to James, and his lips on yours. He consumed your thoughts, and the ghost of his touch lingered on your body. When Parker was inside of you, you imagined it was James just to make the sex tolerable. 

One moment had gotten inside your mind, and shattered the facade of your romance. 

James was no better. Thoughts of you pried into his mind as he worked with other patients, and he suddenly found them insufferable. He longed to hear your voice, to see your beautiful eyes darken with lust as you bit your lower lip. 

James found himself wondering if you knew how much you turned him on. The mere thought of you aroused him, and your name was the one he moaned into the sheets as he fucked his hand. 

He wished it was you.

Your stomach was practically in your throat as you rode the subway to your appointment with James. A week had passed, a week of sexual frustration, anxiety, desire, and longing. 

His words echoed repeatedly in your head, filling your thoughts with filth and pooling arousal in your sex. 

I can make you feel desired, I can make you forget everyone who came before, until my name is the only one you can remember, the only word that leaves those gorgeous lips.

You’d worn a short dress that was cut low in the front for your appointment. Parker was gone to work before you were even out of bed, and your thoughts were entirely on your therapist as you showered and dressed for the day. 

Your desire clouded your mind, throbbing deep in your core and making you ache with raw need. 

You stepped into James’ office, the heavy door falling shut behind you. 

“Y/N,” James practically cried, satiated by the sight of you. 

His eyes trailed up your body, on sexy display in your revealing dress. You pulled your lip between your teeth, driving him absolutely mad. Your steps were silent as you dropped your things, walking around his desk to stand in front of him.

“You’re all I’ve thought about.”

“I’ve been dying to touch you,” James growled, flipping you around and pulling you back against his chest. 

You felt how hard he was, pressed tight against your ass, and his hand slowly snaked around your throat. His other hand slid up the inside of your thighs, trailing higher until he cupped you through your thin panties, his mouth devouring the breathy moans that escaped your lips. 

His fingers dipped beneath the lace, feeling how soaked you were just from thinking about him. He smirked against your jaw, nipping lightly at the skin, making your breath hitch. 

“You’re soaked, doll,” James’ voice was deep, making another wave of arousal wash over you, only adding to the wetness that was spilling from you. He let go of your neck to slide the straps of your dress off of your shoulders, letting your breasts fall free into his gaze. 

“Beautiful.”

His fingertips circled your clit a few times before sliding through your folds, and you sank back against him, your knees weakening from the lightest touches.

“James please I can’t take waiting anymore!” You begged, desperate to feel him inside of you. Your hand hand moved behind you, feeling him through his pants as he continued to grind against your ass. You moaned loudly when his hand cupped your breast, teasing your nipples as he pushed two fingers in your slick heat at the same time. 

“Make me forget about everything else.”

James didn’t prolong the teasing any longer, fearing he wouldn’t be able to hold out himself. His tailored shirt and pants were stripped from his body and your dress discarded on the floor along with your panties. He laid you on top of the desk, positioning himself between your legs and pinning your wrists above your head, dominating you just as you desired. His mouth moved from your lips, down your neck and chest, all the way to your abdomen. 

“James!” His name echoed off of the glass walls, your scream shooting all the way down his spine, straight to his dick. He buried himself all the way inside of you, swearing at the way you accepted him without resistance. You were tight and warm around him, and he shouted your name as he began to fuck forward into you, railing you on top of the desk as you chanted his name in blinding pleasure. 

Your body accommodated him, the throbbing ache satiated as he filled you more than any partner had in the past, ripping all of the memories from your mind, leaving you with only thoughts of him. 

He let go of your wrists, leaning over you so he could pull your hips down to meet his thrusts, railing you harder and faster, sending white-hot pleasure through you, your nerves fraying and sparking like a live wire. 

“It feels good, doesn’t it? To let it all go?” 

“Yes, yes!” you cried, your legs shaking around his waist and your fingers pulling roughly at his hair.

You dragged your nails down his back, moaning loudly into a heavy kiss, your mind melting from his lips moving against yours with raw passion. The coil in your abdomen was wound so tight that your body was writhing under him, his fingers on your clit dragging you closer to an orgasm at lightspeed. 

“Come for me, I want to hear you scream my name!” James ordered, and all the pressure and tension inside of you shattered, fire radiating through your body as you screamed James like it was the only word you knew, the only thing that kept you clinging to existence. 

The sight of your ecstasy had James filling your cunt with his own release, continuing to roll into you as he rode out his high, dragging yours with him. Overwhelmed tears escaped your eyes, and you blinked them away as your vision slowly started to return from the white sparks that had blinded you. 

James eased out of you, leaning on the desk and catching his breath, gingerly kissing your lips and grounding you back in reality after your mind-blowing orgasm on the desk. 

Your chest rose and fell, your back still arched off of the desktop, and you turned your head to gaze up at the gorgeous man beside you. He brushed stray hair from your face before pressing his lips to your forehead. 

“That’s what it’s supposed to be like.”

“I want to get addicted to you,” you breathed, losing yourself in molten steel.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, doll.”

[7wanderingpaws]

Always, yours (6) M

Word count: 9.5K (!)

Warnings: language, mature content, angst 

tags: @geniusloey @taemin-jaemin @wooya1224 @f4ncyvelvet

Masterlist / story masterlist

<– Previous

“Is it still happening?” 

Your doctor was surprised when you were sitting in her office. The triplets were with Baekhyun who was standing just beside your chair. On his chest and back he had Jun and Juna and Junhee was in the basket carrier, for once sleeping peacefully.

You nodded, trying not to feel ashamed. It wasn’t your fault that you were overproducing milk. “It seems like it doesn’t have a proper schedule. After I breastfeed or pump it starts leaking again.”

Your doctor nodded seriously, frowning. “Did you release breast milk when the babies cry? Or perhaps after an orgasm?”

Her question made you beetroot red in the face and you quickly looked down on your connected hands , suddenly feeling hot and embarrassed.

You doctor let out a little chuckle, mumbling a “cute” when you felt Baekhyun’s comforting hand on your shoulder. To your utter horror, he replied: “She releases milk at any time of the day but during sex she was complaining about feeling the pressure in her breasts. I helped her out with it so that we could carry on,” he informed, not ashamed at all.

It made you remember the time when he was shy to ask whether you two could have sex during your pregnancy. And now he said this. A typical  upgrade of a parent. You lose all sense boundaries. You did the deed and now you have kids. As simple as that.

Your eyes widened. “Well, yes, that’s true. I felt pressure during eh, sex, and I knew there would be a release so…”

“That is totally natural, nothing to be embarrassed about,” reassured you the doctor kindly. “It’s only normal for the father to try the breast milk, even more so during sexual intercourse.” She paused for a moment. “So, this is what we are gonna do - we will try a block feeding technique. You will have to empty your breasts every morning, and then try feeding your little ones. If Jun is still struggling with refluxes, this should help. He is very small but if he feeds well and correctly, I’m sure he will be just fine.”

You nodded, still feeling worried. Jun was doing well but sometimes the milk wouldn’t sit well with him which would cause the reflux.

“The first dosage of the milk consists of lactose, the fat comes quite later on during the feeding process. You are feeding three mouths, so naturally there are gaps in between and each baby can get a different intake.”

“So my wife can still breastfeed, right?” asked Baekhyun, his hand caressing your shoulder gently. You enjoyed the touch; it reminded you that you were in this together.

“Yes, of course. This technique should not be done longer than five days, however, so make sure to check for any improvements, alright?” When you nodded, she said: “I’ll examine your breasts, now, if you’ll please move to the bed and remove your top and bra.”

Ah, how much was this uncomfortable but you got used to it completely. Everyone present in the room knew your breasts very well. It almost seemed like they knew them better than you did.

“You can also try to start using formula,” suggested gently the doctor as you took off your shirt and unclasped your bra. You were sitting on the bed in front of her, the colder air in the room creating goosebumps. “There is nothing wrong with that.”

“I know,” you murmured, shivering at the air hitting your warm skin.

“Oh, dear, you lost quite some weight,” she said when she took a better look. “Aren’t we thinking too much about the babies and too little about our mummy, hm?” she asked in a chastising tone but with a motherly smile.

You stole a glance at Baekhyun who was caressing Jun’s head, playing with the thin baby hair, while giving you a thoughtful look.

<3

“Thank you for coming with us today,” you told Baekhyun once you finally made it home. Triplets fell asleep during the transfer, so you were trying to eat late lunch before they would wake up.

“Sweetheart,” murmured Baekhyun with a frown and he stepped closer to you, stopping you from slurping the warm soup he heated up. “What do you mean? Of course I’d come. I’m your husband.”

You shrugged, not looking him in the eye. “I know but still… I guess your job is important-“

“No, it isn’t important. It isn’t more important than you are,” he murmured gently and caressed your cheek, expecting you to look at him but you didn’t. “What’s wrong? Why wouldn’t you look at me?”

Slowly, you dragged your eyes up to meet his down-turned ones, soft and gentle. “Just a lot in my head’s all. Our parents will be arriving in a few days so I need to clean up.”

The fact that you were getting anxious because of many things happening at the same time made you not want to talk about it. Taking care of the babies, welcoming your family, making a comfortable home for them while they were there - it was a little too much.

“I’ll do that, okay? You can start the laundry but I don’t want you to stress about this, am I clear?” His voice wasn’t stern but it was strict enough for you to nod obediently, preferring the idea of Baekhyun doing all the work while you could rest a little bit.

“Good,” he smiled, satisfied, “and now give me a kiss.”

You managed to smile as you strained your neck, kissing him over the bar table. He hummed in appreciation, prolonging the precious moment.

“Now eat,” he ordered teasingly and you laughed breathily when you sat down, your tummy rumbling with hunger.

You were eating in peaceful silence, the clinking of cutlery the only noise in the apartment. The day was barely half-way done but you felt tiredness creeping up your limbs; the more you ate, the sleepier you became.

When you and Baekhyun finished, you stood up, leaving the dishes on the table and walked over to him, taking his arm in your hands and gently pulling on it. “Let��s have a little nap together, I’m tired.”

Baekhyun observed you with amusement. “Of course. I’ll just clean up and follow you.”

You pouted and shook your head, widening your eyes at him as you dragged him out of the kitchen and straight into your bedroom. He laughed as he let you, and when you reached the bed you slipped under the covers, the AC having cooled down the apartment into the perfect cuddling temperature. Baekhyun followed you and once the both of you made yourselves comfortable, you found your way to him, your head resting on his chest while he tucked your head under his chin.

“Sleep, sweetheart,” he cooed into your hair. “You’ve had a long day already.”

You hummed and completely melted at the way he rubbed your back in slow, dragging motions. His scent and slow heartbeat finally made you lose conscious, dreamland welcoming you with open arms.

<3

“Look at these outfits!” Sukyeong pushed her phone into your face excitedly and you tried to not show your discomfort too obviously. You frowned with a pout as you observed a gorgeous summer dress on a model, the slit of the skirt revealing her long legs. “You’d look stunning in it!”

You sighed and reached for your cup of green tea. You were sitting in a posh tea house where one needed a reservation in order to be able to get in. Sukyeong always had your back and she promised to pay. Hence you didn’t bother looking at the price tag that went over 30.000won per one serving “You know I’d look horrible.”

She shook her head resolutely but her eyes were trained on the screen as her finger was eagerly scrolling through an endless Instagram feed with beautiful women. “You can pull off any look.”

Biting your lip, you nodded, feeling your eyes burn up with frustrating tears. Sukyeong was a great friend. But she was never a mother and had never been through a pregnancy. And it showed.

“You lost a lot of weight,” she finally looked up at you and put her phone away when she spotted your red eyes. “Since the last time I saw you- do you even eat?”

Not wanting to talk, you averted your gaze to the surroundings, noting how the tea room was peaceful. There were lots of issues within you that you refused to address, and none of them was about having triplets. Everything had to do with you.

“Oh, dear, I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you the past couple of weeks,” she told you, reaching for your hand.

“No, no, you have your own life. I barely had time to think, I was so busy.”

“I feel like a lot has happened during that time,” she murmured with worry, observing your pale cheeks. Sukyeong knew you for quite a while. She knew you as a determined and happy woman, very independent. Now she thought that she saw someone who really needed someone. “Is everything okay with you and Baek?”

“It’s great!” you replied quickly.

“What happened?” she asked with even more worry and this time your tears grew like sprouts, escaping your eyes. “Shh, if you don’t want to talk about it-“

“There is so much going on and at the same time…” you shrugged, not sure how to express yourself, “...nothing is happening at all.”

Sukyeong gave you some time to collect your thoughts for which you were grateful. As much as she could be a little too excited, she knew when to shut up and listen.

“A couple of weeks ago Junho appeared at our doorstep in the morning, he came with a sweater that didn’t belong to me, and Baekhyun didn’t take it too well. We had a fight. Since then, yeah,” you sighed, tapping at your wet cheeks, “it’s all weird.”

Sukyeong was silently looking at the smoothness of the table, at the tea pots filled with fresh green tea.

“It’s fine, nothing worrisome I guess,” you  added, not wanting to sound like the party pooper.

She murmured your name, and looked at you with something that looked like guilt in her eyes. “I need to tell you something…”

“Yeah? What is it?” you asked nonchalantly.

She sighed, closing her eyes for a second before she had to face your obliviousness. “It’s me who sent Junho to your house.”

“What!” you gasped so loudly some people turned to look at you, and Sukyeong quickly brought her chair closer to you, seeking a little privacy from the prying eyes.

“I gave him the sweater and told him to visit you! But my intentions were…” she trailed off, looking like a kid caught with a cookie.

“What the hell? What were your intentions?”

Oh boy, you looked pissed. Your eyes were burning up with anger.

“I wanted Baekhyun to meet him and… and… well, you know, bring some fire into your relationship-“

“Jesus Christ, Sukyeong!” you groaned, mad at her but still unable to fight the furious blush at her words. “That’s ridiculous! Me and Baek are married in case you forgot,” you added in a loud whisper. “It’s not like he just knocked me up and left!”

“I know, I know, but he was always MIA and I didn’t want him to neglect my best friend! You’re left alone with three kids!”

“What’s that have to do with making Baekhyun jealous? We had a huge fight and our relationship has been a little angsty since then.” Well, from your point of view at least. Baekhyun acted like all was fine but you couldn’t tell whether he really acted or he was actually that clueless about the underlying issues you both had. Let alone, the fight was nasty and you still had a lot on your mind to tell him but refrained from speaking up. You didn't even finish the talk after the huge fight like he said he wanted to do.

“Just so you know, you’re way too lenient about him and his darn professor job. You’ve got three babies for Christ’s sake.”

“But we need money! I’m not working and he is the only source of income we have. We live in that darn upscale apartment but at what cost? It’s hard to keep up with that and with three babies that need a nappy change almost every second hour of the day.”

“I understand it’s hard but Baekhyun does not work hard enough for you.”

Your nose prickled in an instant because she hit the right spot. You promptly looked away, wanting to avoid her fiery gaze.

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

Your silence told Sukyeong more than enough. She sighed and crossed her legs. “What was the fight about? You said after Junho appeared you had a fight.”

After several seconds of hesitation you told her. The highlight, of course, was Baekhyun’s harsh words about your jealousy when in fact it was all pregnancy issues at the time.

“No way he said that,” she mumbled in astonishment, her eyes looking somewhere far in the distance. “He dared to twist something like that?”

You could only shrug again. “It’s already resolved. We talked it out, he apologized and I’m not planning to keep grudges against him. I can’t fight with him, Sukyeonga. If I do, it feels like I’m going against everything that is me. He is part of me.”

Sukyeong could only sigh; both in affection and slight frustration. She knew how much of a strong relationship you and Baekhyun shared, but as your close friend she was worried. As much as she trusted Baekhyun and considered him a close friend as well, he was still a man.

“You need to be stronger than that,” she told you finally with a gentle tone as she held your hand. “I’m not implying anything more, just that you should always know your worth. Even when you are head over heels for each other.”

You sighed, though a little frustratingly. “I understand what you are trying to say, Sukyeonga. I really do…”

“You need to find a hobby or a job. I know you can’t do much with triplets needing your care and even sitters are pricey-“

“I’m not leaving my kids with a sitter!”

“-so you need to find work that you could do from home.”

Another sigh left your lips, your body completely deflating. “I’m already looking around for possible jobs but yeah… I’m tied down for a bit, at least until the munchkins are a little older and can start the kindergarten.”

Sukyeong nodded in understanding. “Whatever it will be like in the future, I'll support you. And make sure to show Baekhyun you’re not tied down to him.”

<3

The time for Baekhyun’s graduation ceremony came very fast. It was a given when every day became identical with the previous one. However, the anxiety you’d been feeling due to your family arriving was just rising by each day and you didn’t like the uncomfortable pressure it left you within your chest. With crying babies, and a lot to plan for their grandparents, you felt a little suffocated. Baekhyun, even though being home a lot more just as he promised, was not that much of a consolation. You had anxiety and you didn’t even realize it.

“I’m going to go pick them up at Seoul station,” told you Baekhyun when the time came. He had his phone and wallet prepared and he was walking over to you, seated in the living room where you were feeding Jun. Gradually, you were changing their feeding habits, mixing in some formula for the babies that were growing like mushrooms after rain.

You felt your eyes burn up with tears. For whatever reason. “Okay, update me when you’re with them.”

He hummed and leaned over you, his hand resting behind you on the backrest, wafting the faint mix of his perfume and baby detergent your way. “We’ll be back with you soon.”

You finally looked up when you felt him puckering his lips for an expecting kiss. He saw the way your eyes glistened and he moved away slightly.

“Babe, are you crying? What’s wrong?”

You shook your head, frustration rising. “I’m good. I’ll be good by the time you’ll come home. I’m just-“ you stopped abruptly, shaking your head. “I’m fine there is no need to overthink this.”

“Shh, sweetheart, you’re blabbering right now,” he sat down next to you, bringing his free hand up to your cheek. “Calm down.”

You squeezed your eyes shut and you unintentionally squeezed Jun as well. He let out a little cough and you quickly eased up the hold, not wanting him to get sick.

“Give me Jun and tell me what’s wrong,” suggested Baekhyun with worried eyes. He reached out for the baby only for it to whine when he tried to disattach his little mouth from your nipple. “Junnie, let mummy go for a bit.”

You kept crying, tears creating small waterfalls on your cheeks. Letting your head drop back on the backrest of the sofa, you felt Jun finally disattach, his crying growing with every second he spent without his milk.

Baekhyun tried to shush him while his other hand brought your shirt up to cover your chest. “It’s okay, it’s okay.”

“I’m so nervous and I don’t even know why,” you finally said, the wailing growing more and more irritating , causing small ringing in your ears. “I feel like too much is happening at the same time and I don’t know if I can welcome all of them here while at the same time taking care of the babies!”

Baekhyun was looking at you as he maneuvered Jun into a proper position, his head on his shoulder, his hand gently tapping the crying baby on his back. It was important to recognize when the baby was just greedy and when they really needed to feed. He was aware that you had been sitting with him for a while. “We are in this together, okay? Your priority is always the kids. I’ll take care of the rest- I thought we talked about this?”

“I know! But the house will be so full and busy and overwhelming and I just don’t want them to judge me as a mother and the way I take care of our kids and maybe they won’t like where they’ll sleep-“

“Did you already forget where we come from?” asked Baekhyun seriously and with that your crying ceased. When Baekhyun noticed, he added: “Our parents are anything but judgemental of the city life we live here. If you think they’ll judge the fact that they can sleep on a comfortable bed instead of the floor, then I don’t know if you grew up in the same village like me.”

You looked at him with red, puffy eyes. Jun was whimpering but soon a good burp followed and it made you and Baekhyun a little relieved. No reflux and a good burp. The perfect baby. “I’m sorry I’m just…” your lip trembled again, because you would never forget where you came from. What you and Baekhyun had now was so special, you forgot how a simple life was back home.

“You’re overwhelmed, I understand,” he told you, the gentleness back in his voice now. He reached out with his other hand for your thigh and squeezed it while he supported Jun’s butt with the other one. “I promise I’ll take care of everything. You do you, you do your motherly job and we will be all here to help you. They’ll most probably steal the munchkins away from us anyway,” he laughed softly.

You nodded, sniffing. “You’re right.” I hope they do, you added in your head but you hated yourself immediately for it. You desperately  wanted alone time but admitting it out loud would make you feel like a terrible mother. “You should go, honey, let them not wait for you.”

He nodded and caressed Jun a little longer before pressing a kiss to his temple and handing him back to you. “Kiss,” he demanded when you accepted the baby, and you smiled tiredly. You pressed your lips to his smooth cheek and he gave you a boyish smile.

And so, just like that the time passed with Baekhyun’s promises kept. You were relieved to hug your parents and always happy to see Baekhyun’s carefree mother and father.

When you were all at the venue, the huge hall full of older and younger people, you couldn’t help the excitement that was boiling in the pit of your tummy, mixed with anxiety. Baekhyun had to leave the apartment earlier to prepare, and thanks to your parents and in-laws you could make it safely to the busy event.

He nodded and caressed Jun a little longer before pressing a kiss to his temple and handing him back to you. “Kiss,” he demanded when you accepted the baby, and you smiled tiredly. You pressed your lips to his smooth cheek and he gave you a boyish smile.

And so, just like that the time passed with Baekhyun’s promises kept. You were relieved to hug your parents and always happy to see Baekhyun’s carefree mother and father.

When you were all at the venue, the huge hall full of older and younger people, you couldn’t help the excitement that was boiling in the pit of your tummy, mixed with anxiety. Baekhyun had to leave the apartment earlier to prepare, and thanks to your parents and in-laws you could make it safely to the busy event.

You managed to survive the ceremony with babies either looking around with curious stares or eventually falling asleep. There was only one moment when Junhee felt like scrunching up her face, letting you know she was not happy. A whimper left her and when you felt some people turning their heads you were fast to take her in your arms. Her small hands immediately tangled up in your hair because as you reached down it fell over your shoulder. 

You shushed her quietly while she made sure to let you know you would have to work harder for her to shut up. So as you bounced gently on your feet to lull her into inactivity, you caught eyes with Baekhyun who was smiling at the sight of you from afar. He was seated there, on the stage, with other masters and doctoral students. They weren’t that many altogether, but they all still heard you nonetheless.

Reciprocating the smile while feeling like you had an intimate moment with your husband, while Junhee was pulling on your hair, Baekhyun chuckled and looked back at the dean doing his closing speech, paying attention.

You sighed, realizing your elevated heart beat thanks to him. Baekhyun’s golden band on his finger shone as his hands were resting on his thighs. Your own band was, as always, comfortably sitting on your fourth finger, that same hand patting Junhee on her small bum gently.

Being at this stage with the munchkins, they were growing to like nonsense talking. You always let them converse away at home, but Junhee really felt like speaking her mind about the dean’s speech.

Gradually, more people paid attention to you rather than to the dean. You tried to shush her quickly, exchanging looks with your mother sitting on the edge seat of the row. She had an endearing smile on her face so it managed to calm you down.

Being with talkative triplets, well in this case just one out of three, came with attention.

“Baby girl, be quiet, hm?” you whispered, puckering your lips against her temple, still bouncing on your heels. “Pay attention to daddy,” you prompted but fruitlessly. “He is right there, aha-“ you turned to point your finger where Baekhyun was seated, not too far away.

Junhee pushed her fingers into her mouth as she blabbered before taking the same hand out of her mouth and smacking you with it on your cheek. Great.

“Junhee, look, daddy,” you shushed in her ear and once again pointed with your finger at your husband. You had his full attention now given how almost everyone could hear the baby talk.

Baekhyun waved cutely, smiling widely, his eyes small crescents. He sent her air kisses and you noticed Junhee watching him intently.

“D-d-d-d…” she kept murmuring and you giggled. Just then she let out a huge, screechy squeal, making you flinch away from the loudness.

“Shhh,” you tried but the dean stopped talking, looking your way now. You felt your heart drop at the attention and you took a few steps back, signaling to your mum that you’ll be outside with her so you wouldn’t disturb anymore.

“What a lively baby in the audience tonight!” pointed the dean, making everyone laugh. You managed to let out an uneasy laugh, bowing to everyone in apologies. “Is it a he or she?” He asked into the microphone and by now your heart was beating with adrenaline.

“Eh…”

“It’s a she, sir.”

Baekhyun looked proud when he spoke up from his seat, his eyes steadily set on you and your daughter.

“Very well, Mr Byun. We should invite her for speeches next time,” joked the dean and once again, everyone laughed.

You smiled, though you were beetroot red in your face. Junhee clapped cheerfully as if she understood, prompting everyone to laugh again.

“Junhee, calm down, baby,” you tried but to no avail. Eventually, you motioned to Baekhyun that you’ll be out and when you made sure the rest of the triplets were still sleeping, you slowly exited the hall; the ceremony would be ending any minute anyway.

After pacing for a couple of minutes outside in the shadow, you talked to Junhee, fueling her interest in talking as much as you could, now that you wouldn't disturb anyone. It was then that a woman in a beautiful, flowing dress approached you, taking off her dark specs before talking to you.

“Excuse me.” You turned around to her, smiling politely. Junhee went quiet at the intrusion. “Are you perhaps Byun Baekhyun’s wife?”

You nodded, a little unsurely. “Yes.”

“Nice to meet you! I knew I saw you somewhere and with the baby that looks a little like him I knew I was right,” she smiled widely at you. “I’m his colleague, I teach sports ethics and diplomacy. Jung Jaina.”

You nodded, her foreign name not processing in your mind. “Ah, nice to meet you.”

Why was Baekhyun always working with such pretty women? They looked so confident, put-together. Or maybe it was just your self-confidence that was so low.

“You’re so beautiful in real life, I can totally see where Baekhyun is coming from,” she added, her eyes sparkling. Her comment was kind, but it still left you insecure. “And this little one too.” She reached over and grabbed Junhee’s reddened cheek, pulling on it gently.

Junhee pouted big time before she pushed her tongue out on the lady in front of her. At that moment, you wanted to laugh so badly, but you tried to keep your face straight.

“She is too young, still,” commented Jaina as if it wasn’t awkward at all. You were nodding when, thankfully, your parents approached you, the hall filling out with people, waiting for the graduates to come out.

“Ah, here you are, daughter-in-law,” smiled Baekhyun’s father gently. “Let me handle her now, you worked enough,” he rasped and reached out for Junhee who was enjoying the attention.

“Very nice family, indeed,” commented Jaina as he watched you handing Junhee to her grandfather. “As you know, Baekhyun will go to Japan in September,” she started and you turned to her politely, letting her know you were paying attention. “It’s a great opportunity for him to grow. He has a huge potential. Our previous dean was young. I could imagine Baekhyun as a young dean too, if he’d work hard enough.”

“He just started. It’s way too soon to think he would become a dean, isn’t it?” you replied, smiling but not liking the direction of the conversation. Baekhyun becoming a dean would make him even busier.

“He has a lot of talents. Leadership is one of them and it’s the most important one. If he does well in Japan, which I’m sure he will, we will try to propose him the opportunity. He would have to do lots of research and teach more classes to get experience, but I have no doubts he is one of the coolest professors we have had in years. Plus, the students love him.”

“He is a likeable man,” you admitted reluctantly.

“You’re lucky,” she added with a strained smile just when you felt a pair of hands around your waist, the man in question finally appearing.

He kissed your neck, making your eyes go wide before he stood next to you and bowed to Jaina. “Miss.”

She nodded with acknowledgment. “You have a beautiful family, Baekhyun.”

“Oh yes, indeed,” he smiled cheekily, squeezing your waist.

Jaina observed the two of you a little longer. “I shall take my leave now. Congratulations, Baekhyun. See you next week.” She put on her specs and walked away, greeting people in her way.

“You met Jaina?” Baekhyun spoke up before you’d return to your family. They were too preoccupied with triplets who were now all awake.

You nodded, turning to him. His hand caressed your back. “She seems nice.”

“She is the boss,” Baekhyun chuckled, shrugging. He moved his head closer, whispering into your ear: “You looked so cute with Junhee in there, mummy.” His breath tickled you and you smiled gently. He looked at your face and stole a small kiss. “My beautiful wife.” His eyes traveled quickly over your dress, liking the way it looked on you.

“Congratulations to my smart hubby,” you played along and you circled your arms around his neck. “Your wifey is very proud of you.” You stood to kiss his cheek and Baekhyun let you. His eyes were sparkling at the sight of you. “Let’s go, triplets have something to say too.”

He laughed and took your hand, following you. He was welcomed by his parents and yours. The atmosphere was cheerful and you felt relieved that nothing bad went down during the ceremony. 

Everyone was taking pictures together, first Baekhyun alone with flowers and the majestic main building in the background, then you joined him, just the couple alone. Baekhyun tickled your sides, making you squirm and burst out into laughter while he watched you with a wide smile. He knew your parents didn't know how to work smartphones well, and so the sound of the shutter kept going off and off and off, catching every second of the banter. Your babies, each held by a grandparent, were watching you with big eyes, almost judgmentally scrunching up their faces. They were jealous when you and Baekhyn had a good time without them. Eventually, Baekhyun hugged you to his chest, his hands resting against your stomach, creating a lovely picture of the two of you. 

Of course it wouldn't be a family picture without your little munchkins. You took them in your arms before they could start a rally, Baekhuyn holding Juna and Junhee while you took your only son. As they were growing, it became harder to balance two babies in his arms, but Baekhyun would never give it up unless it was completely impossible to hold them.

You loved seeing your whole family together. But you loved it the most when Baekhyun was there, too.

<3

Both of you giggled at the same time when your hand tried to tickle his stomach and his fingers teasingly caressed your hip. You squirmed, hiding your face in his neck as you felt his breathy laugh on yours.

“Shh, don’t want to wake our parents, hm?” he hummed with a huge, boyish smile on his face but his fingers were relentless.

“Baekhyun!” you hissed breathlessly and tried to shimmy away from him but he was stronger. As soon as you managed to move an inch, he brought you back to him, his palm smoothening the skin, gently inching higher on your side, successfully leaving goosebumps in its wake. You pressed your face into his neck to hide the redness.

“I stopped now,” he murmured, a handsome timbre. “Want to leave your hiding space now?”

After a little hesitation, you leaned away from his neck and met his soft eyes. “Don’t tickle anymore.”

“I won’t, promise,” he smiled when his eye caught your pout. “But you tickled too.”

“To defend myself!”

“Then you promise too,” pouted Baekhyun as he rested his head on the pillow, facing you.

You were quick to scurry to him and he chuckled. “Okay, I won’t tickle you either. Promise,” you murmured into his clothed chest.

A hum came in a reply and you felt his head move, looking down at the top of your head. “And now seal it with a kiss.”

You smiled to yourself, letting your hand rub his chest as you looked up and strained your neck to kiss his puckering lips. A loud smack resonated through the quiet bedroom and you felt your heart skip a beat, hoping Baekhyun’s parents who were sleeping in the living room didn’t hear it.

“Mmm, one more,” you demanded and this time Baekhyun captured your lower lip, engaging you in a proper, romantic kiss that had your toes tingle. His hand came to cup your cheek and the both of you shifted, the bed sheets rustling. He hovered over you while slowly playing with your soft pillows, making sure to use minimum tongue as none of you wanted a heated session now out of all times. 

When he let go with a gentle smooch, he only moved away an inch, deciding to stay a little longer to smile at you. “You’re so pretty, my little lady.”

The unexpected words surprised you and a furious blush creeped in your cheeks, bringing sudden warmth into your body. “Ah, what are you saying.”

“The truth,” he replied calmly and pressed a final kiss to your forehead before he moved away and lied down next to you.

You sighed and once again scooted closer to him, wrapping your arm around his middle. Baekhyun caressed your hand and proceeded to wrap you up in his arms as well. “I’ll miss you when you’re gone.”

“Oh baby, I’ll miss you too. And our munchkins,” he murmured and you pecked his cheek. “And these kisses.”

You smiled widely and kissed him again.

“But baby?” he asked, his voice raspy. You perked up, prompting him to go on. “Promise me you’ll keep close touch? And no surprises.”

Your eyebrows went shooting upwards at his weird demand. “We are always in close touch, honey. And whatever you mean with no surprises?”

He was observing you for a moment, thinking over how to speak his mind, his eyes flickering from your eyes to your nose and lips before looking back up to your expecting orbs. “I meant that… be careful. You’ll be home alone and I just don’t want uninvited guests.”

“You mean Junho?”

Baekhyun trailed his fingertips over your back. “Yeah,” he breathed, warily expecting your reaction. The last time you talked about Lee Junho you had a huge fight.

“I’m not in touch with him. Why would I be with him, Baekhyun?”

“He came uninvited last time,” he pointed out.

“That wasn’t my fault.”

“No, it wasn’t your fault, but I’m just saying that if it occurs again, I don’t want you to let him in is all.”

This time you observed your husband, his calm and collected expression an opposite to your gradually igniting insides. You felt like this was unfair towards you. Again.

“I'm not trying to cage you in-“

“Are all those beautiful female colleagues going with you to Japan as well? Will somehow Jiyoung appear too?” you asked in a colder tone and Baekhyun realized that you were building up your walls again.

“Yes, one of them is,” he told you honestly. His fingers have stopped caressing your skin, now frozen just between your shoulder blades.

“Okay, well then -“ you felt a painful lump in your throat forming at the fact that he didn’t even bother denying they weren’t beautiful- “make sure you don’t have uninvited guests in your hotel room,” you deadpanned. “You are a taken man after all.”

You scurried away, his hand falling on the space you created between the two of you. Baekhyun blinked in confusion and propped himself up on his elbow, looking at your back facing him. “Baby, what is wrong now? I only told you because I’m worried.”

“And am I not allowed to be worried? To let my handsome, charming husband who always needs attention, go on a one week long trip?”

His hand found its way to your hip when you felt his front pressed to your back. “Yet that husband wants only one woman’s attention.”

“It’s not gonna work,” you muttered stubbornly, trying to suppress the need to submit to his touches. “If you think the first thing I’d do is let another man - whom I don’t even know properly - enter our place without you knowing than I don’t know what we are doing,” you told him honestly, your gaze intently set in the curtains that allowed you to see the distant lights of other high rise buildings. Since you had the babies, you didn’t bother pulling the blackouts as you never got the proper rest anyway. Had you had blackouts you’d want to stay in bed all the time.

Baekhyun sighed but he still bunched up your shirt so he could accommodate his hand under it. “I just didn’t like how he came here suddenly and with a pathetic reasoning. If he does it again-“

“But he won’t-“

“If he does it again, I don’t want you to let him in if you’re by yourself with the little ones,” he finished more sternly, gradually disliking your attitude. You knew he was getting into the “I’m older” position.

You pursed your lips; you, on the other hand, didn’t like his attitude and his request.

“Hm?” Baekhyun gently squeezed your hip, urging you to acknowledge his words. “Answer me, sweetheart.”

“Alright,” you mumbled reluctantly.

He was quiet for a moment, closely inspecting your side profile. “You know I don’t mean bad. We don’t know who he is and whether he is even trustable. What if he did something to you?” Baekhyun had his own point that he wasn’t willing to let up on. He was a man and he knew what a man who wants a woman looked like. You wouldn’t understand him, but he knew what he was doing and he didn’t feel comfortable with the thought of you being near him. Obviously Lee Junho didn’t give two damns that you were happily married; therefore very much taken.

“Don’t be mad,” he sighed after a while when you still wouldn’t look at him. He brought his face closer to yours. “I don’t like us going to sleep with unresolved feelings, baby.”

“Me neither,” you muttered, closing your eyes when you felt his nose on your cheek.

“Then talk to me,” he rasped into your ear as his hand wandered under your shirt, igniting your insides with passion. “Talk to oppa.”

You sighed and moved to lay on your back, Baekhyun’s hand slipping and brushing your mound. You felt the thrill curse through you at the sensation. “I won’t let him come in. I don’t think he would  even visit anymore - but okay, I won’t do anything that you’d say no to,” you started and shivered when his thumb ran under your breast. He was watching you intently almost making you think he was looking for reactions from his sneaky actions. “But I will ask you to make a definite line between you and your colleagues. You have me and three kids. I don’t want you to flirt or even acknowledge their advances on you. You’re the professor who is hot and all the ladies want but is the most forbidden fruit in the department,” you said seriously. As you talked, Baekhyun’s smile grew.

“They know my situation, baby, there is no need for you to worry. Like, none at all. I always show them pictures of our munchkins and of you. You’re literally the background of my screen.”

You knew all of it of course. His lock screen was a selfie of the two of you smiling with your sleeping triplets after you signed the marriage papers, both of you dressed up. And his home screen picture was, to your dismay, you lying down with one leg prompted on the wall and the other spread to the other side with a very much pregnant bump revealed as the shirt was bunched up, ready for Baekhyun to apply some cream against the stretch marks. You were smiling at him with glistening red cheeks and you looked incredibly happy. That picture always surprised you; you had to admit that happiness really made everyone more beautiful and you weren’t an exception.

“I don’t care,” you whispered, closing your eyes when his palm dared to take a gentle hold of your mound, the way both of your bodies shifted closer once again making the bed sheets rustle in the quiet room exciting. “I don’t want any of that,” your mouth fell open with a shaky breath, Baekhyun’s face coming to your neck where he gave you a wet kiss.

“Okay, as you say, my princess,” he breathed, his hand now massaging your mound sensually.

Unconsciously you moved towards him, trying to make you more exposed to his wandering hand, your chest widening. He nibbled at the skin under your ear, his hand still working as if making a bread dough. 

“I don’t want you to be upset with me when I mean well,” he whispered in your ear, shifting closer to you until you felt him pressing to the outside of your thigh. “I don’t want you to misunderstand my intentions, baby,” he breathed shakily when you squirmed against him. You turned your head, a low moan leaving your mouth when you seeked his lips.

“I know, sweetheart,” you replied when his soft lips hovered above yours. “I know you mean well.” He hummed in reply and kissed you passionately, bringing out another small moan out of you. He traced the outline of your lower lip with his tongue, while his hand kept abusing your mound and nipple. He separated for the slightest moments, moving his head to the other direction before diving in again, pushing his tongue in as if it always belonged there. His hand traveled lower over your rib cage until it lay on your hip. He pushed it between the mattress, taking a hold of your bum, giving it a squeeze. Your own hands were messing up his hair before you dragged them over his chest and tummy, teasing the naked skin between his pants and t-shirt. Baekhyun shivered when you proceeded to abuse the inside of his pants.

“Sweetheart,” he breathed shakily when he separated with a delicious smack. “Not now.”

You were a little dizzy from the hotness of the room, your husband looking so alluring you couldn’t help yourself when you whispered: “Can you keep quiet?”

“Sweet-“

“Can you?” you pressed challengingly when you felt his own hand seeking an entrance into your panties. To prove your point, you wanted to move your hand lower but didn’t have to; you squealed quietly when you felt his tip right up. Baekhyun had to be in the mood for a while.

Baekhyun giggled at the sight of you, his face hiding in your neck to keep silent. “You dare to be innocent after what you’ve been doing just now?” he murmured and clicked his tongue. “Or after making three babies?”

You pinked, biting your lip to suppress an embarrassed laugh. “Well, to me it seems like you are refusing to answer me,” you told him mischievously as you slowly, gently pressed your palm against his length and Baekhyun had to close his eyes, his heart skipping wildly at your touches. “I’d love to-“

“Then that’s enough,” you murmured as you tilted your chin upwards, pressing your lips together. Baekhyun hummed and you felt his palm against your womanhood.

Upon feeling you up, Baekhyun abruptly disconnected your lips. “Shit, you’re soaking wet, baby,” he breathed shakily and you squirmed under him, enjoying how he was warm and just so ready in your palm. There was a particular prominent vein that you made sure to outline with your finger and Baekhyun was fast to become defenseless.

“It hurts,” you told him with your lips turned downwards, pretending to be hurt. “You need to take care of it.”

“God, where is this all coming from?”

You didn’t know yourself. Maybe you grew to enjoy the thrill of having to be quiet but be up to no good with him in your bedroom. You grew to look forward to what he would do if you tested him a little bit. You found yourself liking it when he was a little rough, a little out of his usual role.

“How about we both help each other out?” he whispered when you didn’t answer, his face close. “Like that one time,” he went on and separated your wet lips, slipping in his middle finger. Your breath hitched in your throat. “When you came to Seoul with me for the first time,” he darted out his tongue, licking at the corner of your lips.

At the mention of that one time, you almost combusted. It was the first time you got intimate with Baekhyun. He managed to persuade your parents to let him come with you when he was attending his university. They trusted him with you, though he couldn't leave without a special talk with your father. Nonetheless, it was a very, very special trip for the both of you.

“Let’s pretend it’s our first time then,” you suggested in a quiet, though a little trembly voice. “Touch me like the first time.”

If you could see properly, you’d witness Baekhyun’s pupils dilating, a flush growing in his cheeks. When your hand landed on his neck, you felt his erratic pulse and you were over the moon that you had that effect on him.

“You’d like that?” he muttered hotly.“You’d like oppa to finger you like you’re a virgin again?”

“Ah, yes,” you heaved when he added his index finger, sinking it knuckle deep inside. You didn’t waste time in wrapping your fingers around him, your thumb landing on his tip where you felt the precum leaking. You made sure to smudge it around, pressing down the slightest to get that soft, high-pitched moan from Baekhyun. He sounded wonderful. 

“You have to keep very, very quiet my little lady,” he murmured. “Since it’s your first time and you’re shy around oppa, I’m sure it won’t be a problem.” He was hinting at your past self. Baekhyun had to practically beg you to moan for him when he touched you the first time. Now he might have to beg for you to shut up.

You nodded and pumped him faster, Baekhyun’s fingers in you momentarily stopping for him to collect himself. He slowly lied down next to you, and you turned to face him. He removed his wet hand and wordlessly grabbed you under your knee before leading it on the top of his hip, spreading your legs. The two fingers were back right away and you let out a small erotic moan, making you squeeze his member a little. Baekhyun groaned quietly, his eyes closed and mouth open. The sight was out of this world and meant only for your eyes. The distant lights from outside illuminated his handsome face, his hair falling over his eyes. You’d brush it away had your hand not been jerking him off.

“Maybe oppa has to be a little more quiet, hm?”you teased breathlessly and let your blunt fingernails scratch ever so gently over the warm, tender skin before you cupped his balls and massaged them to his liking.

Baekhyun scrunched his nose, breathing frantically as he tried to focus on his fingers in you while enjoying your sinful ministrations. “Isn’t my little lady too good at this?”

You giggled quietly but stopped abruptly when he pinched your clit.

“Maybe you did it before?” he wondered aloud.

“Actually, there is this very hot hapkido master in the village,” you played along in a hushed tone and Baekhyun finally opened his eyes with a handsome smile. “He already touched me before you did.”

“So I’m not the first one?”

You dragged your hand higher, pumping him again. You buckled your hips when his thumb circled your clit while progressively adding a third finger, the stretch slightly stinking.

“Unfortunately,” you sighed with fake regret and Baekhyun groaned again, moving to crash your lips with his. He engaged the both of you in a very dirty, fiery kiss while his fingers became harsh and aggressive. You tried to follow your own hands movements but he was kissing the soul out of you. You were sure you’d bruise.

He rolled his hips into your palm and you sped up.

“Then I have to top him,” he said when he separated, breathing into your mouth. “I’ll prove you I’m much better.”

The both of you quickly let go of the old times, and with your experience now you were able to bring Baekhyun to the edge, his manhood twitching with the burning need to release. Before you could reach yours, however, he was fast to take away his hand and pull the covers off of your bodies. In came a strict order: “Suck it off.”

Just when he finished, warm liquid burst from him and you scurried to your knees, leaning over and successfully bringing him into your mouth with a hum. 

You were bobbing your head to give him the necessary warmth your mouth could provide while the release was shooting to the back of your throat. You swallowed as fast as you could though your own missed release made you a little frustrated.

When you made sure Baekhyun was all clean, you wanted to look up but he pushed you onto your back, your mouth undoubtedly letting out a squeal that was too loud.

“Shh,” he pressed a finger that was previously in you onto your lips. “You’ve got to be quiet,” he whispered seriously. And just like that, without realizing what he was up to, Baekhyun sank into you, your mouth hanging open and your back arching at the feel.

He sighed and started to thrust harshly while pushing your shirt up to suck on the swell of your breasts, as if trying to suck the milk out through the skin.

“B-Baek-Baekhyunnn,” you wailed into his ear and brought your hand to your mouth, covering it to keep it down. You were swimming in ecstasy. Your shirt was plastered to your back and your panties were basically ruined with the way they were soaked over. It was so intimate; the way you were both dressed in your sleepwear yet doing such dirty things while your parents were just outside your bedroom.

He snapped his hips and the good old build-up reappeared, making your eyes roll back. Just a few more aggressive strokes and you were coming along with Baekhyun, his hot seed filling you up. Both of you were heaving like you just ran a marathon and Baekhyun made sure to give you a sweet kiss and a little circle of his hips before he fell next to you, spent.

He turned his head, his chest rising and falling rapidly with a lazy smile. “I had to reward my princess for being such a good girl, treating oppa well.”

You smiled tiredly. “You're the best. And there’s no milk leaking,” you pointed out graciously when you didn’t feel any pressure in your breasts. “I guess the tactic is working.”

“Ah, wonderful. Now you won’t be a walking milk fountain.”

<3

Baekhyun was supposed to leave in a day and he was now out running some last minute errands, leaving you and your mother, who decided to stay at your place longer, alone. You were having breakfast, feeling starved after emptying your breasts. The past days, it seemed like Baekhyun and you were impossible not to touch one another, that wouldn’t eventually lead to something more. Especially now that he would be gone for a week, you found yourself sweaty in his arms more often. Last night wasn’t an exception, though you always had to be careful with being noisy since your mother was in the apartment. 

You hummed in delight at her pickled cucumbers that Baekhyun never liked, the crunchy sound loud in the quiet kitchen. 

Your mother was observing you and you felt it. You raised your eyebrows at her in question as you plopped another cucumber into your mouth while your other hand reached for the cup with fresh green tea your mother brought from the village.

Maybe she was shocked at how particularly messy you looked today. You didn’t bother tidying your hair and your shirt was wrinkled as it was carelessly tossed away the previous night by Baekhyun’s eager hands. Your bare legs were on full display as you felt unusually warm, your panties a good enough cover. 

“Daughter,” your mother decided to break the silence, “are you and Baekhyun perhaps… trying again?” 

The cup you were drinking green tea with froze mid way to your mouth. “Huh?”

Her eyes were lower on your neck and you realized with horrification that in the busy tasks of the morning you forgot to cover up your neck that had a few love bites. You weren’t used to having other people around in your house so it didn’t even occur to you to try looking decent. 

You pinked deeply as you shuffled on the stool. “N-no, goodness, why would you ask, mum…”

She sighed. “I might have overheard you a few times already-“

“Jesus!” you gasped, not letting her finish, and you wanted to disappear from the surface of the Earth. 

“It’s fine, no need to freak out, dear,” she ensured you calmly. “I know how you two get along so well and share a strong chemistry. And you’re both in your prime years anyway. I was just worried because you still have triplets that are infants. It’s hard to be a mother to them while you have another one in your tummy, but I know you know that, daughter.”

Even though the idea made your heart skip a beat, you shook your head resolutely. You were out of that safe three month secure zone now. You could fall pregnant even if you breastfed though the chances weren’t high. And if you admitted it, you and Baekhyun were being anything but careful while getting lost in pleasure. “I know, don’t worry. We can’t afford another baby anyway. It’s already challenging financially as it is.” And you didn't even want to get into the details about having to raise kids. It made you freak out - the thought of having to lead your three munchkins in life, prepare them for the bad times while hopefully shaping them into honest and caring people.

Your mum sighed but you saw her face expression soften. “Make sure you are safe then,” she promoted.

You really wanted the earth to swallow you up. “Mum, please… how do you even know we aren't?”

“You’re not taking the pills and obviously… there is nothing in the trash.”

You gasped again and you stood up, ready to run away. “Okay, that’s it. You checked?! Isn’t it weird for you to give me safety tips after birthing triplets? Besides, we have our own trash bin in the bathroom.”

She chuckled deeply, shaking her head. “I think motherhood really changed you. In a good way. Enjoy your life, as you should. Just safely.”

You deflated and sank down on the chair again. “I am. Though not the way I thought I’d be enjoying my life at this age.”

Your mum clicked her tongue. “You should come to the countryside while Baekhyun’s not here. You could catch up with people your age and you’d have a lot of peace. And you know both me and dad want to be with the little ones, Baekhyun’s parents as well.”

As much as it seemed great, you found it incredibly inconvenient to move around with triplets. You didn’t have a car, so you were pushed to use the public transport to reach your far away village.

“I’d love to…”

“Then come.” You looked down at your unfinished tea. “Come home to us for a bit.”

Pretending to be preoccupied with scrutinizing the tea cup, you only hummed. “I'll think about it.”

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

A/N:  It took me over two hours to edit this monster of a chapter. Please comment and reblog to let me know what you thought! :)

[amiedala]

SOMETHING DEEPER

CHAPTER 2: We Have a Problem

RATING: Explicit (18+ ONLY!!!)

WARNINGS: sexual content

SUMMARY: Nova swallows. “Din—”

“This,” he starts, resting one gloved hand against her cheek, “is what Mandalorians are made for. We’ve got this.” When Nova tries to interrupt, he gives her a swift shake of his head. “Go. Be a Jedi.”

If you're a newcomer, my fic "Something More" is the first installment of this story! <3

AUTHOR’S NOTE: hello my loves and happy Something Deeper Saturday!! i hope you love this chapter (and that you'll forgive that it's only about 9,000 words, i've had a hectic week)! this chapter was such a joy to write, and i hope you enjoy reading it just as much. more notes, as always, at the end!

*

When Nova wakes up, the bed is empty.

She rubs sleep from the edges of her eyes, digging her thumb lightly on the ridge between her eyebrows, trying to chase the groggy feeling away. Din’s not here, and his armor is gone, and Grogu’s crib is missing, too. Slowly, she makes her way into the fresher, pulling on the silver knob until water starts running down from the shower, filling the room with steam.

It’s so much more lavish than the one back on the Crest, and certainly years better than the old, stubborn one on Kicker, but the amount of space in here feels like almost too much. “Soap,” Nova mutters to herself, not even aware that she’s speaking until the word slips out of her mouth. At least the kind the two of them use, the bar that smells like crisp air and starlight, is sitting on the dish right to her left. She takes her time lathering up her hands, dragging suds in circles down her aching body, trying not to notice how roomy and empty it is in here without Din.

This whole placeis so empty without Din. The palace is huge, a Mandalorian fortress, and even though it’s outfitted with the absolute best technology and beskar that exists in the galaxy, there’s something eerie about it. Like most of it is standing empty, ornate and gilded for a reason no one can speak aloud. Nova knows the palace has more functionality than it seems, that the tunnels that run into the training stadium and the holding cells have purpose, but the fortress is over-fortified for a planet that barely has anyone left. She felt the same way when she went back to the base on Yavin, she reasons with herself as she wrestles the stubborn nozzle back into place, stepping into the fluffy towel hanging just outside, but at least the emptiness of the building made sense. The Alliance had accomplished almost everything they needed to, and a giant, communal space wasn’t practical after the fall of the Empire. It stood both as a testament to what the Rebels had accomplished and as a reassurance that anyone could come back and fight the good fight. Castles and temples and bases across the galaxy had all fallen into a state of disuse, Nova bargains, looking at her reflection in the foggy mirror. This wasn’t abnormal.

Except it was. Mandalore was a ghost town. Din was the ruler of a world that had long since fallen, and she was royalty in a place that barely had anyone left. And the way that this place operated was just as eerie and strange—she always had fresh towels, clothes were laid out in her closet, they both had feasts made to feed dozens more people than the two of them—but Nova had no idea where they all came from. She’s only seen Bo-Katan at intervals—usually in the late night, when her voice carries all the way up the stairs after she and Din have argued in the war room—and the two other Mandalorians that seemed to be attached at her hip are even scarcer than Bo-Katan is. There’s not many Mandalorians left, Nova knows this, but the way this entire place could fit thousands more people than just a handful makes everything seem heavier, somehow, or sadder.

Nova looks at herself in the mirror. Most of the reflection is still fogged up, and she drags a hand through it to reveal her face. She studies herself, focusing primarily on her pink, chewed-on bottom lip. There’s something wild in her eyes, something deeper than her everyday fears and worries. She knows that every day that slips by the closer the First Order—whoever the hell they are—gets to wounding Mandalore and the surviving Alliance. But with her heart in one place and her body in another, everything in Nova’s body feels like wire snapped taut, like if she moves the wrong way she’ll fracture off into pieces. Slowly, she blinks away the intensity of her gaze, brushing her long fingers over the spot where she knows her scar is reflected. The skin always looks raised after she showers, an angry rash of a still-festering wound. It’s easy to forget when Nova’s thinking about anything else, but any time her mind drifts away from whatever she’s focusing on, she feels the impact of it. It wasn’t just a flesh wound, after all, the lightsaber that Jacterr dragged through her stomach was meant to kill. And it’s still somewhat of a miracle that she survived it.

The very tips of her fingers ghost over the old wound, and Nova tries her best not to wince at the touch, the burning way it still sears when she touches it wrong or she’s wearing something that brushes uncomfortably against it. If Din were standing behind her in the mirror, he wouldn’t even have to touch it—or her—to take Nova’s pain away. But Din’s not here, he’s downstairs in the war room trying to lead a planet he never even wanted, and Nova scrunches her face up sourly in the mirror, attempting to chase away the inner, selfish longing for being back out alone together in the crush of space.

But even if it were just the three of them—Novalise, Din, and Grogu—there were always threats just a half-step behind them. Space was cold, foreboding, and no matter how warm the light and company was on the Razor Crest or on Kicker, the very real threat of being behind enemy lines they couldn’t ever seem to find was constant. It was eternal. But there’s something nostalgic about missing the consistent chase of it all, something that kicked Nova’s fight-or-flight response into high gear, something that neither of them feel here on Mandalore. No matter how rich and long the history is here, it’s also suspiciously empty, and Nova knows that everyone here, regardless of how skilled they are as warriors, is a conspicuous target.

The bedsheets are still all tangled as Nova exists the fresher, piling her wet hair on the top of her head as she wrestles the towel around herself, shivering a little in the vastness of their suite. In the wardrobe are hundreds of outfits—gorgeous dresses, ornate jewels, top-of-the-line everyday wear—but all of them have a distance to them. Nothing in these drawers feel like hers. Nova rustles through the shirts and trousers, all in varying neutrals or that strange shade of pale Mandalorian blue, looking for something functional, comfortable, and most importantly, inconspicuous. It was going to be a harrowing trek back to Ahch-To to return her baby and borrowed lightsaber to Luke Skywalker, and Nova didn’t want her reputation of Novalise Djarin, wife to the reigning Mand’alor, to be announced and heralded across the journey from the Outer Rim to the Unknown Regions. She just wanted to be Nova—human, mother, and Jedi.

Maybe. Maybea Jedi.

That part was still a lingering question mark, one that hung over her head more than it excited her. For years, growing up, Nova excused her Force sensitivity away as just something more that she was tapped into, something deeper, something divine. It was hers and hers alone, because the Jedi were mostly legends and myths, with only the current story of the famous Luke Skywalker told in whispers from people in the Alliance. Now, though, she knows it’s real, her ability to use the Force. She knows since she met Luke Skywalker, went head-to-head with the incredible Ahsoka Tano, and became a mother to Grogu. It’s beyond just what’s in her blood—beyond lineage and beyond chemistry—it’s something ancient and pulsing. Something that’s hers.

Nova sighs, picking the most functional clothes in her wardrobe—deep tan trousers with a pocket deep enough to hold the lightsaber, a long-sleeved black shirt that hugged her curves but didn’t irritate her scar, and a shawl in that shimmering Mandalorian blue. She pressed a thumb to her necklace, the one that Din offered to her alongside his heart, biting down on her lip. It was long past sunrise, because the hazy blue atmosphere was full of color, and as she opened up one of the gigantic windows, a gentle breeze wafted into the suite from the outside. Mandalore smelled like dust and loneliness, she decided, which wasn’t entirely fair, but it holds her at arm’s length. Nova looks back at the rumpled bedsheets, eyes glazing over the clothes hanging in her open wardrobe, trying to find a sign that she belongs here, that she’s more than just a figurehead, that this role that she married into has significance deeper than looking pretty on an unyielding throne.

It doesn’t come. She exhales, tears starting to well up at the edges of her eyes, and she sits on the edge of the bed. It smells like Din—cleanness, metal, woodsmoke, cinnamon—and even though it’s far more comfortable than any of the makeshift ones they crafted on the starships they used to call home, it feels empty in the same way that this room does, that this planet does.

“You’re being selfish,” Nova chastises herself quietly, her whisper coming out much louder than intended, filling up the hollow air of their gigantic bedroom. This was what she wanted. This was what she wheedled both of them into, this small little slice of a life beyond killing and running. But so much of this planet felt empty, like everything holy here had long since left. There were only dozens of people that still inhabited Mandalore, and it was a ghost of itself in a cruel, unfair way.

Ironically, Nova muses, walking back over to the open window, letting the breeze tousle and dry the long, thick waves of her hair, Mandalore, the home to a legion of warriors, was the least confrontational place that she’d been in years. And the kicker is, after over a decade of running, all she’s itching to do is get back out there in the stars. She looks upward, wistfully, trying to catch any of them through the hazy, foggy, blue sky, but she can’t. So she turns back towards the mirror, grabbing fistfuls of thick hair, pinning just the top layer away from her face. She adjusts the shawl in the mirror, marveling at the shimmering strands that catch delicately in the light, and right before she’s ready to walk out the door, the lightsaber starts burning a hole in the door.

She gasps, wrenching it off its hook. The blade isn’t even ignited, and when she grabs it, it pulses in her hands, once, twice, and then the air is pierced with a vibrant green light. Nova stares at it, inspecting it from every angle. It was just a vision—a realistic one, at that—but now that she’s holding the weapon in her hand, the fear that raced through her just a second ago has evaporated. The fact that she’s holding a lightsaber is sacred enough, but the knowledge that it’s Luke Skywalker’s lightsaber feels like it’s beyond something holy. It holds her there until Nova lets the blade slide back into the sheath, dropping it into her pocket. It still feels like it burns, even though that’s not possible, and she ignores it as she makes her way out of the ornate door and down the marble steps to the war room to her husband and their baby.

It's still jarring to see Din without his helmet on in a public space. Like Nova’s walking into a trap of some kind, or that she’s breaking a divine rule. It was different when she was the only person allowed to see his face, to map across his features as a vow, but now that the rules have changed, she doesn’t quite know how to act when she looks at him. He’s alone in the war room when she pushes open the door, a heat rising in her cheeks when she catches light of the beskar throne, vivid memories at how indescribably soiled it was from their desecrating tryst the night before. The holotable is lit up, glittering out in that deep, vivid blue, maps of the galaxy intercut with Alliance bases and safe houses, Din staring up at it like he’s looking for a sign of the Maker. His gaze is intense, electric.

“Hi,” Nova chances, softly, and she hears the baby babbling from the corner as she strides across the luminous room, sidling up to Din as he continues staring, his armored body cold to the touch. Quickly, he kisses her temple, and Nova’s tummy flips over as he holds her there, even though he’s done this a thousand times, even though this is far from new.

“Hi,” Din echoes, leaning forward against the rim of the holotable, squinting intently at something that Nova can’t quite sort out. “How did you sleep?”

She bites her lip, trying to decide if it’s worth lying, but before she can come up with a suitable one, the kind that can cover up all of the crushing loneliness she feels in a bedroom that doesn’t seem to belong to them, Din’s gaze is on her face, thumb hooking her chin upwards so that Nova doesn’t have a choice but to meet his eyes.

“Don’t lie to me,” he says, and even though his voice is gentle, she knows the intent of his command.

“Not great,” Nova whispers, the sound getting caught on the way out of the hollow of her mouth. “I missed you. I—I hate waking up without you.”

Din cocks his head to the side, eyebrows knitted together, as if he’s trying to pick out the exact right thing to say. Nova watches the expression of frustration reflect across his face, and has to hide an endearing smile as she revels in getting to see Din’s mind working in real time. “Novalise,” he says, finally, and heart does a little flip. It sounds like he’s chastising her, but that’s not Din’s typical modus operandi, and she blinks up at him, waiting for the rest of what he has to say. “Why did we come here?” he asks, finally, and his voice is so quiet, so filled with a plea she hasn’t heard in weeks, that it makes her wince.

“What?” she manages, reaching out one hand to Din’s reflective hip, trying to anchor his armored body against her own. “What do you mean?”

Din sighs, long and heavy. He’s pondering. It isn’t a noise of annoyance, or a noise of frustration, just his typical exhale when he’s trying to puzzle something out in his head. “Why did you want me to rule Mandalore?”

Nova presses her lips together, trying to come up with an answer adequate enough to placate the both of them. “Because,” she whispers, finally, “you’re the type of leader that makes people want to follow you everywhere. Because we were tired of running, and we wanted to fight back. And also,” she tacks on, trying to get Din to echo her smile, “because Bo-Katan wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

Din’s expression is complicated, worried. Nova watches as his gaze drifts back up to what’s being reflected on the holotable, and she can track the places where attacks from the Order have cropped up in the time that’s lapsed since they’ve lived here. The galaxy is still largely intact, most planets benefitting from the defeat of the Empire, but Nova can see the clusters of danger, the places where the First Order found a weak point and applied enough pressure to fracture them entirely. Coupled with the jailbreak in one of the Mid Rim sectors, out of Cara’s jurisdiction, there’s at least ten attacks in the last three weeks. Nova is a staunch believer that everything happens for a reason, that there’s no such thing as coincidences, but a handful of malicious acts could be classified as one. More than three signified something else. Over seven is a definite indication of a pattern.

“You want to be back out there,” Nova breathes, searching for a confirmation on Din’s face. “You want to fight. Hand-to-hand, not from behind a holotable in this room.”

Din looks over at her, his expression clouded, and when he catches sight of the reflected fire in Nova’s eyes, he grabs at the curve of her cheek again, locking his eyes on hers. “You want to be back out there.”

Nova presses her lips together in a thin line, trying her absolute hardest not to give it away.

“You’re a horrible liar, Novalise Djarin,” Din says, shaking his head. “Awful. Worse than I am. Worse than the kid is, and that’s saying a lot.”

Nova sighs, leaning into his touch. “I know. You’re right. It’s driving me up the wall to be here, trying to rule a planet that barely has anything left, when I know that war is coming.”

“Why do you think I’m always in here?” Din asks, pointing up at the virtual starry sky splayed across the room from the holotable. “I don’t sit in the throne. I don’t try to rule. I stand in front of this table for hours, plotting for the inevitable battle that’s going to come, fighting back every single urge to just get back in the stars, chase the enemy down, and start blasting.”

Nova smiles slyly up at him, and when Din’s gaze drifts back over to hers, he does a double take.

“What?”

“I’ve made a Rebel out of you, Din Djarin,” she grins, gently flapping her palm against his cheek. He rolls his eyes, huffing out of his nose, and she just smiles, knowing that his proverbial feathers aren’t really ruffled, but basking in the idea of it anyway.

“Nova,” he continues, voice low and urgent, “so why aren’t we out there?”

The smile fades off her face. There’s something desperate in his eyes, something deeper than the level way he asks the question. She stares, trying to come up with an answer that will keep both of them here, committed and driven, but as she searches Din’s expression, she knows that she’s going to fall short.

Before Nova can come up with anything, though, there’s a sharp rapping at the door, and both of them break apart, Din swiftly pulling his helmet back over his head. He’s already shown his face to Mandalore, and the Creed that he followed for nearly his entire life has fallen to pieces, but Nova knows the security it provides, and she smiles gently at him, watching his gorgeous features disappear underneath the beskar.

“We have a problem,” Bo-Katan announces, her voice cutting straight through the luminosity of the holotable.

“Don’t we always,” Nova murmurs, but the expression on Bo-Katan’s face wipes every inch of humor off of her own. “What’s wrong?”

Bo-Katan sighs, running a hand uncharacteristically through her short red hair. “We are under attack,” she deadpans, looking upward through the clear dome, pointing as ships come out of the fog.

Alarms starting blaring from somewhere, and Nova darts over to Grogu, clinging him tight against her chest. “Who—”

“Nova,” Din says, evenly, tossing her shawl through the open air, “you need to take the kid and get back to Luke.”

She stares at him in disbelief as Bo-Katan pulls her helmet back over her head. “No,” Nova starts, “we need to stay and fight, you might need our help—”

“We don’t,” Bo-Katan interrupts, but there’s no fire in her voice. She’s busted open the small armory in the corner, hurling weapons at Din without giving him a second glance. “It’s not the Order. Or Empire leftovers. There’s no TIE fighters. Whoever they are, they’re not after you or the kid.” She turns around, finally, striding over to Nova. “Besides,” she says, rather sourly, “I already called for backup.”

Nova lifts one eyebrow. Before she can say anything, though, she’s interrupted by the infamous shape of Slave I entering the atmosphere, and she winks at Bo-Katan, who’s still hidden behind her mask, but Nova would bet every credit she’d ever owned that Bo-Katan is emphatically rolling her eyes.

Din presses his forehead against the baby’s, and Nova only gets a flash of his expression before his helmet’s back on. He’s tense, trying his hardest to let Grogu disappear from his watchful eye for the second time. “Go out through the amphitheater,” he whispers to Nova, his voice gruff. Under the beskar, he’s electric, like he was praying for a conflict to let the lightning out. “Don’t take off until we get out there and preoccupy them so that no one follows you back to Ahch-To.”

Nova swallows. “Din—”

“This,” he starts, resting one gloved hand against her cheek, “is what Mandalorians are made for. We’ve got this.” When Nova tries to interrupt, he gives her a swift shake of his head. “Go. Be a Jedi.”

She links her hand in his, squeezing once, and then she’s holding the crib open for Grogu, knitting the shawl around her head, a makeshift hood obscuring her telltale dark hair. She nods, just once, and when Din’s hand leaves her grip, she runs with the baby, heart pounding in her chest, heading back into the stars.

Space is cold and quiet. It always is when Novalise is out here alone, but this time, it seems like the silence and the chill penetrates even the warm hull of Kicker. The baby is sleeping in the copilot’s chair, and Nova coasts through the stars, popping in and out of warp periodically to check that they’re not being followed.

Her hand goes to her necklace, fingertips tracing over the outline of the Rebel symbol and the perfect star notched in the back of the beskar. She doesn’t even realize that she’s doing it until she pulls her thumb away and it’s embossed with the image of it. Kicker is being uncharacteristically obedient, coasting through the Outer Rim with determination, and Nova almost misses the distraction that the constant wailing and failing that Kicker used to give her, because with Grogu asleep and Din back on Mandalore, she’s bored out of her mind.

Nova sighs, stretching her legs out as far as they’ll go, the toes of her boots scraping quietly against the dashboard. They’re old and worn, with so many scuffs that she’s long forgotten what they were supposed to look like, and the sole of one is threatening to pop off any day now, but she’s had these boots since she was in the Alliance as a teenager. Before her parents died. Before she was subject to Jacterr’s awful hand. Before Din walked into her life and made her believe in something more, something deeper.

As quietly as she can, she eases out of the pilot’s seat, leaning over the navigational system to ensure that she’s following the right coordinates. Wedge had given her the location of the general area that Luke was located in the Unknown Regions, but Luke had given her explicit—albeit confusing—directions when he promised he’d see her again soon. Nova settles against the floor of Kicker, where the one window outside of the cockpit that’s directed towards the sky is located, and lays down in the nest of blankets and pillows she used to call her bed.

Being out here feels colder, somehow. More distant. Nova watches as the sky moves through warp, billions of tiny stars shooting and reaching across the galaxy as she and the baby make their way to Luke Skywalker. She pulls the lightsaber off her belt, squinting at it in the low light. She doesn’t try to ignite it, doesn’t call forth the green blade, she just studies it. Across the handle are grooves for grip, and the alloy of the metal is so different than the beskar she’s surrounded her life with. Nova tries to hold onto it like Luke does, effortlessly and easily, and even though it feels like she’s been made for this her whole life, there’s something in the way. A distance between the pulsing and beckoning, maybe.

Before she can ruminate any longer on the disconnect, though, her comm blinks, and Nova shoots upward, pressing her wrist to her mouth. “Hello?” she calls out, wincing as her voice echoes around Kicker, but the baby doesn’t even interrupt in his snoring.

“It’s me,” Din breathes, and all the coldness and distance between Nova and the stars evaporate. “We’re safe. The second Fett showed up, the ships retreated.”

Nova exhales slowly, fluttering her eyelashes closed. “Who was it?”

“Pirates,” Din says, immediately, and she furrows her eyebrows.

“Pirates,” Nova repeats skeptically. “On Mandalore?”

“We ran into some…unsavory groups of people back on Morak. Before the refinery explosion. Apparently, they tracked us down and wanted to ransack Mandalore for what it has left. They didn’t get very far,” Din continues, sighing. “Boba and Fennec fought them off, and Bo-Katan has been itching to fight someone since I won the Darksaber out from under her nose. We’re fine. Mandalore is fine.”

Nova looks up at the stars again, watching how they shoot by out the front of Kicker, trying to put her finger on the off feeling of Din’s face. “They weren’t part of the First Order?” she asks, her voice low. “Or working for them?”

Din exhales, long and slow. “No,” he answers, finally. “They’ve been quiet, Nova. Almost—”

“Too quiet,” she interrupts softly, eyes landing on the baby. Grogu is already the cutest thing in the galaxy, but when he’s asleep, and tiny little snores come out of his mouth, he makes anything else evaporate. Now, though, with the silent looming threat of the Order that was so eager to kill every Rebel and capture Nova and her power for their own, she’s just trying to memorize his features, one at a time, permanently etching them into the back of her mind. There’s a weight in her chest that Nova has been ignoring for a week, ever since Grogu was allowed to accompany them to Mandalore—her time with him is limited. Even if Luke allows visits—which she thinks he will—it will be far too dangerous to keep following the same path from the Outer Rim to the Unknown Regions, especially considering Nova’s telltale Alliance ship, regardless of the new paint job and the beskar additions, and with the attack today, Mandalore is far from safe.

“Where are you?”

Nova sighs, leaning over the nav system. It’s blinking with the bright assurance that Kicker has crossed, quite unceremoniously, over into the Unknown Regions. She relays that to Din, eyes roaming the seemingly empty sky.

“That was fast.”

“Yeah,” Nova agrees, chewing on her bottom lip. “The new thrusters Bo-Katan put into Kicker are no joke.”

Din offers up a noise somewhere between a sigh and a laugh. “What are you wearing?” he asks, finally, and his voice is back somewhere low and dangerous like it was the night before.

“You saw me leave,” Nova answers, giggling, sinking down the wall until she’s hugging her knees against her chest on the floor. “Are you meaning to tell me you didn’t take stock in what I was wearing when you were staring at me? I’m offended.”

“Watch it,” Din volleys back, but this time, she can hear the smile in his voice. “I was just wondering if the ship has gotten you out of any of those clothes.”

“Ah,” Nova allows, her own tone dipping conspiratorially, “I see. However, it is quite difficult to get out of my clothes without you itching to take them off.”

“You’re good at getting out of things.”

“True.”

“I’m good at getting into them,” Din whispers, and Nova laughs, leaning her bead back against the hull.

“I am certainly not arguing with that,” Nova allows. “You know—”

But then, in Kicker’s typical fashion, the ship starts screaming. Nova’s sigh is low and frustrated, a small echo of the ones that Din’s let forth in the past.

“Go,” Din says, amusedly. “Take care of the kid.”

“You know I will,” Nova promises, and the light on the comm blinks off. She sighs, hauling herself to her feet, her head already aching from the indomitable screeching sound that pours out of Kicker the second something goes haywire. It’s startled the baby, and she strokes a single finger over the top of his fuzzy, wrinkled head before she sits down in the pilot’s seat, flipping switches and moving toggles back and forth. “What is it, Kick?” she murmurs, long waves of hair falling in the way as she leans down, squinting at the motherboard hidden underneath the metal sheath.

It turns out, that Kicker was actually screaming for a veryb good reason, this time around—after a very shoddy, embarrassing crash landing on Ahch-To, Nova discovers a fuel leak on hidden underneath the ship.

“Dank ferrik,” she seethes, and Grogu babbles. She turns on him, pointing a finger. “Not a word to your daddy about all the swearing. You promise?”

Grogu just tilts his head to the side and smiles gleefully. Nova squints at him, matching his quirked expression, pointing a long brown finger through the air like a threat.

“You are,” she continues, softening as Grogu toddles across the green, mossy earth of Ahch-To towards her, “a little war criminal. I hope you know that. Just because you typically use your powers for good doesn’t mean that I don’t notice that you don’t fight fair.”

Grogu babbles. Nova laughs. When she hoists him off the ground and notches him safely against her hip, she turns again to inspect the fuel gauge underneath Kicker’s patchwork underbelly, she nearly crashes into Luke Skywalker.

“Maker above,” she gasps, hand immediately slapping over her mouth. “You scared me. I’m used to stealthy, but you didn’t even make a sound.”

Luke Skywalker smiles serenely at her, like it’s nothing. “Hello, Nova.”

“Hi,” she echoes, faintly, and Grogu reaches out for Luke. Belatedly, Nova hands her baby over to him, hands shooting to the lightsaber hanging from her belt. “I have your lightsaber,” she adds, rather dazed, handing the thing out to him. He looks down at it, and there’s something complicated that flashes behind his expression.

“Have you used it?” he asks, and Nova slowly shakes her head. Luke starts moving, up the impossibly tall stone steps that look like they’re as ancient as this mountain is, like they were built into the bluffs of the sea. He’s much more agile than she is, and easily more used to this walk, but Nova tries to keep herself in pace without heaving air into her lungs. “I would have thought you might have used it on one of your missions from the Alliance.”

Nova stops for a half-step to catch her breath, and Luke stops without even looking back at her. “Well,” she starts, running her tongue over her teeth, “I haven’t really…had any missions.”

There’s a strange smile on Luke’s face when her gaze finds his eyes again. “Rebel activities and royalty still don’t exactly go hand in hand, I assume.”

She squints, nodding. “I don’t like being a diplomat,” she allows, even though she’s well aware that to Luke Skywalker, she probably sounds like a whiny brat, but he laughs. He opens his mouth and laughs out loud, in this gorgeous sea air, sounding as gleeful as Wedge always talked about him.

“You sound like my sister.”

Nova’s heart does a tiny backflip, and she sits up straighter. “Your sister?”

“General Leia Organa,” Luke grins, before turning back into the steps and moving nimbly up them. “She was a princess, too, for a while. She preferred action to negotiating. Still does. That’s why she’s holding rank up in the Alliance, even now. Well,” Luke stops, moving his sandy hair back and forth like he’s trying to measure something, “she’s taken to calling it the Rebellion.”

Nova smiles, trying her best to keep up with Luke’s pace. “The Rebellion. I like that—”

“Don’t,” Luke says, jabbing a long finger in her face so quickly that Nova nearly misses the next step and takes a tumble all the way back down the mountain. “Don’t let her title win, Wedge and I will never hear the end of it. Besides, I like the sound of ‘The Rebel Alliance’. It makes it feel like we’re all in this together.”

Nova laughs. He does, too. For a second, just a second, they’re giggling like the kids they never really got to be, like the galaxy isn’t facing impending danger, like they aren’t two of the known four surviving members of the Jedi left. It’s cold on Ahch-To, foggy and biting, but the landscape here is so lavish and so green, that she can pretend, just for a moment, that they’re back on Yavin. The Alliance hasn’t gone anywhere, there’s no First Order, and her parents are still alive, just around the corner. “I like being in it together,” she manages, finally, hoping that Luke won’t notice the tears under her voice. His expression is kind, gentle, and when he returns to the winding hike to the top of the hill, Nova follows him. Eventually, the ground levels out a bit more, and she stands on the top of the flattest rock, looking around at the entirety of the island. There’s something magical about this place, something that holds as much holiness as the throne room on Mandalore does.

“What made you come here?” she asks, and her voice is so quiet that the howling wind could have easily whisked it away. Luke seems to genuinely parse over Nova’s question, and he gently hands Grogu back to be swaddled up in her arms. The shawl that she draped over her head for the getaway off Mandalore is barely still knotted around her neck, and Nova wraps it closer to herself, pulling Grogu and his gentle warmth as close to her chest as she can. “Why leave the Outer Rim after the war was won?”

Luke has a strange expression on his face, and Nova’s gaze drops, suddenly worried she’d said something to offend him. “We did win the war,” he answers, finally, his voice far away. “But I also lost my father to it. I lost my old mentor. I lost my aunt and uncle. Leia—and Han, really—were the only family that I had left, but being around them was difficult because they had each other, and soon after, they had Ben. My nephew.”

Nova nods, chewing on her tongue. “It was hard to stay?” she asks, genuinely wondering. She knew that feeling. It’s what left her without the Alliance for the first time after her parents died, moorless and heartbroken.

“Exactly,” Luke offers, beckoning her closer to get out of the whipping wind. They’re half shrouded by the giant outcropping of boulders that rest atop the mountain, and she leans against the support of it for strength, trying to catch her breath. “It was hard to stay. Not because I didn’t love them, not because I didn’t love the Alliance, but because it felt like…everyone found peace except for me. It was a lot of loss, and it was incredibly…complicated. I knew someone who looks a lot like your son,” he continues, the ghost of a sad smile on his lips, “and he was the only other Jedi I ever knew up close. I had Ben—Obi-Wan—but until the last few days of his life, he wasn’t a Jedi. He was just a sad man who lived out in the desert, trying to make life better for me than his ever was.” Luke pauses, staring at the lightsaber in his hands. “I came here, to the Unknown Regions, to Ahch-To, to try to put the history of the Jedi together, and to recruit every new one that I’ve found.”

“That’s a great goal,” Nova answers, stroking her finger against Grogu’s fuzzy green head as he babbles in agreement.

“Would you like to see what I’ve gathered so far?” Luke asks.

Without even a second of hesitation, Nova nods. “Yes,” she echoes, and he points toward the biggest stone at the top of the mountain, where a tall, dark room has been hollowed out.

“Novalise,” Luke says conspiratorially, “welcome to my life’s work. Oh, yeah, and my humble abode.”

It’s not what she’s expecting. Any of it. There’s years’ worth of research here, old texts, folders, things that aren’t in languages she even recognizes. She’s speechless, turning around, eyes jumping, trying to take it all in.

“Wow,” Nova manages, finally, after she’s sure she’s turned all the way around a few times. “This is…”

“I know,” Luke adds, softly, and he looks down at the lightsaber in his hands. “There aren’t many Jedi left, Nova. You should come here and train. Your skills are…of the old world. You’re strong. You have a good heart. I would be honored to teach you.”

Nova looks back at Luke, holding on tighter to Grogu, who looks up at her and smiles. She knows, instantly, what he’s thinking—he wants his mom here, learning how to be Jedi side by side—and she has to keep her own feelings guarded because she doesn’t want to reveal to him how badly she wants the same thing. Again, she chews on her lower lip, thumbnail hovering beneath teeth and tongue. She promised herself she’d stop chewing on her nails what feels like a million miles ago, but right now, all she wants is to stay here, to learn. Din could be happy here, too, she thinks wistfully. He might be bored, but it’s only a small island on this whole planet. She and Grogu could train together, become Jedi together. It was perfect, she muses, blinking back the tears threatening at the corners of her eyes.

Except it wasn’t. Ahch-To is a safe haven, but Nova’s job is to keep it that way. She’s seen how ruthless and intense the First Order are, and there’s not a single doubt in her mind that they would follow her here and desecrate this place, leave such a holy site in ruins. She swallows again, trying to conjure up the strength to say no, but from the look on Luke Skywalker’s face, he already knows.

“I’ll be here,” he offers, quietly, and Grogu touches his tiny palm to the small crescent of Nova’s exposed skin underneath the warmth of her blue shawl. “If you decide the galaxy would be better protected if you had training.”

“I want to,” she interjects, her voice low and pleading, like she’s the one begging for it. “Maker, you have no idea how badly I want to. I could be happy here. I—I want you to teach me how to become a Jedi, but—”

Luke’s gaze shifts to the ring on her left hand. The stone sparkles in the low light, the tiny crystal sunk into the beskar. It’s so tiny, but it’s there, and there’s something both sad and fond behind his smile. “You have bigger things to handle first.”

Nova swallows, nodding gently. “But—if I were to become a Jedi—”

Luke holds out his hands, one gloved, one bare. Grogu hops eagerly into his arms. “Like I said, I’ll be here. Grogu will be safe with me. My nephew will be joining us soon. And my sister,” he adds on, his voice suddenly a bit more electric, “my sister is Force sensitive, too. I have a feeling that you might run into her at some point, considering—”

“The Alliance,” Nova grins, nodding. “Don’t worry, I’ll tell her we aren’t changing the name.”

Luke chuckles. The sound is so jarring, so much closer to the boy Wedge always talks about knowing, and Nova’s heart aches. He’s only a handful of years older than she is, and for a moment, she lets herself imagine what it would have been like growing up alongside Luke and Leia on the base at Yavin. If she’d be in Jedi training. If anything about her life would be there same. “If anyone could,” he agrees. “I have something for you. You can have him back for a second.”

Instead of picking Grogu back up, Nova sinks down onto the cold earth inside Luke’s makeshift home, trying to fold her body tiny enough so that she’s face-to-face with her kid. His eyes are huge, reflected and starry and sad, but she can see the hint of joy of being here, of training alongside someone who cares, someone who will protect him until Grogu is old enough to fully protect himself.

“Hi bug,” she whispers, sticking out her palm for his tiny fist to hold onto. “This isn’t goodbye, you know. I’ll be back for you. Your dad and I will come visit any chance we get. You go and be good for Master Luke, okay? No eating his frogs. No hide and seek. I’ll be checking.”

Grogu babbles, the mischievous light in his eyes sparking up just for a second, and then he moves closer, falling into Nova’s warm hug.

“I love you,” she whispers, and he presses his fuzzy forehead into hers. They stay like that for a second, swaying, an unspoken promise. She can hear his little voice in her head—no words, nothing concrete—but a reminder through the power of the Force that he loves her, too.

Luke steps back into the narrow slice of light Novalise and Grogu are standing in, holding something out in his bare hand. “This is for you.”

Nova stands, squinting at the thing Luke’s holding out. It takes a second for her to recognize it in the darkness, but when she does, she inhales a sucking gasp. “I can’t take this,” she protests halfheartedly as he presses it into her open palm. “I’m not a Jedi yet, I—”

“Ben Kenobi gave this to me before I was a Jedi,” Luke interrupts, his voice gentle but urgent. “You will be a powerful Jedi too one day, Novalise Djarin. I know it. He knows it.” Luke’s gaze shifts over to Grogu. “And you know it,” he continues, tapping a long finger against her heart. “Just take care of this, okay?”

“Luke—”

“Take it,” he enunciates. “Go home to your husband and the people that need you. I know Wedge loves having you around.”

Nova tilts her head at him, quietly hooking the gifted lightsaber onto her belt loop. “I know why you’re out here,” she says, carefully, “but there are people who need you, too. And people who love having you around.”

Luke doesn’t say anything, but there’s a ghost of something that looks an awful lot like hope behind his conflicted eyes. “I’ll see you soon.”

With that, Nova presses a quick kiss to the most prominent wrinkle in Grogu’s forehead, pressing her thumb into both her old Rebel necklace and the signet that matches Din’s. She reaches her hand out to shake Luke’s, but he grins at her and pulls her into a quick, strong embrace. He smells like the ocean, and still, somehow, of Tatooine. Luke and Grogu watch as Nova slowly descends the stone steps jutting out of the cliffside, so much easier to get down than heave up. When she’s back at Kicker, she checks the makeshift patch on the underbelly of the ship, which seems to be holding up okay enough to get back to Mandalore relatively unscathed.

“May the Force be with you,” she calls up to Luke and Grogu, waving her hand frantically.

“May the Force be with you,” Luke echoes. For a second, there’s nothing but the sound of the ocean hurling itself onto the gorgeous, green mainland, and as she climbs the gangplank, she hears Luke call out again. “Novalise.”

She sticks her head back out, shawl flapping in the wind. “Yes?”

Even from all the way down here, she can see the smile on Luke’s face. “That’s the Skywalker family lightsaber. Don’t lose it.”

She nods, feeling the weight of it on her hip as Kicker groans to life. She’s crying by the time she lifts off the surface of Ahch-To, her heart both heavy and light, sunken and buoyed. Space is dark, and she hops immediately into warp, heading back to Mandalore, back to the place she’s slowly learning to call home.

Mandalore, as usual, is quiet. It’s dusk, the foggy azure of the sky descending and swallowing up most of the planet, and when she lands in the designated parking bay, she checks the patch holding steadfast on Kicker’s underbelly, knowing that her beloved trash heap of a ship will need to go back into the more capable hands of the local mechanic. When she looks straight up, even through the dark, she can still see the faintest smattering of stars.

“Nova.”

She whirls around, hand on her belt. Din’s standing there, fully armored, just out of reach. “You scared me,” she chastises, closing the distance between the two of them. His beskar is cold, but his hands immediately encircle around her waist. “Has the threat passed?”

Din sighs, long and heavy. Her heart pounds as she listens to the timbre of it through the modulator, remembering all the time that she spent trying to dissect his breathing before he took the helmet for her and let Nova make him moan instead.

“There’s always another one,” he says, darkly, and she nods, tilting her head to the side. “I missed you, cyar’ika. Mandalore is cold and quiet without you.”

She wants to come up with a snappy retort, but the honesty and exhaustion in his voice pulls Nova down to his same level. She steps in closer, just letting Din hold her there, satisfied in the small comfort that she’s still his anchor. “Space is cold and quiet without you,” she offers, cheek pressed up against the beskar.

Din looks up. She can tell it even without looking at him, the way that his muscles shift underneath the beskar she’s still pressed up against. “I’d give anything to be back out there,” he whispers, finally, his voice low and complicated.

Nova’s heart flutters once, twice, and then she has an idea. “Din,”

“No,” he answers, immediate, helmet tipping down again to focus on her face. “We can’t, it’s too dangerous—”

“We can,” she enunciates, squinting her eyes at him, trying to put on the best Sabacc face she has, which isn’t much, because as Din is always reminding her, Nova is a terrible liar. “Twenty minutes. Nothing is happening. The palace is quiet. Boba Fett sent the pirates packing, remember? We won’t even leave Mandalore’s gravitational pull. We’ll only be just outside the atmosphere. We—”

“Stop it,” Din says, but there’s no fire in his voice.

“Come on,” Nova wheedles, well aware that she’s being reckless, a terrible influence. “Come on, come out with me into the stars. I’ll make it worth your while, you know,” she teases, raising one dark eyebrow playfully. When she hears Din sigh again under the mask, she knows she’s convinced him.

“Bo-Katan will not be happy that we left,” Din protests, but now he’s dragging Nova up the gangplank. She hides her smile in the shoulder of her shawl.

“Well,” Nova counters, spinning out and around while still holding Din’s gloved hand, spiraling down into the familiar comfort of the pilot’s seat, “it’s a good thing you’re Mand’alor, not her.”

Getting back into the stars with Din feels completely different than it did when Nova traversed the Outer Rim alone earlier. The silence isn’t crushing. It’s comfortable and easy, and when they’re finally safely out of Mandalore’s atmosphere, Nova pulls Kicker into a slow coast, heart still galloping in her chest. No matter how many times they’ve fucked, the little anticipatory period that comes before anything still feels like the first time. Quietly, Nova spins around in the pilot’s chair, expecting Din to still be seated behind her so she can climb over and straddle his lap.

But he’s not. Somehow, he’s the second person whose stealth has completely surprised her today, and Din’s no longer in the copilot’s chair. He’s standing over her, in full beskar regalis, visor of the helmet tilted downwards. All she can see reflected in the surface is the slow dance of the stars out of Kicker’s front window, and she swallows. Din steps forward, close enough to shift Nova’s legs apart, hands gently reaching forward to grab either side of her face. For a second, he doesn’t move. Nova’s breath hitches in her throat, desire sparking up a low flame in her pelvis. It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours since Din fucked her on the throne, promising that Mandalore was theirs to desecrate, but it feels like a lifetime ago. Everything in her body is on fire, electric.

“I missed the stars,” Din murmurs, his gloved finger ghosting over her plump bottom lip, lingering enough to reveal her teeth. Nova shivers.

“Me too,” she whispers, not daring to take her eyes off of the helmet. She can see the bulge growing in his pants peripherally, but she’s determined to stay here, frozen in this position, until Din begs for her mouth, her touch, her warmth.

“More than anything,” he continues, voice rumbling low and deep, his hand traveling down the marks he left on her neck—the pulse points, the light imprints of hickeys in between—and Nova swallows, the air going starry and unhabitable, “I missed making you scream my name out here with no one to hear you.”

“Oh,” Nova gasps as Din slowly kneels down, parting her legs like an ocean. Faintly, somewhere in the distance of her logical mind, something is telling her to make sure Din doesn’t tear these trousers off her body, because they’re light and comfortable and didn’t keep the dampness of Ahch-To trapped against her skin, but as he hooks his fingers around the waistband, any protest fly out the window into the starry darkness. “What—fuck, what happened to fucking me in front of an audience?”

“I don’t want that tonight,” Din whispers, immediately. He lifts the helmet just enough to reveal his mouth, and as his hands are pulling Nova’s pants down to her ankles, his tongue writes a symphony on the soft, smooth skin of her inner thighs. “I want to be the only one to worship you.”

Nova gasps again, heart fluttering in her throat, barely even registering that Din’s pulling down her panties until the heat from his hands travels up, notching perfectly between her thighs. She slumps in the chair, everything in her electric and alive. It feels like years since Din’s spent longer than a few seconds down here, the warmth and wetness of his mouth lapping up her every orgasm. She pulls the helmet clean off by accident, but she doesn’t burn in embarrassment when it makes a loud, clattering noise against the metal hull of Kicker’s floor. She just tangles her hands in Din’s hair, knotting her long fingers in his curls, pulling him in closer and closer, teetering on the edge from just his touch.

“Are you going to cum for me, Queen of Mandalore?” Din rumbles against her flesh, tongue immediately sliding back in between her folds after the last word comes out of his mouth.

“No,” Nova manages, yanking gently at Din’s hair. Immediately, his mouth comes off of her, even though she didn’t say a word. She stares into his brown eyes, gorgeous and full of lust and darkness. “I’m not the Queen of Mandalore out here.”

“Then what are you?” Din asks, pressing his wet lips against her inner thigh. He adjusts his grip on her thigh, and she exhales, a staccato beat, complicated with how badly she wants his touch.

“Your wife,” she manages, “so devour me like I belong to you, Din Djarin.”

There’s something deeper in his eyes, a flash of something guttural and animalistic. His mouth is back on her pussy so fast that it knocks the wind straight out of Nova’s mouth, and she gasps, her moans loud and unencumbered. When he adds the pumping of two fingers, entering her like it’s nothing, like he owns every single inch of his body, Nova’s on the edge again. And then, without warning, he’s pushing her over it, again and again and again. Everything in her is both electrified and exhausted. The stars outside the window are spinning, she’s panting like she’s in Tatooine’s heat, and blood is rushing so powerfully in her ears that she can’t hear anything else. Nothing in the galaxy exists except for her and Din.

It takes a moment for her to realize, dazed and satisfied, that Din’s mouth has left her. “Hey,” she manages, her voice sounding disconnected and warbled, nothing like it’s coming out of her whole mouth, “where’d you go, it’s your turn—”

“Nova,” Din interrupts, his hands coming out of nowhere and bracing against both of her cheeks, instantly anchoring her in the moment, “your comm is blinking.”

“My—comm,” she repeats, head still feeling underwater with the aftershocks of her orgasm, and she blinks the stars out of her eyes long enough to look at the thing on her wrist, her vision slowly returning back into focus. Her eyebrows furrow down the middle, and Din tilts her head, still standing on his knees like she’s about to knight him. She swallows, pressing the button. “Hello?”

“Your shields aren’t up,” an annoyed voice relays through the comm, slightly muffled. “You’re Order bait out there.”

Nova rolls her eyes. “Bo-Katan, we just went for—”

“Alone time,” Bo-Katan interrupts iciliy, but the current in her voice immediately makes Nova realize she’s not annoyed with them for sneaking away, she’s panicked for something else. “We have a problem.”

“You’re repeating yourself, Bo-Katan,” Din interjects, gathering the panties tangled at Nova’s waist and gesturing her to lift her hips up so he can slide them back over her thighs. “What pirates entered Mandalore now?”

“Not pirates,” she snaps. “Not Mandalore, either.”

Nova rolls her eyes at Din, exhausted. As she sits up, pulling her trousers back over her thick thighs, the mountains of her hipbones, she cracks her neck to the left. The wetness of Ahch-To’s atmosphere sunk into her bones, and now that the warmth of Din’s mouth has evaporated, she’s suddenly freezing again. She nimbly picks up her discarded azure shawl, wrapping it around her shoulders, her neck, dipping the pooled fabric up over her head. Her hair is wild, hanging in her face, running out of the shawl like water. “Bo-Katan,” Nova chances, trying her best to not sound sour because of the very unwelcome interruption, “can you please tell us what exactly is wrong?”

“Rebel girl,” a voice filters through, and Nova sits straight up, startled. The shock of Wedge’s voice is one thing, but hearing it through the same frequency—and, most likely, location—as Bo-Katan’s makes her heart start hammering for a very different reason. Din and Nova exchange glances—his skeptical, hers frightened—and Nova waits with bated breath for Wedge to continue speaking. His voice is low, full of foreboding, when it crackles across the comm again. “We have,” Wedge says, sighing heavily, punctuating the silence with his voice, full and intentional, “a problem.”

*

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I HOPE YOU LOVED IT!!! we're about to dive headfirst back into where SM left off with the Order, ruling Mandalore, and the Rebels, and biiiiiiiig things are coming ;) hope this one tides you over until next week!

as always, i'll be here, on tumblr (amiedala), and on tiktok (padmeamydala) for even more Dinova/SD content, so come hang out! <3

CHAPTER 3 WILL BE UP SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 18TH AT 7:30 PM EST!!!

xoxo, amelie

[engagemachine]

For the emoji head cannons. Any or all - you know I’m asking about J and Tay 🥰

💜🧺👀🚪

Alright, kids. BUCKLE UP. There's some seriously good stuff in here, including some headcanons written by a good friend and reader, and you don't want to miss it!

💜— How do they say goodnight?

J doesn't—at least not unless Taylor comes and says it first. Usually, he's not even home at night, and she's resigned herself on those nights to having to go to bed without him. She used to try and wait up for him, but she always ended up falling into a fitful sleep, usually on the couch or sometimes slumped over on the barstool at the kitchen counter, her head pillowed on her forearms, a little spot of drool on the counter. She'd wake sometime later, usually with an awful crick in her neck, or with the knowledge that school's in a couple of hours and Mr. J still hasn't come back yet....

It's hard to sleep when he isn't there, and her nightmares are always worse on those nights. Sometimes she gets herself really worked up, convinces herself he's not coming back, that he's abandoned her, that he's bored, he's moved on. It's embarrassing, how quickly she's capable of working her entire body into a full-blown panic attack. She hugs his pillow to her tummy and curls around it in the fetal position, closing her eyes, smelling him, the scent he left behind. Gasoline. Smoke. Sweat. Smells that should affront her, but she finds comforting instead. It's all she's ever known.

A couple of times she's woken after falling asleep at the counter, her homework all spread out around her in a half-moon circle, with a pair of strong arms picking her up. She's usually so sleepy by then that she just does what's natural—wraps her legs around his waist and winds her arms around his neck. He puts her in her bed, as he always does—and without fail, usually twenty minutes later, or maybe an hour—she's creeping into his bedroom and slipping under the covers, scooting across the expanse of the bed until she's curled up against his back. Finally she can whisper "good night", barely audible in the darkness. She traces a tiny heart on his spine with her finger, and then she drifts to sleep.

🧺— Random domestic headcanon

Taylor manages to finagle Netflix from Mr. J--and boy, she had to work for it--but now that she has it, she's obsessed. She can finally watch all these shows that everyone on Instagram and Youtube are always talking about. There's a little community of people on this Youtube channel she likes to watch, this girl who does her make-up and reviews TV shows at the same time. It's so fun, and it always puts her in a good mood. Sometimes she leaves comments on the videos, and one time a couple people commented back! It was so exciting, and she likes chatting with these strangers, especially because she has no one else to talk to, and sometimes she thinks Mr. J gets bored listening to her prattling about stuff he doesn't care about.

Anyway, she's started watching this one show. She asks Mr. J if he wants to watch it with her, but he always says no... and then proceeds to stand next to the couch for half an hour squinting at the TV, as if the events unfolding before him deeply confuse him.

"Mr. J, just sit down!" she says, laughing. But he always says he has to finish working... and then stands there for another thirty minutes until the episode is over.

It's kind of their thing, now, and she thinks he's starting to get really into the show, which is exciting. Maybe she can finally talk about it with him?

But then... but then. She had to know that this episode would come, they've only been hinting at the sexual tension with all the grace of a sledgehammer for the past five episodes, and now, episode six, they're finally doing it, and Taylor. Is. Mortified.

Mr. J is, of course, perched right next to the couch throughout the entire event, standing, hovering way too close, now that she thinks about it, and she reaches for a nearby pillow and holds it up to her face in a poor attempt to shield her blush from him. The characters are moaning so loud, oh my god, she might as well be watching porn--and Mr. J's standing right there! She peeks up to glance at him, once, twice, and the third time she does it, she catches him staring at her, smirking, and she flushes so hard that she gives herself a headache from the intensity of her bloodrush.

Oh, my god. This is the worst.

"Something the matter, sweet pea?"

Oh, he knows. She knows that he does.

But she plays innocent. She's not gonna tell him how embarrassing this is. No way.

"Nope," she squeaks. "I'm fine."

She leaves halfway through the scene, abandoning the couch with some mumbled excuse about having to go to the bathroom--and she hides out there and peeks between the crack in the door until the scene's done.

When she returns, Mr. J looks at her and frowns, picking up the remote.

"Shame you missed the good part," he says, completely straight-faced. She looks at him, blinking.

"Oh," she says, "Well, I--"

"Don't worry," he says, smirking in a way she knows can't be good. "I'll rewind it for you."

👀— What’s their favorite body part on themselves? On their partner?

Okay, so my good friend @darkobsessions1989 was kind enough to provide an answer for this prompt before I had even been prompted with it, and she wrote a gorgeous scenario for both J and Taylor, so with her permission, I'll share both of those here:

She's been sketching his hands a lot lately. Trying to convey their rugged elegance, the sinewy length of his fingers and sharp knobs of his knuckles. She wants to capture their strength and duality. The way those hands have the capacity to be as soft and gentle as they can be harsh and rough. How sometimes, they can even be both at once.

She isn't really sure that's something she's even capable of conveying through lead and paper, but she's been trying anyways. Her sketchbook is a filled with countless renderings of his hands. Various versions of his fingers, knuckles, and palms. Close ups that detail all the little lines and scars across his skin, and more distant takes that sometimes travel a little ways up his forearms. Most are in pencil, but a few have been executed in pen or fine tipped markers--whatever she had closest on hand at the time, really.

She often thinks about the time he'd caught her watching him while she scribbled away on that sort of project. How he'd asked to see what she was drawing, and chased her through the house to pin her to the bed when she was too embarrassed to show him.

She remembers the thrill that rolled through her when he made that suggestive, "If I'd only known..." comment, and how that thrill had doubled as he advanced on her. She remembers just exactly how his weight had felt atop her, how her heart had hammered away in her chest, her tummy jumping with anticipation as he slid her arms up over her head and pinned them against the mattress under a big hand.

She'd been half convinced he was going to escalate things as he'd slid his free hand down the front of her body, and she'd been all too eager to tip her hips up to accommodate. Much to her dismay, he'd backed off. But she thinks--now that she's had more experience with him in this regard--that he might not have if she'd told him what he'd wanted to hear.

She knows now that there are certain things he really likes hearing. The mere thought of most of those things makes her flush crimson. But sometimes... sometimes it makes her do more than just flush.

Which is why she hasn't really been bothering with trying to hide any of what she sketches. She does it right in front of him, even though it kind of makes her antsy when he pays too much attention or stares right back. She tells herself that if he ever sees her drawing his hands again and calls her on it, she's gonna tell him.

She's gonna tell him that she likes his hands, likes everything about them. Their size, their texture. The length of his fingers and the wide width of his palms. The way they look. Their impossible heat, and how they feel pressed against her skin. On her tongue. Inside her.

It occurs to her that maybe that's a part of why she's been drawing them so much. Maybe she's just been looking for another excuse. An opportunity to show him that she does know how to use her words.

Maybe she won't manage to say it all without clamming up, but she thinks she'd like to try. She thinks he'd like that.

--

His favorite body part of hers? Honestly, there really isn't any part of her that doesn't peak his interest in one way or another. He's got damn near every inch of her mapped out in his head, her visage cast and carved out across the meaty ridges of his brain like some grisly work of art. He knows her. Inside and out, both corporeally and otherwise.

That said, if he had to choose just one part of her, he supposes he does have a rather particular fondness for the nape of that long, skinny neck. The faintly raised notch of bone that protrudes there between where the back of her neck and shoulders meet. The way that stretch of tissue, skin and bone seems tailored just for him. For his cupping of the fragile curve of her spine in his palm of his hand, just below the base of her skull.

Sometimes he likes to spread his fingers there, slide them up into her hair against her scalp, or squeeze just a little too tightly at the sides of her neck. He likes the way her breath catches, how she often tries to ease the pressure of his grip by getting closer. He likes the little baby hairs that dust along her hairline there too. How they they get a little frizzy and stuck to the dampness of her skin whenever she works up a sweat.

Truthfully, for how often and closely he's studied her, he could compose an entire anthology dedicated solely to the intricacies of her body--not that he ever would.

🚪— What would kill their trust in their partner/close them off? Could this ever be amended?

Ugh, this is a great question. Taylor's seen (and found out about) a loooot of stuff that the Joker has done that she doesn't approve of/doesn't like. She knows he blew up Gotham University, and she knows about the camera he planted in her room, and the fact that he's been drugging her (which she has been blissfully willing to ignore after their little couch encounter at the end of chapter seven) and obviously a bunch of other horrible stuff he's done. So that being said, if J were to do something to close Taylor off/kill her trust in him, it'd have to be something pretty big. She's tolerated a lot so far in the story, but she isn't unbreakable. It's hard to answer this question without spoiling anything, but suffice to say, you'll have this question answered at some point in Burn.

As for J, I think even if Taylor were to go to the police/were to do something behind his back, these behaviors would certainly be grounds for him losing trust in her--but I also think he'd be of the mind that these little "infractions" could be amended. He'd just have to work extra hard to get her back on his side again--but he wouldn't give up on her. No way.

[longing-and-heartache-and-lust]

offer me that deathless death

Jaskier has never shared the bed with a man before. Geralt is more than happy to take him every step of the way, allowing him to explore his body and the pleasure it can bring him.

[Written for the “Inexperinced” prompt for the milestone celebration]

(10.9k words, explicit, also on ao3)

------------------------------------------------------------

There were so, so many things that Geralt absolutely adored about Jaskier. 

The look in his impossibly-blue eyes when the witcher kissed him and then broke away, so full of love that it almost hurt sometimes; the softness of his skin under Geralt’s fingertips, warm and smooth and flawless; the scent of something sweet and almost intoxicating, like pomegranate, hidden right under the sharp of his jaw and on his delicate wrists. 

But above all that, Geralt loved knowing that most of those things were new to the bard. That Jaskier was completely, utterly his.  

It stirred something deep in his chest, something hot and possessive, to see Jaskier’s hands tremble ever so slightly when he would reach out to him, run his hands down Geralt’s shoulders and chest, studying the lines of his body. The way he bit his lower lip to try and stop the colour from spilling over his cheeks while doing so. 

Geralt would’ve never thought him to be quite so coy when it came to physical closeness but then again, Jaskier was only twenty-two and though he’d already made his way through more beds than either of them would care to count, all of his lovers were women. 

Over the four years they’ve been travelling together, Geralt had seen the bard flirting with other men countless times, have seen him with kiss-swollen lips and marks on his neck but, as he had come to realise very quickly once he became the one leaving those marks, it had never gone any further than that yet. 

Jaskier was almost self-conscious about it for the first few evenings but then, as he’d learned just how much Geralt loved having him all to himself, it had quickly become a weapon that he used against the witcher shamelessly. 

The way he leaned and arched into every touch, little breathless gasps escaping his lips whenever Geralt would find his way to his neck, leaving bruising kisses in his wake, the way he tangled his hands in his silver hair to pull him closer still, the way he trembled under what seemed like every touch - all of that was driving Geralt insane, slowly but surely. And it wasn’t helping at all that when it all started - a little over a week ago - they were in the middle of nowhere, and the villages that they would pass on the Path were all too small to have an inn. 

The bright side of it, however, was that Jaskier was growing beautifully impatient. 

Every night, when they would set up their camp, the summer nights warm and kind to travellers, he would grow more and more frustrated when, drunk on the taste of Geralt’s lips on his own, he would get his hands intercepted at the wrists and seized before he could as much as strip the witcher of his shirt. No matter how much Geralt wanted him, he was going to get him into a proper bed first. 

Jaskier pleaded, whimpered and threatened but nothing worked, and his impatience was growing so hot and overwhelming that Geralt could almost feel it on his skin whenever the bard was close. Though also a torture, it was an absolute delight to know that he’s the cause of it. 

And even so, when they finally reach a town a little south-east of Tretogor, Geralt can tell that Jaskier is nervous. In a good way, but nevertheless. 

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Geralt wonders if he’d been like this the first time he had shared a bed with a woman but he also knows the answer. He remembers his own first sexual experience, a young and beautiful barmaid somewhere in Kaedwen, grateful to him for saving her father from a water hag and fascinated by his silver hair and golden eyes. She was warm and soft and gentle, taking her time with the buckles of Geralt’s armour and breathing sweet little moans into his lips. 

Geralt was twenty-four then, only a year out of Kaer Morhen where all he’d really learned about sex were the stories he and his brothers would tell each other, all of them so obviously made-up that when he thought back on it, he was genuinely impressed by their imagination. 

But even so, he remembers how easy it was to figure it all out, how effortless it was to find the right pattern. So he knows that no, Jaskier wasn’t like this the first time he had slept with a woman. And that thrills him even more. 

He doesn’t mention it, though, allowing everything to go at its own pace and, when the door of their rented room closes behind them, he busies himself with his bags and armour, just like he always does. 

Jaskier is telling him something about a fellow student he had in the Academy that is now a poet at the Tretogor court and, slowly but surely, he can feel the tension bleed away from the bard’s shoulders. He knows that on some lever Jaskier had been expecting to be tugged to bed the moment they got to the room, and that anticipation was what was making him anxious. Geralt did ask himself what did he do wrong for the bard to feel like he’d be given no time but then again, it’s hardly his fault, too much anticipation tends to do that to people. 

So when Jaskier relaxes again, Geralt just smiles to himself. 

“When was it that we’d last slept in a proper bed?” the bard murmurs, coming closer to wrap his arms around Geralt’s waist from behind and hooking his chin over his shoulder. “Let alone this big.” 

Geralt chuckles, leaving his bags alone and covering Jaskier’s arms with his own, tilting his head to brush his lips over the bard’s temple. 

“Hmm,” he hums, considering. “Three weeks ago?”

Jaskier huffs a laugh, touching a gentle kiss to Geralt’s shoulder. Through the fabric of his shirt, Geralt can feel the warmth of his lips and, despite all his self-control, it sends a shiver down his back. 

“We can stay here for a couple of days,” he says, turning around in Jaskier’s arms to dip his head and steal a proper kiss from him. “If you want to. It’s been a long couple of weeks and the only way I can think of making up for them is not letting you out of my arms for a day or two.”

Jaskier smiles and bites his lips, a beautiful tint of pink spilling over his cheeks. He hides his eyes and Geralt knows better than to tip his chin up now. He knows that in a way, Jaskier is enjoying his own nervousness now that the edge of it is taken off, and he gladly allows him to savour it. 

Jaskier runs the tips of his fingers down Geralt’s chest and then moves back up, over his shoulder and neck, until he can get his hand into the witcher’s hair and pull him to his lips, closing in what little distance there is between them. 

He kisses him slow and sweet, and Geralt parts his lips obediently when he feels Jaskier’s tongue on them. It’s a pleasure of its own - letting the bard explore his body slowly and carefully, in whichever way he likes, allowing him to feel in control of everything that happens. 

When Geralt thinks about it, he’d never known anything sweeter. 

As Jaskier moves his other hand over his torso and chest from where it had been resting on the small of the witcher’s back, Geralt gladly leans into it, chasing the touch, ready to both follow Jaskier to the bed, and let him go. 

Jaskier rests his hand on Geralt’s shoulder, fingers digging into the skin just hard enough to keep the witcher close, and only breaks away to suck it a breath before his lips are on Geralt’s again. It’s impossible to resist and Geralt doesn’t even try to, catching the bard’s lower lip between his teeth and drinking in the gorgeous little gasp he gets in response. He’d had more than enough time over the years to notice the way Jaskier looks at him whenever he smiles in a way that shows his canine, elongated and sharpened by the mutations and the Trials. And though the bard never openly admitted anything, it wasn’t necessary. 

The temptation to bite just a little harder and see how Jaskier will react is not the one that Geralt can keep at bay and so he gives in, tipping Jaskier’s chin up and biting at his plush lower lip, not so hard as to draw blood but enough to have the bard arch his back, chasing the feeling and flinching away from it at the same time. The choked moan that escapes his chest sounds more like a whimper and, by the gods, Geralt can barely breathe with just how much he wants him. 

Fortunately for him, they’re close enough to one of the walls that it only takes Geralt two steps to press Jaskier up against the wooden panels and kiss him again, keeping the initiative to himself this time, licking into the bard’s mouth and keeping him close with a hand on the small of his back. 

If there’s anything that he’d learned over the last week and a half is that even though Jaskier loves his freedom to touch and kiss whichever way he wants, he also loves just how much stronger Geralt is, how, if he wants to, he can just take, asking no questions.    

Geralt had first discovered it a week ago when, after they had settled in for the night, the kisses had grown hotter, hungrier and Jaskier, his hands everywhere at once, had finally caught on the hem of the witcher’s shirt only for Geralt to intercept his wrists and pin them above his head. He wasn’t really expecting anything aside from displeasure from the bard, keeping his hands away simply because telling him to do so would not have been enough but the way Jaskier looked at him them, pupils blown so wide that there was barely any blue in his eyes, had told Geralt everything he needed to know. 

And it would’ve been a terrible mistake to deny them both such pleasure. 

Careful not to overstep, to always make sure that Jaskier doesn’t feel trapped, he indulged them both, knowing perfectly well that more often than not Jaskier wouldn’t keep his hands to himself for the sole purpose of having them pinned above his head once more. He struggled against the grip with little to no intention to actually escape it and Geralt could feel his pulse pick up when all of those attempts failed and Jaskier knew that he’s helpless against the witcher. 

If his life depended on it, Geralt would not have been able to decide what he loves more: allowing Jaskier to do anything he wanted to him, mapping out his body with careful hands and lips, or having full control over him. 

Moving even closer, Geralt shifts just enough to push his thigh between Jaskier’s and he can’t help but grin at the way the bard gasps, already half-hard. 

“You’re so easy to turn on, I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of it,” he murmurs into his ear, breaking the kiss and finding his way to Jaskier’s neck, still bearing the marks he’d left two nights ago. 

He doesn’t see Jaskier blush but he feels it in his scent, sweet and heady, like peach blossoms. He breathes it in, lets it fill his lungs, barely suppressing a low moan as he undoes the hooks on the bard’s doublet one by one.

“Geralt--” Jaskier breathes, eyes fluttering closed as the witcher sucks a new mark onto his neck, the sparks of pain only adding to the pleasure. 

 His hands are shaking as he cups the sharp of Geralt’s jaw, making him lift his head, and pulls him to his lips to kiss him again. Geralt lets himself be manoeuvred willingly, giving the control back and something low in his abdomen ties into knots at the way they can play with power like that. 

He’d never been the one to obey easily but letting Jaskier take things his own way held a different kind of power within it.

Knowing that Jaskier cannot keep his hands off him, always so open and sensitive despite his own nervousness and fear, was better than any control Geralt could imagine. 

“Bed,” Jaskier breathes into his lips, stepping away from the wall. “Please.”

Without looking, Geralt takes a step back towards the bed, leading Jaskier after him without ever breaking the kiss and it’s when the back of his knees already hit the mattress that there’s a sharp knock on the door and Jaskier flinches in his arms, eyes flying open. 

“The bath you ordered is ready,” comes a female voice from behind the door. “When you’re done just leave the towel on the door handle and my boys will deal with the water for you.”

Geralt recollects himself faster, thanking the innkeeper and, as he listens to her make her way back down the stairs, the heels of her shoes tapping against the wood, he can feel Jaskier rest his forehead against his shoulder, laughing breathlessly. 

His cheeks are bright-red either with the heat or with the sudden embarrassment for the state he’s in, and even though Geralt is dying to tease him about it, he’s trying so hard to hide it that the witcher chooses to pretend that he doesn’t see the blush. 

“You’ve ordered a bath and forgot about it?” Geralt asks, pressing a calming kiss to Jaskier’s temple, his own shoulders shaking with laughter, as well. 

“Turns out it’s very hard to keep such insignificant things in mind with you around,” the bard smiles, still hiding his eyes and so gorgeously embarrassed that Geralt can’t help but lean in and steal one more kiss from him.  

Geralt lets him go when he pulls back and as he sits down on the bed, watching Jaskier fumble with the ties on the sleeves of his doublet, his fingers still shaking, he realises, though not for the first time but with an intensity that he has never felt before, just how hopelessly in love he is with him. 

“Jask,” he calls softly, extending an arm towards him and pulling the bard closer when he takes his hand. “Everything alright?”

Jaskier allows himself to be pulled down into Geralt’s lap and, after a second, takes in a breath and finally looks him in the eyes. 

“Yes,” he says, brushing a stray lock of the witcher’s silver hair out of his face. “I’m sorry, I  just got a little… overwhelmed.”

Geralt can feel it in his scent but he doesn’t say it, dipping his head to touch a gentle kiss to the curve of his shoulder, instead. Jaskier relaxes under the touch, tilting his head to give better access. 

“We don’t have to do this if it’s too much,” Geralt says softly. “If you’re not ready.”

“No,” Jaskier says immediately, pulling back to look the witcher in the eyes again. “I want to. You don’t even know how bad. But I just… can we wait until the evening?”

The blush is now slowly fading from his cheeks but his eyes are shining just as bright as before, and he looks so impossibly beautiful like this that Geralt can feel his heart skip one of its slow beats. 

He leans in, brushing his lips over Jaskier’s warm cheek, and smiles at him, pulling away. 

“Of course.”

***

Over the four years that they’ve spent together, they’ve never really seen each other naked, so when Jaskier leaves for the other room to take his bath, Geralt knows better than to follow him, no matter how close they’ve gotten over the last days or what’s going to happen in the evening. 

He gives Jaskier the space they both know he needs right now and heads downstairs, where more and more guests are gathering around the tables as the sun is starting to set. 

At first, he wants to get himself a drink for the time to go by faster but then, after giving it some thought, decides against it and instead orders a bath for himself, as well. It takes a little bargaining but in the end, he manages to successfully convince the innkeeper to set it in one of the empty rooms. Fortunately for him, this inn is big enough to have the baths and the beds in separate rooms instead of just behind a panel screen.

It’s not that he necessarily needs a bath, since the night before they camped close to a riverbank and he’d sneaked out for a swim when Jaskier fell asleep, but he just wants one. While summer nights are warm and the water in the river was more than pleasant, it still cannot compare with a proper hot bath. 

And, well, when he thinks of it, he does want his hair to still be damp and smelling of herbs when he comes back to bed tonight, wants his skin to be warmed and softened by the water, wants to be as close to perfects as he can be - for Jaskier. 

He can imagine the way he’s going to touch him once finally given full permission, the way he’s going to look at him, with those impossibly-blue eyes, and it feels… special. Gods know Geralt’s never been the one for sentiments but there is only so much one can do when there are so many feelings mixed into the equation.    

As he sheds his clothing and steps into the steaming bath, just on the right side of too hot, he thinks back on what it felt like when Jaskier had kissed him for the first time. It was mostly his own doing, he supposes, for he couldn’t keep his hands to himself when they’ve settled in for the night but at the same time, he could hardly be blamed for it. With Jaskier pressed close to his chest, a sleeping arrangement they’ve somehow fallen into sometime in the last year, his scent was so overpowering and he was so close that it barely even registered with Geralt that he’s got his nose burrowed in the bard’s chestnut hair, just breathing him in. 

And, well, it was only a matter of seconds after that that Jaskier was turning around, reaching over to get his hand into Geralt’s hair, and kissing him. 

Then, finally, everything fell into place. 

If Geralt had known sooner that that was the reaction he was going to get, they would’ve probably been sleeping together for months not, if not years, but the longing did have something special, almost bittersweet within itself. 

The way Jaskier kissed him, both gentle and absolutely desperate, justified the previous three and a half years that Geralt had spent yearning for him, convinced that his feelings aren’t reciprocated because why would Jaskier flirt with just about everyone right in front of his eyes? 

“Because, you goddamn idiot,” he laughed when the witcher had asked him. “I thought that if you get jealous, you’ll finally do something about it.”

Ah, so that was his strategy. 

But none of that really mattered anymore, not with Jaskier parting his lips oh so obediently for his tongue and trembling so sweetly that it didn’t take Geralt long to realise he’d never really went further than kisses with other men and that anything the witcher was going to do to him would be a first. Oh, the way it made his blood boil. 

But on some level, he was worried, too. 

All the men he’d been with before were… well, more experienced. They knew exactly what they wanted and what Geralt wanted from them, it was a practised pattern, easy to fall into for a night or two and then fall out of it just as easily. 

But with Jaskier, Geralt knew it would be different. And he couldn’t help but think that he might do something wrong, might be too much. After all, he was a witcher and his hands were made for a sword rather than a body as beautifully delicate as Jaskier’s. He would never hurt him, of course, not deliberately, at least, but he was still… a witcher. 

Geralt shakes those thoughts off before he can concentrate on them too much and closes his eyes, slipping lower into the hot water, instead. 

As it washes over him, Geralt allows his mind to wander until he can think of nothing but the feeling of Jaskier’s lips on his own. 

***

When Geralt comes back to their room, the bed is still empty and he can hear soft splashes of water from behind the door to the bathroom along with Jaskier’s humming of a song he’d been composing lately. 

Geralt rolls his eyes in fond exasperation, already used to the bard always taking forever in the bath whenever he’d get his hands on one. But, well, he’d always come out smelling of his oils and salt, mild enough not to cause the witcher discomfort, and then Geralt couldn’t really complain for after a long bath Jaskier had always searched for more warmth in his arms. 

Geralt can’t imagine this time being different, so when he gets into bed, having left his trousers on an armchair in the corner of the room, there’s a sweet little thrill of anticipation that runs through him. Even if Jaskier won’t want to take it any further than kisses, just the feeling of his warm, slender body close to his own is enough for Geralt to consider himself a very happy man. 

He stretches on the wide bed with a soft pleased rumble, his hair, still damp from the bath, brushed back with only a few loose silver strands falling into his face, and reaches for a book that he’d been carrying around for the last couple of weeks. When Jaskier asked, the witcher had told him that it’s about the flora of the Skellige Isles and that he needs it for future reference on elixirs and salves, because he couldn’t bring himself to admit that it’s a romance novel he’d bought when they were passing Rinde. The story was ridiculous but the erotic scenes were hot and decently written, so he wasn’t complaining. After all, everyone’s allowed a little guilty pleasure. 

Geralt wasn’t really paying attention to how much time had passed but he was just about to finish a chapter when he’d realised that the splashing in the other room had stopped and after just a few moments, Jaskier slipped through the door, nothing but his smallclothes and an oversized shirt on. 

It’s what he usually sleeps in when they have a proper bed, and so does Geralt, because wearing trousers to bed is a form of torture, and Geralt should be used to it except now, when he’s finally allowed to touch and kiss and feel, he can’t help but bite his lip at the sight. 

It doesn’t help at all that Jaskier’s wearing his shirt, as well. 

“Is that mine?” Geralt enquires, still.

 Jaskier smiles at him, almost teasingly. 

“The shirt or me as a whole?”

He crosses the room, coming closer to the witcher and takes the book away from his hands, closing it and putting it aside, on the bedside table. 

“Either way,” he says, his hands coming to rest on Geralt’s shoulders as Jaskier straddles his hips in one effortless, almost practised move. “The answer is yes.”

And oh, how good he is with his words. 

His body is a pleasant weight on Geralt’s hips and the witcher barely notices it when his hands come up to rest on Jaskier’s waist, his skin warm even through the fabric of the shirt. From this position, he has to tilt his head up to look at the bard but it’s not something that Geralt minds. 

He’s aching to reach up and kiss him but even more than that he wants to let Jaskier be the one to set the pace, and so he waits, just rubs little circles into his sides with his thumbs and even that, somehow, makes the bard shudder. 

“Do you still want me?” he whispers, brushing a silver strand away from Geralt’s face and letting his fingers linger on the sharp of his jaw. 

 Geralt can feel his heart skip a beat. 

“Always.”

Jaskier lets out a shaky breath and then his fingers are under Geralt’s chin, tipping his head up more, and he’s kissing him, just as gentle and desperate as he did the very first time. 

Geralt can’t help but moan softly into his lips, the realization of finally being alone and in bed fully catching up with him at last.

He slides one of his hands up Jaskier’s back, barely holding back from getting under his shirt so soon, and pulls him closer, letting the bard’s scent wash over him, fill his lungs from wall to wall. He can feel the oils Jaskier’s used for his bath, the herbal soap he uses on his hair, but under all that, he can feel his own scent - sweet, heady pomegranate, with something even richer, even sweeter slowly mixing in and he knows Jaskier well enough to recognise the scent of his desire. 

Jaskier breaks away for only a second, their lips never fully parting, and takes in a shallow breath before kissing Geralt again, slower this time, his entire body leaning into the witcher’s touch. And then again. And again.

Geralt kisses him back gently, his other hand moving up to tangle in Jaskier’s hair, still wet after the bath. He runs his tongue over the bard’s bottom lip but, when Jaskier parts them obediently, withdraws, earning himself a disheartened little whimper as a reward. 

“Teasing me, Witcher?” Jaskier asks, a little breathless as he breaks away. 

Geralt grins, showing off his canine. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he says, not even trying to sound innocent. 

Jaskier’s eyes are already darker than they usually are, transfixed on the witcher’s grin, and Geralt knows perfectly what exactly he’s looking at, what draws in so much of his attention. 

“You and your fucking witcher mutations,” he hisses, dragging his thumb over Geralt’s bottom lip and leaning down to kiss him, hard. 

Geralt laughs somewhere deep in his chest. 

“What about them?”

Jaskier leaves him without an answer for they both know it well enough, and dips his head to touch his lips to Geralt’s neck, right under the sharp of his jaw. The touch sends sparks of pleasure up Geralt’s spine, and his eyes flutter closed as he tilts his head to give the bard more access. 

The neck had always been a sensitive area for him and as much as a couple of well-placed kisses could have him biting his lips but right now, with Jaskier kissing him, he can barely hold back a moan. 

“How long have you wanted this?” Jaskier asks, pressing a wet, open-mouthed kiss to Geralt’s throat, his hands slowly making their way down the witcher’s chest. 

Geralt has to bite his lip, hard, to keep himself from getting under Jaskier’s shirt. 

“More than three years,” he says, catching the bard’s lips with his own when he lifts his head. “Pretty much ever since we met.”

“Ever since we met,” Jaskier echoes, kissing him again and slowly, carefully rolling his hips against Geralt’s, tearing a sigh out of them both. “And yet you waited all this time.”

His breath is hot on Geralt’s lips and before the witcher has the chance to answer, he’s silenced with a kiss, Jaskier’s tongue hot and wet when he licks into his mouth. Geralt doesn’t mind being led, not with Jaskier, so he allows for it with pleasure, arching into the touch when the bard finally slips his hands under his shirt. 

It’s not that Jaskier’s hands have never been on his chest or sides before, because of course they have, helping wash off blood and wrapping bandages around fresh wounds but it was always a necessity, with no time to actually feel, to study the firm muscles and the pale scars. Geralt did catch Jaskier looking a couple of times but that too wasn’t nearly enough. 

Geralt can feel Jaskier’s hands tremble slightly as he rucks his shirt up and moves just far enough from the headboard of the bed for him to pull it off over his head. Jaskier drops the shirt to the floor beside the bed, his hands finding their way to Geralt’s broad chest and for a moment, he just looks, brushing his thumb over a healing cut on the witcher’s collarbone. 

His hands are warm against Geralt’s skin and though he’s not used to such direct attention, it feels good. 

“Like what you see?” he teases, watching Jaskier slowly move his hand down his chest, stopping just between his ribs, just the tips of his fingers touching skin. 

That gets him the result he wanted, a flush of colour spilling high on the bard’s cheeks and Jaskier bites his lip, hiding his eyes in a gesture that Geralt had grown to love a little too much. 

“Yes,” Jaskier says, only a whisper. “Gods know I’ve been dreaming about you for years.”

He dips his head, brushing his lips over the cut he’d been tracing and, after a moment of hesitation, slips lower, to Geralt’s chest, eyes fluttering closed. 

He’s careful with his every touch, like it’s Geralt who’s never been in bed with a man, not him, but it sends Geralt’s head reeling regardless, knowing where that tentativeness is coming from. Unable to help himself anymore, he gets his hands under Jaskier’s shirt, tearing a soft little gasp out of him, and runs his hands up his back, both encouraging and calming. 

Jaskier kisses a line down his chest, touching his tongue to the skin every time, and there’s only so much that Geralt can take before he’s searching for the hem of his shirt. 

“Can I?” he asks, tugging on it just a little to indicate his intentions. 

Jaskier goes still for a moment, his breath heavying, but Geralt can tell that it’s anticipation rather than indecisiveness. And it’s only a second before he nods. 

“Yes,” he breathes. “Gods, yes. Please.”

More than anything Geralt wants to flip them both around, lay Jaskier down on the pillows and just kiss him until there’s no air left in his lungs, wants to make him tremble with pleasure, hear those little choked-off moans and whimpers, but he knows that there will be time for that, and right now what Jaskier needs is time. And that is something that Geralt can give him. 

He pulls the bard’s shirt off him slowly, letting his hands brush over his sides, and once it falls down onto the floor, he keeps his eyes locked with Jaskier’s for a long moment before running his gaze down his shoulders and chest, all the way down to his lower abdomen. Jaskier’s heart rate picks up even more so than before, and Geralt leans in to brush his lips over his neck, feel the carotid pulsing under the tender skin. 

Jaskier leans into it, until they’re chest to chest, and gets one of his hands into Geralt’s hair, pulling him closer, giving him more access, more freedom, while his other hand never quite stills on the witcher’s chest, like he’s mapping out every curve and line. 

“Talk to me,” he pleads, throwing his head back with a soft moan when Geralt presses another open-mouthed kiss to his neck, sucks a mark into it with just a hint of his canine scraping over the skin. 

Geralt knows just how inexperienced Jaskier is, can feel it in every touch of his hands and lips, but the bard had never told him directly, and it’s too tempting for Geralt to deny himself the pleasure. 

“You’ve never been with a man before, have you?” he murmurs, letting his voice drop to a soft purring rumble that gets Jaskier’s heart beating faster every time. 

He doesn’t have to see the blood rushing to Jaskier’s cheeks to be able to feel it. 

“No,” Jaskier admits, his hand catching on the witcher’s medallion and wrapping around it. “I wanted to, a couple of times, but I never quite had the courage. Or maybe I just never really wanted to be with anyone but you.”

Those words run through Geralt’s body like a shockwave and he breaks away from Jaskier’s neck to catch and hold his gaze.  

 “Gods, you perfect,” he whispers but before he can capture Jaskier’s mouth in a kiss, his lips are already back on his chest. 

He seems braver this time, his kisses turning into teasing bites, like that confession was what he needed to feel more confident. It’s getting harder to breathe and though Geralt manages to keep his breathing more or less even as Jaskier makes his way down his chest, once the bard’s lips close around his hardened nipple, he fails to suppress a gasp, hips jerking involuntarily.

He’s fully hard by now and the pressure of Jaskier’s hips against his own sends sparks of pleasure through his lower abdomen. 

Jaskier seems to take that as an encouragement, pressing himself closer to the witcher and rolling his hips slowly, his own cock hard and throbbing beneath the thin fabric of his smallclothes. 

For a second, Geralt is overwhelmed with the desire to flip Jaskier onto his back and get his mouth on him, make him come just like that, finally learn what he tastes like, but he makes himself hold back. After all, they have the entire night. 

“What about you?” Jaskier asks, and Geralt is so lost in the feeling of his hot tongue that it takes him a second to register the question. “Who was the first man you’ve slept with?”

He chuckles, pulling Jaskier up to his lips for just a second before letting him get back to his chest. 

“Another witcher,” he says, nearly choking on a moan when Jaskier catches his nipple between his teeth before shifting in Geralt’s lap and moving lower. “I was eight, maybe ten years out of Kaer Morhen. He was a little younger than me.”

Jaskier takes his kisses lower, down the centre of Geralt’s abdomen, and though his hands are slightly trembling again where they’re resting on the witcher’s thighs, he doesn’t stop in one spot for too long. And if Geralt’s voice is what it takes to take the worry away, how can he refuse?

“We met in the Pont Vanis court, in Poviss. There was some kind of a creature in the harbour that was killing seamen and dockworkers at night, and the king needed a witcher to take care of it. When we asked which one of us he wants to take on the contract, he said that whoever brings him the head of the beast will get the coin. We spent two nights searching the docks and growling at each other, and all the other nights we spent in one bed.”

Jaskier’s head snaps up from where he’d been following the trail of short silver hair running down Geralt’s lower abdomen, and his eyes are widened with both surprise and amusement. 

“Hatesex, Geralt?” he asks, not quite managing to hide a grin. “That’s… hot.”

Geralt laughs, shaking his head.

“We didn’t hate each other,” he says. “Coën is… well, he’s certainly something. On the third night that we were supposed to go looking for what turned out to be a vengeful siren, I’ve decided to show up on his doorstep and tell him to stop getting in the way of my hunting but instead of telling me to fuck off like I’ve been expecting, he just rolled his eyes and pressed me up against a wall.”

Jaskier’s eyes widen even more and his grin is now not concealed in the slightest. 

“I’ve always thought you to be the one doing the pressing,” he says, running the tips of his fingers up Geralt’s thigh. 

Denying anything is useless at this point, so Geralt just accepts that Jaskier now knows a little secret of his. Considering that there are fresh marks blooming on the bard’s neck, it’s a small price to pay. 

“I am,” he agrees. “But he’s very… dominant.”

Jaskier hums something dismissive, the grin never leaving his lips even as he pulls himself up to steal a long, sweet kiss from the witcher. 

“You still sleep with him, don’t you?” Jaskier enquiries, willingly allowing Geralt to pull him back into his lap and leaning into the touch when the witcher rolls his hips slowly. 

When Geralt wants to, he can look just as charming as the bard, and that is exactly what he does right now. 

“From time to time,” he grins. 

He’s half-expecting the bard to be jealous, though he doesn’t want him to be, but Jaskier just laughs and kisses him again, blindly searching for Geralt’s wrists to guide his hands to the waistband of his smallclothes. His fingers tremble where they’re pressed against Geralt’s skin, but he doesn’t stop. 

Geralt kisses him back gently, calming him and letting his hands rest on the bard’s hips for a long, comfortable moment before breaking away when there is no air left in his lungs. 

“Are you sure?” he asks softly, and Jaskier just nods, a little nervously, his lips already back on Geralt’s in search of consolation. 

Geralt undoes the ties on the bard’s smallclothes with practised ease and, when Jaskier shifts just enough, slips them off him, careful not to let his hands wander too soon. 

Jaskier sucks in a breath, breaking away from Geralt’s lips, and his cheeks are flushed with blood again, too beautiful for the witcher to be able to hold himself back from placing a kiss on both of them. 

“Alright?” he asks, tipping Jaskier’s chin up to get his attention. 

Jaskier’s darkened eyes snap up to meet his, and he smiles, open and warm. 

“Alright,” he breathes. 

He rolls his hips, pressing himself close to Geralt, and they both moan softly at the pressure. It’s almost unbearable, taking it so slow, but it’s better than anything Geralt has ever known. He desperately wants to get a proper look at the bard, now completely naked and so, so close, wants to study every curve and line of his body, but Jaskier’s already blushing, and he doesn’t want to push it too far.

Jaskier, for his part, seems determined to finish what he’d started, so before Geralt gets the chance to as much as kiss him again, he’s already spilling back down, his lips low on the witcher’s abdomen and his hands blindly tracing the lines of his thighs. 

There’s a long uneven scar that starts just above the witcher’s hipbone and curves halfway around his lower abdomen, and Jaskier halts just above it, lifting his head hesitantly.    

“May I?” he asks. 

It’s just now that Geralt realises he’d been avoiding his scars. And not because he didn’t want to touch them but because he wasn’t sure if he’s allowed. 

Geralt lets out a shuddering breath, running his fingers through the bard’s hair.

“You can do anything you want to me,” he says. 

 Jaskier flashes a happy smile at him and then he’s dipping his head down to kiss a line along the length of the scar, starting from its inner side and making his way to the witcher’s hipbone, tugging on the waistband of his smallclothes just enough to give himself access. 

His breath is hot against Geralt’s skin, sending tingles up his spine, and the witcher gets so lost in his pleasure that he barely registers the moment Jaskier undoes the ties on his smallclothes and tugs them off him, for he lifts his hips almost instinctively. 

  But once there are no more barriers of clothing left between them, he’s suddenly hyper-aware of just how close they are, and that sends his head reeling. 

“Fuck,” Jaskier breathes, licking his lips in a gesture that Geralt can’t help but follow with his eyes. “You’re even bigger than I thought.”

Geralt has about five different ways of replying to that but just as he opens his mouth, Jaskier’s lips wrap around the head of his cock, and all words fail him. 

He moans, clenching his hand into a fist in order to keep himself from getting it into the bard’s hair, and it’s so overwhelming that for a second, he thinks that he could come just like this. 

“Jask--” he chokes out, taking in a deep breath and grounding himself to gently run his fingers through the bard’s hair, calming and reassuring him. Them both. “Fuck, you’re incredible.”

Jaskier smiles without pulling away and wraps his hand around the base of the witcher’s cock, stroking torturously-slowly. 

He doesn’t move any further yet, just sucks lightly at the head, moving his hand over the entire length every time, but that is more than enough to have Geralt trembling, his breathing deep and heavy. He keeps his hand in Jaskier’s hair but doesn’t try to guide him, just plays gently with the chestnut locks, his eyes fluttering closed as the bard lets his cock slowly slip deeper into his mouth. 

Geralt doesn’t even try to bite back a moan as Jaskier presses his tongue closer, runs it over the underside of the tip of his cock where the tender flesh is especially sensitive, and the bard echoes, the vibration going through what seems like Geralt’s entire body. 

Jaskier sinks even lower, a little too fast this time, almost choking for a second, and Geralt runs his fingers down his cheek to stop on the sharp of his jaw, gentle and grounding. 

“Don’t rush,” he murmurs softly, finding Jaskier’s other hand and pulling it up to his lips to press a kiss to his palm. “Don’t rush, I’ve got you.”

Jaskier pulls away to take in a proper breath, and the way he looks, with those darkened eyes, ruffled hair and lips glistening with spit and precome, is almost too much for Geralt to take. 

“Come here,” he beckons, reaching out to pull Jaskier closer. “Gods, just come here.”

Jaskier obeys without hesitation, climbing back into Geralt’s lap and finding his way to his lips easily, sharing his own taste with him. 

Geralt runs both his hands down the bard’s back, over his waist and hips until he can finally dig his fingers into his thighs, letting his self-control slip just a little. 

He just can’t take it anymore, can’t stay in the position they’re in, his entire body aching with the need to be closer, and he wraps one arm around Jaskier’s middle to keep him close as he flips them both over, lowering the bard down onto the pillows. Jaskier gasps sweetly but doesn’t protest, throwing both his arms around the witcher’s neck. 

“I’ll get you back into my lap later, if you want,” Geralt promises, breathless as he breaks the kiss and immediately finds his way to Jaskier’s neck. “All you have to do is ask, alright? Anything you want, I’ll give you.”

Jaskier nods, his bottom lip caught between his lips, and Geralt takes that as a permission, pressing his hips into Jaskier’s and paving a path of wet, open-mouthed kisses down the column of his throat, moving closer still when the bard wraps his legs around his waist, his hands tangled in the witcher’s hair. 

He can feel Jaskier’s cock against his abdomen, hot and throbbing, can feel the smears of precome on his skin, and his mind blacks-out completely for a second as he moans and leaves a bite on the curve of the bard’s shoulder, making his gasp and arch his back off the bed. 

“Gods, Geralt, please,” he whispers, edging on a sob. “Please.”

He doesn’t have to specify what he’s asking for for Geralt to know, and he gladly obliges, biting him again, just a little harder this time, letting Jaskier feel the pressure of his canine against his skin. Jaskier tugs on his hair and whimpers, his breath coming in short gasps. 

Geralt presses his tongue to the faint mark left by his teeth and moves lower, to Jaskier’s collarbone, nearly growling with pleasure when he sinks his teeth into it, making the bard shudder all over, his head thrown back onto the pillows, lips parted and kiss-swollen. 

He’s growing overly sensitive and it sends a thrill through Geralt’s body, makes his blood boil in his veins. If Jaskier is this responsive now, how much further can he push his before it becomes too much?

“Jask,” Geralt calls softly, getting the bard’s attention. “You can stop me at any moment, alright? Always.”

Jaskier nods frantically, rolling his hips against Geralt’s and breaking off into a breathless moan. Oh, the things Geralt is ready to do to hear that.

He kisses a line down the centre of Jaskier’s chest, keeping his balance with one hand and never quite letting go of the bard’s thigh with the other. 

It only seems fair to give what you get, so Geralt doesn’t even think about it as he sucks Jaskier’s nipple into his mouth, circling it with his tongue until the bard is writhing and whimpering under him, and then bites down, making Jaskier cry out. 

“Please--” he sniffles, and it’s just now that Geralt realises that there are tears in the corners of his blue eyes. “Fuck, Geralt, please, you’re going to kill me.”

For a second, a wave of cold fear runs through his body, and his mind races, trying to figure out what he did wrong, but then he takes in a breath, takes in Jaskier’s scent, and he doesn't feel distress or pain, only the deep, rich sweetness of lust. And something more. Something that he doesn’t quite dare to think about just yet. 

“Shhh--” he murmurs, touching a calming, grounding kiss to Jaskier’s shoulder. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

Jaskier pulls him closer, catches his lips in a rushed, desperate kiss, all sharp teeth. 

“Please,” he says again, and Geralt can barely even think because of how easy it is to get Jaskier to this state, hyper-sensitive and desperate. 

He doesn’t want to make him wait any longer, doesn’t want to deny him the pleasure, so he just nods, unclasping Jaskiers’s ankles on the small of his back to climb off the bed and reach for one of his bags, searching through it quickly to find the oil. And once he’s got the vial in his hand, he comes back and finally, finally runs his gaze over the bard’s entire body, splayed out on the dark-red bed covers just for him. 

Jaskier flushes under his tentative eyes but doesn’t tense, doesn’t hide. If anything, he spreads his legs further and it’s an invitation that Geralt cannot decline. 

He climbs back onto the bed, settling in-between Jaskier’s knees, and dips his head down to press a wet kiss to the inside of the bard’s thigh, making him gasp softly and flex his muscles, both leaning into the touch and trying to get away from it. His cock is throbbing and leaking precome onto his stomach, and there’s nothing that Geralt wants more than to take it into his mouth, but Jaskier seems to see right through him, for just as the witcher moves to go through with his intentions, Jaskier stops him with a hand on his shoulder. 

“No,” he says, breathing hard. “No, not right now. Believe me, love, I’ve been thinking about this what seems like every night but I know what it feels like. And right now I want something I’ve never felt before. With you.”

He looks so open, so vulnerable that Geralt’s heart seems to stop completely for one endless moment, and then his lips are back on Jaskier’s thighs, peppering calming kisses over the tender skin. 

“Alright,” he breathes. “Anything you want.” 

Geralt spreads the bard’s knees further, giving himself more access, and uncorks the vial of oil without looking, too preoccupied with sucking a mark into Jaskier’s thigh that makes him shudder and whimper, pain mixing in with pleasure. 

The oil smells pleasantly of lavender and Geralt is just about to drip it into his hand, when Jaskier asks:

“Will it hurt?”

His voice is so small that Geralt would not have heard it were it not for his heightened senses. Oh, it tears his heart into pieces with just how much it makes him feel. 

“No,” he says, smoothing both his hands down the bard’s thighs and leaning down to touch a kiss to his hip bone. “Maybe just a little. We’ll go slow, alright? I won’t hurt you.”

Jaskier bites his lip but nods, loose strands of his damp hair falling into his eyes. But he still seems worried, and in Geralt’s mind, there’s only one thing for it. 

“You know,” he murmurs, running his tongue over the fresh mark to get Jaskier’s attention. “I could start with my tongue.”

Jaskier’s darkened eyes light up with interest. 

“With your tongue?” he echoes. 

Geralt just grins, closing the vial of oil again and setting it aside for now. He should’ve thought of it from the start. 

“Turn around for me,” he says, and Jaskier obliges immediately, though his arms shake when he props himself up on his elbows. “Just like that.”

Jaskier doesn’t seem to know exactly what Geralt wants from him, and when the witcher runs his hands down his sides only to slip them under his hips and lift them up until Jaskier’s propped up on his knees, he gasps in what almost sounds like surprise. 

He looks incredible like this, his chest still pressed to the bed and the perfect swell of his ass on display, the blush that never seems to leave his cheeks only making it better.

Geralt doesn’t torture either of them with anticipation, running a line of dry, calming kisses down Jaskier’s back and getting a better grip of his thighs to keep him in place. As he runs his tongue over the crease of the bard’s thighs for the first time, slow and wet, he can hear Jaskier gasp into the pillows, and it’s all the encouragement he needs. 

Geralt presses his tongue closer and swipes it up again, listening to every little noise that Jaskier makes. He lets the bard rock his hips into the touch but keeps him at a steady, slow rhythm, until he relaxes enough to whimper in response to every touch. Only then does Geralt allow himself to go further, applying more pressure with every drag of his tongue, teasing at the bard’s hole, and Jaskier trembles under him.   

His cock is leaking steadily onto the bed covers, and Geralt knows that they’re going to absolutely ruin them by morning, but that doesn’t concern him in the least. Not with Jaskier panting and whimpering because of him. 

Jaskier is eager to get more, and he relaxes quickly, allowing Geralt to press harder, push his tongue inside, his lips and chin slick with spit. If he could, he would gladly spend the entire night like this, licking into the bard’s hot, tight body and feeling his thighs shake where his fingers are digging into them. 

“Oh, fuck, Geralt, please--” Jaskier sniffles, and Geralt can feel the salty tang of his tears. “Please, don’t stop. Do anything you want to me but just don’t stop.”

Geralt is happy to oblige, ignoring his own throbbing cock, painfully hard and leaking just as much as Jaskier’s. But he can’t help but think about what it will feel like to sink into that hot, pliable body that’s taking his tongue so eagerly, and his vision darkens for an agonisingly long moment. His entire body responds to the fantasy, tingling and aching, and he just barely has it in him not to wrap a hand around himself. 

He makes himself focus completely on Jaskier, on the way he claws at the sheets, rocking his hips faster, fucking himself onto Geralt’s tongue, and it takes him everything he’s got to keep his own movements slow and gentle - a sharp contrast to the bard’s eagerness. 

He presses in close, sinking his tongue deep into the bard’s body and then withdrawing almost fully, and gets completely lost in, fucking him just like that until Jaskier’s moan suddenly breaks off into a sharp cry and his hips snap forward as he comes, spilling all over the sheets. 

Geralt fucks him through it, his head reeling with the overwhelming scent of the bard’s pleasure, and when he finally breaks away, he has to steady himself with a hand on Jaskier’s hip because for a second he feels completely disoriented. 

Jaskier’s entire body trembles with the aftershocks of his orgasm, but he keeps his hips up even as he hides his face in the pillows, his breath coming in short uneven gasps. 

Geralt allows him his time, peppering kisses all over his back until he finally reaches his shoulders and Jaskier turns around, his arms wrapping around Geralt’s neck and pulling him into a heated kiss. All tension is gone from his body, and when Geralt pulls him closer, until their hips are pressed together again, he allows himself to be manoeuvred willingly. 

“Gods, that was--” he chokes out, voice hoarse. “That was incredible.”

Geralt just smiles into his lips, kisses him again, slower and deeper this time, licking into Jaskier’s mouth and sharing his taste with him.

“Now that didn’t hurt, did it?” he teases and Jaskier bites on his lower lip, breaking the tender skin. 

“No,” he grins, licking the blood off and rolling his hips against Geralt’s, his cock already half-hard again. “But I want more.”

Oh, that Geralt is more than ready to provide. 

He laughs somewhere in the back of his throat and reaches for the previously abandoned vial of oil, leaning into every touch as Jaskier runs his hands down his shoulders and back, gripping and scratching everywhere he can reach. 

“Do you want me to start with one or two fingers?” the witcher asks, nosings at the bard’s throat and sucking new marks into it as he drips the oil into his hand and warms it between his fingers. 

Jaskier spreads his legs further, full of impatience. 

“Two,” he says, running his hand all the way down to the witcher’s ass and digging his fingers into the flesh with a pleased moan. “I want you inside so fucking bad, Geralt, please.”

Geralt is growing just as impatient as he, so he doesn’t wait anymore, just props himself up on one elbow, his lips never leaving the bard’s neck, and slips his hand between his legs, circling two fingers around Jaskier’s twitching hole before slowly pushing them inside. 

Jaskier arches off the bed with a broken moan, and his sharp nails rake down the witcher’s shoulders, leaving burning scratches behind. He rolls his hips, taking Geralt’s fingers in deeper, and throws his head back, exposing his neck. 

Geralt takes advantage of it without hesitation, switching his lips for his teeth and biting down, not hard enough to draw blood though only just. Jaskier’s mouth falls open as he suppresses another moan, and all of it is so overwhelming that all Geralt can concentrate on is his scent and the hot tightness of his body where he fucks him with his fingers. It’s only a matter of minutes before there is no more resistance and he adds a third one.

“Gods, Geralt, if I didn’t kiss you then, how much longer would it have taken us?” Jaskier pants, a whine escaping his lips at the stretch. 

Years, maybe, Geralt thinks, Until one of them would finally break. Or maybe just a month or two, until they would get drunk and would no longer be able to keep their hands to themselves. But nothing that could’ve been would not have been better than this. If they waited longer, maybe Geralt would not have been the first one. If they waited longer, maybe Jaskier would have just stopped waiting for him to make up his mind, and gave himself to someone else. 

That thought runs through Geralt’s entire body like a wave of suffocating heat and he growls.

“You don’t even know what it does to me - knowing that I’m the first man to touch you like this,” he breathes into the bard’s ear. 

Jaskier seems to be about to answer when Geralt’s fingers brush over just the right spot inside, and his eyes fly open as he gasps. 

“Right there,” he pleads, curling into Geralt’s body. “Right there, please, Geralt, please.”

For a second Geralt wonders if Jaskier could come three times in a row, if he could get hard again if he was to keep fucking his just like this until he’s absolutely ruined, but he just can’t ignore his own desire any longer. He’s lightheaded with it, almost dizzy, and he just won’t make it through another round like this.

He moves his wrist faster, keeping the same angle, and Jaskier whines and trembles under him, his cock hard and leaking again, making a mess of his stomach. And as soon as he relaxes enough, Geralt withdraws his fingers, swallowing the bard’s disheartened moan with a kiss. 

“Breathe for me,” he says softly, dripping more oil into his hand to slick himself up and clenching his jaw at the friction of his own calloused fingers. “Just breathe, Jask.”

Jaskier does as he’s told, wrapping his arms around Geralt’s neck again to keep him close, and Geralt holds the gaze of his darkened eyes as he aligns himself and slowly pushes in. 

They moan in perfect unison, and Geralt drops his head to rest it against Jaskier’s sweat-slick shoulder, his eyes fluttering closed as he sinks deeper into his hot, welcoming body, barely able to breathe. 

The sense of time is completely lost to him, and he’s not sure just how long it takes before he finally bottoms out, but once he does, Jaskier’s ankles clasp together on the small of his back, and the bard pulls his closer, hands fluttering blindly over Geralt’s face until he finally tips his chin up and captures his lips in a kiss. 

He’s still so impossibly fucking tight that it almost hurts, and Geralt moans into his lips as he slowly rolls his hips, carefully starting to move. 

“Fuck, Geralt, I’m not letting you out of this bed for days,” Jaskier breathes in a loud whisper, moving to meet the witcher half-way. 

They fall into a perfect rhythm easily, slow and careful at first, but faster as Jaskier gets used to it, staying close enough to breathe the same air, gasps and moans falling off their lips and getting lost in tender kisses. 

Geralt had slept with a lot of people in his life, both men and women, but it has never felt like this, like they’re not just having sex, not just fucking but making love. And fuck if he can see himself opting for anything else ever again. 

His chest feels tight with emotions, and Geralt hides his face in the delicate curve of the bard’s shoulder, kissing and biting everywhere he can reach, moving faster until Jaskier is whimpering again, snapping his hips just in time to sink as far down as possible every single time. 

“There are so many things that I want you to do to me,” he whispers, voice shaking as his nails dig deep into Geralt’s shoulders. “So many things I want to do to you, if you only knew--”

The temptation is too strong to withstand, and Geralt doesn’t even think as he snaps his hips, hard and deep, making Jaskier cry out and drag his nails down his shoulders, leaving bleeding marks behind. Geralt moans breathlessly, always the one to mix pain into his pleasure, and the smell of blood is so intoxicating that it nearly pushes him over the edge. 

“Fuck, Geralt,” Jaskier gasps, wrapping his legs tighter around his waist, encouraging. “Again.”

Geralt doesn’t have to be asked twice. He snaps his hips again, just as hard, and Jaskier’s entire body trembles in response as he throws his head back onto the pillows, his cock twitching where it’s pressed against Geralt’s stomach. 

They’re both close, and Geralt can’t keep the slow pace up any longer, shifting just enough to brace himself better against the bed and picking the speed up, one of his hands coming down to squeeze Jaskier’s thigh and keep him close. 

He’s vaguely aware that the headboard of the bed is knocking into the wall behind it with every thrust of his hips and that it’s already late at night but that’s not something that really concerns him right now, because all he can concentrate on is the heat of Jaskier’s body and his moans and gasp that drown in messy kisses. 

Jaskier scratches Geralt’s back and shoulders raw, arching off the bed and desperately trying to keep up with the witcher, pushing them both closer to the edge. 

His hands are shaking when he reaches out to intercept Geralt’s wrist as the witcher lets go of his thigh and slips between their heated bodies, and Geralt only hesitates for a second before obliging and returning his hand to where it was. 

“Let me come untouched,” Jaskier pants, and his eyes glisten with tears again. “Please, just don’t stop.”

The knot low in Geralt’s abdomen ties tighter and tighter, making him tremble with the sharpening pleasure, the tips of his fingers numb from hyperventilation, and it only takes him one more sharp snap of his hips, one more set of bleeding scratches on his back for the orgasm to crash over him in a suffocating wave. He bites into the bard’s lips, spilling deep into his body and still moving, and he’s still trembling when Jaskier catches up with him and comes all over both their stomachs. 

He clings onto Geralt’s neck, both their bodies shaking with the aftershocks, and Geralt can’t even imagine just how much time passes before they let each other go. He pulls out carefully, knowing just how sensitive Jaskier is right now, but the bard still gasps softly, though whether it’s from pain or pleasure Geralt can’t tell. 

He falls onto the pillows beside the bard, his body lighter than he can remember it ever being, and pulls Jaskier into his arms, tucking him against his chest, safe and warm. They need to clean up, to take the bed cover off but all of that can wait, and right now all that matters is the way Jaskier leans into his touch, pressing a smudged kiss to Geralt’s chest. He’s still trembling, though barely perceptible, and it sends Geralt’s head reeling all over again. 

A few long, comfortable minutes pass by in silence as they just breathe together. Then, Geralt asks:

“Was it like you’d imagined?”

Jaskier laughs quietly, pulling back just enough to look Geralt in the eyes, steal a gentle kiss from him. 

“No,” he smiles. “It was much better.”

Geralt snorts, propping himself up on one elbow to get a proper look at the bard, run his gaze down his entire body, slender and beautiful. The words are right there, on the tip of his tongue, and while he still has the courage, he needs to say them. 

“Jask,” he calls softly, getting the bard's attention. “You do know that I love you, don’t you?”

Jaskier’s eyes widen slightly and Geralt can hear his heart skip a beat, but then he’s smiling, so bright and happy that it almost hurts. 

“Oh, Geralt,” he says, voice breaking like he’s about to cry. 

He sits up, throwing his arms around Geralt’s neck when he does the same, and hugs him so tight that he knocks the air out of the witcher’s lungs. When he pulls back, his eyes are shining with tears. 

“I didn’t know,” he says, sniffling and laughing when Geralt reaches up to wipe the tears from his cheeks. “Not until tonight, at least. But with the way you touched me, the way you cared so much about my comfort, oh, Melitele preserve me.”

He covers Geralt’s hand with his own and pulls it to his lips to press a kiss to the witcher’s fingers. 

“I love you,” he whispers, lifting his eyes to meet Geralt’s. “Gods, of course, I love you, I’ve loved you ever since we met.”

And then his lips are on Geralt’s again, and it’s so much, so much that all the witcher can do is kiss back, his heart beating against his ribcage so hard that he feels like it might actually break through it. He wraps his arms around Jaskier’s back, and when the bard breaks away, breathless, the corners of his lips are still curled up in a smile. 

“Do you think we’ve woken all the other guests up yet?” he enquires, eyes sparkling. 

Geralt falls into pretend consideration for a second then shrugs with one shoulder and grins. 

“Not all of them,” he says.

Jaskier mirrors his grin. 

“Wonderful,” he says, pushing the witcher down onto his back and straddling his hips. “Then we ought to fix that.”

[prettyspence]

Hanging in the Inbetween

Summary: Moving to DC proves to be the right move when you meet Emily Prentiss, finally come out to your brother, and feel like you have a happy future with somebody you could actually love.

Tags: 18+, smut, reader-insert, coming out, internalised homophobia, getting together, smut/kink tags under the cut

Pairing: Emily x Reader

Word Count: 4.2k

Read on AO3

Smut/Kink Tags: top!emily prentiss (but the lines kinda blur), light dom/sub, fingering, sex toys, dirty talk, kink negotiation, first time

You moved to DC for a few reasons, the first of which was that you wanted to get the fuck out of Virginia.

The move to Richmond from Manassas hadn’t even helped much: you were working in your dream field and had some distance from your family, sure, but Virginia’s still the South. And after you came to a very poignant realisation about yourself earlier in the year, you wanted to get as far away from the bigotry that defined your lived experience there as possible.

The second reason was that you missed Aaron. Your brother had moved away when you were only little, but you’d always been close and he was the only family member left that you felt you could genuinely trust with your secret, even if the idea of telling him that you liked women still left you frozen with fear.

So when he invited you to brunch with his colleagues at the FBI you agreed in a heartbeat, it seemed like a great way to meet new people in your new city and spend time with your incredibly busy older brother simultaneously.

If you had any doubts about your sexuality, Emily Prentiss would have eradicated them. As soon as she’d walked into the cafe, her enigmatic presence had captivated you and you were hooked, addicted, obsessed. She smiled warmly at you but all you could do was stare dumbly at her as you shook her hand, eventually managing a weak smile in return. It was as if she was glowing, the others dimming in comparison as you took in her breath-taking beauty. Every time she spoke your breath caught, aching to bask in her voice for the rest of your days.

It felt so dramatic, childish almost. You’d never understood that ‘take your breath away’, ‘at first sight’ kind of love, but you knew it as soon as you met Emily.

But Emily was this gorgeous, confident woman. You knew she was a lesbian, she didn’t hide that from anyone and frequently made jokes about it, and while you shared her identity, the way you approached it couldn’t have been more different. Sure, if anyone looked hard enough, they would catch the adoring looks you sent Emily at every get-together, the way you blushed at any interaction with her. Hell, even she probably knew.

But it could never happen. After years of conservative indoctrination and being surrounded by people convinced of your ‘sin’, you were still on your journey to accepting yourself, still sometimes sick to your stomach every time you remember that you weren’t ‘normal’, that your parents wouldn’t see you as their daughter as soon as you told them. So you hide under layers of facade, wear a mask of confidence over your crippling insecurity and internalised homophobia, pretend that everything’s fine when it feels like you’re crumbling under the surface.

You thought you’d crumble further when Aaron inevitably discovered the truth about you, but really it’s the moment where your foundation starts to rebuild itself. It happens completely accidentally one evening, you don’t mean to come out at all. You’ve been so careful at using gender neutral language for so long. You always talked about a future ‘partner’, said ‘they’ when talking about prospective relationships, the kind of words that don’t attract questions or attention. But you slip up.

“Have you thought about getting back out there, Y/N?” Aaron asks one evening, when you’re both sitting on his couch having a much needed catch-up. “I know it’s been hard after you and Samuel broke up, but maybe you should think about putting yourself back in the scene.”

“God, Aaron, you are not talking about my love life, please,” you groan, swatting his arm lightly. He’s not usually interested in what’s going on in your romantic relationships as long as you seem happy, but it’s been pretty obvious how low you’ve been recently. It’s sort of sweet that he’s talking about something he feels so awkward about to try and make his sister smile.

“I’m serious,” he smiles fondly. “I want to see you happy again, like you were with Tom, remember?”

You were not happy with Tom. You’re not sure you’ve ever been happy in a relationship (for the obvious reason that none of them were women) but you’re pretty damn good at pretending, so you can hardly blame him.

“Ahh, I don’t know, Aaron,” you grimace. You can’t think about anyone but Emily right now, God you’ve tried to move on but everyone seems to pale in comparison at the moment. “When I finally get a girlfriend I want it to be real, you know. An accidental meeting, nothing manufactured…”

You trail off as you see his eyes widen and face contort in surprise. Immediately, your stomach sinks and eyes brim with tears as you realise how badly you’ve fucked up. Jumping up from the sofa, you run to the bathroom and lock yourself in, barely able to contain the sobs as you feel your world implode around you. Fuck, you’re out. Aaron knows.

You sink down to the floor and fold yourself as tightly as possible, trying to hold yourself completely as you feel your walls crashing down, anxiety taking over. It’s only minutes after you’ve barricaded yourself in the bathroom that you hear the knocks at the door.

“Y/N,” Aaron says softly. “It’s okay, I’m not angry, I was just surprised. Why don’t you come out and we can talk about this? I’m not mad, I promise.”

It feels like it must be some sort of trap. Surely Aaron isn’t really okay with it? Choosing to trust your brother despite your scepticism, you peel yourself out of your protective position and splash some cool water on your face in an attempt to calm yourself down a little before unlocking the door.

You must look utterly miserable because Aaron’s face immediately softens and he envelopes in a warm, protective hug, the kind that used to reassure you in your childhood and still has the same effect today.

“Why didn’t you tell me, Y/N?” he asks as he guides you to the sofa, voice gentle.

You take a deep breath before you explain everything, finally unloading the emotional turmoil that’s been whirling around inside you for months, connecting with another person properly since you realised yourself. You weren’t lying anymore; Aaron knew the truth.

Aaron basically forces you to stay over that night, tucking you in the way he used to do before he left for college, left for Washington to be a big bad FBI agent. You don’t fight him. It’s nice to be taken care of again, to feel really close to your brother for the first time in a long time.

Instead of crumbling, your foundation is firmer. You genuinely feel like you can do this, like you have a happy future ahead of you again.

⭐️

It’s a Tuesday evening and you’re running across town, butterflies swimming in your tummy. An excited smile is playing over your face on the metro, in the taxi, while you run down the road towards Aaron’s apartment. You keep checking your phone to confirm this is really happening, but the text message isn’t leaving; it isn’t a delusional mirage borne from isolation and desperation.

Hi Y/N, how would you feel about grabbing coffee with me later this week? ;) Feel like we haven’t had a chance to properly get to know one another! Let me know - Emily

You pound on the door as soon as you get there, knowing Jack is at a sleepover with his friend tonight, squealing as soon as Aaron opens the door. He smiles amusedly as he lets you in, practically bouncing with excitement as you thrust your phone in his face. “Is this what I think it is?” you ask eagerly as he reaches a hand to steady your shaking ones so he can read the message.

“I don’t know, Y/N,” he says. “It could be. I’ve seen the way Emily looks at you, this looks like an invitation on a date to me, especially with the winky emoticon, but equally, she might just be asking you as a friend.” He smiles sympathetically as he says that, hating to temper your excitement. He’s never seen you this happy over a prospective partner and he doesn’t know how he missed how unhappy you were with men.

You giggle at Aaron speculating over the message as you would’ve done with your girlfriends back home. “She doesn’t know I’m gay,” you reason. “But I’m pretty obvious so she probably guessed. Maybe she really does want to go on a date with me!”

“Well, why haven’t you messaged back?” he asks.

“I wanted to tell you first,” you say, a little shyly. It was just nice to share in your truth with somebody. You couldn’t help feeling so eager about it.

He smiles fondly down at you. “Why don’t you make your message back a little more flirty?” he suggests as he makes his way to the kitchen to get you both a drink.

“Ooh, okay,” you muse. Subsequently, the next half an hour is spent agonising over the appropriate response, giggling and squabbling together in the way you used to before life got in the way.

Emily, I’d love to! It would be a great pleasure to spend some more time with your gorgeous self ;) How does Thursday at Cooper’s work? Maybe late morning?- Y/N

As long as we don’t get a case, I’m there :) - Emily

(If Aaron does his utmost to ensure there isn’t a case, well that’s nobody’s business but his own.)

⭐️

After agonising all morning over the perfect outfit, you hurry across the city to get to your favourite cafe in time to meet Emily. You arrive first, ordering yourself a coffee and a pastry and finding a cosy seat in the bay window, your favourite spot. Thankfully, it’s not overly busy and Emily spots you as soon as she walks in not long after you’ve sat down, grinning widely as she approaches.

“Y/N, I’m so glad we could finally do this,” she says earnestly as she gives you a hug.

“I know,” you smile shyly, returning her hug and revelling in having her so close, feeling the warmth of her body against yours, catching the gentle notes of her perfume.

“I’ll just go order a mocha and I’ll be right back,” she smiles, heading over to the counter.

You sit back and just watch her, how graceful and powerful she looks as she moves, how assertive and confident she is. Her gorgeous raven hair frames her face so perfectly and her body looks so strong under her smart, professional but stylish outfit. She smiles beautifully as she comes back over, holding a pastry in her other hand.

“Ah, another pastry addict,” you say, still a little shy and flustered.

“Oh, don’t you know it,” Emily chuckles self-deprecatingly. “Nothing better than a buttery pastry mid-morning, right?”

“Mm, I’ve got a huge sweet-tooth,” you confess. “I’ll do pretty much anything for a sweet treat.”

She laughs loudly at that, looking at you with so much warmth you think she might light you on fire. “I don’t blame you,” she agrees. “The team knows that if I’m grumpy, all I need is something sugary and I’m back on track.”

“You’re so lucky to have such a wonderful team,” you tell her, smiling back at her. “I’m so jealous of you and Aaron, surrounded by all these amazing people.”

“Oh, I know it,” she says. “Found family is important, and I rely on them a lot. I never thought getting into the FBI would change my life this much.”

“Oh, really? What led you to the academy?” you ask, gazing at her adoringly, not bothering to hide it. If you’ve misread the situation, so be it. You’re fed up of hiding, you’re going to take this risk, dive head first into it.

You chat amicably over coffee and pastry for over an hour, and when she frowns and tells you she has to get back to work, you can’t help the raging disappointment inside you. You’ve never felt this connected to somebody, ever. Maybe it’s just that Emily is the first woman you’ve allowed yourself to crush on properly, but it feels like more than that. It feels real, reciprocated even. You can’t help the burning excitement in your chest as you think about what it might be like to be close to her, to call her your girlfriend, to kiss her, to come home to her.

She gives you another hug before you part ways and the smouldering imprint of her body against yours keeps you warm the whole journey home.

⭐️

It’s nearing 7pm when you hear the knock at the door. You uncurl yourself from your cosy position on the sofa and put down your hot chocolate, leaving the movie you’re watching playing quietly in the background as you get up to answer it.

“Emily?” You’re a little bewildered to be honest. Wrapping your cardigan a little tighter around yourself, you send her a puzzled look, but you’re curious, too. “What are you doing here?”

“I need to tell you something,” she says, face serious. “I’m done screwing around; we’re not children, so let’s talk about this like adults.”

Right on cue, butterflies start swimming in your tummy, partly nerves, partly warm fuzzy hope. “Okay,” you say, still a little confused, but you guide her to the sofa and gesture for her to speak.

“I like you,” she says, taking a deep breath. “I’ve liked you since I met you and you intrigue me. I want to know more about you. I think you’re absolutely gorgeous, inside and out, and I’d love to take you out for dinner, on a proper date.”

You’re stunned for a moment, not entirely sure you’re actually awake. “Yes,” you say as soon as you reboot, reaching out to grab her hands gently. “Yes, please, that sounds amazing. I like you, too, I’ve liked you since I first met you.”

Her face lights up at your admission as you share a heated look before leaning in for a gentle kiss. You scoot a little closer to her and place your hands tentatively on her waist, only feeling emboldened when she leans a hand up to place on your neck, the other finding your hip. As you melt into her touch you feel her melt into yours, a mutual melding; a coming together.

It doesn’t stay chaste and gentle for long, however, quickly finding a rhythm that properly conveys the intense passion and amour filling the room, Emily eventually leaning forward and pushing you back slightly on the couch so she can lean more of her weight on you. This must be heaven. No kiss has ever felt like this, not even with your long-term boyfriends, no-one has ever made you feel the sparks that are flashing in your tummy right now.

“Hey, is this too fast?” she asks as she pulls back a bit, breathing heavily as she reaches a hand up to brush some of your hair away from your face. “Do you want to slow down?”

“No, no,” you deny, desperate to continue. “I don’t want to stop, I just… I haven’t been with a woman before.”

Your confession is shy, tentative; you don’t want to scare her off, but she simply smiles softly down at you, continuing to gently caress your hair. “Don’t worry about that,” she says. “We’ll see where this takes us and if you want to stop or slow down just tell me, alright?”

“Yeah,” you agree before leaning back in to continue the kiss, pushing your hand up under her shirt slightly and feeling her toned abs, the soft curve of her waist. It only serves to make you wetter, the feel of a woman under your palms more euphoric than you ever could have anticipated.

She moans as you explore her midriff, pushing your shirt up to do the same, and if you thought feeling a woman was amazing, being felt by one feels incredible, shivering under her touch as she runs her fingers up and down your waist, pushing your shirt up even more to caress the sides of your breasts.

“Off.” You obey and sit up a little bit to shrug off your cardigan and t-shirt as she does the same, both left only in your bras and pants, pressed skin-to-skin on the sofa. “Fuck, you’re so gorgeous, Y/N,” she moans, kissing you deeper as she tangles her fingers in your hair, tugging a little at the strands.

“Emily,” you whine as her other hand comes to your breast, teasing you with a finger slowly before running her thumb over your nipple through your lacy bra, squeezing gently. You’re already a dripping mess for her, this is already the best sex you’ve ever had, and you’ve barely started.

“Let’s go to the bedroom,” she suggests, pulling back a little to sit up before taking your hand and letting you lead the way. “Take your bra off and lie down on the bed.” Her voice is soft but there’s an authority to it that calms you slightly. You may not know exactly what you’re doing but Emily does and she’s going to take care of you.

“I have a few toys,” you confess shyly as you follow her orders, watching her with blown pupils all the while. “They’re washed and clean, and there are condoms and latex gloves, too.”

“Oh?” Emily asks, quirking an eyebrow slightly.

“They’re in the bottom drawer,” you say, blushing wildly as you share your sex toy collection with the woman you’ve been crushing pretty hard on for a while now.

She immediately lights up and rummages through, a playful smirk colouring her face as she pulls out a few options. You take in the fairly sizable dildo -- a favourite of yours -- the finger vibrator you’d bought only last month and a butt plug you’d had for years with hungry eyes, excited for what she has in mind.

“Before we really get going, let’s talk,” Emily smiles gently, leaning over to kiss you softly before pulling back. “What are you into, up for, wanting to try?”

“I’m not really sure,” you say, blushing awkwardly. This kind of discussion is fairly foreign for you. “I’ve never enjoyed sex before because it was always with a man.”

Emily pulls a face to make you laugh before nodding in agreement. “Okay, well how about I tell you a few of the things I like and you can tell me if you’re comfortable with them? And if you do try it and you’re not into it we’ll just stop, yeah?”

“That sounds like a plan.”

“Great. I like to be on top mostly, I’m quite a dominant person but I can tone that up or down to whatever you like, too,” she starts. “I’m very into dirty talk -- a little mild verbal degradation etcetera -- I love clitoral stimulation and don’t get much from internal simulation so maybe you could use this finger vibrator on me while I tell you what to do? And I could use this dildo on you if you’d like, the butt plug, too?”

“With my boyfriends the only time they could make me cum is if they got really into dirty talk, calling me names and stuff” you confess, “so that works for me, especially if you alternate with praise. And I’m happy for you to top and be more dominant, that sounds… good. All of what you said, I want, except I think the butt plug is a bit adventurous for today?” Your face must be fire engine red but Emily is looking at you fondly so you clearly haven’t turned her off with your inexperience or bashfulness.

She grins at you before leaning in to kiss you again. “Perfect. If I say or do anything you don’t like, tell me immediately. I won’t be offended, okay? I’ll do the same.” You nod in agreement, blush calming down as she settles her body over yours, a comforting, reassuring weight in an unfamiliar scenario.

She quickly gets the lube and condoms out and once she’s ready, Emily trails latex covered fingers down your waist, tickling slightly and revelling in the shiver she elicits, before slipping beneath the waistband and pressing gently, teasingly against your clit. She presses another kiss to your lips, deepening it against your moans as she moves down to push a finger inside.

“Emily,” you cry, panting as the initial pressure against your walls makes you see stars, warm wetness helping to ease her fingers inside. She slowly works you open as she alternates between kissing you, sucking on your neck and whispering dirty, encouraging platitudes in your ear.

“Do you think you’re ready to take my cock, princess?” she asks, tone dripping and sultry as she whispers directly into your ear, licking a stripe over the shell as you moan loudly. She holds the condom-covered dildo directly in your line of sight as she presses her own heat against your thigh, rutting slightly to ease her own immediate arousal.

“Yes, Emily, please” you beg, pushing your thigh up so she can use it properly, getting an appreciative moan in response.

“Good girl,” she praises, kissing you again as she lines up the dildo, easing it into you gently, pausing when your aroused moans betray a hint of pain. “God, you took that so well. You are a dirty little slut for me, aren’t you? Built to take my cock.”

“Yeah,” you whine, writhing as you feel the fullness of the dildo inside you, moaning again as Emily starts to fuck in and out. She starts out slowly before speeding it up, fucking you hard with your own dildo as she murmurs absolute filth into your ear. “Stop, stop.”

She stills her hand immediately, but you quickly ease her mind. “I’m close, don’t want to come yet.”

At that, she beams down at you. “Good girl. I think it’s my turn to get off, don’t you?”

Technically, she’s been grinding down on your leg the whole time she’s been fucking you, but you get what she means and reach for the finger vibrator, dildo still wedged firmly inside you, while she rolls onto her back. You fit the vibe onto your first finger and turn it on, thankful you recently changed the battery recently as you slide on a latex covering over your finger. She smiles encouragingly as you maneuver her hips to the right angle before teasing her a little with your middle finger to ease her into it before pressing the vibe to her folds first, thoroughly enjoying the jerk her hips make at the pleasure, before working your way up to her clit.

She throws her head back and moans wantonly as you work her over, running your other hand up her side before making your way to her breasts, leaning down to suck and bite gently at them as she cups her hand against the back of your neck, keeping your mouth where she wants.

“Keep going,” she moans as she approaches her orgasm, rutting against your finger as you swallow her nipple into your mouth with renewed vigour, desperate to bring her off. She shouts your name as she cums, squirming around your finger as her hips writhe with pleasure, eyes screwed close. It’s a beautiful sight, seeing a woman cum, and it’s so much better than whatever you’ve seen in porn, because you did this. Emily’s orgasm is your work of art and you couldn’t be prouder to sign your name against it.

“Good girl,” she sighs as she comes down. “You did so well. Now, shall we finish you off, baby?”

You’re virtually there already, seeing Emily’s pleasure had been getting you closer and closer to your own orgasm. It only takes Emily rolling you onto your back, kissing you again and fucking you a few more times with the dildo  that’s stayed inside you the whole time while fingering your clit just teasingly enough to get you over the edge, powerful orgasm crashing over you as Emily whispers praise against your ear. It takes you out for a minute, lost in the haze of pleasure and its aftermath, feeling so right in that moment that you never want to leave it, wrapped up in Emily’s arms while you hang in the inbetween of a dreamy daze and reality.

Eventually, you blink your eyes open, meeting Emily’s glassy ones and smile up at her, working the energy up to roll her over and kiss her again in earnest, knowing exactly what she likes by now.

“What was that for?” she asks after you break apart, chuckling a little at your eagerness.

“A thank you,” you murmur, smiling fondly down at her.

“The best thank you you could give me is a dinner date later this week,” Emily grins. “And I’ll thank you afterwards with another mind-blowing orgasm, how does that sound?”

You stare down at her for a moment, wondering how on earth you managed to win somebody so perfect, before shaking out of it and smiling softly again. “That sounds perfect.”

[ladykissingfish]

Under the Mistletoe with the Akatsuki // Part Six // Hidan

Hidan

“Ah; you fucking lucky bastards! I should charge you all for this; to kiss an elite follower of the mighty Jashin is a privilege you assholes don’t deserve. Except you, Konan. In fact if you want to move the mistletoe to my bedroom then — ow! OW!! Kakuzu let go!! I was only kidding; can none of you take a fucking joke?!”

Konan

She sighs before she goes to him. He’s made a big deal all day about kissing her in particular, although she doesn’t get why. She feels nothing other than friendship for him, and, despite his ramblings, she doesn’t think he feels anything stronger either. Nevertheless, it’s her turn. She steps up to him and he reaches out and takes her small hands, giving them a surprisingly gentle squeeze. “You ready for this, gorgeous?” But something about that, about the word “gorgeous”, sets off the normally calm Konan. She yanks her hands out of his and plants them on her hips. “Gorgeous, beautiful, sexy — that’s literally all you ever say to me. I’m more than a pair of tits; I have a fucking brain in this head!” Hidan blinks, startled. “That’s - the first time I ever heard ya curse, Konan.” He grabs her hands again. He speaks in a soft voice and apologizes, and tells her that he has nothing but respect for her. “I only wanna kiss you so bad ‘cuz you’re beautiful INSIDE and out, and you bring lots of light to my shitty darkness.” She blushes and thanks him, and he takes the opportunity to lean in and kiss her lips. Just a soft touch, but both of them are smiling afterwards.

Deidara

Both of them are hesitant to do this, to say the least. Hidan won’t ever admit this, but he’s held a small physical attraction to Deidara since the day they met. Very small, and *purely* physical, but still. He doesn’t like thinking about it, because to do so would be him admitting to himself that his own sexuality isn’t as black and white as he’d thought it to be. He tells himself that if he likes Deidara at all, it’s simply because the guy looks ridiculously similar to a woman. Deidara doesn’t wish to kiss Hidan because, although HE will never admit to it, Hidan scares him. The man’s proven immortality throws a wrench into Deidara’s long-held ideals of what life (and art) are ultimately about: beauty made greater by virtue of being fleeting. But Hidan being able to live forever — could it be that Deidara’s partner Sasori has been right this whole time? That art really is eternal? Still, everyone is watching, so the two shake off their feelings, and Deidara approaches him. “Keep your tongue in your mouth, okay?” “Same goes for you, blondie.” Hidan gives himself very quick peck to the lips, but both men are blushing quite hard regardless. And even as brief as that was — Hidan makes note to ask Deidara what kind of shampoo he used later, because he smelled absolutely incredible.

Kisame

After the last kiss between them, when it was Kisame’s turn, Hidan is hesitant to get close to this guy again. But Kisame is grinning, and appears to be in a good mood. “Ah, come now, Hidan; surely we can let bygones be bygones?” Hidan starts to curse at him, but catches himself just in time: after all, his mouth was what got him into trouble last time. So he merely nods and stands still, while Kisame approaches him. “Are you afraid, Hidan?” “Ah? Why would I be —“ “I can smell the fear coming from you.” Hidan folds his arms in front of his chest and demands to know who wouldn’t be afraid at the thought of possible dismemberment. Kisame just laughs and promises he’ll behave himself. He leans in, locks eyes with Hidan, and flashes his teeth — before giving Hidan a closed-mouth kiss on the forehead. Hidan let’s out a shaky sigh of relief, and Kisame walks away, laughing.

Itachi

Like Deidara, Hidan has a bit of a grudge against the raven-haired Uchiha. He’s fallen victim before to the power of Itachi’s sharingan, and the calm, quiet way that Itachi reacts to Hidan’s jabs and wheedles always serve to irritate. But even so — Hidan has to admit that the guy isn’t all THAT bad (certainly not the hell-spawn that Deidara makes him out to be, anyway). There was a time once when Hidan caught a cold, and Itachi braved going into his room to bring him a cup of sinus-clearing tea. Itachi steps up to him and nods, and Hidan leans forward and kisses him on the cheek. An oddly sweet gesture, and one that Itachi seems to like, as he actually smiles before he leaves. Hidan watches him go, thinking (and not for the first time) that having a talent like the sharingan is completely wasted in someone who isn’t immortal. Maybe he should talk to him later about joining the Jashinist movement ...

Pein (Nagato)

If the Akatsuki is a family, and everybody (save Konan) are Pein’s children, then Hidan is undoubtedly the problem child of the group. The loudest, the most foul-mouthed, definitely the most violent ... but still. When Hidan could find an ounce of maturity, and focus, he was one of the best members of the team. And Nagato finds his regenerative abilities to be amazing, and, if there was ever the time and opportunity for it, would love to study Hidan in-depth. Pein approaches him and Hidan bows his head, an act of respect he gives to the Leader ... and ONLY the Leader. Pein delivers a light kiss to the forehead and walks away. He can hear Hidan mumbling behind him about “those damn piercings could kill somebody” but chooses to ignore it.

Zetsu

Oh, God. Hidan smells like human blood most of the time (thanks to his many gory sacrifices), and Zetsu is attracted to this scent like a bee is to a flower. He’d hang around this guy all day if he could, if not for the smell then to act as clean-up for the bits and pieces of his victims that he leaves behind. But Hidan doesn’t quite care for the plant man, to say the least. He didn’t sign up for the Akatsuki to be made to work alongside non-human freaks of nature. When Zetsu walks up to Hidan, the gray-haired jashin lover is nervous, to say the least. Zetsu puts his hand on Hidan’s face, leans in, and kisses his nose. It should only take a second, but Zetsu lingers over the spot for an abnormal amount of time ... and Hidan realizes it’s because he’s sniffing him, like an animal. “Okay, freak; get the hell away from me!” But Zetsu doesn’t move, in fact tightening his grip on Hidan’s face. Hidan is surprised; Zetsu is quite a bit stronger than he’d realized. His surprise turns to fear when the expression in Zetsu’s eyes shifts, and Hidan hears a very noticeable stomach-growl come from him. Hidan is seconds away from fight or flight (he hasn’t quite decided yet) when Tobi comes into the room, seemingly breaking the trance Zetsu had been in. Hidan breathes out a sigh of relief as zetsu keaves, giving silent thanks to the moron in the mask.

Tobi

After “scaring” Zetsu away, Tobi gleefully announces that its his turn with Hidan. “Ohh boy, Hidan-san! You and Tobi are gonna have fun!” Hidan is actually quite eager for this; not so much for the kiss itself, but for his chance to see this freak up close and unmasked. Tobi looks behind him; nobody else is around. He turns back to Hidan and slides his mash halfway off his face, revealing his pale skin, dark, long-lashed eyes, and full lips, pursed into a grin. Getting closer, Hidan can detect faded, jagged lines extending from the right side of his forehead to the bottom of his mouth. Still, even with them — “Fucking hot”, Hidan mutters, the words slipping out before he can stop them. Tobi grins and cups Hidan’s face, staring into his eyes. “So are you,” he murmurs, and is it Hidan’s imagination or is his voice ... different, somehow? Well, no time to think about it; suddenly Tobi’s (unbelievably soft) lips are on his own, and for the first time since this encounter started, Hidan feels a feather-touch of unease. The way Tobi’s kissing him ... this isn’t how an idiot kisses. What in the name of Jashin — and then just as quickly as it began, it ends. Tobi slides his mask back into place, and skips off to the kitchen. Hidan has to take a few moments to collect himself, and in the way-back of his mind is a small voice urging him to warn Deidara to watch himself around Tobi. About what? Hidan doesn’t know the specifics. All he knows is those two are alone a LOT for missions, and if Tobi really is more than he seems, then — But then again, why should he care what happens with the blonde jerk, anyway?

Sasori

Another person that annoys Hidan. He was in the Akatsuki for almost an entire year before he’d realized that the ugly body that he was in, wasn’t even his own. His surprise when he witnessed a hatch open and a childlike-looking redhead step out was unprecedented. Learning that he was in his 30’s meant that Hidan should have shown him the proper respect, but Hidan just couldn’t take orders from somebody with the face of a young boy. Sasori seems to know this, and therefore avoids interactions with him as much as possible. Now, however, contact is unavoidable. “Can you even reach my face, shorty?” Sasori tilts his head and seems to really be considering Hidan’s question. Suddenly, without warning, Sasori’s wooden arm detaches itself from Sasori’s body, and hits Hidan full-force in the center of his stomach. Hidan curses and doubles over, and while he’s bent Sasori takes the opportunity to go to Hidan and kiss his forehead. “I can reach you just fine, brat,” he murmurs, before leaving. Hidan has a quick recovery time to all forms of pain, and he’s quickly back on his feet, staring after Sasori with anger — and a tiny bit of admiration.

Kakuzu

“Hey old fucker; you’ve been waiting all day to get a taste of this, eh?” Kakuzu just rolls his eyes at Hidan’s comment. He’s not sure what he did, either in this life or another one, to be partnered with a creature as odious as Hidan. Normally with people that Kakuzu finds no value in, he kills, plain and simple. But Hidan is neither plain nor simple; no matter what Kakuzu hits him with, he keeps getting back up, just as loud and irritating as ever. But ... even someone as gruff as Kakuzu has to admit that Hidan isn’t all that bad. It’s actually a bit lovely, to have found another person (besides Sasori, who has made it clear that when everyone else expires, his complete solitude is something he’s looking forward to) to be with to share the blessing (and curse) of immortality. He walks up to Hidan and grabs him by the forearms, forcing him into stillness. “What the hell, old man?! Let go of me before —“ but Kakuzu interrupts him by inclining his neck and kissing his lips. Hidan’s mouth is soft, and he has a taste to him, something akin to cinnamon or pumpkin. Kakuzu let’s go of him and starts to walk away, when suddenly Hidan reaches out grabs him, pulling him into another kiss. Kakuzu is surprised, but he makes no attempt to break Hidan’s hold on him because ... this is nice. This feels good, this feels natural. Almost like — and then a sudden explosion makes them both jump; Tobi comes running past them, with Deidara (and his bombs) on his heels. “Get back here you little shit!!” Kakuzu sighs, and this time when he turns to go, Hidan doesn’t stop him. But Kakuzu can feels Hidan’s eyes on him, following him all the way to his room.

[skamamoroma]

I am attempting to put my finger on why ATOTS is grabbing people’s hearts like it is and why it’s so charming to use the word you used because same! Lol. What are your thoughts? [PS: I watched Skam Italia along with you And watched ITSAY on your rec and you’ve never let me down!]

Ahhh dude, that made me smile so much. Yey for you still being here ❤️

In answer to your question, I think it’s a lot of things. For me, I watched an interview with the director P’Oaf and I was really heartened that because he’s a gay man himself and felt a disconnect with the idea of creating LGBT+ content under a title other than LGBT+ content that he wanted to create a more adult love story that was for the LGBT+ community and didn’t cater for anything other than that. It was a really lovely interview and I think the finished product shows. The sexuality of Phupha or Tian is really not a thing, it’s not made a big deal of and their story isn’t centred around it at all. They’re just in love. End of. If you know me, you know I am wary of watching shows with LGBT+ themes unless I know they are handled respectfully and made for the right reasons so this is a huge one for me.

Another reason, for me, is the fact that we’re all so disconnected and lacking warmth and closeness and emotional connection because of this shit show of a year and a bit. The show is so kind and gentle and warm and lovely. The music even makes me feel cheered up. It’s full of the things we’re missing and the messages of self discovery, emotional development, community, love, friendship and connection... not to mention meaning in life are just so welcome right now.

The chemistry. This is a huge one for me. It’s not just between Phupha and Tian but the cast as a whole. Tian and the kids, Phu and the other rangers, Phu and Nam, Nam and Tian, Tian and Tul, Torfun and Phu etc. Every dynamic is so full of warmth and playfulness and this lovely sense of familiarity. But the biggie is always going to be between the love interests and JESUS their chemistry is a major selling point. I know Mix and Earth have known one another for many years and are v close friends (which shows) but that doesn’t always = good romantic chemistry. But these two have something that’s often very difficult to achieve and to think this is Mix’s first acting gig is genuinely ridiculous. It’s difficult for any romantic pairing to be SO COMPELLING at Episode 6 with barely touching. If you think about it, they’ve barely touched at all. Their chemistry is in their eyes, their words (“I just want to talk to you” being the most god damn beautiful), their actions, their dynamic, the way they challenge one another, the things they do when the other isn’t around and the way they improve the other. It means that when they DO share moments, the foundation in how you consider their feelings is so strong that the smallest thing is hugely meaningful and emotional. It’s very very well done and often hugely lacking in most dramas and love stories. Most love stories jump from 0-50 relatively quickly or the build up isn’t given time and space. The amount of time given to Tian and Phupha’s connection and gradual development is a huge part of why I think the show works so well. There are NO distractions other than the drama of their existence which all plays into their love story too. The entire show is focused on just these two with the other characters around them still forwarding both of their stories. It’s so refreshing. The fact their chemistry is electric and genuinely sometimes a little overwhelming means that they don’t even need to try too hard and include too much to achieve what they intend but they still do and you feel treated to such a genuine and carefully handled love story. Who doesn’t love that?!

Plus you have the stuff that isn’t directly related to the love story (but still all connects) like the tea seller arc, the truth about Tian’s heart and Torfun’s death and the knowledge that something about his dad will come out later on. All of it is compelling and all of it impacts the love story too... it gives a sense of there being stakes and challenge to overcome but the show is kind so I don’t feel too concerned about a happy ending. I’m so sure it’ll be wrapped up beautifully.

Also, the dynamic between Phupha and Tian is not necessarily new aka they have this push and pull relationship. Phu is technically an authority figure tasked with protection of the village, which includes Tian. But I like that there’s a real passing of the power dynamic between them. They tend to be my FAVOURITE types of relationship. I love characters who challenge each other and there have been real moments of strength and authority by Phupha but also such softness and vulnerability (so much actually) that I smile whenever people say he’s stern because DUDE IS A SOFTIE (and Tian knows it). It’s the same with Tian. He is adorable and endearing but also kinda bratty at times and really doesn’t let Phupha get away with anything. He’s a little more emotionally mature than the Chief in some ways but he still learns a lot from him. He also delights in knocking Phupha off kilter at times in the way he’ll push and push and test him... and insist on sharing or equality in their dynamic. It’s really really lovely. Also, they just like to tease the other ALL OF THE TIME and both of them just enjoy it too much... and then you’re like HOW ARE YOU BOTH SO STUPIDLY SHY TOO?!

But Tian alone is a really really loveable character and seeing as he’s the main, you root for him despite all of his misgivings and his past. You love him and cheer him on. Those moments the show beautifully includes where his old life is contrasted with his new and he recognises it himself are just so moving.

Then you have the setting and the scenery. The show was created in one constant struggle 😂 seeing the BTS is mental. They really really were against it and yet the finished product is so lovely. Some of the shots are just so ridiculously beautiful... some of the moments framed by the mountains or the trees or the way the sun shines, it’s just gorgeous.

And the music. Is it just me or does the score keep getting more beautiful? Some of the swelling music moments make me cry because of the music. I’m a HUGE fan and focused on music in movies and TV and I’ve been obsessed with scores since I was a teenager (it’s why I lost my shit at ITSAY last year). The title song is so beautiful and sweet that I remember when I first watched the trailer all those weeks back, it made me instantly feel something for the show.

All in all, it’s a real gift of a show. It’s just lovely. It’s very very very sweet and just such a comforting thing to watch. I genuinely have been cheered up by it for the past few weeks and I hear the theme song and see the adorable credit sequence and I’m smiling so easily. So I guess there are lots of reasons why it has resonated for people but I’m just glad it’s a show that exists. It’s just sweet and we need more of that!

[slvtbible]

G O L D 

chapter two

summary: [y/n is a young stripper who is adored by many men. harry styles is a man who loves to carry danger with him]

word count: 4787

pairing: stripper!y/n and gangleader!harry

warnings: violence, vulgar language, sexual acts, alcohol and drugs

Read it on my wattpad here too!

previous chapter here and here’s the series masterlist !

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y/n swears she can hear her heartbeat beating loud soon as she sets herself down on his lap. Still, she keeps her flirty persona for a show so he won’t suspect anything, though on the inside she can feel herself about to faint. She doesn’t quite understand how difficult it is for her to avoid his sharp gaze either, it’s clear that his eyes haven't left her body the minute she stepped into the room earlier. Because when she looks up, his beautiful green eyes are already staring back at hers.

“So… Mr. Styles” y/n starts, giving him a naughty smile as her hands find their way to his shoulders. She feels how tense his shoulders are under her grip. “What brings you to this awful depth of New York city?”

He clears his throat, licking his lips before biting down his lower ones and keeps his hands on her hips. Finding no desire to remove them. “Stress reliever. Haven’t got a time off in the last few weeks. I thought to myself, ‘strip clubs should be fun’, to be accompanied by a gorgeous woman like yourself seems like a good idea.”

It’s either he’s being sarcastic or really is just telling the truth. But she refuses to believe the latter. He sure is charming and cheeky from what she can tell but y/n sure as hell isn’t buying it. “Mhmm, you sure are a sweet talker Mr. Styles.” She tells him as she begins to slowly grind against his bulge causing him to exhale a deep groan. “You sure you don’t talk to other girls that way?”

He mutters a “Christ” when he feels himself growing hard under her sultry move, yet she isn’t stopping. And she only had just started. “Believe me doll, I don't. Being in a mob, relationships are hard to keep, you know?”

“I’m not talking about relationships, Mr. Styles” she utters gently, starting to circle her hips in a slow pace but hard enough to keep him satisfied. She smirks as soon as she hears him mumble a curse. “Anyway. . . What did you and Joe talk about earlier before I came here? You must know something, Mr Styles i-”

“Harry” He cuts her off, his thumb softly stroking against her hip bone,

“What was that?”

“Call me Harry, doll. Just call me Harry” He repeats, staring intensely into her eyes,

She hums in response and nods. “Okay, Harry. . . You must know something that Joe, he never gives up on me that easy. Rarely letting me perform in private for anyone.” leaning herself back slowly and rests her palms upon the table, now moving her hips back and forth.

Harry shamelessly lets his eyes wander down from her perky breasts to her thick thighs, moving his hands to rest them there. “I threatened him” he says casually with a shrug, feeling her tense but brushes it off. “Said i’ll kill him if he doesn’t give me the 50 grand he owed me and a girl for tonight.”

He sounds so calm yet so serious it scares her a bit. With the way his eyes staring at her aren’t really helping too. And how his tongue pokes out a bit to wet his bottom lip, like he knows it makes her even more nervous. He really knows how to make a girl weak on her knees.

“Looks like someone is in trouble” she giggles cutely, imagining the terrified look on Joe’s face when Harry threatened him. “Not surprised. . . He does that alot to people. Including me.”

He cocks an eyebrow, curiosity building up. “really? Like what”

“Like. . . he knows I'm short on money because I keep stalling to pay the rent just so he can ‘borrow’ half of the earnings I got every week. He really is a dick and never pays me back” she spills casually, then her eyes widen when she realizes what she had just said about her boss. “Shit! Don’t tell him i said that.”

With a chuckle, he shakes his head. “Relax. . . He’s not the type of man I would tell my problems to.” He speaks lowly and continues to admire her body, rubbing gently on her soft thighs. “So tell me, how did you end up here?”

It takes her a while before answering. “Well. . . Short story. I ran away from home to start a new life. Began doing it when I was 18. Technically wasn’t illegal but it’s what kept a roof over my head”

“Mhmm. . . must be tough. But i’m glad you did otherwise we wouldn’t have met.” He flirts, shooting her a wink to fuck with her a little.

She rolls her eyes playfully and grins after. Carefully lifting her hands off the table and leaning forward to set them back on his shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze. Her eyes suddenly fall on his two swallows tattoos, beautifully inked on his broad chest. She struggles to find the urge not to trace her fingers across them.

“Those tattoos are gorgeous” she comments blatantly, eyes stuck on the masterpiece. “Do you mind if i. . . touch them a little?” she asks softly, looking up to his eyes innocently yet teasingly,

Harry smirks, exhaling a deep breath. “Go ahead baby. . .” he speaks in a hum, voice so deep and carries a thick british accent that causes her to squirm a little.

She ignores the butterflies in her stomach when he calls her ‘baby’. Without being told twice, her soft hands make its way to his chest. Thumbing the large ink and feeling how soft his skin is. Her eyes are paying attention to the every single detail of the ink, wondering how the tattoos could fit so perfectly on his chest.

No doubt, he is the sexiest man she has ever come across to. She can feel his large hands going towards her backside, palming her plump cheeks and giving them a light squeeze. Usually she would tell anyone off for touching her like that especially if she told them no. Yet this time she doesn’t say anything. Not because she’s afraid of him but she strangely feels turned on.

“Fuck” he breathes out, feeling her ass one more time. Hearing her giggle as she gradually picks up her pace grinding on him, catching him off guard. “You really are a God’s masterpiece, huh? Bet you wouldn’t mind having that ass spanked would you?” He whispers against her ear, biting his lower lip hard.

Though she’d admit she wouldn’t, she can’t give up that easily. She slowly shakes her head and removes herself from him causing him to whine. Spinning around as she sways her ass side to side, sneaking a glance to make sure he’s watching. And he is.

Her hand wraps tightly around the golden pole. “You have to take me to dinner if you wanna go down to that path, Mr. Styles”

He watches with lust and adoration in his eyes as she now, hooks her arm around the pole, lifting herself off easily to give her body a gentle spin. Her eyes screw shut and her head is thrown back. Then she’s coming back down slowly, legs wide as she lands with a perfect split. Long brown hair covering the side of her beautiful features, her tongue licking her upper lip with her eyes looking at his.

He follows the curve of her round ass, eager to get his hands on them again but he knows he has to wait. His eyes squint a bit to spot a small detailed heart tattoo on her ass cheek.  

Harry learns that y/n is a little teaser. Enjoy making a man hard but refuses to be under the spell of a man’s touch. He likes that actually. He likes that a lot. It may be painful to have his cock hard at the moment while she’s not doing anything about it, but she’s worth it.

With that gorgeous face and beautiful body having to perform for him, what more could he ask for now?

“You are so. Fucking. Sexy” his voice is darker now, a seductive grin is slowly forming as he thirsts over her. “Must have made a lot of men mad out there.”

“So i’ve been told” she declares with confidence, putting on an innocent smile as she gently crawls towards him, seeing how hard he is from this view. Her eyes never leaving his.

She stops in between his legs and settles on her knees. Being the little minx she is, she brings her hands on his thighs. Giving them a gentle rub like he did earlier with her. “I’ve never come face to face with a man like you, Harry. . . Not sure if there’s another one like you either.”

“Because there’s only one Harry Styles, doll.” He delicately caresses her soft cheek, moving a few strands of her hair from blocking her pretty face. “And I am sure I'm the only man that gets to see you on her knees, being a naughty little thing with her hands on him knowing how hard she makes him.” He whispers gently, seemingly can’t take his eyes off her as she plays with him a bit more.

“You’re a handsome man, Mr. Styles. Any girl would be lucky to be on her knees. . .touching you in a way she wanted to” She responds cheekily, winking at him.

He chuckles deeply, shaking his head. “Now look who’s the sweet talker eh?” He jokingly asks, reaching down to grab her hand. “Up you go, pet”

She looks at him questionably but stands up anyway when his hand wraps around hers. “Um. . . we still have thirty minutes left. Joe told me to at least give you an hour.” She notifies, looking down at him as she fiddles with her fingers,

He nods. “I know. But doll, you’ve given me much already. Plus, if I stayed for over thirty more, I would probably bust in my pants because look what you've done” he shamelessly points to his tent. Chuckling as she blushes and biting down her lip. “That doesn’t mean this is one and done. I’d like to see you again next time. I did tell Joe I wanted you. Just wanna make sure i picked the right one and indeed i was” He stands, pulling out his wallet from the back and pocket and grab five hundred dollar bills from it,

“Here you go, sweetheart.”

She looks down on the bundle of cash he’s giving her in shock and lets out a nervous laugh. “Oh. . . no i can’t take that. It’s too much. Men usually paid me twenty or fifteen at least.”

He frowns. He doesn’t believe any word she just said. A gorgeous woman like her getting paid less? Fucking assholes.

“Well, I am not them, am i?” He quirks an eyebrow watching her adorable expression. “I’m Harry Styles, baby. Money isn’t a problem to me. Come on, you deserved it.”

She stares down at his hand and hesitantly takes the money from it. Giving him a soft, thankful smile. “Thank you, Mr-- uh i mean, Harry. I appreciate it.”

He grins, nodding his head as he slips his wallet back into his pocket. “Anytime, doll. Don’t go far from me, eh? Would love to take you out on a stroll sometimes.” He leans down a bit to peck her cheek. “Take care of yourself, love. I’ll be sure to call you once I get the time” with one last smirk and a wink, he swiftly walks out of the door and closes it. Leaving her dumbfounded in the room.

She tries to process everything that has just happened. Not once did any of her clients ever pull a move like he did. It’s not like she would be interested anyway since most of them are old and married. Something about him doesn’t terrify her anymore. Okay, maybe a little. Especially when she caught a glimpse of his gun fifteen minutes prior but she shakes it off quickly.

Maybe she did enjoy being alone with him. With his hands feeling her ass and his heavy voice speaks to her making her squirms in excitement. She tried really hard to not let him know he’s doing things to her but she thinks he’s smarter than that. He must’ve guessed that.

With a smirk, she hides the cash in her bra, checking if it’s prominent or not because she doesn’t want anyone--especially Joe-- to find out. She stands in front of a mirror, fixing her hair a bit and letting herself out of the room.

If he keeps handing her cash like this then she cannot fucking wait to see him again.

*

*

*

Harry steps inside the dimly lit room, removing his Rolex before laying it gently on a table. His feet allow him to carry himself towards a black safe, which it’s firmly settled on the wall as he unlocks it. Digging his hand through the bundle of cash to grab his gun before loading it with three bullets.

The thing about Harry is that he doesn’t like wasting precious things too easily. What he had learned for the past twelve years of being a gunrunner, he notices a few minor details about guns. How the bullets normally get wasted for less than an hour while they’re being used. Harry doesn't actually condone guns. He hates the idea of having to carry such a heavy weight item wherever he goes.

But somehow, guns are a ‘must have’ in every single mafia group. So he has to learn to live by it every day.

“You said there won’t be a bloodshed tonight, boss. What changed?”

Harry stops moving and turns around, meeting Reece’s gaze immediately and his smirk which plants on his features. Hands behind his back as he takes a couple steps forward.

Harry emits a deep chuckle while shaking his head lightly, putting the gun down. “If you’re talking about the Glock 43 i had in my hands, i wasn’t planning anything stupid. I like being prepared.” He closes the safe and locks it with four digits passcode.

Reece’s eyebrows raise and his lips form into a pout as he nods, retracting his hand from behind showing Harry a sealed brown document making Harry’s brows twist in confusion.

“What’s that?” Harry strides his way towards Reece’s figure, close enough to examine the documents he is holding,

Reece says nothing but pulls a few papers and pictures instead inside of it, throwing them on the table sloppily causing them to splatter a bit. Harry peers at the papers carefully, fingers reaching out to move the papers a little bit so he can observe them better.

“That’s Alejandro Blanco. He owns the infamous Blanco Cartel, passed on by his late father who died in 1999.” Reece begins to explain as he points at the picture Harry is touching, the twinge of his spanish accent comes into play as he speaks the name. “If you didn’t know, Blanco Cartel is an International Drug Trafficking organization and a criminal syndicate. Money laundering is a part of their characteristic work. Blanco Cartel is named to be the second most powerful International drug trafficking in the world right after the Sinaloa cartel.”

Reece then gently grabs another photograph of two young men having a conversation, dressed in pastel colored shirts with their glasses on. “They operate in Calabria, Italy. Seems like the United States Intelligence Community are chasing their asses too.”

Humming as a response, Harry quickly pulls the photograph off the table. Observing it closely towards his gaze as his eyes flicks back and forth to the other photos. “I may be out of my fucking mind but i could swear i’ve seen him before.”

“If you’re referring to the guy we saw at the black market two months ago, yes that was him. He wasn’t very subtle back then.” Reece pours two glasses of whiskey, knowing it’s going to be a long night. “Said he had contact with Joe too.” He hands out the glass towards Harry, which he grabs lazily.

His head snaps at the mention of his name, eyebrows pulling forward. “Joe? That son of a bitch who works in the Red Room?”

Reece can only give a small shrug, sipping on the alcoholic beverage. “We don’t know for sure. But i talked to a few guys at the club, they mentioned about Joe having a close off relations with other drug cartels. They didn’t give me names but it’s a coincidence.”

Harry nods, pinching his bottom lip with his forefinger and thumb. Something that he always does whenever he’s in a deep thought. “Joe’s an Italian… He said something about having colleagues who worked there six months prior.” He mumbles, fiddling with the bottom edge of the paper. “You’re saying that the package that I've delivered and the 50k he owes me, Blanco has something to do with it?”

“I didn’t exactly confirm it, Boss. but it could be. Joe’s a tricky asshole, he would find any kind of loophole to get out of his fucking mess.” Reece answers, gulping down his drink in one swig.

“Okay then… We’ll get our heads in the game tomorrow morning. Call Junior and Dominic as well.” Harry states, throwing the papers back to the table and exhaling a sigh. “Need to make a few calls tonight”

“Oh? Was it the girl back in the room, boss? Got her number already?” He teases, gathering the photographs and tucking them back into the brown paper.

“Fuck no” He laughs, pulling out his phone from the back pocket. “Not tonight.”

“So the answer to that last question is…?”

Harry rolls his eyes in annoyance yet pulling off a small smirk to grace on his face, sipping on his drink as he waves Reece off. Earning a loud cackle from him,

“Told your ass you would get it tonight right? Always listen to your right hand man, boss! Motherfucker is always right.” Reece sticks his tongue out as a form of mockery and point at himself which causes Harry to laugh,

“Yeah yeah whatever.” Harry says getting annoyed though really he can’t seem to fight back a smile,

“So what happened? Did she casually slip her number on or what?” Reece asks, moving towards the kitchen to put the empty glass on the sink,

Clearing his throat, Harry shakes his head. “Asked Beck for it. I don’t think she’s the type to easily give out her digits to a man she knew for less than an hour.”

Now Reece is confused. “So you asked someone else for her number and hope to pester her later?”

“No” Harry denies, “Just wanna surprise her a little. What’s with the interrogation?” He asks, getting quite defensive, twirling the drink lightly, causing the ice to clink against the glass.

Reece stares at his boss with a perplexed look before laughing, “you’re not making any sense boss but all right.” He shrugs on his black suit and reaches for his keys. “Night, boss. Try to get some sleep eh? You look like shit”

Harry rumbles a chuckle, “I’ll let you know if we’re on tomorrow. Drive safe”

With a nod, Reece salutes to Harry and opens the front door before walking out of his mansion and drives off back to his home.

*

*

*

Her head hurts when she wakes up, hand pressing on to it and giving a slight massage in hopes to ease the pain. She removes herself from the bed and struts her way to the kitchen just in her bra and panties. It has become her routine sleeping half naked--or just naked really-- she hates sleeping with clothes on. Especially during this time where the weather isn’t really considering to coordinate with where she lives.

She spots her phone on the kitchen counter and reaches out to grab it, pressing the home button key to find a few dozens of messages that were sent from last night. Mostly from Violet.

Vio: Okay you little bitch, you haven’t spilled the tea on how it went last night.

Vio: Please tell me you at LEAST sucked his dick

Y/n chokes on her morning coffee at Violet’s bluntness. Setting down her cup while shaking her head, swiping her finger to the right to respond to her message,

Violet is known to have a big mouth. She honestly could give two fucks about what other people think, one of the things Y/N loves about her best friend. Not that she’s any different from her.

“Vi you little ass” she mutters on her breath with a small smirk, typing down the message before pressing send,

Y/N: i did NOT suck anyone’s dick last night.

Y/N: aaand… nothing happened. Just got paid to do a lap dance.

As she puts her phone back on the table, she decides to make herself a breakfast. Pulling out a carton of eggs from the fridge and sausages. She sighs looking at her empty fridge, only spotting a half filled milk, bacon and the instant korean noodles from last week.

It’s not that she earns a very small paycheck from her job that she could barely buy groceries. But the thing is, being a stripper kept her extremely busy whether during the day or night. She’s barely even at her place most of the time. Joe always makes her come early to do unnecessary shit but of course, she can’t go against him.

Today is the lucky day though, it’s her day off. She can finally take a breather and relax. Perhaps watch the new season of La Casa De Papel or read a few books. She never got to finish Paulo Coelho’s ‘The Spy’.

“Okay, I really need to go get groceries” she utters, slamming the fridge door close before breathing out a sigh. Heading towards the stove to turn it on,

As she cracks open the egg one by one, she hears her device vibrate from behind causing her to stop her movement. She spins on her heel to see an unknown number calling, eyebrows knitting together as curiosity starts to build up inside of her.

‘Who the hell is calling her at 9 am in the morning? Other than Joe and Violet that is.’

As she clutches her phone in her palm, she’s debating whether to turn it off or answer it. Small chances are it’s her ex boyfriend, Kai. Begging for another chance to be with her since he fucked it up with their relationship the last time. He hasn’t stopped pestering her, changing his number every chance he gets.

With a sigh, she taps the answer icon before pressing it against her ear. “Hello?”

“Morning, gorgeous”

Her eyes bug out a little, freezing in place as she hears the voice speak. An unfamiliar deep british accent ringing through her ear. She can sense a smirk on his face as he speaks to her. That cocky bastard.

“Mr. Styles?” she asks carefully, feeling the need to confirm that it’s actually him. “No offense but… how the hell did you get my number?” She walks back towards the stove, finishing cracking the two eggs before giving it a mix. Pouring them on the pan to make an omelette.

“From someone” He says sarcastically, almost making her scoff. “Not from Joe if you’re wondering.”

“Mhmm” she murmurs, finding it hard to believe but she plays along anyway. “Can I ask you what you want from me, Mr. Styles?”

She’s not entirely annoyed that he called. But shouldn’t people learn to not ring someone at 9 am in the morning, especially if that person just woke up? Clearly rules don’t apply to him.

Harry smiles hearing her soft angelic voice, ring clad fingers tapping against his work table. “Can’t stop thinking about you if i’m being honest, doll. You were driving me crazy last night.”

She bites down her plump lip, smiling at how her charm gives that much effect on him. “Mhmm really? Which one? Me grinding on your hard on, me dancing around the pole, or the one where I was tracing my fingers along your tattoos? Gotta be specific” she teases with a flirty tone,

Groaning as a response, he throws his head back against the chair and shuts his eyes close momentarily. Imagining the look on her face when she teases. “You’re doing it on purpose. You’re gonna make me hard again, baby. Don’t start something you can’t finish”

“Big boss don’t like playing games?” She pushes, faking a pout though he can’t see her. Grabbing the steel spatula to flip the egg. “My bad.”

“Don’t tempt me doll. I love playing games. Especially with a pretty girl like you.” He responds, standing up from his chair only in his grey sweatpants. His tan chest glistened with flicker of sweat. “But what’s the point of playing around if your fine self isn’t here with me?”

She lets out a breathy giggle, playing with her uncooked eggs with the edge of her spatula. Enjoying every word that came out of his mouth. “Is that your subtle way of asking me out on a date?”

“Maybe. Didn’t really have the chance to get to know each other last night, yeah?” He questions, sinking his teeth on his lip. “You had me hooked the minute you stepped into the room.”

‘God, he’s good. He’s really good.’ she thinks,

y/n clears her throat, tracing her finger gently around the empty plate. Just like she did to his tattoos last night. “I thought Mafias don’t do relationships?”

“We lie sometimes doll. Doesn’t mean we actually meant it.” He declares, smiling to himself at her playful teasing. “So what time do i have to pick you up?”

A small laugh escapes from her mouth, shaking her head side to side at his question. Plating the egg on the plate before moving it to the counter so she can sit on the stool. “Very forward. I’m flattered” She admits, feeding herself a small bit of the dish. “What would happen if i said no?”

His eyes look up to the ceiling as he answers, “then i’ll keep asking again and again until you say yes.”

“Talk about harassment!” she gasps in a playful way, hand on her heart. “Please tell me your last girlfriend didn’t witness the same thing as i am right now.”

He chuckles, pinching his bottom lip with his long fingers. Mind fills with the image of her gorgeous body moving like she did for him in the private room. “She went through far worse, you should be grateful” He jokes, hearing her laugh after. “So? What time?”

It may sound like it’s a bad idea for her to go out with him, knowing he’s the most dangerous and possibly most wanted man in New York. Yet, on the other hand, why not?

Go hard or go home, she guesses? Besides, it’d probably just be two strangers getting to know each other. What harm could it bring?

Perhaps she won’t be hearing the end of it from Violet.

She tilts her head as she thinks of a way to respond. “Just a friendly hang out right?” she asks, chewing on her meal. “I could use a friend.” she flirts

“If you wanna call it that, doll” he utters, shrugging his shoulders a bit. Playing along to whatever game she’s pulling. “I could use a friend too. . . been pretty lonely” he flirts back, wondering what her answer may be.

She tries to ignore the butterflies in her stomach. She really does. But how? This man is way too fucking good with the way he speaks. As if he knows he’s gonna get her wrapped around his fingers soon.

y/n taps her fingers against the tiles, purposely keeping him waiting. “I’m free at 8. . . or 9 works too.” she bites her lip, playing with her food with the fork. She can’t find any desire to eat anymore, too busy playing around with the world’s dangerous mafia boss.

“9 it is then” he confirms. Walking out of his work room to go downstairs. “I’ll see you tonight, beautiful.”

“See you” she then hangs up on the phone and sets it down. Grabbing her coffee with both hands as she lifts it to her lips and takes a sip. Locking her eyes on the phone screen, trying to process what just happened.

Stomach swimming with excitement and nerves as she thinks about having another intimate moment with Harry later. She has no idea where he’s gonna take her later but she knows one thing for sure,

She’s not gonna wake up in her own bed in the morning.

*

*

a/n: there you have it, part 2! :) don’t worry, the smut scene is coming up on the next chapter (hopefully). Enjoy reading my loves!