#gonna take me another fucking year to finish isn’t it—
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Migraine is gone but dear god do I have such yearning and internal conflicts and ideas for the rest of DALDOM…
#only benefit of migraines: am bedridden and I use my stories to stop thinking about the pain#your honor they are so soft for each other despite everything and I don’t know what to do about it other than to give it to them#but they have to work for it I’m sorry I don’t make the rules#I still need MC’s memories fixed and we haven’t even gotten to the physical elements of their relationship or her other PTSD#and the internal conflict both of them have about predestination and making sense of THAT#you can bet neither of them enjoy that everything they’ve worked towards separately somehow just brings them back to each other#and they have to embrace it but also: is it even a choice#just when I thought I was out of the woods#between this and the plot and the events I want to happen—#gonna take me another fucking year to finish isn’t it—
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I'm your only situationship.
A/N : yall i stayed up til 324 am writing this. I felt like if i went to bed still only having it as a thought and not on 'paper' thats unacceptable. If i gotta think about this then so do yall! it was also supposed to be a small one shot but it got wildly out of hand im not sorry.
18+ MDNI
TW: typical smut, EXPLICIT mmkay im talkin clutch ur pearls explicit.
˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗
Simon had finally come home from a grueling 6-month mission. All he wanted was some Kentucky bourbon with you at your favorite seedy bar.
Once he was home, Simon cleaned up, put on a black clinical mask, and sent a text to you to meet him there. As he finished his first glass of the night, a rather attractive young woman approached him, asking if she could buy him a drink.
“Isn’t it supposed to be the other way around, lovie?”
“Not at all. This is after all the 21st century. I’m simply asking— wouldn’t want any missus at home getting upset.”
“There’s no one at home for me, lass.”
“Well then, how about you get yourself another glass, my treat, and we’ll see where this night takes us?”
He slightly nodded —he’d never say no to a free drink— and as she left to order a drink, he took his phone out to text you again.
“C’mon, pet. I’ll cover the tab. Too good f’me, now?”
His phone vibrated a minute later.
“I can’t today, Si.”
“Why not? I know you don’t go out on Sundays.”
As the young woman came back, drinks in hand, he lifted the screen to read your response.
“I’ve got a dick appointment~ It’s been a year and then some and I’m gonna claw at my walls if I don’t get a fix ASAP.”
Simon goes tense— soft blues hardening to a silver and he’s gripping his phone so hard it might crack. He pulls up your contact and calls you within seconds.
“Hiya, Si!”
“What the fuck is a dick appointment?”
“Oh,” you giggle. “I forget you older folk don’t know ‘bout that. It’s just a one-night fling. No commitments or nothin'.’ Exactly what I need right now.” You don’t tell him that the reason you’ve practically regrown your hymen is that when you’re best friends with Simon, every other male in existence pales in comparison.
“Anyway Si-, he’s getting here in like an hour-”
“No.” And hangs up.
The young woman who’s casually rubbing his bicep and shoulder gets practically flung off of him, as he gets up off the bar stool so fast it’s falling back with a loud clang, and he’s yanking his leather jacket on and pulling on his leather gloves so hard they’re about to become fingerless—
“Hey! I thought you didn’t have a girlfriend?!”
One gloved hand gripping the front door, he turns his head slightly to her and says, “Pet, with how good I’m gonna fuck her, she won’t even have to ask to know she’s mine.”
˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗
You’re standing in the bathroom with your liquid eyeliner in one hand and phone in the other, staring at the ended call screen. ‘Weird,’ you think, then shrug and put the phone down. ‘Maybe the call got dropped.’
You finally complete the look with your false lashes when there’s a very hard knock on your door. You frown as you look at your phone screen. ‘7:14 pm’. You know the guy said at 8 and you’re in one of Simon’s big shirts he always forgets and your hair is still tied up in an oversized pink and white polka dot scrunchie— The pink leopard print booty shorts you’ve got on will suffice.
The second time there’s a knock it’s even louder.��
“Jesus Christ, I’m coming!”
You open the door and say, “I’m sorry I took so long, I—”
Simon flies past you, with a rough shoulder bump and you turn to look at him and he’s almost sprinting to the bedroom, slamming the door open—
“Simon, what the fuck? What’re you doin—”
“Where is he?”, he snarls.
“Who?! Are you talking about my date? He’s not getting here til 8! And why’re you slamming doors in my apartment like you pay my rent?!”
You see Simon deflate immediately at the important part of your answer and chooses to ignore the rest as he takes off his jacket and walks to your hall closet to hang it. Closing your door and locking it, you growl out,
“You need to leave. I haven’t even finished getting ready. I promise I’ll—”
“No, pet.”
“Will you quit interrupting me! Simon, I swear—”
“Pet.”
You’re holding a scream behind your teeth, about to rip the hair out of your scalp when you see Simon take one loop of his mask off from around his ear and then the other. You gape. You’ve seen Simon without his mask— that isn’t the reason you can no longer find your voice. It’s the way he put his gloved middle finger in between his teeth and pulled it off so sensually. You can feel your cheeks and ears radiate heat from just seeing the tip of his pink tongue. Christ, you’re down horrendously.
You open your mouth to say something, anything, to distract yourself from the fact that you’re getting wet over an interaction so chaste when Simon is touching your ass, giving it a hard squeeze, before moving down to the back of your thighs and lifting you up. You startle at the movement and throw your arms around his neck out of habit, hoping he won’t drop you in the move to your bedroom.
He presses you against the wall with his hips, then grabs both of your ankles from behind his lower back and hooks the back of your knees over his forearms. Simon noses your jaw and starts grinding his clothed erection deliciously hard over the definitely wet spot on your shorts and growls out,
“If you think,” grind “that I’m gonna allow My,” grind “Girl,” grind—and you whimper in his ear, “get fucked by some little cock two pump chump,” he gives a forced chuckle, “you must be daft, pet. Or maybe you’re doing it on purpose, eh? Trying to get my attention? Well, you’ve got it now. “
He moves his face to hover his lips over yours— you can lightly smell the bourbon he drank earlier— and he whispers, “You ever like this and I’m around, you come to me. And if I’m away, you wait for me like a good girl and when I come back I’ll give this,” he taps your pussy over your shorts, “greedy little cunt all the cock it can take.”
With a shaky breath, you nod before he kisses you, his bourbon-flavored tongue curling against yours, and you’re moaning into it because you’ve wanted this for too long and he’s finally touching you. Curling your fingers into his ash-brown hair, you move your mouth to his neck, to the right of his adam’s apple, took a bit of skin between your teeth and sucked.
Simon hisses, dips his fingertips into your flesh hard enough to bruise, and all but yanks you off the wall to toss you onto your bed.
You yelp as you bounce from the force of his throw— you’re still bouncing on the bed when Simon grabs the waistband of your shorts and knickers to pull right off, which you’re grateful for because the grey knickers you got on aren’t what anyone would wear for a first, second nor third impression.
Simon grabs both of the back of your knees with one hand, goddamn bear paws, you think, before you feel his tongue in between your lips— so warm and wet and fuck, you needed this, needed him— and he flicks his tongue up and down on your clit. He sticks his long middle finger into you and it goes in without resistance, you’re slippery, drooling over his wrist and finger that’s curled up into the rough patch of nerves against your gummy walls, that he’s pressing into, over and over. God you’re about to come, your legs shake in his one-handed hold and you’ve got a white knuckle grip on the forearm you’re sinking your nails into—
Simon pulls away. You were so close, your eyes start watering because he can’t possibly be this mean to you but then you see him shove his tongue in between his middle and ring finger, eating up your nectar when he says, “The first time I’m gonna make you come, it’ll be on my cock. I want to see the frothy white cream you're gonna leave at the base.”
You’re nodding hysterically at this point, anything for him to make you come, anything for him. With a twirl of his index, he’s telling you to get on all fours. Scrambling, you turn over and arch your back— resting your head on your forearms— and you feel his calloused palms run down from your spine to your ass cheeks before he gives it a spank.
“You have a condom?”
You shake your head and you mewl out, “No, but I’m clean.”
“Good. I don’t want anything between us.”
You arch your back further, pressing your ass further into his hips when you hear his belt buckle clank and zipper open. Simon brings his palm to your other cheek, reddening it.
“Fuckin’ hell, pet. Look at you spread out for me.”
You feel warm velvet over steel over your slit before he slowly pushes inside, not all the way but about a little over half of his length, remembering that your g-spot is a little closer to the front. Fast, relatively shallow thrusts hitting your spot with almost clinical precision have you reeling, your orgasm about to break you, mind and body. Hands tightening painfully, you shatter— loud, high-pitched whines, ringing in your ears and pussy pulsing around Simon’s thick girth— and god, Simon doesn’t stop thrusting. He keeps the same smooth rhythm and you’d think he’s unaffected by the tight vice your pussy has him in— but you hear him, low, deep groans and a tighter grip on your hips telling you otherwise.
He pulls out to bend over your back, completely covering it, and he murmurs in your ear, “I hope you didn’t think we were done. My girl wanted a fuckin’, now she’s gonna get it.”
He takes off your pink, silly scrunchy and you see it around his tattooed wrist before he grabs your hair into a makeshift ponytail and is leaning back up and forcing your back to arch under his pull. You feel his leg at the height of your hips— propped up, foot flat on the bed and knee bent and the other straight on the floor and all you can think of is how this man is gonna kill you with his cock.
Simon snaps his hips forward, fist full of hair pulling back, stretching and filling in one strong thrust, bottoming out. He gives you no reprieve, no time to get used to how fucking deep he is, and sets an intense, firm pace that has you feeling a pinch below the navel every time his hip bones slap against your ass, balls to the clit and you love it. Every pinch in your lower belly has your pussy making a squelching sound and you can’t help yourself— you reach underneath your body to feel how split open you are with two fingers, encasing his cock and feeling the skin drag with them as he pulls out.
That has him hissing air between his teeth, he’s about to come but doesn't want it to be over so he pulls out, and opens your cheeks to spit in your furled hole, before pressing in with the pad of his thumb, and you’re almost screaming. He moves back a bit further to spit in your pussy, not that you need it— you’re drenching the sheets underneath you— and now he’s spearing you with his tongue before curling it, getting your juices pooled on it before coming back up, lips smacking, and he grabs your hair in his ponytail and now he uses his other hand to curls his fingers and palm over the front of your throat and that's all it takes for your vision to darken and arms go limp but he’s again, fucking you through your orgasm and this time you leave a creamy white ring at the base of his length.
“Oh, fuckin hell.” He groans out and it sounds desperate and you know he’s close.
“Come in me, Simon. Please fill me up, I promise I’ll keep it all in.”
He gives a strained chuckle and says, “Pet, I can barely pull out of a driveway much less this tight little cunt.” He squeezes your throat hard, strands of hair popping out of your scalp and his cock feels massive, the pinch in your stomach feels like a cramp from how deep he is and he lets out a low drawn out moan that lasts 3 thrusts— and then there’s warmth filling you up, so much so it leaks from the sides of where you two are connected. Simon lets go of your hair and you fall face-first onto the bed, exhausted. Defeated. Back properly broken. You officially know what it’s like to get fucked within an inch of your life and you love it.
He pulls out slowly, with a hiss from both of you and with one hand on your left cheek, he spreads you to look at your stuffed hole.
“Fuck. I love seeing me drip out of you.”
You’re about to tell him to sod off when the doorbell rings and the both of you stiffen and lock eyes. With a mean snarl, Simon grabs a towel from your bathroom and his mask before stomping his way to answer the door, pink obnoxious scrunchy still on his wrist.
˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗
#call of duty#cod#cod mw2#cod smut#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley#simon riley#simon riley smut#simon riley x you#simon ghost riley smut#simon ghost x you#ghost cod#cod mwii#ghost mw2#ghost simon riley#call of duty smut
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god, it's brutal out here | r.c.
summary:
“And yet you’re still thinking of your ex,” Barry finished the sentence, rubbing his chin. “Why don’t you get back together with her?”
“She doesn’t want me.”
“God, fucking Country Club,” Barry snickered. “You’re fucking dense.”
OR; 5 times your friends share their unsolicited opinions about your and Rafe’s break up.
pairing: rafe cameron x reader
warnings: mention of c*caine
word count: 5,4k
author’s note: the long awaited sequel of so obsessed with your ex! this can be read as a standalone fic, but there are little easter eggs hidden all over, which will be more fun if you read the first part! it's a little bit longer than I had planned, but there was no way around it. I hope you enjoy it so so much!!!!
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
I Wheezie
“Hey Wheeze.”
You had accepted the facetime without looking at your phone, keeping it rested on a shelf while you were halfway into your closet, trying to find a dress.
“Does Rafe have a new girlfriend??”
Pausing, you shut your eyes, letting out a silent exhale before you picked up the phone, giving Wheezie a wry smile through the camera.
“Nice to see you too.”
The girl only looked at you, unimpressed and her arms crossed. You sighed, running a hand through your hair, knowing you didn’t have a way out of this conversation. Grabbing your phone, you sat down on your bed.
“Yes, Rafe has a new girlfriend.”
“I knew it!” Wheezie shrieked, throwing her arms up, and you only shook your head in exasperation. The tendency for drama clearly was in the Cameron genes. Wheezie frowned, getting closer to your phone as she looked at you.
“Why am I more upset about this than you are?”
You bit back another sigh. “Because Rafe and I are broken up, Wheeze. He’s allowed to date other people, matter of fact, I’m really glad that he has moved on.”
“Bullshit!”
“Wheezie!”
Wheezie rolled her eyes, but she sat back down, crossing her arms over her chest again. “I don’t like her.”
“You don’t even know her,” you sighed, rubbing your temple, feeling a migraine coming on.
“This is crazy!” Wheezie exclaimed. “You and Rafe never should’ve broken up in the first place! Rafe is probably only dating her to make you jealous so you’ll take him back.”
You couldn’t help but snort at that, Wheezie clearly watched way too many rom-coms. She frowned at you.
“Why are you laughing? This isn’t funny, this is, like, super un-funny.”
“Because, Wheeze,” you started, plucking a feather out of your pillow. “This isn’t some 90’s rom-com where I see Rafe with Rebecca and suddenly a sad song is playing. This is real life. We are broken up.”
“I still don’t understand why.”
“Remember when we used to fight all the time? And I was just always sad?”
Wheezie was quiet, her lips still pursed. “Yeah. But that doesn’t mean anything. Couples fight all the time, doesn’t mean you just have to break up.”
“Yes, couples fight all the time and they don’t have to break up, but it was the right decision for me and Rafe,” you said, your tone final. Wheezie looked at you, her frown slowly smoothing down.
“If you say so,” she muttered, not quite convinced. She stared down at her chipped finger nails, before she looked up again. “Can we still talk?”
Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Of course we can still talk, why wouldn’t we?”
“I don’t know… I mean, you’re gonna find a new boyfriend and maybe he has a younger sister as well and then I’ll just be your ex’s younger sister.”
“Wheeze,” you said, fondly, knowing where she was coming from. You had been in her life for most of her teenage years, it must be weird not having you around anymore. “We’ll still talk, no matter if I get a new boyfriend or not, even if he has a cool younger sister, or even three.”
Wheezie smiled, rolling her eyes at you. “You’re so dumb.”
“Yet you still want me around,” you teased. “How about you, Sar and I go get some ice cream and then to the movies this weekend?”
“Sounds good,” Wheezie replied with a big smile. She paused when someone called her name from somewhere in the house, before she turned back to her phone. “I gotta go, Rose needs me. I’ll text you later.”
“Alright, Wheeze. Talk to you later, be good.”
Wheezie waved into the camera, before the facetime ended. Your smile dropped and you tossed your phone on your bed with a sigh, letting yourself fall back on your bed. Even six months after the break up it was still hard to talk about Rafe, and now that he had a new girlfriend, you thought it’d be easier to get over him, but all it did was hurt more. It didn’t help that Rafe was still texting you every now and then. Nothing scandalous, just small texts, but you never replied. You both agreed on no contact after the break up, because you thought it’d give you a better opportunity to heal. You should’ve known he’d break it. Picking up your phone, you unlocked it, swiping to your messages.
Rafe [11/30/23: 1:43 am]: couldn’t sleep. remember when we took out the boat at two am bc we both drank a red bull at ten?
Rafe [11/30/23: 11:22 am]: sorry, i was drinking. didn’t mean to text you. hope you’re doing good
Rafe [12/25/23: 2:44 pm]: merry christmas. it’s weird without you.
Rafe [01/01/24: 01:02 am]: happy new year’s.
Rafe [01/05/23: 9:56 pm]: are you really not gonna text me back?
Rafe [01/27/24: 3:07 am]: i miss you
Rafe [02/12/24: 12:05 pm]: saw you at the party last night. you looked so fucking pretty. took everything in me not to talk to you.
Rafe [03/01/24: 7:12 pm]: idk if you care or not, but i still wanted to let you know. i’m seeing someone
You never replied to any of the texts, knowing it was for the better. You could block him, but you never brought it over your heart to do so, telling yourself you wanted him to reach you in case of emergency, but deep down, you didn’t want to block him.
Just incase.
II Barry
“Want some C?” Barry asked as greeting, presenting Rafe a small baggie with white powder in it as soon as he walked onto the lot.
“Nah,” Rafe declined, already feeling jittery enough without it, “Won’t say no to a beer though.”
Barry let out a grunt, tossing the baggie on the table, disappearing inside the trailer. Rafe took a seat in one of the chairs, running his hand over his buzzed head, bouncing his leg nervously. He had needed to get out of the house for a while. Ever since Rebecca pulled the picture out of the drawer, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. Again.
Which is fucked up, really. He thought he got over you, he didn’t want to be the guy who thought about his ex while having a whole ass girlfriend. The door to the trailer opened with a slam, Barry exiting with two beer cans, handing Rafe one of them. The can was ice cold in his hands, and the cold liquid helped with his racing heart. He let out a sigh, rubbing a thumb over his eye brow. Rafe took another gulp of the beer, almost drinking the entire can in one go, while Barry watched him, assessing.
“You good?”
Rafe nodded, setting the can on the table.
“Yeah, jus’ stressed.”
“Work, or…?”
Barry trailed off without finishing his sentence and Rafe didn’t answer, wiping a finger over his jaw, which was clenched to the max.
Barry eyed him skeptically, leaning back in his chair. “How’s Mrs. Country Club?”
Rafe let out a loud sigh, tipping his head back, like he always did when he was annoyed with Barry.
“Barry, I don’t know if all the drugs you’re taking are starting to get to your memory, but we broke up.”
“Don’t be fucking rude,” he said, kicking Rafe’s chair. Not hard enough for it to tip over, but hard enough for Rafe to grip onto the arm rests, glaring at his friend. “How’d you know I wasn’t talking ‘bout your new girl?”
“Because you always call her Becky,” Rafe pointed out, giving him a look.
Barry shrugged, taking a sip from his beer. “You still know who ‘m talking about, so what’s the problem?”
“Problem is, it’s disrespectful. You know that’s not her name.”
“You’re still hung up on your ex while dating Becky, so who’s really disrespecting her?”
Rafe’s head shot up and the glare he sent Barry was deadly.
“Fuck this shit, and fuck you,” he snapped, pushing himself up from the chair, but Barry grabbed his wrist, stopping him.
“Boy, sit down.”
Rafe scowled at him, before sitting back down, crossing his arms over his chest like a petulant child. He did not come all the way out to the cut to get called out like this.
“If you came here to be coddled, you went to the wrong person.”
“I don’t need to be coddled,” Rafe muttered with an eyeroll. “Just wanted to let off some steam.”
“So?” Barry snorted, waving his hands around. “Steam away.”
Rafe scoffed, scooting down in his chair, shaking his head. “Do you think I want to think of her? I fucking hate feeling like this. Bex is nice, and she’s hot. And yet-”
“And yet you’re still thinking of your ex,” Barry finished the sentence, rubbing his chin. “Why don’t you get back together with her?”
“She doesn’t want me.”
“God, fucking Country Club,” Barry snickered. “You’re fucking dense.”
“Nah, you don’t fucking get it, “ Rafe sneered, leaning his head in his hands. And he didn’t, not really. Which really wasn’t his fault. Rafe just didn’t want to talk about the break up with his friends. Physically couldn’t. Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t told anyone why you broke up. Just made it feel all to real, he guessed.
“Nah, you’re right, I don’t,” Barry said, shaking his head. “All I know is, one day you’re all fucking sunshine and the next you’re more emo than that Friday girl.”
“What?” Rafe asked, lifting his head to stare at Barry in confusion.
Barry waved him off. “You know, that freaky girl from Netflix with the black lipstick.”
“Do you mean Wednesday?”
“Yeah, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, all the same to me,” Barry huffed. “Point is, life’s too fucking short to do things that don’t make you happy.”
“Bex makes me happy.”
Barry gave him a long, hard look, squinting his eyes at him. “Yeah, right. Whatever makes you sleep at night.”
Rafe stared back at him before shaking his head, finishing the last of his beer before crushing the empty can in his hand, declining to answer, because he knew he couldn’t convince Barry.
He wasn’t even convinced himself.
III Topper
top [05/03/24: 4:06 pm]: gonna be at alex’s later tonight with rafe and rebecca just fyi if you wanted to come
mrs. rafe [05/03/24: 4:57 pm]: k, thanks for letting me know
—— NEW MESSAGE ——
top [05/04/24: 1:37 am]: can you pick me up?
It was Saturday night, a little past your bedtime for a night in. You were getting ready for bed, exiting the bathroom when your phone buzzed in your hand. Lifting it, you read the new text, not quite believing he’d make you do this. What the fuck was he thinking asking you to pick him up? Shaking your head in disbelief, you typed out an answer.
mrs. rafe [05/04/24: 1:41 am]: topper no
Before you could put the phone away, your phone already buzzed with an answer, and you nearly didn’t want to read whatever lame ass excuse he came up with, your hand stilling when your eyes flit over his text.
top [05/04/24: 1:41 am]: please, i don’t want to get a ride with rafe and rebecca
top [05/04/24: 1:41 am]: she asked me so many questions about you and i can’t be around rafe rn or i’ll tell him
mrs. rafe [05/04/24: 1:45 am]: … fine
mrs. rafe [05/04/24: 1:47 am]: you’re so annoying
Cursing Topper and yourself for not going to bed sooner, you put on a sweatshirt and grabbed your keys and purse, typing out another text before you headed out of the house, getting into your car.
mrs. rafe [05/04/24: 1:49 am]: be there in ten
top [05/04/24: 1:50 am]: omg i owe you <3
Barely ten minutes later, you pulled up in front of Alex’ house, looking out for Topper, before you spotted him underneath a tree. You rolled to a stop next to him, giving him the most unimpressed look.
“You’re a lifesaver,” Topper groaned, getting into the car, shutting the door behind him.
You rolled your eyes, pulling off the curb without another word, driving towards Topper’s house.
“I’m really sorry for asking you to come get me, but Rafe was looking for me and I had too much to drink already to lie in his face,” Topper said, leaning his back against the headrest, shutting his eyes.
You desperately wanted to know what Rebecca had asked but you didn’t want to come off as the nosy ex, even if this was Topper. So as nonchalantly as you could, you asked: “What did you talk about?”
“Jesus,” Topper said, running a hand through his hair. “She asked me how you guys broke up and wanted details, too. Was super insistent, I was kinda scared actually.”
Okay, so just normal sussing out the ex, you could deal with that.
“What did you say?”
“That it was a mutual break up and I didn’t know why you broke up, just that you suddenly disappeared from each other’s lives.”
You sighed. That was the vaguest answer you’d ever heard.
“Why didn’t you just tell her why we broke up?”
Topper glanced at you, his brows knitted together.
“How can I tell her something I don’t know?”
“What?”
You slammed on the breaks, nearly sending Topper flying through the windshield because the idiot hadn’t buckled up, while you stared at him.
“What do you mean you don’t know why we broke up?”
“I don’t!” Topper exclaimed. “Rafe refuses to talk about it and you never told me either.”
“Because I assumed Rafe has told you! It’s been like six months!”
Blinking at Topper, it took you a few seconds to process, jumping when someone honked their horn at you, when you remembered you had stopped in the middle of the street.
“Shit,” you muttered, shifting gears to keep on driving, eyes flitting to Topper repeatedly.
“So…” he started. “Why did you guys break up?”
You gripped the steering wheel so tightly your knuckles turned white, letting out a deep breath. When you had left to come pick Topper up, you hadn’t expected having to tell him why you and his best friend had broken up.
“I was getting so worried about him. He was so stressed about the company every day, took home so much work and Ward was breathing down his neck to keep the numbers up. I told him that I thought he should take a step back, maybe take a break or something, tried to convince him of going on a trip or something, but the more I said, the more he seemed to be pushing himself into work. It got so bad that we were fighting basically every day, and it just wasn’t working anymore. It felt like we were going in circles.”
You cleared your throat when you felt yourself getting choked up, vision turning a little blurry from the tears in your eyes.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” Topper exclaimed, patting himself down, looking for some tissues.
“Don’t worry about it,” you snorted, wiping your tears away with the sleeves of your sweatshirt. You were so wrapped up in trying to retell the break up, you hadn’t even noticed that you already reached Topper’s house. “I shouldn’t even still be getting so worked up over this after all this time,” you sniffed, turning your car off.
Topper looked at you, with that typical look on his face and you rolled your eyes.
“Don’t look at me like that. I can’t believe Rafe hasn’t told you.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Honestly? I think he might be in denial about it.”
You scoffed at him, shaking your head. Why was everyone so hung up over your break up?
“It’s been six months.”
Topper didn’t reply, his hand on the car door and you expected him to bid you good bye, but that was too easy.
“… Do you think you guys will get back together?”
“He has a girlfriend, Top.”
“Still. I don’t think that Rafe and Rebecca are gonna last very long.” Topper looked at you, pressing his lips together, before shaking his head. “Sorry. Thanks for coming and for getting me home. Text me if you need anything, okay?”
You nodded, giving him a small wave, and waited until he got out of the car, shutting the door behind him, before you turned your car on, pulling off.
“What the fuck,” you muttered to yourself, wiping the rest of the tears off as you drove home.
IV Kelce
“Kelce!”
Kelce looked up from the pool table, a smile growing on his face when he saw Rafe come down the basement, his friend wrapping an arm around him for a brief hug.
“Happy birthday, man,” Rafe said, handing Kelce a bottle of the expensive whiskey he always drank when he was at Rafe’s but too stingy to buy it for himself.
“Ah shit, you didn’t have to,” Kelce uttered, though his eyes were sparkling as he looked at the bottle in his hands. He handed the pool stick to one of the guys next to him, leading Rafe to the bar. He grabbed two glasses from the shelves, pouring Rafe and himself a good amount, offering one of the glasses to him.
“Cheers to you.”
The two clinked their glasses, before sipping on the whiskey. Kelce really enjoyed it, too, with the way he closed his eyes, and Rafe only snorted in his glass. Kelce peaked his eye open, shoving his friend fondly with a grin.
“Rebecca here?”
“Yeah, upstairs.”
Kelce hummed in thoughts, nodding absentmindedly. He stared into his glass, swishing the amber liquid around before he spoke up again.
“You know she’s here, too, right?”
Rafe tensed, knowing exactly that Kelce was talking about you, but he had expected it. Firstly, because you and Kelce had always been friends, and secondly because he had heard Sarah making plans with you to go together. Didn’t mean this felt any less of a punch to the gut. He really hoped he wouldn’t run into you, because he wasn’t quite sure what he’d do; all he knew was, that Bex wasn’t gonna like it. Rafe cleared his throat, forcing himself to sound nonchalant.
“I figured, yeah.”
“That okay?” Kelce asked, and Rafe was starting to get annoyed, rolling his eyes. Why was Kelce questioning him about you on his damn birthday? He tried to dampen his anger though, not wanting to ruin the night.
“Yes. It’s your birthday, man.”
As soon as those words left his mouth, Rafe knew he did a shit job of hiding his emotions, and Kelce eyed him suspiciously.
“I don’t get you guys,” he sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. “You got a new girl, but you still haven’t gotten over your ex, clearly, but every time I mention her, you act like it’s the worst thing in the world, but neither of you have said a bad word about the other.
Rafe scoffed, though his heart started to race at the thought of you talking about him. He wondered what you had said, if you cared enough to ask about him, or if you had long moved on.
“Are you ever gonna tell me why you guys broke up?”
“Maybe next time.”
Kelce gave him a wry smile, knowing this was Rafe avoiding the topic again. He lifted his head when more people starting coming down the basement, curling his hand around Rafe’s shoulder to give him a squeeze.
“I really hope you figure it out bro, because this right now is not it.”
He then excused himself to welcome the new arrivals and Rafe gripped his glass, before downing it in one go.
“Alright, who wants to get destroyed in a round of pool?” he asked, clapping his hands together as he approached the pool table. Anything to stop himself from going upstairs to look for you.
V Sarah
“Oh my god, I thought you were gonna keep talking to her forever!”
You gave Sarah a look. She hadn’t even waited a minute after you left Rebecca on the couch before she started talking about her.
“I don’t have a problem with her.”
Sarah groaned, linking her arm with yours as to not lose you in the crowd that has formed in Kelce’s house. You were glancing around, hyper aware that you could run into Rafe any second, but you didn’t want Sarah to notice.
“I don’t understand how you can be so chill. Did you not see the picture she had in her purse?”
You sighed, brushing your hair back over your shoulder. Was this ever going to stop? “Sar, please.”
“Hello?? That was super freaky.”
“Maybe she was just cleaning up and wanted to throw it in the trash and forgot it in her purse.”
Sarah laughed dryly, shaking her head. “Bullshit! Admit that you find it weird.”
“Okay, maybe it is a little weird,” you admitted. “But don’t you do things that are a little weird sometimes? Maybe she’s just a little insecure. Which I wouldn’t blame her for, you’re so mean. Shouldn’t you try and be her friend or something?”
“Why? She’s not gonna be around much longer anyways, and I already have a friend.”
You rolled your eyes, fishing your keys out of your purse to unlock your car. Again with the sentiment that Rafe and Rebecca weren’t gonna last much longer. You decided against deeming that statement with an answer and got into your car, with Sarah getting into the passenger seat.
“Do you want to grab some burgers?” She asked, buckling up, like you hadn’t just told you that your ex and his new girlfriend weren’t gonna last.
You gave her a look as you tossed your purse to the back.
“What do you mean do I want to grab burgers? I thought you wanted to leave because you’re meeting John B early in the morning.”
Sarah blinked at you, before she reached out to give you a shove on the forehead. “I was lying so we could get away, stupid.”
“Oh my god,” you groaned, starting your car as Sarah protested.
“What? I was getting weirded out by you being all besties with Rafe’s new girlfriend. I don’t even understand how you can be so nice to her knowing she’s all up on your man.”
“Pray tell, who’s my man again?”
“Don’t even,” Sarah huffed. “You guys dated forever, I know you still love each other. And let me tell you one thing,” she said, raising her eyebrows at you. “If you got a new boyfriend? Rafe would not be this nice to him like you were to Rebecca.” With that, Sarah crossed her arms over her chest, settling back against her seat.
You only sighed, starting your car in silence.
“Do you want to get burgers now or not?” you asked, extending a peace offer while looking over at Sarah. She glowered at you, before nodding with an eyeroll.
“Yes.”
BONUS + I Rafe
“I did, at the party last night… She said she’s happy that you have me, that she was worried about how you work too much.”
Rafe pushed the pasta on his plate around with his fork, too engrossed in his thoughts to even think about eating. He didn’t even notice how Dennis had stopped talking. Rafe looked up from his plate, only to see Dennis look at him intently, an amused grin on his face.
“Sorry, were you saying something?”
“I was saying a lot, but you seemed like you were on a completely different planet,” Dennis noted, wiping his mouth with a napkin. Rafe winced, putting his fork down.
“Sorry, I have a lot on my mind.”
“I can tell,” Dennis mused. “Trouble in paradise?”
“Something like that.”
Rafe sighed, leaning back in his chair. Ever since you broke up, Rafe has been assuming that you didn’t care about him anymore, that you had long moved on from him and your relationship. He thought that you resented him, blamed him for the break up, which was honestly the main reason why he went back to the dating scene so quickly; to get over you. But hearing that you still cared about him? Enough to be nice to his new girlfriend and even ask about him? He wondered if there was still a chance for him and you to be together again.
If it weren’t for the fact that he already had a girlfriend.
“Can I give you some unsolicited advice, son?”
“Do I have a choice?” Rafe asked with a wry grin and Dennis only let out a belly laugh, shaking his head.
“Rafe, most relationships these days end because of your own ego, from both parties. No matter how big the fight or problem seems, will it really be that important in hindsight?” Dennis asked him. “How long have you an your girl been together? Almost 5 years, no?”
Rafe nodded, not daring to correct Dennis. He had never outright told him that you had broken up in the first place.
“See, that’s half a decade. I can assure you, in another half, you’re not even gonna remember this fight.”
Yeah, I don’t know about that, Rafe thought.
“Do you love her?”
Turning his ring on his finger, Rafe let out a soft exhale, before nodding. “Yeah, I do.”
“See. Problem solved.”
Rafe lifted his head to grin at Dennis.
“Thanks. Is it okay if we cut today short?”
“Sure,” Dennis said, waving Rafe off when he reached for his wallet. “Lunch is on me. Go get your girl.”
“I will,” Rafe promised, pushing his chair back to stand up. “I just gotta take care of something else first.”
BONUS + II You
You were staring at your phone, text thread with Rafe open. It was Saturday night; you and Sarah had went out to a small beach party. Sarah had gone to fill her drink back up and you had used that time of solace to overthink. About Rafe.
For the past few week, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. And you blamed your friends for it, really. First Wheezie, then Topper and then Sarah? Somehow all of them said that the break up was the worst idea, and even though you had always second guessed the choice to break up, this was the first time you actually actively regretted it.
The way Sarah seemed so sure that Rafe and Rebecca weren’t going to last long. Maybe you were wrong and they weren’t as happy as you thought. But then again, it wasn’t any of your business, was it? Who were you to put your nose into their relationship?
God, you shouldn’t be doing this.
“How long does Sarah need to fill her drink back up?” You muttered to yourself, finishing your vodka soda and burying the cup in the sand next to you, when you heard foot steps approaching.
“Finally! I was about to send a search group out for you!” you exclaimed, standing up and dusting the sand off your lap. “Seriously, how long does it take for-”
You froze when you turned around just to see Rafe standing in front of you, instead of Sarah. Swallowing thickly, you blinked at him, caught off guard.
“Rafe, hey,” you said, opting for casual. “Sorry. I thought you were Sarah.”
The corners of Rafe’s mouth twitched. “Yeah, I could tell.”
You looked at him, sighing a bit wistfully (mostly) internally, before you shifted on your feet nervously. “It was nice to see you,” you said, and it was true. “But um… I think I’ll go look for Sarah.” You gave him a small smile, before walking towards, and then past him.
“You’re still worried about me.”
You let out a startled laugh, pausing mid-step to turn back to him. “What?”
“You told Rebecca that you were glad that I had her and that you worried I work too much.”
“Of course I’m still worried about you,” you huffed, brushing your hair back. “You can’t be surprised about that.”
Rafe looked at you, and you could tell that this was news to him.
“Rafe.”
Rafe let out a sigh, rubbing his forehead. “You didn’t reply to any of my texts. I thought you were mad at me or somethin’.”
“I didn’t reply to any of your texts because we said we’d do no contact for a while.
“Still,” Rafe muttered, kicking a rock. “I didn’t think it would be so easy for you-”
“And because you were happy with Rebecca, do you think it’s easy for me to see you with someone else?”
“I broke up with Rebecca last week.”
“What?!”
Mouth agape, you stared at him and Rafe only rubbed the back of his neck. “She… Wasn’t what I wanted.”
“Oh,” you only said, letting out a soft exhale. “I’m sorry about that.”
Rafe sighed, stuffing his hands into his pockets. His gaze was trained on the floor for a bit, before he lifted his head to look at you.
“I want to try again… I want us to try again.”
“Rafe…”
You swallowed thickly, your eyes wide and you didn’t move as Rafe took a step towards you, reaching for your hand. Your fingers were cold in his but they quickly warmed to his touch, and the way he laced his fingers with yours, felt all to familiar.
“I love you. I never should have agreed to breaking up. It was arguably the second stupidest thing I’ve ever done.”
“And what’s the stupidest?” you asked, corners of your mouth lifting.
“Not listening to you when you were just trying to help,” he answered, looking down at you, so vulnerable like you hadn’t seen him in a long time. “I rearranged my schedule at the company so I could take on less work, take more time off and relax. Take the time to get us to where we were before it all went shitty.”
Your heart was in your throat as you listened to him talk, unsure what to say.
“Rafe, I don’t know… “
“Baby, please,” he begged, squeezing your hand. “Do you love me, still?”
You scoffed. “That’s not fair.”
“Why? Because you do?”
“Of course I still love you,” you mumbled, looking up at him through your lashes. “Do you know how hard it was for me to ignore your texts? To see you with another girl, so happy?”
Rafe shook his head, lifting his hand to tuck your hair behind your ear. “I wasn’t. Not really.”
You let out another sigh, looking at the way your hands were intertwined, how your heart had stopped racing, before you nodded, looking up at him. “Okay. Let’s do it.”
A smile spread across Rafe’s face, so big it was so uncharacteristic for him.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
It was like that word switched a flip inside of him, as he grabbed you by your nape gently, to kiss you, slotting his lips against your, and as your lips touched, it felt like you were finally home again. You only pulled away to breathe, both of you staring at each other like you couldn’t quite realize this was happening.
Sarah [05/11/2024: 10:45 pm]: (sent to 4 contacts) [picture attached: blurry photograph of you and Rafe kissing at the beach]
Topper [05/11/2024: 10:46 pm]: thank god.
Kelce [05/11/2024: 10:51 pm]: FINALLY!
Wheezie [05/11/2024: 10:59 pm]: !!!!!!
Barry [05/11/2024: 11:02 pm]: read at 11:02 pm
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
author's note: sooo.... what are we thinking?
#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron#rafe x reader#rafe x you#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron fanfic#rafe cameron fic#rafe cameron smut#drew starkey#outer banks#obx#outer banks fanfiction
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Kinktober Day 8 - Breeding
John Price x Reader - 1k (on ao3)
summary: You worry that your boss sees your relationship as more long-term than you do. (Reader POV, second person)
cw: implied stealthing, under negotiated breeding kink, one-sided daddy kink
You tell yourself it’s just a kink.
You’re not ready to become a mother - you’d like to be married for at least a year before even trying for a baby, and you’d like to have an established career before even getting married. For you, the idea of a bun in the oven is so far down the line it’s not even visible on the horizon yet.
But you know it’s not the same for Price. He’s older than you, has lived a far wilder life and lost it what must be nearly a dozen times over. He’s a weathered man, with deep lines on his forehead and wrinkles around his eyes, just the tiniest hint of silver creeping into his beard.
You know it’s not smart to have a fling with him. Not only is he your boss and a controversially older man, but he’s also the exact opposite of a commitment-phobe like you. He’s always looking for more commitment in fact, something you hadn’t expected considering the illicitness of your relationship with him.
You'd assumed an affair with your boss would involve mostly quickies in closets, a refusal to be in the same room as one another during the workday, maybe even pretending to dislike each other around other coworkers. Instead, he talks to you more once you start sleeping together than he had before - he parks himself on your desk at any time he pleases, invites you to have lunch in his office with him (alone), and laughs when your co-workers call him your work-husband.
So you know that he wants more, that he wants you to really be with him (he hints at far more than just that, but doesn’t dare say it aloud, which you’re glad for) past just being his secretary and his fuckbuddy.
In fact, he’d nearly torn you into two when you’d giggled and called him a “bootycall” after he called you back into work hours after you’d gone home. His face had gone from eager and affectionate to what you can only call scolding, and he’d been rougher with you than normal. You enjoy a few smacks to your ass, but that night he’d spanked you hard enough to leave you squirming the next morning when you sat at your desk. You’d been pouty about it, had glared only half-playfully at him when he smirked, but the way he ate you out on his desk for lunch more than made up for the discomfort.
And he makes these… comments sometimes, while he’s buried inside you. Things that allude to a future you’re not ready for.
Gotta come after me, sweetheart, it takes better like that.
Hips up, don’t let any of me drip out.
Gonna make me a daddy, pretty thing? Huh? Gonna take my cum and grow me a baby?
My good fuckin’ girl, lettin’ me breed her pretty cunt.
Gonna look so pretty, all round for me. Gonna take such good care of you.
C’mon, honey, wanna make sure it sticks this time.
You tell yourself it’s just a kink. He plugs you up with a couple fingers once he’s finished, says “Just to make sure you don’t lose any of my cum, can’t be wastin’ it right now,” and licks your clit until your legs shake.
He hardly fucks you in any position that isn’t bent over his desk, no matter how much you whine and beg for me. He just smacks your ass, gives you an extra orgasm or two to keep you placated. More often than not he leaves you bent over the desk after he’s finished, tilts your hips up a little higher and gives you a kiss on the temple as he sits back in his seat to get back to work.
You’d told him to use a condom the first few times, even though you’ve been on birth control for years. You’ve always been responsible with flings, been more than willing to send a man packing at the first hint of whining if he didn’t want to wear protection. A baby has never once crossed your mind as an option, and it certainly doesn't now.
So it was instinct to tell Price to put on a condom before he fucked you the first time. And he had, without kicking up any fuss about it past a furrowed brow and a grumble or two.
But then the condom broke, and you were left with his cum dripping down your thighs. You’d had a moment of panic, but he’d given you money for Plan B, and you told yourself the odds of getting pregnant with Plan B and birth control were so low it wasn’t worth stressing out over.
The condom broke the second time. And the third. And the fourth. And the fifth. And every time after that you asked him to wear one.
At some point you stopped asking, and he never remembered himself. A few muttered questions about what brand he’d been using between fevered kisses, thick fingers at your cunt a distraction, and eventually you told yourself it wouldn’t matter as long as you kept taking the birth control pills.
It would be rude to demand Plan B after every round, right? Plus, asking for cash minutes after you'd both gotten off always made you feel a bit... dirty. When you feel him drip down your thighs, when you pull your panties up and feel the mixture of both of you gather there, you tell yourself that the birth control will surely do it's job, and you try not to worry.
Now, pulling open the drawer where you keep your pills, you wonder if maybe all his talk of babies and his cum taking is more than just heat-of-the-moment dirty talk.
You stare down at the empty drawer and every time he’s called himself Daddy echoes in your ear like a choir.
#this one is aggressively meh to me so sorry#reading through each kinktober before i post the day before and like. more than i expected have very little smut#bo writes#john price x reader#john price x you#price x reader#price x you#captain price x reader#captain price x you#how do people tag for him#captain john price x reader#captain john price x you#cod fanfic#call of duty fanfic#kinktober 2023#kinktober#kinktober day 8
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Bellllaaaaa hiiii:)
I’m hooked on biker/bartender bucky(even tattoo artist bucky) with fucking Tats right now and I’d totally love if you could maybe write him and chubby/plus sized reader having a flirty relationship, maybe they’re like a fling or something. She works at his bar/tattoo shop, whichever au you pick, and they’re just fucking flirty and so naughty together lol
Smut is always welcomed!!
Thank u bby in advance<3 mwahhh🥺💋
about how it started..
pairing: bartender!bucky barnes x curvy!reader
warnings: 18+ only. pining. flirting. smut. a little tiny hint of voyeurism/exhibitionism. if i’m missing something pls lmk!
words: 3.1k
notes: thank you, mickey, for sending this and sorry it took so long! i kind of wanted to incorporate more mention of his tattoos but i felt like i kept screwing it up so i kept it very vague - i’m sorry. but i hope you like this! i really love the idea and i’d love to do more with them in the future, too (including more of his tattoos too 🥴), so thank you, thank you, thank you!! 🥰
also this gif isn’t necessarily the bucky i was picturing but the visible tattoo feels right so whatever 😌
i hope you guys enjoy this! thank you in advance for reading and reblogging. as always, feedback and comments are always welcome and so appreciated! 🖤
You know you should be checking tables right now. You know. But goddamn if you can’t take your eyes off of the brawny, blue eyed, six foot something beauty that is Bucky Barnes.
You’re leaning against the far end of the bar, eyes fixed on him with no plans of trailing anywhere else.
He’s making another Sex on the Beach for the less than subtle, leggy, bleach blonde who’s been fawning over him since she got here. When she and the other college girls showed up, seeming to have already been pregaming, you knew tonight wouldn’t be uneventful.
You could obsess over the fact that the twenty one year old, who looked like she stepped right off a runway, was currently pushing her chest out and twirling her perfectly styled hair as she continued rambling on and on to Bucky, but his disinterest was clear to you as he kept a polite smile and entertained her as he finished the drink.
That, and because you had no right or reason to obsess over who was flirting with him and when.
Right?
You pushed the thoughts away as you admired Bucky’s profile. The way some of his hair had fallen out of his bun and hung around his perfectly sculpted face. How his brilliantly blue eyes shone still through the dark strands. And god did you envy his perfectly shaped nose. Your eyes fell to his lips as he smiled at something the girl said, but you couldn’t even bring yourself to care, you were so caught up in the beauty of it. He gave her the drink before he tucked the loose hair behind his ears.
You watched as the girl held out a twenty with a sultry smile and a wink before Bucky took it with a small laugh as she sauntered off back to her friends.
He put it in the cash box and then pushed up his sleeves as he took the time to count out how much the bar had made so far tonight.
You swear your mouth went dry as his tattoos were on display now. The dark ink that told story after story lining his forearm, and though you couldn’t see them right now, led all the way up his strong arm only added to the endless list of things that made him attractive. The artwork was mesmerizing. Just like him.
“You just gonna stare at me your whole shift, sweetheart?” he says to you without looking over, a smirk playing on his lips.
You take in a breath before pushing off the bar and walk over to meet him where he stands.
“Who says I was staring at you?” you question and lean over just slightly to glance at Torres who was pouring shots at the other end of the bar.
Bucky turns to follow your gaze and gives a laugh when he sees who you’re referring to.
“You and Torres, huh?” he plays along, smirk never faltering. He finishes his count and tucks the box back under the bar before he turns fully to you, blocking your view of the younger man completely, not that you cared.
Bucky walks into you, backing you up until you’re forced into the dead corner of the bar. You nearly stop breathing when he leans into you, his cologne invading your senses, his warmth surrounding you as he keeps you trapped between him and the bar, his thick arms on either side of you. Your lips part on an inaudible gasp when his lips brush against your ear.
“He know I was guts deep inside you last night? How you were screaming my name, begging me not to pull out? So fuckin’ desperate to be full‘a me,” he reminds you as his hands find your waist and he squeezes your softness before pulling you flush against him and letting his hands slide down to your ass. “How many times did you come again? I think I lost count,” he taunts as he leans over you and gropes you shamelessly.
You can see out past his shoulder as he nearly nuzzles into your neck, your eyes growing heavy with desire as your lips stay parted in heated awe.
Your eyes meet the blonde Bucky had just served as she looks on in a bit of a stupor before blinking and turning away with a hint of a blush warming her cheeks.
“Watch it, Barnes. You’re gonna lose out on tips if you’re not careful,” you warn playfully, if not a bit breathily.
When he starts kissing your neck, your knees become unsteady as a warmth starts to grow in your tummy.. and lower. Your hands latch onto the front of his shirt in an effort to stay steady.
You’ve noticed he’s been getting more brazen every day, more teasing and touching when he knows full well people can see, and the fact that he really doesn’t seem to care sparks a bit of hope that maybe this could grow into something more than what it started as.
But as Bucky nips and then gently kisses your pulse point, all thoughts fly right out the window as your main focus is solely on not melting into a puddle right then and there.
“Don’t care,” he says against your delicate skin, placing another kiss to your neck before you push him back just slightly. “What?” he asks as a half smile adorns his face when he stands up straight again, looking down at you.
“Don’t start something you can’t finish right now,” you say as you hold his smoldering gaze.
“You think I won’t fuck you right now?” he challenges, his seriousness sending a thrill up your spine.
You let out a nervous, disbelieving laugh as you push him to turn around. “I think you have some patrons waiting for your attention,” you say, ignoring the desire burning deep within at his words.
He sucks his teeth as he walks back over to the lively area of the bar, but not before eyeing you with a look that promises he isn’t done with you tonight.
You watch him back before spinning around and coming out from behind the bar to start checking tables.
—
You’re leaning over a newly emptied table close to the bar when you feel his heavy gaze on you.
The low cut scoop neck of your top already offered a generous view of your cleavage, but as you’re leaning over to wipe the table down, you’re sure he can see right down your shirt. You hide your smirk as you walk around the table and make a show of leaning over once more, your tight black skirt that hugs your tummy riding up your thick thighs as you do. You’d forgone underwear under your opaque black tights and wonder for a second how much he can see as you bend further over the table.
You don’t have much time to wonder as suddenly Bucky is right up behind you. You stand up against him, your ass brushing against his crotch. His hands are on your skirt as he adjusts it back down for you.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he asks, voice low and husky.
“Cleaning a table,” you answer innocently as you stay where you are, enjoying the feeling of his large hands on your wide hips and his solid chest at your back.
“Yeah? Cuz from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re purposely being a little tease.”
“Me?” you say in faux offense, turning to face him. “I’d never. Just doing my job, boss.”
He pushes you back against the table just slightly, “So, you’re telling me you haven’t been thinking about how hot it’d be if I came up behind you, ripped your tights open and fucked you stupid right here on this table?”
You swallow hard as you feel yourself growing wet at the scene that plays out in your mind. The bar is near empty as you’re both getting ready to close up but the idea of Bucky taking you right here and now, onlookers be damned, has heat creeping up your skin.
“Say I have. What are you gonna do about it?” you whisper wantonly, eyes swimming with lust.
A sinful growl escapes him as he presses himself closer to you. You can feel his growing bulge against you and it takes everything in you to not let out the whimper that threatens to slip past your lips.
Joaquin left twenty minutes ago after him and Bucky served last call, so it’s just you two and the lingerers who are slowly making their way out.
“What am I gonna do about it?” he repeats as his hand comes up to hold your chin. He leans down, face to face with you as he continues headily, never taking his eyes off yours, “I’m gonna fuck you stupid. Right here. On this table,” he breathes each sentence before he finally takes your lips in his. It’s gentler than you expect as your eyes flutter shut and the sound of the entrance door closing behind the last patron signals that you’re alone now.
You sigh into his mouth before you pull him closer, the kiss growing more heated with each moment that passes.
You let Bucky ruck up your skirt as your hands fumble with his belt before you start working on his button and zipper. You stop him for just a second, grabbing his hand, “You rip ‘em, you buy ‘em,” you tell him, earning a grin from him.
“Deal,” he says before easily tearing your tights and turning you around, forcing you down against the table.
“No underwear, huh?” he taunts as he rips your tights even more, his thick fingers wasting no time in playing with your wetness on full display for him.
Your legs are spread as you moan at the delightful feeling of his fingers pushing into your sex, opening you up for him as he scissors his fingers inside your tight heat before curling them the way he knows you like.
“Fuck, Bucky, please,” you whine as you clutch onto the table, pushing your hips backs and trying to fuck yourself on his hand.
“Jesus, fuck, you’re perfect,” he swears before landing a stinging slap to your ass and pulling his fingers out. He quickly tugs down his jeans and frees himself from his boxers, his erection hot, heavy, and throbbing.
“Make me so fuckin’ hard, you know that?”
You only mewl in response as he runs the head of his cock through your folds, teasing you. He doesn’t have as much patience as he normally does, though. He’s been thinking of you nonstop since you left his apartment this morning. Been wanting you close again from the second you left his bed.
He knows this was just supposed to be a fun fling, but from the first time he kissed you, he knew he was done for. He knew he’d only want more.
And he was right.
He wanted all of it with you, not just sex. He wanted to spend his days cuddling you in his bed, watching movies, talking about nothing; hell, he even had to stop himself from texting you the other day to see if you were busy when he had to go get groceries because he wanted your company.
He was hooked on you completely.
But this “fling” was your idea and he didn’t want to run you off with the idea of commitment so soon. So for now, this would have to do. And who was he to complain about the nights he got to spend flirting with you, teasing you, taking you apart only to put you back together in his arms come morning.
He’s pulled from his thoughts as the head of his cock catches along your slick entrance, a hiss emanating from him as you gasp at the feeling.
He slowly lets himself push in, deeper and deeper until his hips are flush against your ass and he’s filling you completely.
Your soft moans urge him on as he begins to fuck you, the sound of his hips slapping against your ass filling the quiet of the empty bar. As he starts to thrust harder, the squelching noises of your fucking grow louder and louder as you moan without care, your hips hitting the edge of the table over and over with his every thrust.
His hands frame your waist as he holds you tight, rutting ever deeper inside of you, his cock hitting your g-spot repeatedly as you whine and gasp in pure pleasure, the coil in your belly tightening with each glide of his cock along your walls and every nudge against your g-spot. Bucky slips a hand down and finds your puffy clit, circling it as he feels you getting closer, your walls squeezing him tighter and tighter.
Your toes are curling in your shoes as your feet arch and slip against the floor when the muscles in your legs and core tighten and strain as your walls clench down on his thick cock and your orgasm hits you hard.
In the same instance, Bucky growls as the swinging of the entrance door sounds. You don’t even bother to look up as you’re lost in the euphoria of your high.
“We’re closed,” Bucky barks, his hips never faltering as he continues to fuck you while your eyes screw shut in overwhelming pleasure.
You vaguely hear a fumbling apology and the door closing once more as Bucky buries himself inside of you, leaning over your bent body and rutting into you as his groans and moans tumble heavily from his lips. With one more thrust, you sigh breathily as you feel him spill inside of you.
The weight of his body on top of yours is a comfort you can’t help but revel in as he holds you still and gets all of his release out, your velvety walls milking his cock as he fills you with his hot come.
He’s breathing heavily as he comes down from his orgasm and gently pulls his cock out of you. You instinctively press your legs together, your thick thighs making it easy. You push yourself up off the table after a moment and turn around, fixing your skirt as you do.
“Fuck,” you breathe under your breath happily. “Maybe lock the door next time?” you suggest playfully, “Or, at least turn the ‘OPEN’ light off.”
“Next time?” Bucky says with a raised brow and a smirk as he fixes his pants. “You like getting fucked in the bar that much?”
“Well, you did say something about fucking me stupid.. And not that that was bad at all, but, I’m not feeling very stupid right now.”
He licks his lips as he takes you in, taking your hands in his and tugging you close. “Why don’t you come home with me and I’ll get you there,” he says smoothly.
“That’d make it three nights in a row,” you say, a little unsure. “You sure you wanna risk it? I might not wanna leave.”
“I might not want you to,” he says, surprising you by how soft and sincere his voice is.
You meet his eye and swear you could drown in the glimmering blues as he smiles that schoolboy smile. You let out a shaky, nervous laugh.
“You fallin’ for me, Barnes?” you tease playfully - just a hint of hope laced in your tone.
He surprises you again as he takes hold of your chin, peering deep into your eyes, before he brushes his nose against your, his lips inches away from your own as you breath each other in for a second.
And then he kisses you.
Soft, yet firm and as you lose yourself in it, a deep yearning for Bucky that you’ve kept down from day one rears her head once more.
You part for a second to breathe before you crash your lips into his again, pulling him closer to you by the front of his shirt.
Your tongues glide against one another as he slips his in expertly before kissing you deeply.
He lets his forehead fall to yours as he parts from you.
You're breathless as he wears a nervous smile you’ve never seen on him before.
“Say I have. What are you gonna do about it?” he repeats your earlier taunt, trying to hide his anxiousness as he waits for you to respond.
You suck your lip as you consider him, biting back the smile threatening to take over your face.
“I’d tell you that, maybe, I’ve fallen for you, too,” you admit shyly, looking up to see his cocksure smile back in full force, just the way it always is.
“Then I’d tell you to take me back to your apartment,” you say, leaning into him for another sultry kiss. “So you can fuck me stupid,” you breathe against his lips, “as many times as you want.”
You nearly squeal as you're taken off your feet in the next second, Bucky’s strong arms holding you securely as you wrap your own around him.
“That I will happily comply with,” he says, kissing you hotly as you smile into it. You pull away just slightly to speak.
“We didn’t finish closing,” you laugh.
“Don't care,” he says, kissing you again as he easily walks to the bar, holding you with surprising ease that you aren’t sure you’ll ever get used to before he sets you down. “We can do it tomorrow,” he excuses, grabbing his keys from behind the bar and flicking the lights out. You grab your jacket and bag from the shelf you kept them on and follow behind Bucky as he locks the doors, escorting you out and to his car.
Before you get there, he turns on you, both of you stopping in your spots.
“We really doing this?” he asks, wanting to make sure this is really what you want, too.
You smile and nod.
“Yeah,” you whisper.
He lets himself smile in return.
“So I can call you mine, now?” he asks, grabbing your hand, pulling you to him.
“I’d be good with that.”
“Yeah?”
“Mhm.”
“You sure? Cuz once we make this official, I’m gonna let everyone know. I might never shut up about it.”
You can’t help but laugh at how excited and proud he sounds. “I think I’m okay with that,” you smile up at him, meeting his lips in another kiss before he leads you to the car and opens the door for you to get in.
You know you’re okay with that. It’s what you’d been hoping for from the first time you’d kissed, for this to lead to something real, something more. Now here you were.
He wanted to officially call you his, and Bucky was finally, truly yours.
#bucky barnes x curvy!reader#bucky barnes x plus size!reader#bucky barnes x reader#bucky x curvy!reader#bucky x plus size!reader#bucky x reader#bartender!bucky#bucky barnes one shot#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes x plus size reader#bucky barnes x you
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wanting you 2
pairing: matt x reader
summary: matt finally gets what he’s been desiring for
warnings: smut, sneaky, bathroom sex, confession of feelings, little bit of romance.
a/n- since i’ve been requested for a part 2 🫡
word count: 1,464
matt’s pov:
i can’t stop glancing over at her.
“fuck. she’s so beautiful” i thought to myself
watching her ball up the cookie dough before placing it on the sheet
i quickly zone back in and head downstairs to join our friends that’s seated over by the pool table
today’s hangout was mostly just to soak in each other’s presence once more before the new year
we did karaoke, started a cookie baking competition with partners, and now we’re playing pool.
a few seconds after i get seated, y/n comes down
“you guys are playing pool? i want to play!!” she geeks
“well you’re lucky cause we just finished a round” nate says
he hands her the pool cue and fixes the balls in their original state
“your go” he signals to her
she hits the break and all the balls scatter.
a stripped ball falls into the furthest right socket of the table, indicating that she can continue to play for stripped
she adjusts her cue to a stripped ball that angles itself against another socket
the way she arches her back and dips her head in to make sure she has an appropriate placement
she’s wearing a bodysuit that enhances the curves of her body.
when she bends down, i can see the framework of her ass that barely fits in the tigh-
fuck im getting hard. i need to excuse myself immediately
“im going to the bathroom” i say abruptly before immediately hiking back up the stairs
i could tell nick was about to say something but i didn’t stay to hear what it was. i couldn’t have anyone seeing bulge in my pants
i find the hallway bathroom, turn on the lights, and immediately shut the door.
i silently stare at myself in the mirror for a second as i process my thoughts
why can’t i control myself around you?
why are you so fucking perfect?
were you put in my life just to taunt me?
i sigh out loud and shake my head
“i need someone water.” i think to myself before exiting the bathroom and making my way to the kitchen
i open the fridge and grab a cold bottle of water that i quickly open and put to my lips to hopefully quench my thirst
i start to hear a footstep trailing up the basement stairs
i turn away, facing my body towards the pantry so the bulge that still rests in my pants isn’t visible
“what are you doing in here?” a soft voice asks
fuck it’s y/n. now i really have to keep facing the pantry
“oh i just came to get some water” i shyly say before taking another sip
“hm, okay!” she says as she hops up on the counter as a seat
“you?” i ask back
“i just came to check on you”
me? why was she worried about me?
“oh .. why?” i turn my neck and ask so she’s not only having a conversation with my back
“well you’ve been up here for a while so i was curious to see if you were okay” she chuckles
“oh” i chuckle back, “well yep, im fine”
i reassure so she can go back downstairs and i can take care of the nuisance in my pants
“can you check on the cookies and make sure they’re not burnt please!” she requests
nope. i cannot. i actually cannot my love. can you do it?
“mhm” i reply as i slowly start to move towards the oven
“why are you being so weird matt? what are you doing.” she asks
“nothing? i’m just checking on the cookies”
she hops up off the counter and turns me around before noticing that i’m hard
“matt.. are you hard?“ she asks chuckling
i cover myself, “it’s not funny..” i turn back away
“it’s okay matt” she continues chuckling, “it’s natural. i just hope you’re not hard for the cookies” she jokes while rubbing my back
i turn back and stare into her eyes with a head tilt
“whattt? .. are you hard for me?” she jokingly asks with her glossy eyes looking up at me
fuck she makes me so nervous and i can’t lie. i’m just gonna stay silent
“wait.” she pauses, “you totally are!! what the fuck matthew” she pulls back
“are you actually hard because of me?” she asks
“well look at what you’re wearing.. you make it so hard not too”
“well if you wanted to see it off, you could of always just asked me” she replies with her chest pressed against mine
y/n has always been a flirt. i can’t tell when she’s serious or not. i’m pretty sure she has a clue that i like her but i think she exploits that for her own personal benefits.
i don’t care much tho, whatever gets my dick off.
“i do. i would lovee to see it off” i reply to her comment
she grabs my hand and guides me back to the bathroom.
she pushes me against the closed door and sloppily puts her lips on mine
“how many times have you imagined this scenario matt? having me to your complete free use.” she asks me
“too many times” i press my lips back on to hers before lifting her up onto the bathroom sink
i keep kissing her while i use my hand to play with her pussy through her clothes
grinding into my touch she starts to unzip her body suit and slid it down to her ankles, allowing me access to her bra and panties
i lift up her bra and latch myself onto her nipples while she palms my cock through my sweats
she released my cock from the restraints of my pants and slides out of her underwear
“put it in” she demands
fuck i can’t believe this is actually about to happen. i’ve been dreaming about this for so long
i align my cock with her hole and slowly start to slide it in as she hugs around my back for grip
i give her time to adjust as she tightly squeezes around my cock.
“fuckkk you’re so tight baby.” i let out as i start to thrust into her
she’s moaning so loud i have to cover her mouth
i continue to thrust into her as she scratches at my back. leaving red marked lines in a pattern of pleasured pain
“i don’t know how much longer i could last baby. you feel so fucking good” i whisper out in her ear
she quickly pushes off me and hops up off the sink and onto the floor where she can get better access from my cock to her lips
she used her hand to jerk my shaft while she uses her mouth to surround and suck the tip
i use my hand and push her mouth further into my cock where she then allows me to thrust into her mouth
i throw my head back and try to fight the moaning mess that i was slowly turning into
i buck my hips into her mouth for the final time before feeling my cum shoot out into her throat
i put back and watch her swallow my load and stick her tongue out
“you’re so fucking sexy oh my god” i breathe out before pulling her back up to place a series of kisses onto her lips
“okay matt-” she kisses back, “we need-” i kiss her again, “we need to go back downstairs” i lay one more kiss on her lips
“they’re probably wondering what we’re doing up here” she continues
i can’t help but stare at her beauty
“whatt?” she asks in a high pitched tone
“i love you.”
FUCK. why would i say that? oh my god? she’s never gonna speak to me again. entire friendship ruined.. why would that be the first words out my mouth? am i dumb oh my goddddd..
“i love you too matt” she says before placing a kiss back on my lips
“you- you do?” i ask
“of course i do matt. you’re my best friend? the one person in the world i can go to and trust for anything. you mean a lot more to me than you think” she confesses
oh.
“i feel like an idiot” i slightly laugh
“why so?”
“because i was so scared of you not feeling the same way that i kept my feelings a secret for so long” i admit
“well.. the secrets out now” she smiles as if a weight has also been lifted off her chest
“so when do we move in with each other and get married?” i joke
“shut up matt” she laughs as she open the bathroom door
————————————————————————
#matt sturniolo#matt sturniolo x you#matthew sturniolo smut#matt sturniolo smut#matt sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo fanfic#matt girl#chris sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#sturniolo smut#sturniolo triplets#nick sturniolo#smut#sturniolo fanfic#nicolas sturniolo#chris sturniolo fanfic#new writers on tumblr#writers on tumblr#fanfics#sturniolo fandom#sturniolo triplets fanfic#matthew sturniolo#sturniolo x reader#x reader#christopher sturniolo fanfic#fanfic
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| mutual help ; l. berkshire
genre; smut 😜
warnings; bickering, NOT e2l sorry every1!!, no actual sex, mentions of blowjob, food play (?), oral (f receiving), public sex, fingering, dirty talk, name calling (baby, honey bc that’s readers nn and babe)
a/n; idk i saw these pics on pinterest and thought they were cute and then i just got to thinking abt how i could make smth and use them and yeahhhhh — but i actually like this a lot so im thinking this isn’t the end 😅😅 pt.2 maybeee
playlist; meddle about by chase atlantic, single by the neighborhood, cry baby by the neighborhood.
You smile around the ice cream filling your jaw, cheeks puffing out in a way that makes enzo's pants grow tighter, some of the pinkish-white cream dribbling from the corners of your mouth, making a mess that stains the pristine collar of your dress shirt.
He toys with the mechanical pencil in his grasp, running it along the seam of his lips, pressing them into a cat-like grin when you look up at him over the top of your textbook, eyes turning to crescents when your grin widens. Your book thumps against the table when you lean forward, caught between your chest and the hardwood, making you stutter over whatever you were gonna say, shiny lips falling into a confused pout, blinking down at the pages before you roll your eyes, nudging it to the floor with your elbow, letting it clatter against the wood without a care.
“You’re going to get us in trouble – ” Lorenzo warns, watching as the ice cream cone in your hand melts over your knuckles, seeping into the cuffs of your cardigan, forming sticky lines between your knuckles “Finish that, or i’ll throw it away.” he finishes, arching a perfectly trimmed brow as you bring the strawberry cream to your lips again, licking a thick strip from the base of the cone to the top of the cream.
You hum in satisfaction, ready to bring the cone back for another lick, when a group of students brushes past, one of their shoes knocking the back of your chair, grip on the come loosening for a moment before it topples from your fingers and lands in the crevice of your thighs. You gasp, scowling at the fifth years as they giggle, rushing around a corner.
“God damn it, honey” enzo growls deep under his breath, snapping his book shut, making you flinch as you look up at him from the mess between your thighs. Your brows draw together in confusion, used to hearing the nick name in a more saccharine tone. This wasn’t your fault.
You tilt your head “they bumped into me!” you whisper yell, uncomfortably rubbing your thighs together, only spreading the sticky mess further.
Frowning he scoots his chair back, leaning back enough to see the drying ice cream, something straight out of wet dream as you spread your thighs, chasing some sort of relief from the uncomfortable feeling - he can see your white panties, delicate lace trim along the edges and a cute little with bow just below your navel.
“You’ve made a fucking mess” his tone is annoyed, shoulders tensing as you gaze into his puppy like eyes, puffy lips parting in a pout once again.
This has been torture – weeks of tutoring you, dealing with the innocent pouts and whines, begging him to just lie to professor snape for you. Games of on and off, that he knows he’s definitely winning, because you were practically begging for his cock a fortnight ago. He’s thought about you so many times – thought about beating the shit out of the guys that talk about you.
He can’t fucking take it anymore, cock throbbing in his boxers as you squirm around in your chair, huffing out delicate breaths, wide eyes turned glassy – you look like you might even cry, and makes him tick, knuckles pale from how tightly his fists clench against the smooth hard wood table.
Gripping the table with one hand, and the hem of your skirt with the other, you sigh “I can clean it up enzo” you plead, nervous as he shifts in his chair, tugging the sleeves of his dress shirt up his forearms.
The whole library falls silent when he looks at you, rasping out a command that makes your eyes go wide “spread your legs” he mumbles. He drops to his knees not a moment sooner, brunette head of hair disappearing under the table, the drag of his chair back to the table making you gasp.
Fingers wrap around your ankles, forcing your legs apart, unveiling your clothed pussy to his sparkling eyes when your skirt rides up your thighs, the fabric is damp and stained with strawberry ice cream, molding your warm folds to the cotton, puffy pussy straining for attention against the threads. He blows out a soft breath between puckered lips, chuckling hotly when you squirm, thighs trembling against his strength.
“Lorenzo — we’ll be caught” you whisper, glassy eyes meeting his own dark ones, a gentle blush spread across the bridge of your nose and the apples of your cheeks. He tuts, leaning forward just enough for his nose to rub your clit, breathing in the musky-sweet scent emitting from your core.
“You don’t want me to help you out?” He murmurs, tongue darting out to lick a stripe along your seam, planting a wet kiss against your hole as one of his hands creep up the inseam of your thigh, toying with the outer hem of your panties.
You sigh, cradling your face in your palms, unable to voice the denial you thought you had wanted to say, overwhelmed by the heat from his breath ghosting your cunt.
“be a good girl and keep quiet” he mutters, peeking up at your flushed face between your fingers before he tugs your panties to the side, the threads snapping under the pressure, ripping the crotch right out of them, ruined as they fall to the floor.
he takes his time, as he leans in, eyelids fluttering closed, jaw hanging slack – pressing an open mouth kiss to your spread folds, humming in delight at the sticky slick seeping from your core, pressing in deeper for more, nails digging crescents into your sticky thighs.
his tongue toys at your entrance, the warm muscle prodding your tight walls until you let out the softest wine from above him, hips bucking forward against his face, pressing his nose into your clit.
“s’fucking good” he mouths against your cunt, shaking his face side to side, making your squirm against the wooden chair, thighs threatening to squeeze around his head if he were to let go.
“shit- enzo '' you chirp, drooping eyes casting a weary look around the library, despite knowing your meticulously tucked away study corner is shielded from most prying eyes.
one of his hands drifts from the inseam of your thigh, to the top of your pussy, pulling the hood up so he can wrap his puffy lips around your clit, gently tugging on the nub with his teeth, before giving it a lewd suck, slurping and smacking sounding from between your legs - he’s the one being fucking loud.
his other hand glides down your pussy as he pulls away, spreading your folds to watch your greedy hole wink, pulsing for something to fill you up - seeping wetness that runs down your asshole and the wooden chair, staining the hardwood floor below you even further.
he groans as he presses the pad of his middle finger to your pussy, watching as you suck him in, gliding to the second knuckle with ease “you can take more than that, can’t you baby?” you hum from above him, thighs spreading further in a silent agreement, etching a wicked grin across his lips.
he slides a second finger in with ease, cock jumping in his trousers when he feels the suction of your velvet walls around his thick fingers, clenching around him with need even when he doesn’t make a move.
when he leans in to flick your clit, your thighs clamp around his head, one hand tangling in the hair the crown of his skull, the other gripping the edge of a textbook so harshly you fear the pages will rip.
he groans against your heat, eyelids rolling back in his skull as he makes harsh thrusts in and out with his fingers, alternating between quick sucks and nips at your swollen bud, the weight of his cock in his boxers becoming unbearably heavy with every jut of your hips against his face, precum making his boxers stick to his length in an uncomfortable manner.
“m’so close enzo, baby please” you croon, leaning back in your chair to lock eyes with him, tears brimming at your lash line as you press a palm to your mouth, muffling the sounds that multiply with every passing second.
he doesn’t stop at your confession, the words spurring him on, desperate to swallow your cum and taste it on his tongue for hours to come, cock twitching at just the thought alone.
his hand drives into you with so much force that wet smacking sounds start to ring out, so fast and frequent that if anyone were near they’d surely know what you were up to.
it’s only a couple seconds later that you’re falling apart on his fingers, thighs squeezing around him so tightly that he begins to go lightheaded, surely not helped by the way he desperately laps at your seeping cunt like a man starved, groaning and moaning into your folds until he’s satiated, and your hips are squirming away from his mouth, pussy swollen and sensitive against the cool air of the library when he finally does pull back.
you look down at him through a bleary gaze, flushing at the sight, covered in a mix of sweat, cum and strawberry ice cream, smeared along his jaw and across the tip of his nose, you lick your lips, shaking your head when he meets your eyes “now we’ve both made messes” you mumble, using the cuff of your sweater to wipe some of the liquid from his face, glancing between his legs to where his cock strains against the zipper.
“now i should help you then, right?”
#lorenzo berkshire#lorenzo berkshire smut#slytherin boys#slytherin#slytherin boys smut#harry potter smut#fanfic#fanfic smut#slytherin smut
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part 2 to the miguel fic. its rly terrible and not finished but i need to get this out or ill never finish it
tw: miguel is delusional, mentions of his past, not native spanish so i used spanisdict, none of this is thought out nor proofread and i am so burnt out that none of the plot is comprehensive
“hello?” you mutter. the couch you’ve been draped over feels gross. the room is hot and your skin sticks to the material. leather? maybe faux leather. you push the thoughts away—what you’re more concerned about is where you are.
“y/n! dios mio, okay, good, you’re awake!” miguel rushes in breathlessly from the other room and sits on the floor in front of you. “i always get so… so scared when i use the venom on you. i don’t know what i’d do if you didn’t wake up. i mean, it’s already been two days, if you didn’t wake up soon i’d probably have—“ he rambled before stopping abruptly. “…i’m glad i didn’t hurt you.”
you’re not quite sure how to respond. you try to kick your feet to sit up, but your ankles are stiff. realizing how your skin feels, you realize your feet are tied together with the futuristic cuffs he’d only threatened you with before.
“did you cuff me? what the fuck?”
“i-i didn’t want to! you left me no choice.”
“you have plenty of choice! choose to let me go. i want to go home.”
“i can’t do that. you could get hurt! your dimension could collapse, a villain might kill you, or you might die from a mugging. i can’t let you go.” he’s explained his reasons a million times over. his gaze is pleading for you to understand, to forgive him.
“as opposed to your venom? i think i’d rather take a bullet than that ‘slow and painful death,’ but i’d honestly rather have the venom than spend another year of my life with you.”
you know you shouldn’t have said that. you can practically see his heart shatter at your words. miguel’s eyes widen and he blinks rapidly. tears are threatening to spill from his eyes. he swallows and stands up. a shaky smile pulls itself onto his lips.
“you were just angry. it’s okay. you didn’t mean it. it’s okay. you still love me, right? you—“ his voice breaks. “you love me! you do.” tears prick his eyes and he paces back and forth. “you love me!” he shouts. “say it. say you love me.” he whispers as he suddenly lunges himself towards the couch and gets in front of you on his knees. he sinks his hands onto your thighs, begging you to just please say those three minuscule words.
“miguel, i—“ you used something other than a nickname, it was the first time in a while.
“no—no, no, no, no, no. just say it.” he murmured.
you stay silent.
“you don’t even have to mean it. just say it, okay? …y/n?”
“…okay. sure. i love you.” you decide to appease him because he gets awfully clingy when he’s upset and that’s something you’d rather not deal with. “just tell me where we are.”
miguel’s head shot up. he exhaled in relief.
“we’re in a safe house. nueva york is miles away. it’s-it’s okay, don’t worry, i’ve spent a lot of time and money on this. you’re really gonna like it here. i was planning on moving us out here for a long while, but your little outing was the push i needed.”
“…why do you bother keeping me prisoner? what’s in it for you?” you decide to ask.
miguel’s hopeful smile dropped. “um, i love you. isn’t that enough? i know that the whole ‘permanent house arrest’ is a little too far… but given enough time you’ll be able to earn back my trust. we can go back to nueva york after a while, if you want.”
“is LYLA at least installed in the house?”
“…yes? why?”
“so i have someone to talk to.”
“you have me, cariño.”
“…so i have someone to talk to when you’re not at work.” you correct yourself.
“oh. okay, that’s understandable.” he said absently. he shook his head and flashed a smile. “do you want me to cook you anything?”
“sure.” you reply simply. “i don’t care what.”
“right, you must be starving. it’s okay, i’ll make a little of everything.” he kissed your forehead and stood up, hurrying to what could only be assumed was the kitchen. he hums a song you were able to recognize while he turns the stovetop on and you hear the sound of food cooking. awkwardly, you shamble to a sitting position.
“miguel?”
no reply.
“miguel, can you hear me?”
was he doing that petty bullshit again?
“miggy.” you call out unenthusiastically.
“sí, mi querido?”
“turn the cuffs off.”
“sure thing, amor.” the cuffs on your ankles opened and you stretched uncomfortably.
“i would rather you use my name.”
“it’s just a nickname. would you rather i call you ‘darling’ or ‘dear’ or something?”
“i would rather you call me y/n.”
“you know i can’t do that. you’re my partner. maybe even spouse if we get the chance. i could never just call you y/n!” you can tell he’s smiling from the tone of his voice.
“we aren’t dating.”
“yes we are!” he laughs enthusiastically. “why else do you call me all those cute nicknames? i mean, my favorite’s definitely ‘baby,’ but every time i talk to you you call me some kinda nickname.”
“i called you ‘baby’ when we’d date. and i call you nicknames because you ignore me otherwise.” you correct him this time.
“hm. so we are dating!”
“is that seriously what you got out of this goddamn conversation? no. we aren’t dating.”
“of course, my love. hey, let’s not argue, hm? agree to disagree?”
you sigh in annoyance and stand up from the leather couch. it’s the only leather furniture item, as far as you can tell. the bottom floor seems to be rather big, very well decorated.
some of your favorite flowers are withering in a glass vase. miguel never cut the stems and the water hasn’t been changed in a while.
there’s a large living room, the kitchen, a bathroom, a dining room, and a library/pool table room. on the upper floor, there’s a master bedroom with a balcony that overlooks a lake, a master bathroom, 2 guest bedrooms, and a nondescript closet.
outside is a small flower garden and a lake, as well as a large shed. the entire house is surrounded by trees and there aren’t any obvious paths back to civilization.
“miguel! am i allowed to go outside?”
you look back and see he’s out of the kitchen, walking towards you. when he meets your gaze he paused and you turn back to the window. you feel miguel step closer to you and place his hands lightly on your hips.
“y/n. you know about… my wife. and my daughter. i want another chance with you. i… want you… to want a chance with me.”
…way to completely miss the question.
“get a different me. from some other dimension. one where i’m so terribly lonely that i would fall for everything you say.”
“that’s not funny.”
“it’s hilarious.”
you hear him sigh.
“i love you. i know that you’ll love me back eventually.”
“i did love you, miguel—and quit that petty nickname shit, by the way—i loved you way before you kidnapped me. i don’t know if i can ever think of you as anything other than my captor, at this point.”
“no. don’t say that. you still love me.” he insisted softly. he must be seriously delusional. “it’s been two fucking days of you just… lying there! motionless! i thought i hurt you. i did hurt you. i need to make it up to you—but do you know how scary that was? to see you still and pale on the couch? i can’t do that again. please, just play nice, okay?” his back was tensed and he was blinking back tears again. he must be in a very fragile state, killing his wife and daughter accidentally and then almost killing his partner on purpose.
“fine, we can talk about this later. can i please go outside… baby?” you spit the pet name out like it’s poison. a smile quirks up from under his tear-filled eyes.
“yeah. i planted all of it just for you.” he promised, wiping his eyes and then taking you by the hand and leading you to the backdoor.
—
part 3 coming never probably god i hate everything /hsrs
i am just rly bad at continuing things ok :(
#yandere miguel o’hara x reader#yandere miguel o'hara#x male reader#x dom male reader#miguel o'hara#miguel spiderman#yandere miguel o’hara x gn reader#tw yandere#miguel o’hara x male reader#miguel o’hara x reader#x masc reader#yandere miguel x reader#male reader
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Another Rough Day
gif credit @chrishemsworht
Part Twenty of the Rough Day Series
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 13.7K
Warnings: Angst, violence, canon-typical blood and gore, language, hurt/comfort
A/N: i wanna thank yall for sticking around during my hermit era, in the time ive been gone i am now officially a junior at a university majoring in aerospace and it’s a fuckin nightmare and i hate everything and god help us all literally kill me and I will be posting INCREDIBLY slowly because of that (I’m talkin weeks or months in between updates yall, im sorry I can’t dedicate more time to this but I am going to finish this fic within the next handful of chapters idk maybe 5 or 6 so you shouldn’t have to wait too too long). As a heads up there will be hard angst as we enter the final arc, there will be hurt and it’ll get dark but everything is gonna turn out alright so thanks for sticking with me and continuing to stick with me. im sorry if you dont like it or your expectations were subverted or if this isn’t what you’d hoped it would be after following and waiting around for so long but this was planned a long time ago and it took me a good year or two to recognize that I started writing this fic for me and now I’m going to end it writing for me and I hope yall can respect that
ALSO I asked my best BEST FRIEND in the entire world @cptnbvcks to collaborate with me for this after we both took a very long break from creating and she drew some GORGEOUS artwork for this chapter so it will be posted at the end, everyone please go follow her and say hello
ps brittany girl you’re a fuckin menace i had to use my own two ears and listen to ethan literally say the words “the mandalorian cums, hard” what the fuck was that im actually suing
anyways chapter below the cut lets get serious yall
---
You take two of them down before they even realize they’re being attacked.
Your aim is as swift and steady as if Din were behind your shoulder right now, calmly pointing out which stationary tree to hit next in rapid succession. You’re positioned perfectly at the bottom of the ramp to take full advantage of the ambush, the only thing running through your mind is strategy and the constant calculating of angles and ricochets. The other three troopers are trapped inside the open Crest and you’re right next to a large boulder that you can step behind for cover, but it proves unnecessary as the rumors were apparently true.
They’re… awful.
Not a single blaster is even fired in your direction—you think you see maybe one panicked red shot bounce around in the hull, but that’s it. The troopers fumble for their guns and trip over each other at the unexpected attack—a few scream like children through the modulators, but you’re temporarily deaf to anything besides the screech of your weapon hitting its target and the crumpling of armored bodies.
Later on, if someone were to ask you to describe exactly what happened—who died first, who ran for cover, who cried out for help—you don’t think you’d be able to. You don’t even really feel like a person right now. The entire thing is cold, robotic survival instinct, pure ruthlessness rising in your soul for the first time in your life. It feels sick. Wrong in your bones. Born from preemptive defense in fear of your life, but that doesn’t mean you stop. Not until all of them stop moving.
You empty the entire fucking canister for a handful of stormtroopers, firing plasma and char marks across every square inch of the pristine hull even after the last one drops. Your heart is beating too fast, your finger keeps pulling the trigger multiple times even after the blaster clicks uselessly, completely empty and beeping a warning that it must’ve begun emitting ages ago. Being out of ammo scares you—you suddenly feel vulnerable, even though the very far away logical part of your mind reminds you that they have to all be dead at this point and no physical threat was ever able to graze you.
Regardless, you quickly spin behind the boulder and grab another canister from your belt, giving it a spare check for leaks while the empty one slides and drops to the rocky ground. It’s the first time you’ve ever had to reload this weapon instead of just pointing and shooting, but the mechanics are relatively simple and your brain makes up for your lack of coherent thoughts with lightning fast perception. What's difficult is that your hands are starting to shake now that you’re not aiming, you’re not breathing correctly because you’re not really breathing at all. You can’t tell the difference between the adrenaline-fueled dissociative silence that muffles everything around you or if it really is just that quiet now. No more clatter of armor, no modulated voices or terrified screams. No blasters, no footsteps along the ramp, no birds singing.
You quickly pause to lift your elbow and check the enormous eyes blinking up at you, tiny claws still holding tight to the fabric of your tunic and completely unharmed, and then you force yourself to move. The blaster is held out in front of you while you walk forward and your finger rests on the trigger, begging to be pulled again. It’s suspenseful and terrifying in a different way than before—now it’s less about psyching yourself up for confrontation and more about the fact that any sudden movement could mean your very swift end.
Silence. Silence. You’re numb and raw at the same time, walking up the ramp as your eyes fly everywhere, not even registering the blood or gore, just searching for movement. You don’t know if you feel like a predator or prey, you’re that much more brutal and inhuman because of how fucking terrified you are. You count four stormtroopers in the hull laying crumpled and still on the metal floor, but the one in the far corner only has blood on his shoulder. You quickly swing the blaster around to remedy that, but then—
“P-Please don’t kill me!”
His words remind you of something. Reality, maybe. A world outside yourself and the kid’s survival, the living beings behind the bloody armor your enemies wear.
It’s a miracle your finger stays hovering over the trigger, and you watch him throw the blaster at your feet with a clang and scramble to show you his empty hands. “Please don’t kill me, please don’t kill me—I’m not loyal to the Empire, I don’t want to be here, please, I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die—”
Behind the mask, your expression furrows. Stormtroopers are loyal to the bitter end, what is he saying? They embrace their expendiality, it’s the only thing that makes them any sort of a real threat. Kuiil told you horror stories about them during your childhood, the cloning facilities and the propaganda they’re force fed since infancy. It’s nearly impossible to find one who hasn’t been raised from birth to serve the Empire, no matter how crumbled and trace its remaining authority may be.
No, this is a trap, it has to be. Your expression twists with dread after hearing him speak, readjusting your aim with the blaster and preparing yourself for the years of nightmares that’ll follow—but then he cries out, “Wait!” and then removes his helmet with trembling hands.
You pause, staring down at him in shock.
It’s him, you recognize him immediately. It’s the same face from a hologram puck you bore into your memory, spent multiple days staring at so you’d be able to spot him under any disguise or circumstances. Oshua Ryler. Your quarry, the fifth puck, the one Din was out Maker knows where searching for before this entire mess happened. A stormtrooper? His puck said nothing about the Empire, this doesn’t make any sense. What is he doing here? Stormtroopers don’t have pucks, they don’t have bounties or relatives or loved ones searching for them. They’re brainwashed, replaceable, faceless soldiers in suits of armor and they don’t even have names.
“Please don’t kill me,” he begs again, staring at you with wide eyes even as he cowers. “I have a family, I-I just want to go home, please—”
“Shut up.” You can’t think straight with him crying like that and you’re wasting so much time just standing here trying to process when your brain had to literally shut itself down to even do the things you’ve already done. You have to kill him and escape, you have to—you can’t trust this complication, not with the tiny claws currently digging into your back and reminding you of your purpose, but it was so much easier when he had on a helmet. You hate looking at his face. It’s going to haunt your dreams now, just like the man you stabbed on Corellia.
“Please don’t kill me—please don’t kill me,” he screws his eyes up and breathes over and over instead, and your stomach wrenches with disgust. His posture and expression are so fucking pitiful, you can barely keep your eyes on him through the overwhelming nausea and aversion that climbs up your throat. He’s with the Empire, and they’re looking for the baby. You know what needs to be done. Pull the trigger, just one small movement from you and it’ll be all over. It would be the easiest thing in the world, it would be so easy.
But then instead, you ask, “Why are you a stormtrooper?”
“I’m n-not—I hate the Empire—”
“The Empire is ashes.” You don’t know if you’re yelling or whispering with how much blood is roaring through your ears. “They hold no power anymore. Why are you with them?”
“Because the one thing they have left is money!” The quarry shrills the words at you, ghostly pale to the point of turning green. “Th-They buy troopers now—they opened up a whole new market for the smugglers, there’s a base nearby that’s used for training and…” He stares wide eyed at you and gulps. “C-Conditioning.”
Your brain is already going a trillion lightyears an hour and it doesn’t have the capacity to empathize or understand anything beyond the child’s survival and the relevant details right now. “Were they expecting the baby?”
“W-What?” He squeaks up at you.
“Was the bounty put out on you a trap set by the Empire?” You ask him, lifting your free arm just enough to flash him the tiny child clinging to your side. “He said they’re coming after the baby, so tell me if this was planned from the beginning.”
“Who is ‘he’?” The stormtrooper asks, furrowing his eyebrows and looking around. “What are you talki—”
“Tell me if the bounty on you was a trap to take this baby!” You roar, your blaster shaking as you aim it down at him. Your mind is acutely focused on the tiny claws hanging onto your tunic, the continued safety of the kid and the life or death situation facing him that you were given absolutely no information about. “Now—”
“If it was I didn’t know!” He quickly cries out, pleading with you and clamping his eyes shut in terror under the barrel sight. “I don’t know anything about a b-baby, or a bounty! They just put blasters in our hands and told us to search for a ship and to bring back anyone we find alive, I swear!”
You’re silent for a moment, biting your lip under the mask and caught halfway between discerning and stalling. You could still kill him. You should still kill him, time is ticking down and more troopers could be heading this way any second.
Shit. “Who put the bounty out on you?” You ask sharply. It might not be a completely fair question, but he can’t exactly blame you for not feeling completely fair right now.
“I—I don’t know,” he gasps, clutching his bleeding shoulder. “Could’ve been anyone—my mother, Cyra, o-or my dad, Obediah, or Thia, or Benja, or S—”
“Thia,” you interrupt his rambling, catching the slurred word and repeating it back to him.
“Yes!” Oshua jerks his head up, tears and hope immediately filling his eyes at the sound of her name, “Yes, Thiadura Celi Ryler, that’s my sister!”
Maker, if he’s lying, then he’s fucking brilliant at it. You look towards the cockpit of the ship, biting your lip under the mask. Get to Nevarro, tell Karga and he’ll… something. Din was cut off before he finished. Help? Know what to do? You’re lost, but you have a clear directive and the precious seconds are sliding by. The controls are right up there, two steps to the ladder and less than a minute until you’re rising into the atmosphere.
But then you think back to the terror in Din’s voice. The blistering panic that made him speak faster and with more urgency than you’ve ever heard from him. Get to Nevarro. Tell Karga. Get to Nevarro. Tell Karga.
You look back at the quarry. “How many of you are there?”
“At the base? Around three hundred,” he immediately spills. “Half of us are in the hole right now getting brainwashed, they do it in shifts, but they can be mobilized in a few hours. There were a lot of bodies outside when we were ordered to split off, maybe a third of our squadron, but the rest were still shooting at whatever was—”
“So around a hundred left,” You finish breathlessly, almost wanting him to speak faster and cut to the chase so you can calculate quicker. “How many were dispatched on the search?”
“Uh, there were eight groups of five sent in each major direction,” he informs you, still trembling on the ground. “Told us not to come back until we covered the entire sector.”
Of which, four you’ve already taken care of. In other circumstances, you’d be nauseated at the thought, but right now, it’s just another number to subtract, just more panicked math in Din’s frightening absence. That leaves at least sixty troopers left wherever the base is, minimum, and likely a couple more hours before they’ve combed the sector. If this wasn’t a preconceived trap purposefully set for the kid, then that means reinforcements haven’t arrived yet but likely will soon. And if this is a base meant for training and conditioning, then that also means there’s a chance not all of them will be loyal yet.
You make the decision immediately.
“Okay,” you announce, clicking the blaster’s safety switch and holstering it, sounding lightyears more certain than you feel. “Then you’re going to help me carry out a rescue mission, and I’ll take you back to your sister.”
“You…” He looks uncertain, blinking at your blaster and slowly lowering his hands. “You want to rescue the men?”
Ideally? Sure. Realistically? You don’t say anything in response. Instead, you kick his regulation firearm at your feet further away from the quarry just in case your judgment is flawed, and then turn around and grab one of the bodies behind you.
Your adrenaline is still blaring so fast that you only just barely note the severity of what you’ve just done and what you’re continuing to do. The corpses aren’t real to you right now, they’re inanimate things that you need out of your ship before you can close the doors to it. They are, however, heavy as fuck, but the only other adult here has a wound in his arm from the gun on your hip. Regardless, you have experience with lifting dead weight without a big, strong, capable man to do it for you.
“Help me out here, kid,” you mutter over your shoulder, and in response, you feel his claws dig in and climb up just a little bit until he can peek out in front of you. Thankfully, the burden is suddenly lifted and you can quickly slide the dead troopers down the ramp with ease. It takes hardly any time at all—you just yank and haul and release and all four of them tumble the rest of the way all by themselves.
When you stand back up, Oshua hasn’t moved and he’s looking at you with a pale, queasy expression. Glancing down, you see that your white robe is now stained with streaks and patches of rusty blood. Instead of swallowing back bile at the sight and bolting to the shower to scrub off every last remaining trace, you breeze past it, noting nothing more than a change of color. Dirtying your white, pristine clothing with the consequences of protecting this baby—you’d rather have blood-soaked fabric with an unharmed kid clinging to you than any other combination of those things.
“Can you make it up to the cockpit?” You ask the quarry, kicking his rifle off the ship before closing the ramp and then gesturing up the ladder. Your voice is calm and steady but your hands are beginning to shake again. “I need as much information as possible about the base.” You know that’s where Din is, judging from the wall of blaster screeches that drowned him out through the comm. Logically, you know you could be headed right into a trap, and every instinct inside you wants to find safety, but… you just cannot imagine flying the ship away from this planet without Din onboard. It isn’t fucking happening, you’ve made your choice.
Without waiting for a response, you climb the ladder and plop down in the pilot’s seat of the Crest. While Oshua finds some way to clamber up the steps behind you in bulky stormtrooper armor with one good arm, you hold the kid closer on your lap and begin flight checking. Din will be fucking furious, but the scolding you’ll be sure to get is the least of your worries right now. Following his instructions and going back to Nevarro is just making shit infinitely more dangerous for him, turning what could be a potential rescue mission into an undeniable suicide mission. Even if Karga somehow decides to send a few guild members along to infiltrate the base, it’ll be a war you want to avoid.
Besides. What did you always tell him about running away from him, even when he instructs you to?
It’s just… not really your thing.
---
They’re everywhere.
They crawl like flies out of the base, and for every single body that falls, three more spill from the open doors. Rapid fire plasma beams launch from the end of Din’s blaster, melting white armor with every twitch of his gloved finger. Their aim is terrible, as is to be expected, but the sheer number of them more than makes up for it, as is by design.
Din’s heart pounds with exertion, his breath comes in ragged huffs through the modulator as his helmet identifies and isolates which body is closest to him, which body he needs to bring down next. His blaster is so hot it nearly burns his hand, even through the thick gloves he wears. When he runs out of ammo, he holsters the pistol and swings his rifle from around his shoulder, spinning to catch a handful of troopers behind him in the obliterating blast.
He’s not thinking much. He can’t think, even though your safety and that of his son is currently dangling by a thread. If he focuses on that, he’ll be dead before he can even picture your faces. He just reacts, he maims and kills without a single thought in his mind. Blood splatters, screams and sirens blare as he becomes surrounded by more and more troopers. Din can hear the sound of plasma colliding and ricocheting off his armor; every single one of them is a potential injury he could currently have but might not even be able to feel right now.
His helmet starts beeping rapidly and he turns just enough to see, highlighted in bright red on the screen, two enormous artillery turrets slowly rising up out of the roof of the imperial base. He feels a fierce flash of anger burn in his chest, it’s like a lightning strike to his veins.
Din needs to go.
And yet… if he was another man. If he wasn’t a father, or a husband, if he had no family and no attachments like the creed declared he should, he would go. With just a twitch of his fingers, he could be launching into the sky and retreating as far away from this battlefield as he could reasonably get. He’s never been the type to run from a threat, but this isn’t just a threat. Dozens of troopers are gaining on him, they’re trampling their own dead to get within range. Plasma pings off his shoulder, another one hits his back as they flank from behind. He can feel the heat through the sizzling beskar, he can see them surrounding him on all sides, and the propulsion trigger for his jetpack is right there under his wrist.
Din holds his ground and continues firing, he plants his feet firmly to the dirt with only one thought in his mind.
Run, sweet girl. Run.
---
You type in commands to scan for Din’s signal, quickly locating it through the Crest’s computer onboard. Not far from here, three minutes or less. The ship rumbles to life beneath you, slowly lifting off the rocky ground and rotating in place as it hovers. It’s not on autopilot but you feel like you are, you can barely feel your hands as they move the yoke forward and the Crest takes off in the direction of Din’s blinking frequency.
“Tell me about defenses,” you instruct Oshua, restlessly bouncing your leg while the baby coos.
“Two plasma turrets on top of the base,” the quarry quickly answers. “There’s usually guards stationed around the perimeter, but everyone who’s capable will be outside right now.”
Your mouth twists downwards under the mask. Blasters don’t scare you much from this high up, but Din’s armor doesn’t cover every inch of his body, he’s not completely invincible. Doubt churns in your stomach, but you have to stay focused on one task at a time so you don’t get overwhelmed. The turrets, then. “Are they automatic?”
“Manual,” he corrects with a shake of his head.
“Radar?”
“Old. Only engages above fifty meters.”
You eye your altitude and dip the Crest considerably, beginning to weave through the rocky canyons and dodging crumbling cliffs while you travel. “What about ships?”
“None,” Oshua says, “except for a passenger shuttle used for transport. TIEs are flown in the Vesta sector, this base is remote and used for basic training only.”
“Anything else?” You ask, stomach twisting with the knowledge that barely four questions is all you’ve got. You’re planning to drop into an imperial base to save the man you love and you can’t think of a single other question?
The quarry shrugs, and your heart slams, does somersaults in your chest at the mere notion that you could fucking die here. Today, in two minutes or less, you could die here. The child in your lap looking over the ship’s front panel with a quiet determination in his eyes could die here. Din could already be dead—that signal broadcasts his location to this computer regardless of whether he’s still breathing or not. He could already be gone and you’d be flying the baby right into a trap without knowing any differently.
Whelp, you think while taking a deep breath, some strangely calm existential acceptance beginning to flood your soul. If he isn’t dead, he will be soon if you don’t make it to him on time.
You immediately lift your wrist and speak into the communicator. “Mando?” You have no idea if he can hear you, but you need to try anyway. Your voice is still firm, there’s a strength to it you don’t feel in your chest, but it certainly sounds convincing. “I’m coming to get you. Less than a minute to your location, do everything you can to get outside. If you can’t, I’ll just… uh. Try to figure something else out.”
That’s it. That’s it, improvise until you don’t have to. Even if you’re lacking confidence, you can at least scrounge up some conviction. Your arms gain feeling again while you veer the Crest through the stony terrain, the familiar reverberations under your feet begin to fill your body with a powerful sense of purpose. Your breaths begin to come steady, every falling rock you see through the transparisteel feels like it drops in slow motion, allowing you to evade them easily. It would normally be stupidly dangerous to fly this low with so many unexpected obstacles and hazards narrowly missing the ship, but considering what you’re flying into, a few boulders seems comical.
“Where’s your helmet?” Oshua asks out of nowhere, and for a second, you don’t think you heard him correctly.
But then it strikes you all at once what he’s attempting to imply, and the sheer lunacy of the thought is enough to make you laugh while you clutch the controls. “I’m not a Mandalorian.”
“You wear the armor of one,” he points out… rather fairly, you have to admit. “You cover your face like one. You have a blaster that fires Philithiorium, a rare and expensive gas native to Mandalore’s stratosphere, and you’re a bounty hunter—”
“I’m not a Mandalorian.” Your words are short and cutting, you have a daunting task to focus on and don’t feel like having small talk right now. “I’m not a bounty hunter, either.”
But then again, Karga made you a member of the Guild, didn’t he? He handed you Oshua’s puck and said this one is for you to find, and you are technically part of a Mandalorian clan. All of this seems like it happened without your knowledge. You may be marrying a Mandalorian, you may wear his armor and mother his child and shoot a blaster with his signet branded into it, but war isn’t in your blood. This robe was a costume when you first made it, this armor was a relic that was restored as a hobby. In a sense, it still feels that way. The mask covering your face lended itself to a temporary surge of bravery earlier, but beyond that, the only thing that’s keeping you moving forward now is your family. The man you love that may or may not be alive right now, the baby holding tight to your leg while the ship sways and weaves through the stony landscape.
Your eyes quickly flick down to the child in your lap, both of his three fingered hands clutching onto the stained fabric of your knee without moving a single inch. He’d know, you tell yourself. If his father is gone, he’d already know somehow. Din is still alive, and he’s counting on you.
---
There’s too many for Din to handle.
They swarmed him, overpowered his endless artillery with massive numbers and there’s nothing he can do anymore. The backs of his knees are kicked from behind and he slams down to the ground with a clatter, his sizzling hot blasters are ripped from him, and Din folds his hands calmly behind his back even as one of the stormtroopers barks out, “Binders,” to another one, who disappears quickly in response. In the meantime, a few of them apparently decide to just attempt holding his arms in place, and their measly combined grip is almost enough to make him roll his eyes under the helmet. These imperial soldiers are even more pitiful than they usually are, but his silent resolve to stall to ensure your escape is enough to keep him stationary and compliant for the time being.
Eventually, a few voices call out from beyond the crowd and there’s some movement from the back. Dozens of troopers with their blasters all pointed at him begin to shuffle to make way, careful to keep their barrels aimed at him while a path slowly forms. The crowd of white parts and a stormtrooper with a singular red pauldron on his right shoulder saunters confidently towards Din as he kneels on the ground.
An officer, he assumes. Conveniently missing from the firefight, the scanner inside his helmet would’ve caught the change in color and Din would’ve made sure to kill him first.
“Well now, what do we have here?” Comes his thin metallic voice through the tinny filter. The officer studies him curiously for a few moments, before slowly looking down by his feet, reaching out one cheap, plastic covered foot to gently nudge the body of a dead trooper on the ground with a sigh. “What a shame.”
Coward, he thinks, his lip curling with disgust under the helmet.
“This is an imperial training base,” he turns his attention back to Din to inform him when he doesn’t immediately respond, rather stupidly he might add. “How were you able to find us?”
Silence. The grip on hands held behind his back is even looser now. He just tilts his chin up slightly in defiance, the scanner inside his helmet locating each weapon strapped to the man’s body and highlighting it red. Small text boxes blink into existence under each one with a manufacturer and classification—a BlasTech E-11 rifle, a Merr-Sonn thermal detonator, a Kolvo vibroblade—and Din is severely unimpressed with the quality. The detonator is the only weapon that even catches his eye, and that’s only because the chamber inside that houses the explosive baradium has a release mechanism that’s completely dead. Useless, then. Good to know.
After a long moment of quiet tension where Din refuses to speak and the officer continues to confidently scrutinize him, in some strange sort of silent battle of egos that only one seems to have a genuine interest in, another stormtrooper makes his way to the front, shoving past his fellow soldiers to address the superior in charge.
“Commander, we’ve sent out an alert for an intruder,” he tells him, slightly out of breath from running through the crowd in the lightweight armor. Din wants to roll his eyes, but what he says next makes him snap to immediate attention. “The fleet informed us that Moff Gideon is currently on route.”
Gideon. The last time someone spoke that name, it was a quarry on Coruscant and you just barely managed to stop Din from suffocating the bastard for even saying it aloud before freezing him in carbonite. It would’ve meant half the return on a hunt that lasted nearly a month but he saw red and his hand was crushing his windpipe before he realized what happened. But he’s dead, Din thinks with a clenched jaw and fists tightening behind his back, he watched that TIE fighter explode and slam into the ground, crushing the man inside it. The wreck was unsurvivable, he can’t be alive.
“For what? This Mandalorian?” The trooper in charge scoffs in response, and Din remains completely mute.
“Yes, sir,” the other one confirms. “Orders were to capture him, alive.”
“Hm.” The officer turns his attention back to him, less analyzing and more musing while he tilts his head. “I see,” he eventually says, and he sounds like he’s grinning, before strolling slightly closer as Din stays completely still on his knees. “He must want the beskar. I’m sure it’s worth more than this entire battalion combined.”
All of a sudden, a gloved hand carelessly catches the rim of his helmet and tugs, and Din’s movement is explosive. He launches off the ground, arms easily slipping from the pathetic grip they were being held in and his fist colliding with the side of the officer’s flimsy white helmet, the plastic making a deafening crack against his face.
Multiple hands immediately rush forward to grab him and yank him back down again while the commanding trooper stumbles backwards in shock, and Din amicably drops to his knees and folds his hands behind his back once more like nothing happened at all.
“Binders!” A trooper behind him roars loudly once more, and a few men surrounding him begin trotting away this time.
The officer in red stands a few feet away from him now, grabbing his helmet and twisting it back to its proper position on his head where it was skewed. There’s a shattered hole near his jaw where the material splintered and busted like the cheap piece of banthashit it is, and while he might normally feel pleased with himself for being able to see his skin peeking through, it just fills him with more righteous fury. It’s such a punchable jaw.
After a few awkward moments of silence, the other one clears his throat and continues. “He… has inquired about the location and status of a child that should be accompanying him.”
Din inhales deeply through his nose and grinds his teeth. He wants to snap their necks one by one for even just mentioning his son, but there are just too many, more than even his whistling birds can neutralize. Still, he gave you as much of a head start as physically possible. You should be rising into the atmosphere right now, making the jump into hyperspace towards safety. Karga will know what to do—he’ll protect his family, separate you and the boy so the threat is evenly dispersed instead of collected all in one place, and arm dozens of trained hunters to keep watch over you both individually. It’s the best Din can do, and it’s the only thing keeping his knees planted on the ground and his body completely motionless while they continue speaking.
“We are combing the sector for a ship with as many men as we can afford to lose,” the trooper in red says, but his voice filter is shattered and now sounds like a puny little droid with a broken voice box, “but our numbers are unimpressive. Assistance may be required.”
It’s too late, Din thinks, mouth twitching under the beskar with a satisfied smirk. They’re wasting their time, looking for a ghost. You’re both long gone by now. They’ve got no idea you even exist—
“He also spoke of a girl.”
And then he feels his heart stop in his chest. Every single cell in his body turns to fire, it’s a fucking miracle he doesn’t move a muscle in response. His sweet girl, the one so far removed from the nightmare of the Empire that she made best friends with the orphans of it. How the fuck did he know? He shouldn’t even be breathing, let alone gathering information about you, how did he know?
But then Din thinks back, remembering your makeshift bed on the floor, your panicked eyes and heaving chest as the quarry taunted him with a sick little smile. Who’s this, Mando? She’s just darling, isn’t she? Does Gideon know your crew has a lovely new addition?
“A girl?”
The trooper nods. “Moff Gideon insisted that if the Mandalorian did not have a child with him, then a girl would likely be protecting him instead.”
He’s going to kill them, Din decides. Every single one of these imperial pigs, every single soldier standing right now is a dead fucking man. The blood pumping through his body suddenly turns to acid, deadly black hate poisoning his soul. His heartbeat morphs into a war drum, the armor strapped to his limbs is the barrel of a gun. He’s going to fucking kill them and leave an imperial base full of bodies to greet his old nemesis upon his return, and he’s going to enjoy every single second of it.
Except, then—
“Mando?” The sweetest voice in existence suddenly crackles through the earpiece under his helmet. “I’m coming to get you. Less than a minute to your location, do everything you can to get outside. If you can’t, I’ll just… uh. Figure something else out.”
And, as Din kneels there in surrender, surrounded by a crowd of enemies he thought he destroyed long ago, all the anger—all the fury and defiance and murder surging through his veins—suddenly morphs to fear.
The emotion is so foreign and old to him, it feels like a face he barely recognizes and a name he can’t remember. He’s panicked before. He’s been in situations where a threat has made him blind with rage, he knows what it’s like to look death straight in the eyes and say that he’s busy and to come back another time. This is different. This is ice cold that freezes over beskar.
He can’t speak out loud to warn you—he can’t move his hands to press the button on the back of his helmet and allow him to talk without detection. There’s plasma turrets on the roof of the base, he can see them right now. The helmet’s scanners say they’re manned and engaged, and though he is outside and this is how you retrieved him before whenever he needed a quick escape, he has fifty fucking imperial blasters trained on him and you know absolutely nothing about this threat. You’re flying right into a war zone and if either you or his son dies, he won’t ever be able to forgive himself.
Behind the helmet, his eyes fly to each and every trooper, wondering which blaster will be the one to do it. Which weapon is going to be the one he can’t block in time when you descend, the one that’ll kill him right in front of you. Which turret will be the one to obliterate the Crest with you and his son inside of it.
“Maker, where are those fucking binders—” he hears someone behind him snarl, but the white noise of pure terror roaring through his ears drowns them out. His chest starts heaving against his will, sheer panic begins to blur his vision. For the first time in his life, his armor feels too heavy, his lungs feel like one of these boulders are sitting on them instead of beskar.
All too soon, his helmet starts making a familiar sound that signals quietly in his ear, alerting him of an incoming ship, and the only thing he can physically do is count down the seconds to prepare himself for what is to come.
Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two…
Like lightning, Din breaks the grip of multiple troopers and surges up, tackling the officer in red to the ground. There’s a clatter as they both slam into the rocky floor, but in the ensuing scuffle, he easily snatches the thermal detonator from his side holster and holds it up for everyone to see, before pressing the red button on the front and hearing it begin to beep rapidly.
---
You’re right on time.
The Crest rises up through the rocky cliffs surrounding the base and you spot the turrets you were warned about. Weapons controls are already engaged and you’re too low to be detected by radar—you fire once, twice, and blast both of them to smithereens from behind before they can even rotate around to target you.
Alarms start wailing but the guns are destroyed. It’s not comforting, though; blasters won’t touch you up here, but that doesn’t mean they can’t fire at Din on the ground. Your eyes dart across the sea of white, looking for a flash of silver anywhere, and then you spot him instantly in the chaos.
For some reason, the troopers in his vicinity all seem to be bolting away from him. Their rifles are down, clutched in their hands while they nearly fall over each other to run away as fast as possible, and your heart soars when you spot his jetpack firing up. Din launches into the sky while another trooper is revealed underneath him, seeming to juggle something in his hands and then throw it into the crowd of retreating soldiers, but the sight of the man you love rising into the air while a flurry of blaster shots from the far edges of the imperial structure follow him gives you the confidence to immediately turn the guns down towards the horde of troopers.
“Which ones are in charge?” You ask Oshua breathlessly, who leans forward and points out the transparisteel.
“Red pauldrons—” he barely has time to say it before you aim and fire at one of the troopers wearing red that was closest to Din, the plasma beam launching from the Crest so powerful and devastating that it outright obliterates the surface he’s laying on. Pieces of shattered armor fly and a smoking crater of rubble is all that’s left behind, but your mind is whirling and you’re already onto someone else wearing red at the edges of the complex, and then two more near the doors, and then another—
To their credit, you think the sixty or so soldiers in training seem to figure out that you’re not aiming into the enormous collection of them. If you were, the damage would be catastrophic and spraying everywhere, but you’re precise and meticulous with your shots, and the only ones who are loyal enough to the cause to hold still and raise their blasters at the incoming threat tend to be the ones you need to mow down anyways. The rest of them scatter in all directions, scrambling over each other to escape and then disappearing into the distant boulders surrounding the base—but you notice that not a single one of them runs back inside the safety of its open doors.
The hull dips with the weight of Din dropping in, and relief floods your soul even as you continue raining hell down on the superiors in charge. Any flash of color you see is a target, your eyes lose focus of everything, your vision blurs and turns monochrome as you just search for red.
“Lift up!” You hear Din’s voice roar from the hull. You can hear his rifle unloading through the open door. “Now! We have to go now!”
You press the button to shut the hull door with Din inside and punch it, rising so fast that the shove of gravity makes it difficult to keep your head up. Through the sudden surge of downward force, you just barely manage to raise your incredibly heavy arm to push the button that pressurizes the Crest and ignites the launch boosters, preparing the vessel for space travel. Outside the transparisteel, the gray sky begins darkening as the atmosphere eventually disappears. The ship’s engines roar, burning so much fuel at once that you’re actually accelerating through the climb, you’re boosting through the gradual ease of gravity as the planet’s curvature and glow becomes softer and softer below you.
As soon as the blackness of space begins to fill the windows, the slight subsiding of force allows you to plug in the coordinates for Nevarro with less difficulty, but you’re still moving, still rising, still escaping. You can’t find it within yourself to slow down, but then something catches your attention.
Claws suddenly dig sharp into your thigh, sharp enough to sting and cause you to wince, and you look down to see that the kid has gone incredibly tense. Deadly tense. Your heart is still pounding even though you’re away from danger, you’ve got Din in the hull, everyone is safe, and yet—
It flickers into existence all at once. One second it’s just space, just the endless depths of nothingness spread out for light years in front of you, and within the blink of an eye it’s suddenly there.
A star destroyer.
Your body freezes in horrified awe, having never seen a ship so fucking big in your entire life. It looks like a massive satellite, the size of an enormous asteroid instantly appearing in your vision and dwarfing the vastness of space around it. All the stars you used to dream about are suddenly blotted out within a fraction of a second, terror so immense seizes your soul that you stop thinking. You stop calculating, you stop being yourself for a split second that lasts an entire lifetime.
Before you can move a single muscle, the computer beeps quickly and lurches the Crest into hyperspace.
---
The stars streak across the transparisteel like so many times before. Utter silence nearly deafens you with how abrupt it is after so much noise, but the peace it used to bring does nothing to quell your fear. Everything is the same as it always was, same bursts of light as you hurdle faster than it towards Nevarro, same quiet, same rumbling hum of the ship. But now, everything has changed.
You hear the quarry next to you suddenly inhale and exhale loudly, and it shocks you a little bit, reminds you that there’s a person next to you and another is on your lap. Other people exist outside of the vision of death that just flickered out of existence just as quickly as it appeared. They’re breathing, Oshua is shakily unbuckling his seatbelt, life is continuing on in the quiet cockpit but you can’t seem to move like he is. You can’t seem to breathe like he is. It’s only when the baby slowly maneuvers himself around on your thigh and blinks up at you, placing a tiny hand on your stomach that you finally feel air enter your lungs.
After a moment, you reach down and click open your seatbelt with trembling fingers, scooping the kid up in your arms and slowly attempting to stand. Everything feels wobbly and dreamlike, you have to brace yourself on the headrest to prevent yourself from falling back into the chair again.
“That was…” Ryler mutters, his voice sounding foggy and distant, “uh. A close one.”
You look over at him, recognizing that he’s speaking but not quite able to understand the words right now. Red catches in your vision, and you blink down at the way he’s clutching his left shoulder, the smear of blood darkening the white armor he’s wearing. You blink a few more times at the sight of it, and though it feels like you normally would be sickened at the wound, somehow shocked out of your state of shock, it does nothing to you. When you look back up at his face, his expression seems strangely grateful, even when it’s screwed up in what you know must be excruciating pain. You did that, a quiet voice whispers in your mind, even though the rest of it seems incredibly blank.
Instead of responding, you stumble a few steps over to the ladder, spinning around and hesitating for a moment. You’re severely lacking in coherent thought, but one thing seems to break through. You’re not sure if you have enough coordination to do this safely right now. However, when there’s movement in your peripheral and you look to see Oshua gently offering his right arm to you, seeming to understand you’d like to use both hands for this, you snap back to your senses just the slightest bit and hug the baby tighter to your chest. Carefully, you begin making the slow climb down the ladder with the kid, still trembling with the aftershocks of adrenaline. Your limbs feel extra heavy, but eventually the floor meets your feet.
Din is standing there when you slowly turn around, armor gleaming and still as a statue, but he has his back to you. His helmet is tilted down at the ground, and when you follow his gaze, you’re met with the sight of the bloodstains of dragged bodies that leave dark red streaks all the way up the ramp.
You feel something this time. It’s… cold. A burning, searing cold that creeps into your skin. Like your heart decides to pump nitrogen through your chest instead of warm blood. You did that.
There’s a sudden urge inside of you to speak, to address him and inform him of your presence, tell him everything is okay, everything worked out, but you can’t find it in yourself to say a single word. You can’t find a single word to say. The kid twists as best he can in your clutch, his ears drag against your chest to greet his father, but for some reason, there’s still a strange sense of fear in your bones. It’s enough to wake you up slightly, it’s enough to tell you it’s not over yet. There’s a terror in your heart that hasn’t left since he first called over the comm and begged you to run, a crippling dread that you thought climaxed after seeing that star destroyer appear, but it’s somehow only increased after laying eyes on him like this.
You watch as his helmet turns, slowly meeting the pauldron on his shoulder, and for some reason, you feel yourself harden. Your feet brace against the metal floor like this is another threat you have to face, you let its unyielding metallic strength transfer up through the souls of your boots to your heart in your chest.
But the second you hear cheap white armor clatter as the quarry steps down the ladder behind you, Din bursts into movement. He suddenly spins and storms up to you in one single step while catching your holstered blaster on your hip. It’s out and aimed in the blink of an eye, and it’s a miracle you remember how to speak before he remembers how to kill.
“Mando—” you warn, just in time for the quarry to land on the floor of the hull and turn around to reveal his face.
Din holds there for a second, his helmet locked on Oshua’s features. His gloved fingers twitch wildly on the trigger of your gun held over your shoulder, like he has to remind himself multiple times not to. You hear Oshua’s armor clack while he likely raises one good arm in surrender, but then Din’s helmet moves a fraction of a millimeter to your face and holds there. He just stares down at you, and the air feels heavy, your body feels heavy, the feather light child in your arms feels heavy.
Slowly, he lowers his arm, lets it fall while he continues looking at you from behind the visor. You look back at him, unblinking, unfeeling, and there’s a few seconds that last an utter eternity where nobody moves. Nobody speaks, nothing happens, but then a soft coo comes from your arms before you can finally break eye contact, knowing there are still some things that need to be done.
You eventually turn around and lift your chin to address Oshua.
“You have to go into carbonite,” you inform him quietly. Your voice sounds strange, like it’s coming from outside of yourself. “We’re taking you to Nevarro, and then you’ll be transported to your home planet. When they unfreeze you, your sister will be there to collect you.”
He looks uncertain, one hand still raised while the other hangs uselessly at his side, and you don’t blame him.
But you also don’t feel like saying anymore, not unless he decides he doesn’t want to go in willingly. Normally you might’ve tried to empathize, offer him further reassurance beyond just a couple short sentences, but you don’t. Speaking feels difficult, thinking feels difficult. You’re still in survival mode, not active but reactive. There’s also no reason for you to lie to him about this, and you can see him glance at Din standing silently behind you, who hasn’t moved a muscle.
He eventually nods and you walk him over to the chamber without another word, watch him turn to face you as he backs into the opening while you reach up towards the control panel.
But then there’s a moment. One where you hesitate slightly, one where your vision flashes back to the sight of those bloodstains on the floor, and that burning cold fills you again, so cold it feels completely numb.
“I’m… sorry,” you whisper quietly to him, though your voice sounds so empty. There’s so much emotion that should be there but isn’t, so much regret and pain that should break through but can’t. “I’m sorry I… killed your friends.”
Later, you’ll think about how you felt absolutely nothing saying it. Your heart doesn’t constrict with remorse at the mere words leaving your mouth, guilt doesn’t flood into your soul, pain doesn’t wrack through your bones. You could’ve been saying anything at all and nobody would be able to tell the difference.
He blinks at you, flicking his eyes between yours for a second or two, but then you press the proper button and watch the gas quickly freeze him where he stands. He’ll be conscious the entire time, but Karga will send him to the correct location and you have no doubt that this elemental purgatory is leagues better than where he just escaped from. It’s a benefit being the last quarry to be retrieved—he’ll only have to spend a few days trapped in here before being reunited with his family.
When that’s done and Oshua is a complete statue in front of you, bulky white armor now colored a dull metallic gray and frozen in time, you will yourself to finally turn around to face the enormous mountain of a presence behind you. The baby gently reaches out for him, but Din doesn’t move from where he’s stood. Your blaster is still clutched tightly in his hand, and he isn’t looking at you.
Slowly, you walk over and stop directly in front of him in the middle of the hull, blinking at him while the helmet subtly moves to lock onto your face. The kid begins wiggling in your arms, making soft impatient noises while you both stand in complete silence across from each other.
After a few moments, you hear him flick your blaster’s safety on by his side and then toss it carelessly to the ground. It skids along the floor, light enough to be mostly quiet. Gloves reach out as he carefully takes the kid from you and settles him in the crook of one arm, and then he looks you up and down, still not saying anything.
Your eyes follow his movement, watching his arm slowly reaching out to you, and you think he’s going to cup your jaw, or brush your hair back. Give you some sort of physical reassurance since he hasn’t spoken a single word of it.
Instead, Din suddenly grabs the armor clinging to your chest and starts ripping it off you with one hand. It clangs to the floor so loudly in the silence of hyperspace, the kid’s ears twitch and flutter with each shattering bang. You hold still while he does it, you barely respond except the unavoidable movement your body experiences as the pauldron is yanked from your shoulder and thrown against the ground. The ammo belt is tugged over your head and hurled away, the thigh braces are snatched from your legs and they clang to the floor, and the pearly, opalescent fabric revealed underneath is stained in dead man’s blood, rusty and in such great quantities that it shows up as brown instead of red.
“Are you hurt?”
He sounds… dead. So monotonic that you can’t possibly gauge his emotional state. He doesn’t move. His fists don’t clench, he says every single word like it means the same exact thing as the last. If nothing at all was a person who could speak, they’d use his tone of voice.
“No,” you eventually whisper.
The helmet nods once, and then he spins around and walks away without anything else. Without saying anything, without touching you, or double checking you for injuries in case you were lying. You stand utterly still while Din climbs the ladder with the kid cradled in one arm, and you don’t even flinch when the door to the cockpit slides shut behind him. You have no idea how long you stand there in the splitting silence afterwards, numb and unmoving.
You feel… nothing. Absolutely nothing.
The hard defenses you strapped to yourself today to reconcile the things you had to do are still high and strong, guarding your soul even if he stripped away your physical armor. Self preservation is still animating your body, and your facial expression barely changes. Your first thought, as soon as you remember that you can have one, is that there are things that still need to be done. Tasks to complete.
Alone, you shower the lingering traces of blood off your body, the normally clear and refreshing water running a sickly, toxic brown. Alone, your stomach rolls and suddenly decides to empty itself of the very little that was in it as the scalding drops rain down over you—mostly liquid and bile that easily rinses down the drain. The water is too warm, it beats down on you like blazing hot sand pelting your skin in the desert. You feel like you did those first few months with Din, where the silence was suffocating, where you’d only interact with the baby if he was on a hunt or if you could tell he didn’t know how to calm him when he was fussy. If you were in hyperspace, you usually spent time by yourself in the hull while he lived in the cockpit, and if he decided he needed to be in the hull for whatever reason, then you’d trade places with him. It was… isolating. Lonely by yourself. The quiet used to haunt you before it became your cherished friend, but now it’s a betrayer, a ghost that whispers memories and nightmares in your ears.
When you finally finish rinsing the blood from your skin and get dressed, you see the sheets that used to make up your bed now have fried holes in them from your charred plasma marks, the inside of the hull is covered in them and the trails of dried blood where you dragged the bodies down the ramp. Your armor is still strewn about the hull, the kid’s hovering shield lays dead in the corner. Everything you meticulously cleaned and organized and collected and created, now the scene of a bloodbath. One committed by your hand, your blaster still laying uselessly on the floor forever linked to this atrocity.
You spare a glance towards the ladder, but you don’t want to come face to face with Din yet. You already knew he’d be furious, but… you had hoped that he’d at least…
What? At least what? Comfort you? Coddle you after you deliberately ignored his instructions? What exactly, in the past year or so of learning Din’s inner workings and intricacies, would ever give you the impression that he’d come give you a big hug after you purposefully defied him? You flew the kid directly into an imperial base after being told to protect him, you ignored every order he gave to you in the moments he thought would be his last, and though you did it to save his life, you have a feeling that Din has never valued his life even a fraction of what you do.
The misery stabs at your soul, but your mind is finally beginning to process things logically. He’s alive, the kid is alive, the quarry is secure, and you’re all onboard the safety of this ship hurtling through hyperspace where nobody, not even the Empire, can touch you. You weighed the consequences before making your decision, you did what you had to do. If he wants to be mad, then he can fucking well be mad and you’ll find some way to comfort yourself. At least he’s here being mad, at least he’s alive and safe and breathing and mad, and your rare act of disobedience is to thank for that.
Somewhere in the back of your mind, you realize it’s probably easier than it should be to reconcile the punishment. Right now, you welcome the exclusion, the negativity and sorrow beating itself into your soul. Four innocent people died today on this ship, gunned down under your blaster while they panicked and ran for cover. You keep hearing their screams.
So you start to clean up the hull, needing another task to focus your thoughts on. You work to erase every inch of the evidence of your deeds, make it disappear like the pool of blood Din once cleaned up while you were sleeping and never acknowledged again. You only allow the bloodstains to fuck with your head for a single moment, and then you swallow back the nausea until you’re a blank slate again and sink to your knees with a rag in your hand. After that, your vision stops focusing and it just becomes red contrasting against gunmetal gray, and you work tirelessly to get rid of all remaining traces of it.
Then you start on the blaster marks, you need them gone. After a few informed attempts at mixing cleaning chemicals, you find one concoction that allows you to wipe them away like they’re nothing more than dirt that got tracked in. The Crest’s oxygen recycling system works overdrive to constantly purify the air so you don’t get high or pass out, but your nose still stings. It’s fine, it’s sterile, it burns a bit but it smells sharp and metallic and keeps you hyper focused on the task at hand.
After that’s done, you pick up the charred blankets and ball them up to throw into the trash vent. You don’t feel anything as you do it. You don’t think about how long it took you to collect these over months and months of being stuck on this ship, how comfortable they were when everything else was industrial and rigid, how many nights you spent with Din curled up in their softness while he breathed easy and warm. Sheets are just luxuries, they can afford to be lost.
Next, you gather your armor and wipe it down with the rag, put it away along with your blaster. The stained robe goes in the trash, along with the sheets and the blood soaked cloth you used to clean everything. They’re all ruined, you’ll never be able to make them right again.
The hull is sparkling clean when you decide to take another shower. Nothing on you is dirty except your hands, but you feel filthy. Wrong, cold, numb, cold, stained, cold.
After scrubbing your skin raw under the water and changing clothes again, since you don’t really know what to do with yourself anymore, you slowly climb the ladder to the cockpit, keeping perfectly silent. When you reach the upper platform and come face to face with the closed door, you can just barely hear Din’s whispered voice speaking quietly to the baby beyond it.
You raise your hand for a moment, hovering your knuckles over the metal, but then it eventually falls. Instead, you look over and spot the corner, the same corner Din bunched himself into when he snapped at you for even suggesting going on a hunt with him, blew up at you for the mere notion of something happening like what happened today. You back yourself into it in defeat and slowly sink down on the floor, resting your head against the metal and hugging your knees to your chest since you don’t have a tiny baby to take their place.
You can’t sleep. You don’t even try, it’s pointless. The concept feels foreign the longer you sit here by yourself. You don’t hear Din or the baby anymore, but you feel… so fucking awful that it’s fitting that you don’t knock or go looking. You don’t want to hold that sweet child with hands that were covered in blood just a few hours ago. You killed more people than you can count on your fingers today, and of the ones who had done nothing wrong… They screamed like younglings, ducked for cover and were able to fire off one single useless shot in the mayhem before you closed their eyes forever and left their bodies to rot in armor that wasn’t ever their choice to wear.
You didn’t know they were kidnapped and smuggled and forced into that situation. You couldn’t have known, but that isn’t the point. In this case, knowing doesn’t make one bit of difference.
You also can’t face Din yet, not like this. You don’t want him to see you cowering, shattered with guilt over the decisions you made under pressure. How will you ever get him to forgive you for not listening to him when you can’t even forgive yourself for the result of your choices? Din is a hardened man who grew up in blasterfire and bloodshed, just because you love him doesn’t mean he’s going to magically become someone he isn’t. You’re here letting guilt sink sharp claws into your chest over four dead men when he had a good fifty or more corpses scattered on the battlefield around him. You decided to wear that armor, you decided to fly into an imperial base with the kid on your lap, and this is now your penance. You’ll accept it with your back straight and your chin held high.
Figuratively, of course. Physically, you’re smaller than you’ve ever been. Crumpled up into a ball, taking up as little space as possible, curling up as tight as you can like an animal protecting all your vulnerable parts during a brutal attack.
So, since he isn’t here to comfort you himself, you just try to think about what he would tell you. A long time ago, what would he tell you?
Din would tell you… that you killed someone. Multiple people, this time. He’d also tell you that it doesn’t matter what he tells you, what you could have reasonably foreseen or what you should have done. The end result won’t change. You own this now. You’ll carry their deaths with you.
You take a few deep breaths, self-soothing with the undeniable truth that would be murmured matter of factly from his quiet voice. He wouldn’t argue with you. He wouldn’t deny the decisions you made or the consequences of them. It happened, and at the end of the day, you either learn how to handle that, or you don’t.
And, for the four you did shoot, you were responsible for freeing ten times that amount. You’re responsible for reuniting Oshua Ryler with his family, even if your place in yours is momentarily shunned. You’d rather be out here alone than in there with the kid, wondering where his dad is or if he’s even still alive. You rescued Din and now he gets to be here to shut this door on you, hold his son, and whisper calm reassurances to him. If you listen really hard and imagine, you can pretend they’re for you, too.
That’s it. Focus on them both, alive and well together. Focus on the bodies wearing white armor that were moving, the ones that were bolting away from the imperial training base as fast as they could, free from the torture of imprisonment and conditioning.
Finally, you close your eyes and slip into unconsciousness. It’s not a testament to your exhaustion, but rather just how long you’ve been left to sit here by yourself. Hours, maybe. Time is strange in hyperspace.
You dream of a faceless man ringing bells.
---
When you wake up, a small baby has been placed in your arms, and you’re being dragged into a strong, secure beskar hold on the floor.
“Din,” you suddenly lift your head as soon as you’re conscious and nearly bonk it into solid metal, apologies rising in your throat before you even remember where you are. You did what needed to be done to keep your family alive and together and you’d do it a thousand times again if necessary, but that doesn’t mean you won’t apologize anyways. After the deeds you’ve committed today, regret feels as natural on your lips as speaking your own name. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I know you’re mad at me but I—”
“Shh,” he whispers, running his gloves through your hair. He’s still wearing his helmet, he hasn’t taken anything off yet. “Don’t say anything. Just… stay here, stay right here with me.”
“I tried to save you,” you croak, tears instantly flooding your eyes. You did save him. You saved him and the baby and yourself but you’re so physically and emotionally exhausted that all you can recall is your intent. “I tried. Wasn’t gonna leave you there by yourself. I tried to be brave, like you—y-you wouldn’t have left without me.”
His arms tighten around you, cradling you in such a strong embrace that you burrow into him, you find a place for your head on the hard metal strapped to him and bury yourself there, wishing that you had shovels of dirt being piled on you to justify the death you still feel staining your soul. Your heart is starting to pound now that you’re remembering, your body is starting to shake with tremors of shock now that you’re aware of your own skin again.
“I was so sc-scared, Din, I didn’t—didn’t know what was happening,” you lament through watery eyes, gasping it out in hopes that it’ll relieve the slightest bit of the gut wrenching guilt just mercilessly crushing you. It caught you before you could protect yourself against it, that armor you built around yourself isn’t on when you first wake up. “I-I didn’t want to kill them, but they were already on the ship and y-you said—you said they were coming after the kid s-so I had to, I had to—”
“Stop,” Din whispers, voice so quiet that you can barely hear him.
“I-I cleaned up the blood,” you turn your face against the cold beskar to let all the positives you listed for yourself before scrape across your throat. They don’t sound comforting anymore, they just sound like excuses. “It’s gone, it’s like it never happened, everything is okay now, I got the quarry, I protected the baby, I saved a bunch of people, you’re both safe—”
“Stop,” he chokes out. The modulator cuts off before you can hear his next breath, but you feel it shudder under your body. “St-Stop it, please.”
Your eyes clench shut so tightly you feel like the streaking stars outside are behind them, tears drop down against his pauldron and you press your face tighter to it like it’s a wound, like the pressure will somehow ease the bleeding.
“Listen to me,” he says very quietly, and you instantly brace yourself. The walls you just let down shoot right back up, your body physically tightens in preparation for another pain, another trauma, another scar you’ll carry, and you stop shaking. You stop breathing, even when his hand comes up to ease your face away from his armor.
“You,” he whispers, holding your chin so you’re staring right at him, and your eyes flick fearfully in between his behind the visor, “are a sweet girl.” Din’s leather thumb brushes along your skin, dragging over the tears below your puffy eyes. “Not,” his voice catches, “a Mandalorian.”
Your heart goes cold. Again, everything turns numb. It doesn’t matter that you already said this yourself out loud earlier today. It doesn’t matter that you acknowledged this fact, verbally insisted it more than once to hammer home the truth and felt some sense of comfort in it. For some reason, hearing the words from his mouth is a fucking knife to your chest.
“I taught you how to fight, how to shoot a blaster,” he murmurs, thumb catching every single tear that continues to fall as he speaks. “I taught you everything I know, everything that’s been taught to me. I taught you how to defend yourself, how to protect yourself when you’re in danger. I gave you your blaster, I gave you my armor, I gave you everything I could give you to keep you safe. And when I thought you were ready, I let you loose on Sanctuary II. Do you know why I did that?” The helmet tips forward the slightest bit at the question, probing deep into the most shattered part of your heart. “After all those months of fighting, and shooting, and training, do you know why I told you to run?”
You blink silently at him, a shaky breath quaking through you, and your expression wants to crumple under the reprimand. You’re so fragile right now, taking hit after hit after hit to the softest parts inside you, and you want to just give up. Let the guilt and remorse take you, let it wash you away. But then, instead…
There’s a flicker of something inside you. Something strong, endlessly strong, and it makes you want to revolt against what he’s saying. It replaces the hurt and fear and desperation for comfort with a strange sense of insurgence, like it did earlier when you were hiding behind a boulder, cowering and trembling and not wanting to die. You’re filled with a quiet urge to defend yourself in the face of this, stand up for yourself and refuse to be beaten down any longer.
“Because you needed to know how to escape danger,” he answers himself when you don’t. “You needed to know how to disappear, how to outsmart any pursuer and find safety, even the trained ones. Especially the trained ones. Anything else was meant to be your last resort. Not your choice. Not something you chose.”
“I couldn’t leave you,” you admit to him quietly, voice shaky and tears still coming even as you try to speak up for yourself. The regret you carry has nothing to do with this, and you decide right now that you won’t feel bad for saving him. Your hurt comes from the meaningless things, the ones without any need whatsoever, not the necessary ones, and you tried. You repeated his words to yourself over and over again, told yourself to run, told yourself to get to Nevarro, and it wasn’t going to happen. “I couldn’t do it. It wasn’t a choice.”
“It was,” he tells you. He says it softly, whispers it like it’s the gentlest thing in the world, but the power and inherent distance of the armor strapped to his body finds its way into the words. “And it was the wrong one.”
“What was I supposed to do?” You ask, just a hint of that rebellion swimming to the surface now, rising out of the waves of self doubt, the one that feels like a spine growing in your back, an energy coursing through your veins that makes your heart start to beat faster. Din’s hand slowly drops from your cheek but you don’t care. “Was I supposed to run away and just let you die?”
“Yes.” It’s quick and blunt and completely emotionless. Delivered like a punch to the vulnerable parts of yourself he taught you how to protect, and the utter silence following this single word is comparable to the physical pain you learned to defend against. It jabs hard against everything good and sweet and tender inside of you, and you’re left speechless even as he continues impassively. “That’s exactly what you were supposed to do.”
It takes a second, but then that unfamiliar feeling suddenly surges up, breaches with the power of an entire ocean. Your voices may be nothing more than whispers in the dark, you may be clinging to each other, holding each other with the softest, gentlest love in your hearts, but the strength of your conviction on this would rip metal apart.
“No.” The word holds the might of your entire being, and it stands alone and defiant in the face of everything you fear, everything that threatens you, him, and this child. Never. You’ll die before that happens. “I love you, and there’s nothing in this galaxy that would ever make me do that. Not fear, not danger, not the Empire, nothing. Not even you.”
Din stares at you. His visor reflects your hardened expression back to you, the force in your soul and the purpose in your eyes, and you don’t even realize the gravity of what you just said because like your love for him, gravity is a constant. It’s a fundamental truth cemented into the rules that govern your actions and it stays true no matter where you are, no matter what terror you face, or how scared you become. You have him, you have this little boy in your arms, and if that’s all you have, then you have everything.
After an eternity of this, of feeling his eyes pierce deep into you from behind the helmet while you refuse to wither under his stare, you watch him slowly turn and look down, landing on the sleepy child tucked between you both. He holds there for a long time, before finally whispering, so quiet that the modulator barely picks it up, “It was the wrong choice.”
You stay quiet. It happened. What’s done is done, you can’t change the past. He can scold and reprimand you about this as much as he wants, but you did the right thing and that decision is the only reason he’s even here to be able to do so. This exhausted child was reunited with his father because of your choices, and this exhausted father was reunited with his child. You won’t argue anymore, but it’s a certitude that lives deep in your heart now, builds a home there right alongside the both of them. Din eventually looks up, his eyes find yours again behind the visor, and his hand rises once more to gently cup your jaw.
“I… thought I’d enjoy seeing you in my armor,” Din finally whispers. It’s not what you expected, but his voice sounds… weak. Broken. “You wore mine once before, and it was…” He brushes his thumb along your cheek, and then his head shakes slightly, pushing the thought away. “It wasn’t real. It didn’t fit. It dwarfed you, it made you look out of place, it made everything soft and innocent about you stand out. I liked it because it wasn’t real.”
“Was it… really that bad?” You whisper back, partially to ease the tension just slightly but quickly breaking eye contact with him when you realize it doesn’t land correctly, it just sounds self conscious and sad. You try to find that conviction again, that strength and assurance that propped you up so sturdily before, but… Not a Mandalorian, he’d said. Of course not. Of course not.
“It wasn’t the armor.” Din gently tugs up on your face so that you look at him again. “It was you covered in blood. It was you purposefully putting yourself in danger. You killed multiple armed soldiers of the Empire, you dragged their bodies off the ship. And then you flew into an imperial base, where you killed the officers, too. You…” He shakes his head slowly at you while speaking, and although you can’t see his face, you don’t need to in order to hear the horror in his voice. “You… collected a quarry… in the middle of a massacre, sweet girl.”
Not a Mandalorian.
“You don’t chase down bounties,” he tells you. “You don’t fly into war zones. You don’t kill imperials, you don’t collect quarries, you don’t sacrifice yourself, or our son, to save me. You said you tried to be brave… like me.” His fingers tighten against your cheek, he dips his helmet to make sure you understand. “I’ll never ask you to be brave. I’ll ask you to survive.”
“I’m… sorry,” you finally whisper, and his arm drops from your cheek to join the other in wrapping around you and holding tight. They hug you and squeeze, encasing you and the baby in a beskar shield and staying there for a long time. Long enough for you to tuck your head back into its proper place under his helmet, long enough to start to feel okay with the silence again. It brutalized you the last time you were surrounded by it, it made you feel alone and desolate and barren inside. You greet it warily now, settling into it for an unknown amount of time until it’s forgiven once more.
After a while, Din quietly breaks it.
“How many?” He murmurs to you. You already know exactly what he’s asking, there's no more clarification necessary on his behalf.
You slowly close your eyes and think back to the smoldering craters, the blood soaked ramp, the fear in Oshua Ryler’s eyes as he begged you not to kill him.
“That didn’t deserve it?” You ask, clenching your eyes tighter at the memory. “Four.”
And maybe, maybe six or eight months ago, you would’ve begged for some guidance on how to reconcile that. Hell, maybe a few hours ago, you could’ve used his arms around you exactly like this, his low voice repeating the same things he’s already told you before, over and over again, if only for some semblance of stability when everything feels turbulent and uncertain. You’ll never be able to change it, though. This belongs to you now.
This time, all Din says is, “I’m sorry, too.”
And that covers everything.
The silence envelops you both again, but… there’s something else. Something that still sits deep in your worries, an image that isn’t a scar of what’s happened but a dread of what’s to come. You need to tell him. You don’t feel like saying it, you don’t want to speak it aloud for fear of bringing it into existence, but you need to tell him.
“Din?” You breathe out, and he makes a soft noise in his throat while cuddling you on the floor. “I saw…,” you whisper, every word sitting tight and reluctant in your throat. “Right when we made the jump, I was looking through the window and I-I saw…”
“A star destroyer.” He says it like… like it’s the worst thing in the world and also completely expected at the same time. He says it like he already knew, yet can’t even imagine. You lean every bit of your weight against him since you can’t hold him in return, squish him as best you can against the small corner and curl up even tighter in his arms for comfort.
He takes a deep breath, a shuddery sound you don’t think you’ve ever heard him make before. It holds untold anxiety, unsaid conflict, uncertain action, an unknown path forward.
“I don’t know what to do,” Din eventually whispers to himself, to you, to the baby in your arms. His voice is barely a breath through the modulator, his fingers digging into your skin with how many emotions he’s repressing. “What do I do?”
He sounds so distressed that you automatically feel your soul find the floor—instantly, you become steady and calm and you locate all that rationality that kept you going today. All your worries still twist deep down, all the guilt and the turmoil wrestles with your soft, easy nature until you can only find bits and pieces of it in the most vulnerable places inside you, but if he’s struggling this terribly, then the least you can do is offer some good, true, unwavering faith in times of uncertainty. You’re in hyperspace, everything worked out, and it’s going to stay that way for right now. If he doesn’t know how to talk about it yet, then you trust him enough to wait for him.
“It’ll be okay,” you tell him with a newfound confidence and purpose, carefully easing the baby into one arm so that the other can find its way to the other side of his helmet and pull him closer. Din tucks his head and allows you to brush your lips against the metal, whisper the words soft and steady to him. “We’ll figure it out together.”
---
@cptnbvcks thank you so much for the incredible art!
#the mandalorian#the mandalorian x you#the mandalorian x reader#din djarin#din djarin x you#din djarin x reader#mando x reader#mando x you#reader insert#fanfic#star wars#rough day#no-droids
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Cabin shenanigans
(Bat boys x f!reader)
Summary:
Where a game of “truth or strip” with the bat boys at the cabin, leads to a bit more…
Warnings:
18+, SMUT, oral giving!receiving, shower $ex
Mentions of alcohol
Nudity
Tropes
Poly!bat boys
Friends w benefits
Note:
Aaahhh this is my first time writing smut, so please be kind🙏🏼. I LOVE reading poly bat boys fics, like just being worshipped by all of them😩. Living my fantasy out. Also it’s mostly just reader being absolutely spoiled by them;)
Enjoy x
Y/n
I take a sip of my drink as I lounge on one end of the couch.
“Why don’t we do something more exciting?” Cassian suggest from where he sits in an arm chair across from me.
“Like what Cass?” Rhys asks looking at him questionably.
He’s sitting on the other end of the couch I’m in, also drink in hand.
“Like truth or dare” he suggests.
“That’s so boring” I whine.
“Yeah I agree with y/n. Isn’t there something a bit more…spicier?” Azriel asks from where he’s also sitting in an arm chair.
Me, Cassian and Rhys all raise our eyebrows at him, as he isn’t exactly the one to suggest these kind of things.
“What did you have in mind Az…” Rhys questions him.
“I don’t know…like maybe…dare or…strip?” He suggests.
I choke on my drink, and Cassian is just grinning widely. Of course he is. Rhys is smirking a little.
“Did you say strip?” I ask for confirmation.
“What? Are you a coward y/n?” Cassian asks me, raising his eyebrow.
I throw a pillow at him, and the other two just snicker.
“Fine I’m in” I say, chugging the rest of my drink.
Then I refill it to the top. I’m gonna need a lot of alcohol if I’m gonna be able to not get flustered.
“Okay I start” Cassian says.
“Rhys I dare you to fly around the mountains utterly naked…or strip” he smirks at Rhys.
“I do not wanna get up right now…so I guess I’ll have to lose something” Rhys answers as he puts his glass down.
Then he moves to remove his shirt, leaving him bare chested. He could have removed anything else. Seriously?
My gaze drops to his muscular torso covered in Illyrian tattoos.
“You’re drooling y/n” Cassian says, and I close my mouth that has unintentionally dropped wide open.
“Fuck you Cass” I say, flipping him off.
“It’s alright darling. Nothing you haven’t seen before right?” Rhys asks me and I roll my eyes at him.
Again he chuckles.
“Okay my turn. Cassian I dare you to…make out with Azriel” I say smirking at him.
“Say less” Cassian says as he heads over to Az and grabs his face to smash their lips together.
Azriel tumbles back but Cassian goes all the way in. I see how incredibly hungry the kiss is. Cassian is devouring him.
“Okay that’s good Cass. Looks like Az has had enough” Rhys comments.
I just smile to myself and take another sip of my drink.
As Cassian finally pulls away, Azriel seems very shocked and flustered. But not surprised. Cassian has been obsessed with him for years.
“Y/n let me ask you one” Azriel says, directing his attention to me.
“Alright” I say, putting my glass down.
“I dare you to tell us who you find the most attractive out of the three of us” he finishes.
“That is cruel” I say, narrowing my eyes at him.
“It’s the game. Do it or strip” he shrugs.
I can’t answer this question. Simply because I do not know the answer. I’ve known them since I was a child. And I find all of them equally attractive.
I don’t say anything as I just remove my socks.
All three of the boys give me an annoyed look, and I quirk an eyebrow at them.
“What?” I ask.
They don’t even answer.
“I removed a piece of clothing didn’t I?” I say knowingly before taking a large sip of my drink again.
“Alright sweetheart. Let me ask you another” Rhys says as he looks at me.
“It’s Azriel’s turn” I protest.
“I’ll do it after you” Azriel says, as I curse him for letting Rhys ask me another.
I turn my attention back to Rhys and he gives me a slight smile.
“I dare you to take off your sweater” he smirks knowingly.
“What? That’s not fair. You’re cheating” I whine as the others just grin at me.
“Do it or take off another piece of clothing” Cassian tells me, and I roll my eyes again.
So I decide to just take off my sweater, leaving me in my bra and sweatpants.
Now it’s their time to gawk. All their eyes trail over my chest, and my lace black bra.
“Hey eyes up here dickheads” I snap at them.
They live their gazes up to meet mine and I can’t help but blush a little.
“Alright Az…I dare you to…leave a hickey on Rhys’s neck” I say with a mischievous smile.
Rhys seems every eager to this dare, but Azriel just takes his shirt off instead. Now he is also bare chested. Just great.
——————
I am now only in my underwear and so are the three Illyrian males.
“I say we stop here, before it goes too far” I suggest, as I don’t need them to see me naked.
Cassian has the audacity to whine, and I roll my eyes at him.
“Why don’t we go out in the snow instead?” Rhys suggest and I just look at him weirdly.
“It’s freezing” I say.
Azriel just smiles smugly. Then Cassian grins as well.
They all look at each other, communicating somehow before they turn to me.
“What. You’re scaring me” I question them all.
Then Cassian moves over to me, lifting me up under my arms. Rhys moves forward and grabs a hold of my legs and I immediately protest.
I kick my feet and slap my hands in the air, but they don’t seem to even notice.
Then they walk me outside into the dark cold and throw me into the snow. Azriel following close behind.
“Fuck!” I yell as the ice cold snow hits my skin. I immediately get up to rid myself of it, but I’m already soaked in it. Even my hair.
“You bastards. You’re so dead” I say as I lean down to make a snowball.
As they notice I do this, they start to make their own.
I throw mine right at Rhys’s chest, and he looks at me wickedly. Fuck.
Then I’m bombarded with snowballs hitting me, as I run away screaming.
“No fuck- stop- I’m sorry- don’t- please” I manage to get out in attempts to run away.
I don’t notice Azriel as he wraps his large arms around my middle, lifting me up.
“No…Az…” I warn him, but then Cassian smashes a snowball onto my head.
I let out a moan of pain. That makes them stop what they’re doing immediately.
Then Azriel lets me down, but keeps his hands on my bare stomach.
“I’m not staying out here, it’s fucking freezing” I say as I manage to get out of his grip, and run inside the cabin again.
I hear several footsteps following me inside, as I head into the sauna.
I perch myself on one of the benches on the second step and close my eyes at the heat.
Then I hear a door opening, and immediately smell their intoxicating scents.
They all settle beside, in front, and behind me. Then I open my eyes.
Cassian is at my right side. Rhys is in front of me, his back facing my legs. And Azriel is behind me, his legs spread out beside my frame. Making my upper body stay trapped in between his strong calves.
“Hello princess” Cassian says as he tucks some hair behind my ear.
“Hello Cass” I answer him nonchalantly.
He moves his fingers from my ear, down to my shoulder, and then down my arm, along my sides resting it at my bare thigh.
I close my eyes again, trying to not pay too much attention to the three muscular Illyrians sitting around me.
Suddenly I feel a few fingers in my hair, playing with some strands. Azriel.
I lean my head back to give him more access. And he immediately takes it. He starts to rub at my scalp, massaging it. That earns him another moan from me. But one of relief.
Again all of them freeze in time, like they’ve seen death.
I open my eyes yet again, to find them all staring at me.
Rhys has turned his head around and is gawking at me. I can feel Cassian’s piercing stare from beside me. And Azriel’s gaze I can always feel. But also the fact that his hands have stopped moving.
“What is it? Why’d you stop Az?” I question him, as I turn my head around to look at him.
“You need to stop making those sounds” he says sternly.
“What sounds” I ask genuinely confused.
“Those moans of yours darling. They’re insufferable” Rhys says from in front of me.
I turn my face to him.
“It felt nice. Azriel’s hands” I clarify.
“I bet they felt extremely nice” Cassian says grinning.
I turn to him this time.
“What do you mean Cass?” I ask him innocently.
He starts to move his hand on my thigh, higher, very fucking slow.
“I mean y/n. That if you’re going to make those beautiful sounds. You shouldn’t be surprised by what that does to us” he explains, his gaze darkening with hunger.
As his hand reaches my inner thigh, right where my hip meets the top, I draw in a sharp breath.
I feel something in my stomach heating at his touch.
“What do you mean” I repeat, even though it’s not really a question.
“Look down” he answers with a sly smirk, and I do.
I look right down to his huge boner. Fuck me. He’s hard as steel. From one little moan from me?
I can’t help but gawk at it, my mouth falling open, and my lips parting. I feel my mouth dry out, at the look of it. I can’t even see his cock, but I know it’s big, from his undershorts.
“You gonna take care of that darling?” Rhys asks from, still in front of me, his hand now slowly up my other leg.
Azriel’s hand has started to move down the side of my face, towards my neck.
I choke on my spit.
“I uhm…what…I thought we were just…I should go to bed” I manage to get out, sprinting to my feet.
But as I hit the floor, Rhys wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me down onto his lap. Right onto his own hard erection. What the actual fuck.
My back is in touch with his chest, and my hands go to his thighs as a reaction to steady myself.
Then his nose moves to brush against my neck and ear, and he leans in to whisper lowly.
“Where do you think you’re running off to?”
I don’t even answer him, as his mouth trails over the sensitive skin of my neck.
I let out a moan again. But this time of pleasure.
“Fuck y/n. I said stop doing that” Azriel groans form behind us.
“She can’t help it Az. My mouth feels to good on her skin” Rhys answers him.
Then out of instinct, I turn around, grounding myself on Rhys’s lap, my thighs draping over his own, and my hands curving around his neck.
He lets out a breath of surprise, but places his palms on my hips anyways.
Then I lean down to his mouth, so that they’re brushing against his barely.
“I really should go to bed…” I whisper.
“You’re not going anywhere love” he whispers back, before smashing his lips onto mine.
I smirk as I kiss him roughly back, my hands immediately tangling in the base of his hair.
I roll my hips into his, and he lets out a feral growl.
“Fuck y/n…”
I let out a moan myself, our mouths parting slightly.
But he pushes my hips forward, repeating the action, earning another moan from both of us.
As I keep grinding my hips into his, I throw my head back, my mouth falling open.
He takes that as an opportunity to smash his lips onto my neck, sucking and biting at my skin.
“Fuck Rhys…” I moan slightly as he leaves a love bite on my neck.
“My name sounds so good coming from your lips darling…” he speaks into the skin of my neck, as he continues to leave marks.
As Rhys devours me, my hips still moving into his, I open my eyes to meet Cassian’s gaze.
He’s eyeing me with hunger. His expression says nothing but lust, and he tilts his head to look at me properly.
I keep eye contact with him, as he moves slowly towards me and Rhys. He settles down on the bench beside us, his right coming in touch with both of ours.
With that Rhys withdraws from my neck and turns his head to the side to see Cassian.
“Couldn’t wait could you Cass?” Rhys asks him.
“I want my name to roll of her tongue as well…” he answers keeping his gaze on me.
My arms are still draped around Rhys’s neck, my fingers playing with his hair. Rhys is now rubbing soothing circles on my waist unconsciously.
“Then you’re gonna have to put that mouth to other use Cassian” I speak up, and both their gazes snap to me.
“You sure you’d want that princess?” Cassian quirks an eyebrow at me.
I roll my eyes at him, and move his hand to my thigh. Rhys just smiles knowingly.
“Why don’t you get comfy on Rhys’s lap sweetheart?” Cassian asks me as he moves off the bench.
I do as he says, and turn around again, my back facing Rhys’s chest. Cassian moves to the ground in front of me, kneeling in between me and Rhys’s thighs.
I feel two large hands wrap around my waist, holding me tightly. I lean my head back into Rhys’s neck, and he gives my cheek a loving kiss.
Then I feel Cassian’s hands trail up my legs smoothly. My own hands move to Rhys’s on my waist, clasping them on top of his.
The hands on my legs move further up, tracing the inside of my thighs. I inhale a sharp breath.
Then one of Cassian’s hands traces the outline of my underwear, and I whimper.
“Shh darling…Cassian hasn’t even started yet” Rhys says comfortingly into my ear.
Then Cassian pulls back, tying his hair up in a bun. Cauldron boil me.
My legs instantly spread wider as a response and he grins widely.
“You’re gonna have to remove this pretty little thing” Rhys says again, as he moves a hand to my underwear.
I only lift my hips in response and Rhys drags them right off me and onto the floor.
Cassian’s mouth drops open, and he stares.
“Cauldron you have a beautiful cunt. And it’s already so drenched” he speaks as he moves closer.
His hands land on my thighs, keeping my legs wide apart. And then his tongue latches onto my slick folds.
I throw my head back into a loud moan, as he drags his tongue through them.
“You taste so good…” he growls into my wet cunt, and I grab into Rhys’s hands.
Rhys just kisses my neck in response, leaving even more love marks.
Then Cassian’s tongue slides into me, and I moan again.
He swirls it inside my cunt, lapping and sucking kisses onto it. Then his fingers join in, once circling itself around my clit.
“Cassian…” I moan into the open, my nails digging into his hair.
His tongue continues to play with my drenched cunt, as his finger circles my clit. I feel heat building up in my core.
My hands tangle themselves into Cassian’s hair as he pushes a finger into me.
That makes me push his head further into me, earning me a feral growl from him.
As I keep pushing his face into my dripping cunt, he lets out several vibrating groans.
I feel myself closing around him. Only a few more moments now.
Rhys notices my squirming and decides to place a hand onto my clothed bra. Running his fingers over my peaked nipples, I let out a moan.
Cassian keeps pushing his face further into me, his finger curling and twisting inside me. The other circling my sensitive bud in a rapid motion.
“I can’t hold it-“ I whimper, as my thighs start shaking.
“Soak his face darling…” Rhys motivates me, as Cassian grips harshly onto my thighs.
His fingers dig into the flesh of my skin, surely leaving bruises. But I don’t care.
I don’t care at all, as I let myself go freely. My whole body twitching with pleasure, and my eyes rolling into the back of my head.
“Fuck!” I cry out in pleasure, as I spill onto Cassian’s tongue.
I keep squirting into his mouth, and he takes it all. His fingers pull out of me, drenched in my juices, and he only looks at me with lust, as he sucks his fingers dry. At that he groans.
“Look what a mess you’ve made of him y/n…CassIan’s drenched in your cum” Rhys says into my ear, as my cunt is still pulsating.
“I want…Azriel” I breathe out. Not forgetting the shadowsinger, who’s been awfully quiet the past minutes.
“You want him do you?” Rhys questions me and I nod.
Then as in command, the shadowsinger steps down beside Cassian, who’s still kneeling, and slips off his undershorts.
His swollen, hard cock springs free and I nearly moan at the sight.
I can’t tear my eyes away, and instead just get to my feet, pushing Cassian aside.
I get on my knees in front of Azriel, pinning up my hair with a ribbon. He grabs my chin softly, tilting my head upwards to meet his gaze.
“You look so good on your knees princess. Now be a good girl and suck me off” he grins darkly, and I palm him in my hand.
He only closes his eyes, as I run my hand back and forth over his long, hard shaft.
His head dips back, as he lets out a deep groan. I hear Cassian shifting behind me to settle himself beside Rhys.
I bring my tongue to the tip, as I lick around it. He groans again.
Then I decide to run my tongue over the underside of his long cock, licking a stripe.
I let my nails drag slightly over him as well, before I finally push him inside my mouth. He’s so fucking big. Bigger than both Cassian and Rhys, and they’re massive. Or at least I think they are.
I start to bob my head back and forth, my tongue running over his sensitive skin. His hands move to my hair, and he fists it in his hand.
I grip his muscular thighs, as I push myself further onto him. I take as much of his large cock as I can into my mouth, and using my hand for the rest.
He hits the back of my throat, and I gag. That makes him groan even more.
“Fuck y/n, you’re a pro” Cassian says from behind.
“Come on y/n, you can bring him to his end” Rhys encourages me.
I hollow out my cheeks, as I continue to bob my head back and forth. Azriel helps me by pushing my head forward. I gag over and over again, letting out a few moans myself, as I take him.
He continues to groan, almost like an animal.
I feel his dick twitching inside my mouth and I know he’s close.
“So close y/n…don’t stop” he motivates me and I don’t.
A few tears spill from my eyes, as he finally fills up my mouth.
“Y/n!” He comes with my name rolling off his tongue.
He squirts a handful into me, and I swallow every single drop. When I pull away, a few drops of his cum drips down my lips. I use my thumb to wipe it off, as I suck it into my mouth. All while keeping eye contact with him the whole time.
He groans again.
“The things you do to me y/n…” he says, and I stand up to meet his eyes.
He smiles a loving smile at me, as he gives me a gentle kiss on the lips. Forgetting that I just swallowed his juices.
A moan escapes his mouth, as he tastes himself on my tongue and lips. Then he pulls away, and looks into my eyes.
Cassian and Rhys comes up behind me us, and I feel two pair of hands wrap around me. I now stand in the middle of the three, tall, muscular Illyrians, and I feel tiny.
Rhys moves some hair from my neck, and leans down to whisper in my ear.
“You’re so beautiful darling…”
I close my eyes, leaning into his touch.
Cassian’s hand moves to my bra, as he traces a hand over it.
“Cass…not again…” I nearly moan.
“Relax princess…let us take care of you” he answers.
I let the run their hands over me a couple of times, let them feel their way over my body. Let them kiss and nibble on my skin. But then I push them away. They all give me a confused look.
I walk away from them, heading to the door, and opening it. Then I walk out and head for the bathroom.
I hear them following me, but I don’t stop. As I enter the bathroom, I strip out of my underwear and walk into the large shower.
I turn on the water, and stand under it, letting it fall onto my body. I soak my hair as well, as I run my hands through it.
When I open my eyes again, I am met with three pairs of eyes. Three pairs of hungry, lustful eyes.
The three bat boys are standing in the bathroom, right in front of me, as their eyes roam over my entire body.
I feel myself heat up again at that. But I ignore it, and go back back to standing under the faucet.
I hear some shuffling and footsteps, before all three of them enter the shower with me.
I open my eyes again to look at them. They’re all hovering over me, and I have to look up to meet their eyes. And they’re all naked. Great.
Just don’t look down y/n. Do not look down. But of course I do. My gaze drops to all their lower abdomens, to the three large cocks that hang there. Oh my fucking god.
I stare fit way too long, a breathy moan leaving my mouth at how they’re already hard.
“Eyes up here princess” Cassian says and my eyes shoot back up.
I swallow deeply, as I find all three of them grinning darkly.
Their own eyes drop to my naked body. Over my chest, stomach, thighs, legs and of course my dripping cunt.
I look at all three of them, deciding which one of them I wanna fuck first. Which cock I wanna feel inside me first.
I head for Rhys as I smash my lips onto his. He immediately wraps his arms around me, and I moan as his hard dick comes in contact with my wet cunt.
I bite down on his lips, my hands moving to either side of me, palming both Azriel and Cassian’s dick in my hands. They both let out groans of surprise.
I continue to make out with Rhys as I play with their cocks.
Rhys’s hands move down to my ass, grabbing a handful, and squeezing tightly. I moan into his mouth.
“I wanna fuck you…” he speaks into my mouth.
“Then fuck me…” I respond the same way.
With that he pulls away, and slams me into the shower wall. He moves one hand to his cock, and pushes slowly inside me. My eyes screw shut at the motion, and I let out a deep moan.
“Fuck Rhys…I don’t know I can-“ I start but he cuts me off, by moving his hand over my mouth.
“You can take it darling. I know you can” he encourages me.
And then he pushes himself the last inches inside of me, and I have to grab onto his shoulders not to cry out of pleasure.
“Cauldron boil me…” I moan out as he starts moving inside me.
Azriel and Cassian take a seat on the bench inside the shower, as they only watch.
My eyes move to them, as Rhys continues to thrust inside of me, and they only smirk.
I notice both of their hard, swollen dicks and I ache to touch them. Help them. Satisfy them.
Rhys moves deeper into me, his hands moving to hold my thighs, so he can thrust as deep as possible.
I try to keep my eyes on Azriel and Cassian, but I struggle as Rhys continues to destroy me.
My nails dig into his shoulders, and I feel myself clenching. I’m close.
“Rhys…I’m close” I breathe out, as he continues to thrust deep inside me.
With that he only pushes harder, his thrusts becoming slower and deeper. That means he’s close too.
“Come on darling…come for me” he encourages, and that throws me over the edge.
My walls tighten around his dick, and I spill myself inside him. He follows me right after, as his own juices leak into me.
“Fuck y/n…you feel so good” he moans as he rises out his orgasm.
As my release ends, I slacken in his arms. Already struggling to stand up from the orgasms I’ve already had.
Rhys notices, and moves his arms to my hips, as he pulls himself out of me. Then he raises his head to meet my eyes. He looks at me worried.
“Are you okay?”
I swallow deeply, and take a deep breath.
“Yes, I’m fine” I confirm with a slight smile.
He nods and gives me a slight smile back, before stepping away from me.
As he moves away, I suddenly get a glance of Azriel and Cassian again, still sitting on the bench.
My eyes dip down to their lower abdomens. Their cocks are still so hard and swollen, and I just ache to have them inside me too. But I’m not sure if I can. My legs are already wobbly, and I’m way too overstimulated.
“I…” I hesitate.
Azriel and Cassian’s gazes both soften at my tone and expression. Then Cassian stands up in front of me, the mother hen that he is.
“Princess? Are you tired?” He tilts my chin to look up at him.
I glance over at Rhys and Azriel again, and they both just look at me softly.
“I can take more…” I lie, or half lie. I do want them. I want both Azriel and Cassian before I go to bed. But I’m just so exhausted. My body feels so weak.
“Princess.” Cassian repeats, and I turn my gaze to him.
“It’s okay, if you’re tired, we can go to sleep” he comforts me.
“I do want you…I just” I don’t wanna miss this opportunity.
“It’s okay angel. We don’t wanna exhaust you. We can take it some other time” Azriel speaks up as well.
“But we had a moment…” I slightly argue.
“More moments will come. Believe me when I say that you will have the opportunity for this again” Cassian tells me with a slight grin.
I can’t help but smile at his playfulness.
“Alright then, but you’re still staying with me through the night. I will not let you leave” I demand them.
“As you command” Cassian salutes mockingly, and I can’t help but giggle.
——————
We’ve rinsed off all our sweat and scents, and I’m currently sitting at the edge of the bed, Azriel braiding my hair.
Cassian and Rhys are sitting pressed up against the headboard, ready for cuddle and sleep.
The need and lust isn’t as strong anymore, but my body is still very exhausted and tired.
“And done.” Azriel says, as he ties up my braid.
“Thank you…” I turn around.
He smiles, cups my cheeks, and gives me a loving kiss on the forehead. Then he pulls back, and sits next to the other two Illyrians.
They’re all dressed in pajama pants and cotton t-shirts. I’m wearing a cotton night gown, my hair now freshly braided.
I look down, fiddling with the hem of my gown, as I can’t look at them. I still feel bad for not letting Cassian and Azriel fuck me too. I said I wanted them, and then I just left them hanging. Guilt creeps up my throat.
“Darling, you’re still not feeling bad right?” Rhys asks, but I don’t meet his eyes.
“No I just-“ I cut myself off.
Then I lift my head to look at all of them.
“I’m sorry for blowing you off…” I look at both Cassian and Azriel.
“Princess, how many times do we have to tell you? It’s alright. We don’t care. All we want is for you to feel comfortable and safe” Cassian reassures me.
“But I-“
“No. You don’t get to apologize angel. You did nothing wrong” Azriel hushes me.
I sigh deeply and decide to slowly crawl over to them instead. I move in between Cassian and Rhys, as I tug the covers over my body.
Then I lay my head on Cassian’s shoulder, and I grab his much larger hand, fiddling with it.
I can feel all their gazes on me.
So I look up at Cassian through my eyelashes, and ask innocently.
“What?”
Cassian reaches out a hand to move a loose strand behind my ear, then he cups my cheek.
He leans down and pecks my lips softly. Then he mutters into my mouth.
“Beautiful”
I feel heat creeping up my cheeks. I don’t deserve them.
He pulls away from my mouth, but I can’t tear my eyes away from him. My lips are still parted where his were a few moments ago.
Then I decide to do something very bold. I grab his face in my hands, and smash my lips onto his.
He immediately falls a little back by the sudden action, but naturally his hands move to my waist. I move on top of him, my legs straddling his thighs.
Then I open my mouth to kiss him deeper, my tongue wanting entrance to his.
“Y/n” he pulls away. I quirk an eyebrow at him.
“Let’s go to sleep” he tells me, his hands staying on my waist.
“But I’m giving you what you want?” I look at him confused.
Rhys puts a hand on my thigh. I look to him.
“Y/n. You need to stop trying to please everyone. Take time for yourself. Rest” he tells me.
I turn towards Azriel. He’s looking at me with that same pitying face. I don’t want their pity.
“I don’t need rest. I need to give you what you want. All of you.” I protest, my hand moving for the hem of Cassian’s trousers.
He stops me, placing his own hands on top of mine.
“Y/n. Look at me” he says, and I lift my gaze slowly.
“Let’s sleep. And then we can do this tomorrow”
I sigh. I suppose they’re right. I am quite tired. And I do need sleep.
“On one condition” I argue.
“And what is that?” Azriel asks.
“These” I hint for their shirts.
“Need to go”
They all smile at me, before moving to take them off. The shirts land on the floor, and I can’t help but drool a little over their muscular forms.
“Can we go to sleep now?” Rhys asks me, and I nod.
I move off Cassian, and back between him and Rhys, lying down on the pillow. They all lie down as well, the duvets pulling over us.
I turn my body towards Cassian, and he turns towards me. My leg moves over his, and my arm drapes over his bare chest. The other arm I move over his waist slightly. I snuggle into his neck, inhaling his scent.
He wraps a strong arm around me, pulling me closer, as he kisses the top of my head lovingly.
I feel Rhys shift behind me, as his front suddenly presses into my back. He also moves a hand over my waist, his face nuzzling into my neck.
I can’t see Azriel, but I know he’s lying behind Cassian. Mostly because his hand interlaces with mine on Cassian’s waist, as I snuggle closer.
I close my eyes, letting myself rest, as I finally feel comfortable. I feel safe. I feel loved.
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Sweet Treat
Friends w/ benefits!Mark x GN!Reader
(reader has afab anatomy)
word count : 0.7k
“Wheres my treat?” “Your what?”
You and Mark have been friends for a little over two years, but only friends with benefits for about 6 months. This all came into agreement after a very wine drunk, slightly stoned,bored mentality. You were attractive. Mark was attractive(and big). What’s the worst that could happen you thought and agreed.
You hate to ring your own bell but the dick is AMAZING. Going into this you would’ve never guessed Mark would have the stamina he did. Especially with being on the bigger side than most, he’d manhandle you with ease. Yeah you were gonna keep this going for as long as you possibly could. “If you keep doing that I’ll cum again… I-I can’t anymore.” You were practically shaking,overstimulated,and a sobbing mess as mark ate you out. He was too pussy drunk to care about your pleads to stop, taking in your sweet taste as if it was his last. His fingers quickly replaced his tongue as he looked up at you, smiling as how broken you looked. “Then cum baby, let loose for me.” Thats all you needed to hear for that band to snap, letting out the most erotic moan either of you have ever heard.
You both lied there holding one another as you tried to recover, shaking a little every now and then which definitely earned a small chuckle from Mark. “Dude I’ve never heard you moan like that before, it was pretty hot honestly.” You looked up at him with a joking blank stare not wanting to give him any satisfaction. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Plus I literally just stopped shaking, please give me like an hour before you get horny again.” You let out a small laugh and pat his chest before sitting up a bit and stretching. “I need to start getting ready for this event though. If I’m late there’s no doubt Chenle will kill me.” Standing up and tossing on whoever’s hoodie was at the edge of the bed, you noticed Mark staring at you blankly but not how you did earlier. This boy was truly perplexed.
“Where’s my treat?” “What treat?” Upon first glance you would’ve thought Mark just got told Justin Bieber quit music. He looked down heartbroken and couldn’t believe what he just heard. You like sweet treats and sharing them with people so you keep small bowls of different candies,chocolates, and other similar things in several areas of your home. Since Mark has been over so often, the bowl in your room had ran out and you never refilled it. After you both were done exploring each other you gave him one. Everytime. You basically trained and conditioned him. By accident at that. “Oh sweetie…thats-“ You couldn’t help but laugh and leave the room and come back with a melon candy. “Here you go baby.” Watching his face soften to a small pout was too cute for you to bear. “I thought I didn’t do a good job so you weren’t giving me a treat. Wait do you give other guys one too when they’re done if they do a good job? Did I do a good job? Wait are there othe-.”Before he could finish his list of questions you laughed and shook your head as you moved to sit across from him.
“You just fucked me, came in me, the ate me out until I came 3 times. I think you did more than a good job baby. And no there is no other guys, You have more than enough for me.” You watched as he listened and began to unwrap the candy. “Isn’t this like positive reinforcement like they use on dogs? oh my god you're treating me like a dog.””You know I do question what goes on in your head sometimes. No I’m not treating you like a dog, I just like sharing sweet treats with you.” You looked over at the bowl on your dresser and nodded towards it. “You finished that in a month. You’re here very often.” Mark looked over at the bowl and grew shy, he really was over often but he truly loves being in your presence. He does like you after all but you don’t need to know that right now. His eyes flickered down to your lips, suddenly growing a strong urge to kiss you.
“Let me share my sweet treat then.”
©️slyblonder
(Helloo thank you so much for reading please feel free to like a reblog pleasee I hope you enjoyed it🤍😞 im currently writing this at 1:27am(i wish i was joking) also feel free to request or ask questions in the ask box🤍🤍)
#nct smut#nct dream#nct dream smut#mark lee smut#mark lee#nct drabbles#nct imagines#nct x reader#nct 127#nct 127 smut#nct scenarios#mark smut#mark fluff#slyblonder
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JUST FIVE MORE MINUTES
(DAMONXWITCH!READER):
⚫️summary; You had know Damon & Stefan for over 100 years and have been secretly seeing Damon since he got back to Mystic Falls, You being there already with Stefan just made it easier for him to be near her & to enjoy himself with You. However, him letting his guard down to the only person that he’s ever truly loved? A bit dangerous.
⚠️warnings; smutty, implied smut, horny!Damon because why not, swearing, implied nakedness, blood, etc. 18+ ONLY!!
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The sheet draped over your bare body as Damon drew shapes on your legs. You stirred in your sleep as the after effects of the long night prior came to light. Body sore in the best way possible, his touch so familiar yet still sent shocks through you.
“Damon. Mmm.” You hummed as he mimicked the noise that escaped you.
“Yes Princess?” His signature smirk crawled onto his face as his eyes found their way to yours. You laid there for a moment, taking in the perfectly chiseled features he had been blessed with until a knock interrupted you both. Stefan.
“Hey Y/n! Time to go if you wanna make first period!” He shouted as he made his way back to his room down the hall.
“Got it! Thanks! Shit shit shit. I missed my alarm. I gotta go.” You pulled the sheet to cover yourself as you frantically searched for anything to wear. But, little to your dismay your body was suddenly under Damons once again, air knocked out of your lungs as he kissed your so softly yet with such hunger.
“Da- Hey! I have to go! You heard him i’m gonna miss first period if I don’t hurry.” You struggled to get out as Damon planted kisses down your neck and chest.
“Just five more minutes baby, please. You know I hate begging.” He mumbled against your skin. Your hands found their way into his raven locks as he found his way down your torso.
“Okay enough! I seriously have to go now and if we just end up fucking again, i’ll never leave this bed.” You said a bit harshly. He leaned back holding his head above yours.
“Fucking? You do know I don’t just
fuck you right, Y/n?” He sounded somewhat offended in a sense & you sat up to face him.
“Well isn’t that what we do? Just a couple of friends who have been friends with benefits for over a hundred years?” He scoffed getting up to grab a blood bag from the mini fridge in your room. You had conveniently put it there for him specifically. He sighed as he finished and turned to you. A bit of blood still on his chin.
“Damon? Are you okay?” You already knew the answer but never expected for his response to end the way it did.
“Let’s see Y/n. The girl I have been in love with for over a hundred years thinks I only fuck her for fun and doesn’t notice that I give myself to her entirely. So no, I am not okay.” He sits on the edge of the bed, head hanging low as he somewhat regrets the erratic confession he had just made.
“The girl you’re in love with huh? Well. Does the guy i’m in love with know that there’s no one else i’ve ever laid with and let touch me the way he does? Does he not notice the ways I have even made it easier for him to stay longer? The bite marks on my body from him that I adore every time I look in the mirror the morning after?” Silence fell as he was now sitting up straight, head filling with thoughts he had never had.
“Does he know how passionately I love him while he lays between my legs with his head in my chest? Or how a fire builds when his fingers dance on my skin? How about this. When I lay here and pray to every god out there that he whispers that he loves me back so I can finally call him mine?” He turns to you and goes to say something but before he can, you connect your lips to his.
“I do. Mmm. Of course I love you. God!” He says between breaths. Lips melting into one another as you lay back into the huge comforter.
“Skip class for me? Stay with me longer, I don’t want this to end.” He begged you as he laid on your bare chest. Your hands finding his only to have him interlock your fingers.
“How could I say no to you after what just happened? Of course i’m staying Damon. Forever.” You said as he smiled back up at you, lifting you up into his lap earning a fit of giggles from you. Safe to say you never made it to school and Stefan had a hell of a time learning the news when he got home.
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ENJOYYY!!!
#davinashifts333#shifting realities#damon salvatore x witch reader#tvd damon salvatore#damon salvatore headcanons#damon salvatore#damon x reader#damon salvatore imagine#damon salvatore x oc#damon salvatore x yn#tvd damon#tvd fanfiction#damon salvatore x y/n#damon francesco salvatore#damon salvatore x plus size reader#damon salvatore x reader#the vampire diaries#tvd x reader#tvd gifs#tvd#tvd universe
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happy birthday, keisuke!
synopsis: you celebrate keisuke's day with toman.
warnings: gn!reader, swearing, this is fluffy and gross, yn can't bake for shit (me), not proofread, and that should be it!
ft: baji keisuke x reader, 1.2k
network: @enchantedforest-network
a/n: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE LOML!!!!!!! i set aside my hw and all to get this finished hehe. it's still the 2nd in my area, but ik it's the 3rd elsewhere! i tried to keep it short and simple this time!! i won't get sappy or anything but i truly love baji so much!! happy birthday, kei, hope its a good one. ♡
with the amount of staring you’ve been doing, you must as well be losing your vision, the words on the screen blurred and hazy. you’ve scrolled through the ingredient and instruction list an obscene amount of times, and yet… things seem to always turn out like this.
“i’ve got no fucking clue what i’m doing!” you huff, but the silver haired man besides you simply laughs in reply. “mitsuya, why does my cake look like one of y’all rolled it over with your motorbikes?”
“to be honest,” he starts, snickering as he inspects it, “i have no idea. i mean, you followed the recipe and all didn’t you?”
you nod, sadly staring at another failed attempt. he decides to take a piece and taste it, throwing it into his mouth, chewing with an unreadable expression.
“it’s not like it’s inedible, it’s miles better than your first attempt. it’s just a little dry and crumbly…” mitsuya says, brow furrowing, “alright, honestly, it’s pretty bad.”
you sigh loudly, picking it up and throwing it into the trash, “i told you we should’ve gotten him a cake from the store!” all your attempts have been moot. instead of a fluffy and moist cake, it’s always flat and dry even with mitsuya’s help.
kazutora pops his head into the kitchen at that moment, “i can run really fast if you want me to.”
you shake your head, “...no. don’t… do that.” you point to your forehead, signaling him of the decorations stuck on his.
he shrugs, pulling off a stray streamer, and walking in before he’s jumping up to sit on the counter.“how are we gonna have a birthday party with no cake?”
you frown, whining, “man, i don’t know. mitsuya, what do we do?”
he glances over at the clock, mouth pressed in a line, before he answers. “you could always stick a candle into his soba noodles, we've got tons of those.”
“we are doomed.” you state, sighing as you slump against the counter. “sorry kei…”
even though you know, deep down, that keisuke baji could give less than two shits about a cake, you really wanted to surprise him. you did the same for him on white day, all those years back in highschool when you finally confessed. he accepted it, shitty chocolate and all, as you hid your burnt bandaged fingers behind your back. he never mentioned it, but you assume he knew, when instead of kissing your lips, he dragged your hands out from behind you and kissed your them while your heart almost sprang out of your chest.
“who’s doomed?” you hear a loud yet comforting voice coming from the hallway. you look up to see draken, smiling ear to ear as he holds a cake box.
“draken!” the three of you giddily call in unison and he smiles wider.
mikey isn’t far behind him, peeking out to say, “there’s no way you guys thought we were gonna eat a cake they made right? it’s literally y/n, we would’ve died. i think baji almost did when he ate your confession chocolate.”
“i’m going to ignore that for now.♡︎” you chime, keeping the strained smile on your face.
“you guys are so mean to my protégé.” mitsuya chides, giving you a pat on the back. “anyway, we’re running out of time before he gets home, let’s finish this up.”
you all nod and run off to your places, with you cleaning up the kitchen, and yourself, as best you can before you head out to the living room. the decorations are strung up nicely, courtesy of emma and hina, although takemichi, chifuyu, and pah definitely tried their best. you’re a little nervous, heart fluttering, as the lights dim and everyone crouches in place.
you wait a few moments, eyes adjusting to the now darkened room as you catch a wave from chifuyu right before the front door slams open. equally as loud as the slam shut, baji talks to his mom on the phone.
“yeah ma, i just got home. thanks for hangin’ with me today. huh? oh yeah, i’ve got plans with the guys tonight…” he mutters, phone pressed up against one shoulder as he kicks his shoes off. “unfortunately, its just the guys, said they couldn’t get off work early enough..” he trails off, a solemn expression on his face and you bite back the urge to laugh.
“alright, love you ma, talk to you later.” he says as he hangs up, placing his book bag onto the floor. as he hits the lights, you all pop up out of place.
“happy birthday, baji!” you cheer out in unison. it’s an explosion of streamers, confetti, and colors with some of you using party poppers and some of you using the blowers.
he jumps while breaking out in a shit-eating grin, his pearly canine teeth in full view. his eyes scan the room til they fall onto you, the excitement sparked behind them clear as he immediately makes his way over to you.
“no fuckin’ way,” he laughs, throwing his arms around you, before peppering kisses on your cheeks. “should’ve known you were a liar.”
you hug him back, but pull off slightly, when you suddenly feel the heavy eyes of everyone around you. “o-okay keisuke, that’s enough.”
he presses a final kiss to your forehead before turns and glares, “huh? you guys got a problem with this?”
mikey glares back, “yeah. i do.”
baji releases you, walking over to “square up” with mikey. the two of them bickering about the importance of everyone showing up, but also, a significant other is important too, and besides, “i was about to greet everyone, it’s not my fault you can’t find a date.”
“here we go,” draken sighs, before sliding onto the couch. “emma, can you get me something to drink?”
you shrug, settling in next to kazutora who’s excitedly bringing out the games for the night. the rest of the party goes well, the laughter bouncing off the walls of your shared apartment. it’s a nice little life you’ve got with baji so far. while he studies his ass off in school, your work is good enough to support the both of you. it’s cozy, it’s everything you’ve wanted.
as the night winds down and everyone clears out, you find yourself cleaning up. you tell keisuke not to worry about it, “it’s your night, i’ll finish up here.” but he tsks you away, shoving littered plastic forks and plates into a bag anyway. he finds you in the kitchen later on, washing a few trays that were used to set the food out.
he snakes his arms around your waist, breath tickling your ear as he asks, “so where’s my cake?”
“huh?” you giggle, turning off the sink. “what are you talking about? we ate it all earlier?”
“no, not that one.” he grins, his pretty hair falling over your shoulder. “the one mikey told me you made.”
you freeze, that little shit. “uh… honestly, we threw them away. even with mitsu’s help, i couldn’t make you anythin’ good.”
“well, that’s no good.” he hums for a bit, before spinning you around, a devious smile on his face.
“kei?” you ask, but you’re interrupted by his lips on yours.
“guess i gotta settle for somethin’ even sweeter.” he murmurs, before his hands are cupping your cheeks as he kisses you again and again.
“you’re so fucking cheesy.” you giggle in between kisses, hands naturally coming around his waist. “happy birthday, keisuke.♡︎”
#tokyo revengers x reader#tokyo revengers fluff#baji keisuke x reader#baji keisuke fluff#baji keisuke x yn#baji keisuke x you#tokyo revengers x you#tokyo revengers x yn#pibby writing
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Sensitive - Bakugou x reader
Bakugou is almost 30 and he’s never gotten frisky. Hes been waiting for toy and now he finally gets you. But hes so damn sensitive and can’t last for shit!
Smut, virginity loss, sensitivity, over stimulation, masturbation, foreplay, not proof read - fuck yall, male moaning, handjobs, intercourse, multiple orgasms, creampie, established relationships.
The heavy breathing against your ear after you licked a stripe up his neck was hypnotizing to you. You had only made out with him prior and he was already a hot mess.
A sharp intake of breath was pulled out of him when you put your hand up his shirt. You giggled, “So sensitive Katsuki.” He clicked his tongue, turning his red face away. “Shut the hell up.” He forced through his teeth.
It wasn’t his fault he was so damn sensitive! He’s a virgin, this is all new.
And yeah, it sounds crazy but he is. The man who was voted one sexiest man alive, the number 2 hero has never gotten laid? He was sure if he were to tell the public they’d call bullshit. He was a sex symbol, built like a fucking god. He had several whole pages dedicated to “Dynamite x reader” posts. He knows, he had to read them as a dare during a party once!
Even crazier, he hasn’t even done anything with anyone - not even a quick handjob. Sure, he got desperate once or twice and made out with an irrelevant bitch from a party but he always felt wrong when they reached for his belt. He’d grab their hand and excuse himself.
He’s been waiting for you. The only thing thats lasted him this far is his hand and his love for you. He couldn’t even count the amount of times he’d find himself with his hand stroking his cock with a tab of your photos open. He would imagine that his hand was yours and he would finish all over your chest instead of his own.
Speaking of chest, when did his shirt come off? And his belt? Was it hot in here or was it just him? Your hands felt so fucking good as they touched along his abs. You leaned in for another kiss which he greedily accepted. His breath hitched when you’d touch too low.
You didn’t want him at first- well, you definitely did but you couldn’t. By the time he realized that he wanted to peruse a relationship and his 9th grade crush isn’t so seventh grade anymore, you you were in a committed relationship with some scumbag who did nothing but make you cry.
Then he got too involved with work and couldn’t check on you as often. You practically disappeared for 2 years. But he found you again and you were back to the childhood friends attitude you both originally had.
After another year you guys broke up. You were heartbroken and scared for another relationship for another 3 years. Then you disappeared for another 1 year. Then he found you again after patiently waiting. And for the last 3 years you two have been catching up until eventually he asked you out and you agreed.
It took you a while to involve sexual stuff into the relationship. You were scared, he could wait longer. He’d wait to the end for you.
But todays the day and his heart couldn’t be pounding any louder.
You traced your fingers along his v line, caressing the happy trail on your way. He couldn’t handle your soft touches, he was gonna cum just from that.
“Stop teasing me.” He groaned out through his gritted teeth. You giggled, music to his ears, “Sorry Katsuki, you’re just so pretty.”
You reached for his sweatpants, the already hard bulge catching your eye. “Wait,” He accidentally yelled. You flinched your hand back and looked up wt him. “What-“ “Take off your clothes too.”
It was a bold remark and you loved it. You smiled that smile that makes his knees buckle as you reached to take off your top. He practically drooled at the sight of your bra. “Can I feel them?” You took of the bra, letting the girls free so that he could see everything. You nodded, “Of course, my love.”
He was mesmerized by the look of them. Absolutely everything he imagined and more. Like a dream come true. He couldn’t wait to see your cunt and ass.
He lightly squeezed your chest, too scared of hurting you to go harder. Your face contorted into a look of pleasure. He squeezed harder then began to full on fondle your boobs.
You grabbed his hand as you cursed through a moan. You could feel yourself getting wetter by the moment. His hand slipped down your abdomen and hesitantly hung at your waistband. This isn’t how it was supposed to go!
You grab his hand and force it off you. He flinches like he just accidentally stabbed you. Before he could freak out too much you spoke. “No, I’m taking care of you tonight. Don’t.”
“I want to touch you too though!” He argued. You shook your head, he pouted. “Can you at least take off your pants? I don’t wanna be the only one only in underwear.” You snickered at his request but still pried your shorts off to reveal your black panties with white heart designs.
He didn’t get much time to oogle before he practically jumped out of his skin at the feeling of your fingers gracing his clothed cock. “Off.” You demanded.
He carefully took off his pants, revealing the plain black underwear he wore. His bulge was constricting hard against the fabric. He was fucking big. You could tell just by looking at it through the underwear. It squeezed around him in a way that couldn’t be anything less than painful.
“Stop starin’” He groaned. You gave him an apologetic look before moving your hand to lightly outline the bulge. He breathed sharply through his teeth, his abs twitching ever so slightly.
You felt bad for teasing him, he was being so nice. So you cut to the chance and palmed him hard.
It caught him so off guard that he couldn’t stop the moan that flew out of his mouth. His hand shot up to grab your arm to stable himself. You palmed at him again before trying to move your hand away. He kept it in place, trying to make contact once more to cure the raging heat he felt in his body.
You used the hand to pull down his boxers.
You were right, he was huge. Thick and long with prominent veins running down the sides. An angry red tip that leaked precum like a broken faucet. His balls hung tight, filled to the brim with his seed and desperate to share. You almost came just looking at it. How would that thing comfortably fit inside you?
You swallowed, wrapping your hands around it and doing your first test pump. “Fuccckk” He moaned, tilting his head back. His hips thrusted into your hand to prevent the stillness you obtained. “Move it y/n” Bakugou whined. So you did.
Sloppy noises filled the room as you fisted him up and down. You listened carefully to his directions of “faster” and “harder”. He had to put a hand around his mouth to cover his desperate whines and moans.
You couldn’t stop yourself from beginning to rub your clit at his noises and reactions. He was just so hot.
You were nearly 2 minutes in and he was ready to bust everywhere.
Your hands felt even better than he imagined. Your soft skin wrapped around his cock held him in chokehold. He wouldn’t last much longer.
You could tell he was close by the way he balls constricted, readying his load for you. His body tensed and untensed rapidly. His hips began to thrust up into your hands uncontrollably. His moans became silent and he dove into your mouth to indulge in a sloppy, aggressive kiss.
When he finally came he moaned loud into your mouth, “Nghhhuhnnnmmm” His cum shot up out of his cock in explosive groups. He tensed up so hard you were surprised he didn’t get a charley horse. His heads heated up against the bruising grip he hand on your waist. You winced from the combination of burn and bruise.
When he came down from his high he couldn’t breath steady. He was huffing on what looked like a limited supply of air. His elbow rested over his eyes to hide his look of relief and lust.
His cum was hot, hotter than normal. It burned the skin of your chest like hot wax.
You whispered praises for Katsuki as you reached for his already spent cock again. His whole body jerked when you grabbed him and started to jerk him awake. “What nghh the fufkknn?” He moaned. His nails dug into the skin of you thigh as you removed your panties.
“Did you think we were done?” You said as you climbed into his lap. He wasn’t looking at you so he didn’t see you line his cock up to your entrance. Just from a few strokes he was already rock hard.
You both practically screamed as you sunk yourself down onto his long, girthy cock.
You gave yourself a few seconds to prepare, you had to. You’d die if you didn’t. His hands shot to your hips, revealing his face. He was flushed a deep red, sweat dripping down his forehead. His eyes were blown so wide you had to really focus to see the red you’ve come to adore. You looked down at you with heart eyes, like you were a descendant of a god coming to bless him.
After you adjusted you began to bounce yourself on his cock. He whined and moaned against you with his mouth leaking saliva. “Haaauhhh, fuck, just like that baby nhghh.” He let out a high pitched whine when you squeezed around his girth.
He was hitting all the right spots inside you. You had never been this full before. He pushed himself into your cervix with each trust at this angle. You quickly became dunk off of him too.
Too drunk to notice that he was already prematurely cumming into you with a loud cry. His seed inside you burned at your walls in such a good way. You couldn’t be bothered to listen to his overstimulated pleads begging for a break. Tears started to bundle down his cheek as his mouth hung open. His moans were silent now, painful. The pleasure of your walls was unimaginable. He couldn’t handle it. It was too much.
You moaned loudly against him when you came. It was such an intense orgasm you couldn’t help but to force yourself into his neck and bite him hard enough to draw blood.
You squeezed so hard around Bakugou that he blanked out. Stars filling his vision to match yours. And as soon as you’re done riding out your high, he cums everything he has left into you.
He practically shoves you off of his cock after he’s freed from his painful orgasm. He still twitches and shakes. He mumbled curses under his breath to calm his racing heart.
You lay down under the covers of his bed, dragging him with you down. He snuggles into your neck, hugging you so tight it hurts.
“You’re perfect.” He mumbles through pants. You give a kiss to his swollen bite, “I love you too, Katsuki.”
#bakugou thirst#bakugou headcanons#mha x reader#bakugou imagine#bakugou katsuki#bakugou smut#katsuki x reader#bakugou katsuki x reader#katsuki bakugou x reader#bakugou x reader#bakugou fluff
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Try Again - s.h.
Chapter 1 ǁ King of Hearts
ǁ summary: Steve finally scrapes together enough funds and the courage to leave Hawkins behind so he can join Robin in Chicago. One of the first people she introduces him to is you and the aftermath includes a warning that he has heard before (and won't listen to. Again).
ǁ tags: hurt/comfort, angst (with a happy ending not in this chapter). strangers to friends to lovers. set in 1990 Chicago. hurt and slowly healing!Reader and hopeless romantic!Steve. afab!reader, she/her pronouns used, no y/n. this is the only part in the series from Steve's POV.
‖ word count: 2.5k
ǁ series masterlist ǁ next part (coming soon) ǁ
“Have I mentioned lately that you’re hopeless?”
Steve flopped back onto Robin’s couch with a groan, tossing his forearm over his eyes to hide his embarrassment. “If by lately you mean an hour ago, then yeah.”
From her arm chair beside the couch, a bag of popcorn steadily being shoved into her mouth as she watched on amused, she continued, “Then allow me to once again remind you that you are completely hopeless. And this is not the girl you wanna get your heart broken over next.”
Robin had introduced the two of you for the first time tonight – you being her classmate at community college for the last 2 years and him being the best friend who had finally saved up enough to leave Hawkins and be her roommate. She’d anticipated this happening, because you were cute and he was Steve, but she hadn’t quite expected the severity of his sudden heart eyes and awkward complimenting toward you after just a few short hours.
He lowered his arm so he could prop himself up on his elbows to look her in the eye. “She’s already in a relationship, isn’t she?”
“Nope,” she popped the ‘p’ for effect, another handful of popcorn prepared. “The exact opposite actually.”
The skin between his brows folded over itself as he tilted his head, confused. “What? What does that mean?”
She held up a finger for him to wait, finishing her absurdly large mouthful before swallowing to answer. “I mean that in the entire time I’ve known her, she has never mentioned dating or being in a relationship or talking to anyone, guy or girl. And she might just be private or something but she also fucking hates rom coms and rolls her eyes at couples on campus, so I don’t think it’s just being shy.”
Flopping back down with a groan, he threw his arms out wide and almost knocked his glass off the coffee table. “Who hates rom coms?” He asked, like the idea in and of itself was absurd.
She shrugged, reaching for her drink on the coffee table as a few kernels fell off her lap and onto the ground. “Maybe she’s a nun or something, I don’t know. Just… Don’t even think about it, okay? It’s not gonna happen.”
If only it was that easy.
Having missed his best friend and also being new to town, Steve was then involved in almost every plan Robin made, which more often than not also included you. The two of you had become easy friends – not close by any means but fully capable of joking around and talking whenever Robin was late or off somewhere else.
And while he had tried to take Robin’s advice and not let his budding crush bloom, he still found himself more attracted to you by the day. You were smart and witty with a sharp mouth that sometimes spoke before your brain caught up and left you embarrassed and scrambling to recover. Not to mention cute and kind, with a bright smile and a loud laugh that made his heart thump painfully in his chest.
Also so, so funny – he swore it was easier for you to make him laugh than anyone he had ever known (besides Robin), even when he was in the worst of moods. It was clear as day that humor was the primary aspect of your relationship with his best friend. The two of you ended up sending yourselves into hysterics on a daily basis; digging into jokes and ripping back and forth until you were both rolling around in tears.
But there were definitely things that he noticed that made Robin’s theory seem plausible. How you groaned and complained whenever anyone wanted to watch a romance movie, sometimes even got up and left the room when an action movie had a big couple kissing moment. You never talked about anything related to dating or sex but would listen politely and attentively when someone else brought it up. Whenever one of your mutual friends asked for dating advice from the group, yours was always thoughtful and realistic – sometimes to the point of pessimism.
He couldn’t help but be curious – not even specifically because of his own hidden feelings toward you, but just generally to learn more about you. He’d heard before about people who just had no interest at all in romance or sex, and maybe you were one of those people. Or maybe you just wanted to focus on school or something like that. He didn’t want to judge. He just wanted to know.
His first opportunity to ask came a few weeks later. You, him, and Robin were in a booth at your favored late night diner. Robin had called an Emergency French Fry meeting – so the three of you ordered a variety of fried foods to share across the table and some milkshakes as you both listened to Robin recounting her date.
She was still quite new to the act – having gained enough confidence in this new place to try to ask girls out when she felt safe to – but it still didn’t happen super often. And tonight’s date had gone really, really well for her. Rose was a bit more brave now that she knew Robin also liked girls and had pulled out all the stops; holding her hand as they walked down the boardwalk and putting an arm around her on the Ferris Wheel. Stuff Robin still struggled with the confidence to do and was fucking ecstatic that it was finally happening to her.
You showed nothing but excitement for Robin, listening to her go over the evening in detail and asking thoughtful questions, offering insight when Robin asked for it. Steve mostly listened, only adding comments whenever Robin looked at him for input, spending his time watching and trying to keep up. It had become one of his favorite pastimes – especially when the two of you started to talk so fast and so animated that he could barely make heads or tails of any of it.
It was cute. How you both could talk at the speed of sound and skip over half your sentences and still completely understand what the other was saying. It made him so happy for Robin to have a friend like you, which also made you that much more endearing to him.
He only noticed a slight difference in your demeanor when Robin borderline squealed over the fact that Rose had kissed her at the end of the night with a little bit too much detail. You smiled and nodded and explained again how happy you were for her – but your eyes looked sad. Your smile didn't quite reach them.
When Robin complained about needing to go to the bathroom and departed in a whirlwind, silence fell. Your hands were clasped around the base of your milkshake glass, skin brushing the heavy condensation that had collected on the table as you stared at the melting dessert. There was still that same look in your eye as you appeared to be lost in thought. If he didn’t know any better, it almost looked like you wanted to cry but wouldn’t allow yourself to.
Clearing his throat a bit awkwardly, your eyes blinked back into focus and flicked up to meet his. Took a moment to grit his teeth as he considered if he was really about to stick his foot in his mouth and ask this. Decided to do it anyway. “Feel free to tell me to fuck off but… Do you have a crush on Robin or something?”
You sat straight up in near alarm, eyes widening at him. “No! No, I’m not–” You adjusted nervously in your seat, fingers tightening around your glass for a moment. “No, I don’t.”
Not sure how to take your vehement denial, he added on, “It’s okay if you do, I don’t judge,” you looked about ready to inject again but he kept going. “You just looked kind of sad when she was talking about the end of her date so…”
Your expression fell, eyes closing as you forced a deep breath. “It’s nothing like that, I swear. It’s just…”
And he thought you actually were about to tell him something, anything about the whole thing. Finally shed some light to (hopefully) end his weird preoccupation with the idea. But before you could open your mouth again, Robin was falling back into the booth beside him with a happy sigh and more thoughts on the date she had come up with while in the bathroom. You attempted to give her your full attention again, only every once in a while glancing back over at Steve nervously before flicking back.
You were quick to make your escape that night after Robin declared your meeting adjourned – not giving him a single second to potentially bring the topic up again, to his disappointment. Robin gave him a pointed look as you hurried off that asked ‘what did you do?’ to which he just shrugged and directed her back toward his car to go home.
There were a few other things over the next few weeks that just made him more confused. There were sometimes he could swear you were flirting with him, more than you flirted with your average friend. Ending up in his personal space in a crowd, walking beside him on the sidewalk, turning everything you possibly could into a competition between the two of you, laughing louder at his jokes than was probably warranted. But maybe that was just wishful thinking on his part.
One time he’d been invited over to your apartment (with Robin), taking in everything he could to try to learn more about you. He’d made a teasing comment of, “For someone who doesn’t like romance movies, you sure do have a lot of romance books.” You’d spent the next hour wildly alternating between annoyed, embarrassed, and something that looked like fear.
While teasing was about 75% of your interactions together, he’d learned that teasing about that specific topic wasn’t something that went well with you.
Overall, he learned a lot about you. Not just your strange behavior when it came to the topics of romance, but the little things. Like your usual order at the diner and your favorite drinks. The arcade machine you spent the most time at and your most repeated mixtape from your car, plus your favorite song on it. How your eyes lit up when you saw a dog being walked or a cat lounging in a window. That your closet was mostly monotone and heavy on black, and seeing you wearing a color was a rare day. That you went to school at the community college full time while also working full time but somehow always still had plenty of time to be with your friends or help someone out.
He was surprised to find you noticed things about him too – ordering him a drink to be ready when he showed up after you, asking how something had gone at his new job. Things that people normally wouldn’t have remembered, much less cared about. And you weren’t just asking to be nice. You actually, really wanted to know about his normal day to day.
It really didn’t make it easy for him to pretend he wasn’t in way too deep on his feelings for you.
On a cold August night, after a group of you had spent the night in a pinball competition that the two of you got absurdly competitive about (despite both being painfully average at pinball), he offered to walk you home. He’d driven to the bar-cade with Robin but she was still cheering on her now-girlfriend Rose when you explained you were planning to leave for the night, so he had time to walk you home and be back in time to drive her. Fully having expected you to say no, to brush off that it wasn’t that far and you didn’t want him to have to walk back, he was delightfully surprised when you agreed.
The two of you had started out side by side, your arms wrapped tight to keep in the warmth of your light jacket and his hands tucked into his pockets. Without warning, he said, “Hold on, switch with me,” with a light hand on your shoulder. Noticed how you instinctively stiffened at the small moment of contact, not moving as he pulled away his hand and walked around to be in between you and the street.
“Oh,” was your soft reply, realizing that was why he wanted to switch, why he had touched you. You got moving again, unconsciously inching close enough for your shoulders to brush as your walk continued. It took another minute or two to shake off the unexpected interaction, but then the two of you settled into another easy conversation that led you all the way to your apartment.
Unlocking the door and propping it open, you surprised him by turning and leaning back against the door frame. “Thank you, Steve. For walking me home.”
His smile was easy, a bit crooked as he waved off your thanks. “It’s no problem. Anytime, you know that.”
“Yeah,” you offered softly, almost in a sigh. “Yeah, I do.”
And really, he couldn’t help himself. Here you were, leaning back against your door frame right in front of him, just the two of you, after a really fun night. The warm overhead light of the hallway made it look like you were almost glowing as you smiled at him in a way that gave him butterflies. He glanced down at your lips, struck with how much he wished he could kiss you, before he even realized what he was doing.
Your expression turned pained, almost to the point of a wince as you averted eye contact. Softly, almost a whisper, you begged him, “Please don’t look at me like that.”
Caught red handed, flushing all the way up to his ears, he faked ignorance by asking, “Like what?”
“Like you want to kiss me.”
When your eyes met his, they were sad again. Like you wanted to cry but you wouldn’t allow yourself to. And maybe he was a little bit of a lovesick fool when he whispered, “Would that really be such a bad thing?”
You huffed a humorless laugh, eyes closing as you took another deep breath like you needed to center yourself. When you looked up at him again, it was with a certain self-deprecating humor that you told him, “You, Steve Harrington, are Prince Charming. And I… I would never be your fairytale ending.”
He didn’t even have time to process what you might have meant before you murmured goodnight and shut the door in his face.
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thanks for reading!! please reblog and leave a reaction if you liked it, they make my day <3
#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington hurt/comfort#steve harrington angst#steve harrington series#steve harrington x female reader#steve harrington x fem!reader#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington fanfiction#steve harrington fic#stranger things fanfic#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things fic#myos ideas#myo4harrington
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Pornographs — p.js
park jongseong x male reader
heavy angst
1.4k words
Two freelance pornstars have gotten awfully close with each other over the past year, masked to their audiences but almost unveiled to each other. Jay, who you suddenly realize to be less familiar than you originally thought, gives you a symbolic gift and a promise you wish he truly keeps.
includes: crying and cringy lines (again oops), people getting reallyyyyyyy personal
warning: n/a i think :]]
Your body may not be molded from Ancient Greek statues like your contemporaries in the industry but you know well enough how to manipulate your camera. You know how to position yourself, so that your masked face gently cradles the sunlight and your soft gaze glosses smooth as the silk blanket covering your body.
You assess each of the photos you took and smirk proudly. “Who won’t be salivating over pics like this?” you boast, already seeing the comments flood your mind.
Another photoshoot session has been finished thanks to your friend Jay, who you have been collaborating with for the past year. Your account was only a few months old, with barely a hundred followers watching you strip anonymously. You don’t even know what went into your mind when you decided to meet up with a blank profile but it seems like you hit the jackpot when it turned out to be Jay. It’s not like you were even in the position to be picky about which men you met with back then.
“You good?” you ask Jay as he folds over the hotel’s bedspread that you accidentally stripped off while taking photos a while ago.
He nods, sighing as he lies on the king size bed you share. “Don’t your fans get mad I’m the only other guy in your posts for the past few months?” he curiously asks.
“I mean, they already think we’re dating,” you pause in indignation, “why have you been meeting me exclusively then? For sure, you’ve been receiving offers too left and right.”
“Sorry for them but I have already signed an exclusivity contract with this world-renowned photographer. With his impeccable tastes, I fear nobody can compare,” Jay teases.
You cackle. You would have long forgotten this life of being a social media pornstar had it not been for him. In between the men who only saw you as some toy being passed around, here is Jay who stays, sharing these chaste moments with you, no matter how short it lasts.
Jay grabs the camera from your lap and murmurs to himself, tracing his fingers along the scratches on its plastic body. He meets your eyes with an indiscernible emotion. “You’ve had this camera for so long, don’t you want to replace it?”
“I don’t think I’ve earned enough with this career yet,” you lament, “you don’t know how many meals I skipped to buy this.”
“Isn’t it a great investment though? Like you’re really great with the camera,” Jay explains, “and you can definitely do more than just artistic nudes, like legit filmmaking. Imagine the two of us, co-directing, that type of shit.”
“If I had the money, I wouldn’t be posting nudes of myself online, Jay,” you deadpan. “Why are you even asking? You're gonna sell me a secondhand camera?”
“Nah, just asking. We should be going to college but we’re here… filming porn.”
Jay carefully places your camera on the bedside table and reaches for his carelessly placed backpack on the floor. From it he pulls out a large red box, your gaze immediately drifting towards it.
“Okay, don’t be surprised. I may or may not have something to give you,” Jay smiles.
Your eyes widen as you realize that Jay has bought a new camera, the receipt taped to it rubbing its expensive price to your face.
You howl. “What the fuck? Aren’t we earning the same… You're way richer than I am! You even booked this hotel-”
“Just take this,” he calmly says, placing the bright red box on top of your lap. He then sits beside you, caressing your thigh.
“Why are you even giving me this? What do you need from me? Do I owe you something?” you shyly ask, mesmerized by the details of the new camera Jay just bought. Newly released, might actually be the most expensive model in the market right now. You can’t think of a reason to own something of this kind when all that you’ve taken are these tasteless nude photos.
“Think of it as a birthday gift or something,” Jay hesitantly replies.
“It’s not even my birthday yet,” you whisper, attempting to stop yourself from bursting into tears. You just didn’t expect this generosity from the only person who you’ve let into this taboo life of yours.
“This might be the best gift I’ve ever gotten,” you smile in between your teary eyes. “I don’t know how to thank you.”
“I’m not asking for anything in return, just…”
Jay is at a loss for words. There’s something wrong, you notice, a lilt in his voice.
“It’s not a birthday gift, is it?” you worriedly ask, your hand over Jay’s.
Jay looks away. “I don’t think… This might be the last time we’re seeing each other.”
Now you’re at a loss for words. Whatever feeling was boiling within the depths of your heart, you never really knew who Jay was. Both of you were about to enter college, both with a fondness for film and photography… and it ends there. You mask yourselves for your audience and even in this inviting bed, there are a lot of things the both of you are unaware of. Seems like this chapter is closing for Jay.
“But we can still see each other-”
Jay closes his eyes, in fear of the pain he cannot avoid. “Just… don’t forget me. Use this camera while I’m gone. Then we’ll meet again, and I’ll be looking at everything. We’ll cross paths, I promise.”
You don’t understand why you’re so confused. You don’t understand why you want to curse the world for not giving you the chance to know Jay in a different context. Your other hand starts to grip on the bedspread, wrinkling it again. You want to know where Jay’s coming from, why he’s even doing this. Had you met him under another circumstance, you wouldn’t be facing this farewell now. You wouldn’t be mulling over where the line is drawn, until where can you walk with him, and until when can the both of you ignore the lines that are slowly being erased.
“But you don’t have to-”
Jay pulls you in as you sob, embracing you tightly. And if his lips meet yours for the first time you’ve been together, nobody says anything about it. Light and sweet, but you taste the bitterness in the salt in your tears. Jay is the first man you’ve kissed. Regret shames you that you only got the chance to reveal each other’s hearts in your final meeting.
“Jay,” you beg, “please.”
You caress his thigh, attempting to touch beneath his shorts. He pulls it back and holds it tightly.
“Let’s not do things we’ll regret,” he whispers, cradling your face with his hand, attempting to wipe away the tears running down your cheeks. “I’ll come back, I’ll make sure of that. And I’ll take you out on a date like you always said you wanted to do.”
This is no longer a simple film of them, a scandal for others to lust over, something to make profit of. No scripts and no acting at play. You know that there is a man who flirts better, kisses better, fucks better, but you don’t want to let him go. You know Jay in an unfamiliar manner, and your relationship grew with him in a way more unknown way. In a different world, you would have loved to love a man like Jay.
You can only whisper, “I hope you’re happy wherever you are, Jay.”
He weakly grins as he kisses you again. “Jongseong. My name’s Jongseong.”
The sun has set, hunger and thirst long forgotten. The both of you soon fall asleep in tears, and you weren’t surprised to find the spot next to you cold the morning after. His traces are nowhere to be found, the only remnants being the photos and videos of a masked man in your camera. His phone number cannot be reached, only his messages of pleasantries remaining. And on top of the bedside table is the new camera gifted by Jay… by Jongseong.
author’s note: here's ur jay fic @ldrei 🤗
i actually got a reason ready for why jay did what he did, just gotta handle my own college shit rn before i flesh it out i apologize ✨
— moriwood.
#enhypen x male reader#kpop x male reader#kpop x reader#kpop fanfic#kpop fanfiction#enhypen x reader#park jongseong x reader#park jongseong x male reader#angst#heavy angst#flash fiction#jay x male reader#jay x reader#mori fics
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upbeatmonker
Horny Indians
batingmaster
My Personal Spank Bank