#//Wanting to reach for and mess with it; only to find it gone and Remember why | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pedrito-friskito · 1 year

Note

hey kay bb!! hope you're doing well 💖

mando has been on the brain lately so i'm requesting fluffy smut with him pls 🥺😫 (the yearning is *extra* today)

niiiiiiiiik my darling my dear hope you are also well 💗

ok…this got away from me. I blinked and suddenly a plot! exposition! SMUT! (multiple scenes at that) all the things. I’m a slut for Din Djarin and it really jumped out on this one.

(smut below the cut, a full plot, the helmet comes off, a bit of inexperienced!din, reader is kind of a bad ass, descriptions of bodies, unprotected p-in-v sex - wrap ur shit even if ur in space ok)

sleepover saturday

uncharted territory

(word count 9.1k - it REALLY got away from me okay)

gif by @aceofwhump

Then you are a Mandalorian no more.

Din Djarin aches in a way he has never felt before, much more powerful than any injury he could ever sustain. His Creed, demolished. His son, gone. His life, upended. As he staggers out of the Covert, trying to think of where to go next, he cannot shake the feeling of lost that settles around his shoulders like a cloak.

Maybe coming to Glavis was a mistake; maybe he should have stayed back on Nevarro, kept taking jobs from Karga until he finally had enough credits to take the old man’s advice, get himself a camtono full of spice and disappear into the Twi’lek healing baths until he forgot the whole thing.

The truth of it? He knew he could never forget. There wasn’t enough spice in the galaxy to help him forget it all. It wasn’t possible. And the larger part was that Din didn’t want to forget.

His leg aches as he walks. The bacta Paz had sprayed him down with had helped some, but the ache runs deep, and the drills the Armourer had forced him to run with the Darksaber had only made matters worse. He should find a place to lie down, to hide for the night before he decides what he plans to do next, where he plans to go.

Where will he go?

You are a Mandalorian no more.

The echo of the words make his head split, and for a moment, he has half a mind to wrench the helmet off, to launch it off the ring, let space swallow the beskar whole. But he stops himself; it feels as though his armour is all he has left.

His armour, and the Darksaber. The right to the throne of Mandalore.

Maker, he can’t think straight. The ache only worsens, his limp more prominent, and it gets to the point where he can take no more. He falls onto the nearest crate, his injured leg stuck straight out in front of him. His body feels twice as heavy, his head even more so, and he tips it back against the wall to lighten the load. He’ll rest just a moment, he’ll just shut his eyes for one—

“Mando?”

Din pulls his blaster from his holster as his eyes shoot open. There’s the sound of shuffled steps, something metallic hitting the floor, a murmured dank farrik! He hits a button on his vambrace, turns off the thermal setting on his visor.

“Sweets?”

You look exactly the same as he remembers. It’s been ages, but he could never forget your face. He knows what’s underneath your clothes, too, and the memory speeds to the surface of his mind faster than a pod-racer.

Before he had an in with Peli on Tatooine, the Razor Crest routinely parked and tuned up in Hangar 3-5, he had you. You were well-known within the Guild, had more than a few contracts with different gangs and hunters in the galaxy. If something on a ship broke, you were the one to fix it, and you had enough heavily-armed thugs on your side to make anyone think twice about trying to mess with you.

Some called you the Mechanic, simple and descriptive. Others, those you let a little closer, knew you as Sweets, a moniker earned by your penchant for candies and treats. You’d let your favoured clients off easy if they were short a few credits, but had something sweet from the far reaches of the galaxy to offer in lieu of the missing cash.

Din knew he was one of your favoured clients, perhaps your favourite. Or, had been. You’d crowed endlessly about the Crest, desperate to get your hands on it any time he hauled it in for service, whether it actually needed it or not. Sometimes he genuinely needed something fixed, some times he’d found some candy or sweet in a far off corner of the galaxy that he’d brought back just for you.

Other times, he just wanted to see you.

You were sweet in other ways, too. He knew first-hand. And he knew he was the only client you let into your bed. He’d been drawn to you the first time you’d been introduced — a common contact between you and Din sent him your way when the Crest was in serious need of a tune-up, and you were the closest mechanic he could get to without doing more damage to the ship.

Your knowledge astounded him, to start. You were barely into a diagnostic and you knew exactly what needed to be fixed, what parts you had and didn’t, how many credits it was going to cost him. And you hadn’t even set foot on the ship yet. Your competency drove him wild, only spurred on when he brought you aboard the Crest to give the interior a once-over, eager to see if he’d kept everything original, or if you had any modifications to offer that he might be interested in. Din followed you around the ship silently, answering whatever questions you had, mostly just watching you work. It was intriguing beyond belief.

“That’s not much of a bed,” you’d commented, cocking your head to the side when you hit the button that opened the bunk. “When’s the last time you had a new mattress?”

He just shrugged.

“One thing you should know,” you said over your shoulder, descending the Crest’s ramp, heading back towards the entrance to your shop. “I don’t use droids.”

Din nearly fell over. “That’s not a problem.”

“Good,” you replied, tapping at your data pad, your brow scrunching. “It’ll take longer than your usual hangar; I do everything myself.”

“I’m happy to wait,” he said, dipping his helmet, thankful it was hiding the way he was raking his eyes over you. I don’t use droids. Had someone made you in a lab somewhere, on some backwater planet, just for him? “I know she’s in good hands.”

The grin you’d offered him was sweeter than anything he’d ever seen, and you shooed him out a moment later, muttering something about getting back to work.

When he returned three days later to retrieve his ship, he almost didn’t recognize it. You’d repainted most of the outside panels, replaced all the ones that were missing, and the engines were so shiny Din could see his helmet reflected in them. Inside the Crest was another story; you’d outfitted him with a carbonite cell system, top of the line and primed for use. That meant no more mouthy bounties, no more wasting durasteel cuffs and gags when he could just hit a button and have a quiet ride back to the Guild.

And in the bunk, a new mattress, complete with a pillow, and bolted on the wall, a mount for his helmet.

“You don’t sleep with that thing on, do you?”

“The carbonite system,” he nearly sputtered, rubbing a gloved hand over the back of his neck. “I don’t have the credits, I didn’t—”

You poked the toe of his boot with your own. “Call it a gift, Mando. Let’s just say I shouldn’t have had the thing hanging around to begin with.”

“Is that gonna cause me any problems?”

“Nope,” you replied, popping the p. “Wiped all the identification numbers from the system. No one will know where it came from. Except you.”

He stared at you a long moment. “Except me.”

He was sure to pay you in full, plus the candied flowers he’d found at one of the vendors in the markets. You’d smiled again at that, and while Din committed the sight to memory, he also promised himself that he wouldn’t let it be long before he saw your smile again.

And he kept that promise. The next time he landed the Crest in your hangar, it wasn’t because he needed a tune-up or new parts. He’d struck gold at a black market on Coruscant; his bounty had lead him into the belly of a sweet shop, and after the Gungan had been dealt with, Din did some hunting of his own. He took as many boxes as he could carry, trying to take one of each flavour, a few extra of the ones he’d seen on the shelf in your shop.

“What in Maker’s name are you doing here?” you’d called as soon as he landed, stepping out of the shop and into the hangar, your hands on your hips, cocked to one side. “You ruin my handiwork that fast?”

“Not exactly,” he’d replied, walking down the ramp, his arms laden with goodies. Your eyes had gone huge. “I come bearing gifts.”

“For me?” you cried, gasping as you took the boxes from him, tongue poking between your teeth. “Mandalorian, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were flirting with me.”

He’d never been so grateful for his helmet at that exact moment. He might have crumbled to dust if you’d seen how red his cheeks were. “I-I owed you,” he stuttered out, “for the carbonite.”

“You didn’t owe me anything,” you quipped, swaying from side to side on your feet, staring down at your treats. “I told you, it was a gift.” You gave him one of those smiles again, and Din felt his stomach twist at the glitter in your eyes. “Why don’t you stay a while? I’ll feed you and everything.”

You disappeared into the shop, and Din paused a moment before following.

He saw you disappear behind a dark curtain that had definitely seen better days, and Din followed your further to discover there was an apartment of sorts attached to the shop. Apartment was perhaps too kind a word; it was one large room, a kitchen to one side, a large futon spread in the middle. Trunks and boxes and crates stacked along the far wall, a few grease-stained jumpsuits littering the floor. You stumbled over your feet trying to pick them up, tossing the offending fabric into a nearby crate, before you turned back to him. “What are you hungry for?”

You served him first. Noodles with dark sauce and some kind of shredded meat you thought was bantha but weren’t quite sure. But, as you stated with a shrug, “it’s good, and it hasn’t killed me yet.” After you slid the bowl across the table to him, you turned back to the stove and stayed that way. After a moment, Din wasn’t sure what to do, but then your head turned slightly, your eyes trained directly to the left, not wandering towards him over your shoulder. “I won’t look. Swear.”

He lifted the helmet just enough to shovel the food into his mouth. You were right, the mystery meat was good, and the sauce you’d made to go with it was even better. He nearly inhaled the food, not wanting to keep you too long, and when the helmet slid back down, the mechanism hissing back into place, your head turned again, still not looking at him.

“You’re safe,” he said, sliding his empty bowl back across the table.

You turned fully, serving yourself, and he expected you to sit across from him, keeping a bit of distance between you, but instead, you rounded the table and plunked yourself down on the stool right beside him. You ate much slower than he had, and Din let his eyes graze over you. The streak of engine grease on your cheek, the scar that split your lower lip, the intricately messy way you wore your hair. A silver chain sat around your throat, strung with a tiny silver ring. It disappeared down the front of your shirt most of the time, but right then it sat awkwardly, the chain caught on your collar, the ring sitting in the hollow of your throat. He resisted the urge to reach out and fix it.

The jumpsuit you wore was nearly identical to the ones you’d hurriedly swiped off the floor. Torn on one knee, zipper unfurling beneath your chest, a symbol he didn’t recognize patched onto your thigh. You’d tied the sleeves around your waist like a belt, a dirty rag tucked in at your hip. The Mechanic, herself. Sweets.

He thought you were beautiful. He had a feeling you’d look beautiful in anything.

Or nothing.

Din was distracted by your thumb at your lips, swiping a drop of sauce from your chin and sucking your finger into your mouth. His flight-suit was tight beneath his beskar to begin with, and you weren’t helping matters. “So,” you said simply, reaching for your food again. “Tell me a story, Mando. A good one. Best bounty you ever caught.”

The conversation filtered between you two easily. You were a good listener, easy to talk to, and Din felt like he couldn’t stop talking to you, telling you about his first kill, his first bounty. His first ship, before the Crest. He couldn’t bring himself to tell you about the before, before the Guild, before he was just the Mandalorian, when he was just Din Djarin. A foundling. Part of him wondered what you think, what your reaction might be to his past, but a larger part forced his mouth shut.

At some point, he turned himself towards you on his stool, one arm braced on the table, the other resting on his thigh. After you finished your food, you leaned heavily on the table, your head pushed into your palm, legs crossed at your ankles, swinging slowly, the toe of your boot tapping his shin every once in a while.

He could see you were tired, the way you started covering your yawns and rubbing at your eyes. “I should go,” he said, starting to get to his feet. “You’re tired, and I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

Your hand flashed out quick — not quick enough to startle him, though — and wrapped around his wrist. You’d managed to wedge your fingers right into the space where his glove met his vambrace, and he felt you against his pulse, against his bare skin. “You don’t have to leave, Mando.”

Din. He wanted to tell you. My name is Din.

Slowly, his own hand reached out, hovering in the air, shaking more than a vibroblade. He saw your eyes trace its path, watching until it lowered, dropped until the flat of his palm met the curve of your thigh. His gloved fingers wrapped around the meat of your leg, his thumb pressing towards the inside.

He heard you gasp.

He moved forward an inch, and his hand moved higher, thumb riding the seam of your jumpsuit. You hummed, fingered squeezing around his wrist, and Din moved closer, until he had one leg between yours. He let his hand wander higher, listening carefully to the changes in your breathing, the hitch in your throat. The heat between your legs was almost stifling, and something feral in the back of his brain screamed for more.

Whatever snapped in him, it seemed to break in you at exactly the same time. You both shot to your feet together, and Din’s hands moved to your waist, to where your sleeves were knotted at your waist. Yours roamed his chest plate, fingers tapping along beskar until you hooked them in his cloak. He halted his own hands, ready to help you remove the fabric, but you handled it just fine on your own, finding the hidden snaps with ease.

His blood turned to flame when he felt your fingers along his throat, seeking his pulse in another spot. “You should stay,” you breathed out, your voice barely above a murmur. “Please, Mando, I want you to stay.”

He forced himself to nod, his mind now preoccupied with ripping his gloves from his hands. He needed to feel you, no barriers in between.

He needed to see you, something in him screamed, no barriers in between.

He silenced that voice before it could spur him further. Busied himself with diving his hand beneath the waist of the jumpsuit, the broken zipper catching on his wrist. You were even hotter beneath, and he sucked down a breath when he found you wet, slick coating his fingers.

Your body leaned into him, chasing his touches, and he hooked his other hand around your thigh, lifting you up and backwards onto the table. He could feel you watching, your eyes moving from his helmet down his front, to where his hand was jammed beneath the jumpsuit. He crooked one finger, testing, pressing it into you, and grinned beneath his helmet when you moaned.

Din hooked his arm under your waist, lifting you just enough that he could maneuver the jumpsuit over your hips, down your legs. His cock jolted between his legs at the sight of you bare, leaned back on the table, your chest heaving. Even though the visor, he could see how slick you were, the evidence shining on the insides of your thighs.

He wanted to taste you.

He pushed the thought away again. Another time, when he wasn’t smearing the inside of his flight-suit with precum, when you weren’t keening into his touch as he dragged his fingers against the sensitive skin between your legs, when he could turn the lights off and shed his armour, bare himself to you the same way.

You moaned again when his fingers found your clit, drawing a sloppy circle that had your muscles tensing against his hand, knees closing against his hips. “F-fuck, Mando,” you ground out, tipping your head back on your shoulders. “You’re good with those hands.” Another stuttered breath as he twisted his wrist, curling two fingers just inside your entrance, thumb stretching up to swipe over your clit. “Really good.”

He was grinning beneath the helmet again, eyes glued to your face as he pressed further, fingers threading deeper into you. He could feel everything, the twitch of your thighs, the clench of your cunt. You reached out with one hand, using the other to balance yourself, and closed it around his elbow, your fingers digging into the thick fabric so hard he was shocked your nails didn’t bite right through.

“How do you like it, Sweets?” he asked, leaning forward until he was nearly hovering over you. Your hand moved from his elbow to chest, fingers hooked in his armour. “Tell me what you need.”

Your hand moved again, this time moving straight down his front, past his waist, right between his legs. His cock throbbed as you palmed him, a cat-like grin on your lips as you tilted your head level with the visor. You leaned up slightly, pressed your lips to the beskar edge that mirrored his jaw. Another squeeze, and the slow pace of his fingers faltered, his head nearly smacking into yours. “I need this.”

Din couldn’t hold back anymore. Something in the way you stared up at him, eyes tracing over the helmet, told him you didn’t want him to.

“I like it rough.”

It all happened in one fluid motion. He pulled you closer, right off the edge of the table, and you spun in his grip, leaning forward over the table, planting your hands flat. The jumpsuit slid further towards your ankles and you arched your back, your ass grinding against his hardness, and Din groaned audibly, tilting his head towards the ceiling. Your legs spread as much as the jumpsuit would allow, and Din worked his own zipper down, freeing himself from the flight-suit. You made the most delicious noise as the tip of his cock smacked against your ass, the tip dripping with precum.

Your head turned as he took himself in hand, tapping your ass with his cock again. “Maker,” you breathed out, your eyes widening. “I knew you’d be big.”

Beneath the helmet, Din turned crimson.

He planted his other hand between your shoulders, tipping you forward. You went willingly, eyes rolling back as he pushed his hips against your ass. He could see how wet you were as you bent, slick still dripping down your thighs.

There was nothing stopping him from dropping to his knees right then and there, lifting the helmet just enough to drag his tongue through your cunt. The thought alone made his cock pulse.

But then your hand reached back, twisting in the fabric covering his hip, and he couldn’t wait any longer. He bent his knees slightly, notching himself at your entrance, and pushed inside.

The noise you let out was nearly enough to make him cum right then and there. He knew he wasn’t gonna last, and judging by the sounds you continued to make and the way you were bearing down on him, hands clenched into fists on the tabletop, he didn’t think you were either. He set a fast pace, the space filling with the slick sound of him driving in and out of you, your moans echoing each move. Din’s gaze dropped, trained on the sight of his cock disappearing to you. Your hand flapped at his hip, scrabbling for purchase, and he wrapped his fingers around your forearm, groaning when you did the same.

He was right; you didn’t last long, and neither did he. Your entire body clenched as you came, one hand slamming against the table, nails digging deep into his wrist. It spurred his own orgasm, that coil at the base of his spine snapping, and he pulled out, cumming hard across the curve of your ass.

Silence settled over the both of you as you caught your breath. Din couldn’t help himself, rubbing his bare fingers over the expanse of your back, tracing over your spine. You arched a bit into his touch, making a satisfied noise before you lifted yourself off the table. You turned to him, leaned up to press a hot kiss to his bare throat. It made him shiver.

“Think we could do that again?” you murmured, lifting a finger and dragging it along the edge of his helmet. “Maybe you take all the metal off.”

Din cleared his throat, trying to ignore the way his cock twitched, already wanting a second round. “Helmet stays on.”

You stared at him a long moment, smile on your lips. “Helmet stays on.”

He kept close to you after that night. He rarely took bounties that took him to further reaches of the galaxy, loathe to admit that he was always within a few parsecs of your hangar. He brought you a long-distance commlink so he could tell you when he was coming back, so you could contact him if you ever needed him. He didn’t worry about you, per se; you were more than capable of taking care of yourself, and he knew for a fact you knew how to shoot the blaster you kept holstered on your thigh when he wasn’t around.

But then the comm went quiet. He called, you didn’t answer. A lead weight formed in his stomach, and he pushed the Crest’s engines are fast as they’d go. Carefully, though — he wouldn’t dare ruin any of your handiwork.

When he landed in the hangar, the lights were all off. It didn’t help his worry, and it only grew worse as he sprinted off the Crest, heading straight for the shop door.

It was locked, but the lock was no match for his vibroblade and a bit of brute force. Inside, the space was empty. no trace of you left inside. There was no sign of a struggle, no blood smeared on the floor or the wall, but it didn’t ease his mind any. What if someone had come for you, spirited you away in the dead of night to some backwater planet? Dank farrik, what if someone had put out a bounty on you? His mind reeled, raced, chewed him up and spit him out.

He never meant to get so attached to you.

Din switched the settings on his visor, finally determining that all the footprints he could make out on the floor were your own. Then he saw it, sitting on the edge of one of the shelves in the kitchen. The commlink, perched precariously, just enough out of sight that no one else would think twice, but not Din.

He thumbed through the screen, saw the icon flashing with a recorded message. Your face lit up the screen instantly, and he stifled the way his stomach clenched. You looked…scared. Not hurt, not injured, but scared.

“Someone sold me out,” you said, your voice distorted and warped. “I can’t give you details. I can’t really tell you anything. Just know I’m going somewhere safe, and I’ll miss you, Mandalorian. Take care of yourself.”

Your eye were shiny as you reached out to cut the recording, and Din’s heart sank into his toes.

He put the commlink in his pocket, and returned to his ship.

He’d watched the message so many times the words were engraved into his brain. The change in your voice, the way you’d blinked harder the more you spoke. The way you paused in the middle, glanced over your shoulder with a shock of fear in your eyes.

And now here you are, standing in front of him, a pile of metal spilling out of a crate tucked beneath your arm, that same streak of fear in those big eyes. Eyes that have haunted him all these years. You nearly drop the crate as you crouch, your gaze zeroing in on the wound on his leg. “Maker, Mando, what the hell did you do?”

“Long story,” he groans out, wincing as you adjust his leg slightly, leaning to the side so you can get a better look. “What are you doing here?”

“I live here,” you reply, getting back to your feet, retrieving your crate of parts. “C’mon, let me clean you up. You look like hell.”

Din goes willingly, not sure what else to do, his mind racing from the combination of the Covert and you appearing out of nowhere. He lets you pull him slowly to his feet, tuck yourself under his arm. “Sweets,” he starts to protest, but you drag his arm around your shoulders.

“Shush,” you whisper, glancing around as you start to lead him in the opposite direction he’d been going. “Lean your weight on me.” He does as you say, nearly crumbling with relief. “There you go.”

The ache only worsens as you go, Din resisting the urge to lean his head against yours. When you finally turn him towards the door, he thinks he may topple over completely, but you’re quicker, producing a remote from your pocket. The door slides open, revealing the inside of a hangar, and you all but carry him through, discarding the crate of parts the moment you’re through, hitting the button again once you’re inside. The door slides shut, and Din lifts his head enough to look around. It looks nearly identical to your old hangar.

Then he hears a curious little beep, and looks down to see a tiny droid scurrying towards you. A BD-1 unit; he recognizes it from Peli’s, though yours is a little more rusty around the edges, the cleaner bits of metal painted grey and yellow. “Not now, Shrimp,” you grit, waving at the droid. It beeps loudly back at you, like an arguing child, and Din stifles his laugh.

“I thought you didn’t use droids,” he mumbles.

“He came with the hangar,” you reply, moving him across the hangar. Shrimp follows a few more steps before darting off, disappearing into a pile of crates. “Couldn’t bring myself to scrap him. Besides, not like he’s much help; tiny thing can’t even lift a socket wrench.”

He laughs out loud this time, and when you pull him into the shop, he laughs again, despite himself.

There’s a shelf of sweets above the workbench.

There’s no curtain between the shop and the apartment, instead another sliding door, another remote. Din lets out a low hum when he sees the apartment beyond. More than one room, furnished with actual furniture. It’s…nice. It’s really nice.

You deposit him on the couch, propping his leg up on the table in front of it. “Wait here,” you mumble, pointing a finger at him before disappearing into another room.

He doesn’t move, but hooks his fingers into the edge of his helmet and yanks it off, depositing it on the couch beside him. He sucks down a breath of unfiltered air.

You gasp as you walk back into the room, nearly dropping the silver case in your hand. “Mando, you—”

“Din,” he says instantly, reaching down, tugging his gloves off, tossing them onto the helmet. “My name is Din Djarin.”

“Din,” you repeat, slowly, like you’re tasting his name on your tongue. The corner of your mouth quirks. “Din…Djarin.”

He just nods. You approach him carefully, like you’re walking towards an injured animal instead of a man, the silver case clutched against your chest.

“Your helmet,” you start, gesturing vaguely. A memory sparks. He told you before — not in so many words — about his Creed, his upbringing. You’d asked, and he’d answered. It wasn’t information he gave willingly. The second time he had you, when you were sprawled out completely naked on that old futon, writhing and moaning beneath him, when he’d shed almost all his beskar, felt the warmth of your body pressed up against all of him. Afterward, when you’d both been sated for the time being, you’d peered up at him from your place on his chest. “Do you ever take it off?” you asked, your voice laced with sleep.

And he’d answered.

“It doesn’t matter,” he says now, eyes darting towards the curve of silver. “I’m not a Mandalorian anymore.”

“What?” you ask, your brow furrowing. He wants to reach out, let his thumb ride the space between your eyebrows, feel it smooth over as he kisses the spot. “What does that mean?”

“It means…” He trails off. Loaded question. What does it mean? Truly? “My name is Din Djarin.”

There’s still confusion etched into your features, but you don’t question him further. Your brow doesn’t loosen, and you perch on the table.

“What’s in the case?” he asks, jutting his chin towards the silver case still in your hands.

You look at him for a long moment, eyes sweeping over his face, over his features. Like you’re committing him to memory. He’s doing the same, almost scrutinizing your face, trying to remember what it looks like without the filter of his visor, what you truly look like, with no barriers in between.

He could taste you easily now.

The thought catches him off guard, the throb between his legs a welcome change to the pulsing of the wound on his thigh. The bacta the Covert had given him has worn off almost completely, and the pain is climbing.

“B-bacta shot,” you stutter out, shaking your head slightly as you flipped open the case. Your eyes moved to the wound on his leg, peering at the plates of beskar, the flight-suit, the discarded helmet on the couch. “That needs to be cleaned.”

Din just nods.

“Think you can walk to the bedroom?” you ask, shoving the silver case into the chest pocket of your jumpsuit. He recognizes it — the tear in the knee, the patch on your thigh. You fixed the zipper. “It’ll be easier.”

It’s slow-going, getting him back to his feet, shuffling carefully to the bedroom. You ask him if he wants to bring the helmet; he just shakes his head.

What does that mean?

Your bed is unmade, but Din barely notices. The scent of you is amplified in here, and he’s sucking down breaths like he’s been deprived of oxygen. You help him lower to the edge of the bed, and he starts on the armour. You sink to your knees in front of him, setting the bacta shot on the mattress beside him. He removes a pauldron with shaking fingers, and you’re right there to take it from him, your movements sure, setting the metal carefully onto the floor, waiting for the next piece.

“You disappeared,” he says, after more pieces of beskar have been removed, when you’ve moved onto his boots, setting them both carefully at your side.

Your brow had just smoothed out, and it pinches again. “I had to. I left you a message.”

Din pulls the zipper on his flight-suit, reaches into the pocket sewn into the lining, and produces the commlink. “I know.”

Your lips part as you look at the piece of metal, dwarfed by his hand. “You found it.”

“I did.”

Bottom lip caught between your teeth, you look back up at him through your lashes. “It wasn’t safe.”

“You’re safe now,” he says, and you reach for the bacta shot. “Tell me.”

“It doesn’t matter now,” you reply, your voice bordering on stern. “Somebody sold me out.”

“I knew that much,” Din mumbles, and you shoot him a glare.

You sigh. “Let’s just say, there were some parts in the hangar that shouldn’t have been there, someone wasn’t happy with some work I did, and then next thing I knew, there were Imps on my tail. So I disappeared.”

“You could have told me where you were going.”

You shake your head. “They were listening. Tracking every message I sent out. I couldn’t let you get roped into it too.”

“You could have gone to the Guild,” he says. He’s too distracted to notice you pull the syringe out of the case. He doesn’t see the needle until you’re pushing it into his muscle above the wound. He grits his teeth audibly, hands curling hard around the edge of the mattress. “Dank farrik.”

“Sorry.”

“I would have come for you,” he says, breath hitching in his throat as you push the plunger down. It feels like his body has been flooded with ice water, his teeth chattering for a moment before the cold turns to a woozy sort of warmth that spreads through his chest like Corellian fire whiskey. He blinks hard, slow, one eye than the other.

“Can you stand?” He nods. Or thinks he does. “The bacta will help, but I need to put a bandage on that wound, at least.” More nodding. He’s vaguely aware of you draping his arms around your neck, your arms sliding around his waist to haul him up. He plants his feet beneath him, forces his weight over his ankles. His movements are slow, languid, like he’s moving through water. You manoeuvre one arm out of his flight-suit, pushing the fabric down his shoulders, until it settles around his hips. The metallic sound of the zipper seems to echo through his brain, and he knows you’re touching his waist, moving the fabric slowly over his injured thigh. But it doesn’t hurt.

All he can feel is you.

You sit him down again, work on pulling the suit off completely. Your hands are warm, soft, gentle against his bare legs, and he nearly buries his nose in the crown of your head when you bend down. Once the flight-suit has been removed, leaving him in his boxers and undershirt, you disappear again, and Din’s not sure if it’s thirty seconds or thirty minutes.

Something cold presses against his thigh, and he flinches. “Does it hurt?” you ask instantly, and your voice is clear, then muffled, then clear again. “It shouldn’t.”

“Nuh-uh,” he slurs out. He hears you laugh, and the sound is like tinkling bells. He wants to hear it again. “Sweets.”

“Yes, Din?” Clear, muffled. His name is a song on your lips.

“You’re beautiful.”

“So are you.”

“Mesh’la,” he mumbles, and then his eyes fall shut, his body slumps back, and he thinks you laugh again. He’s not quite sure; sleep is too busy yanking him under.

Din wakes to the sound of running water.

He’s disoriented, confused, not sure where he is until he pushes up on his elbows, looks around, drinks in the sight of your bedroom. The memory floods back; the Covert, then the hangar, taking the helmet off, the bacta shot that knocked him out.

But more importantly: you.

He rubs the sleep from his eyes. How long was he out? He can’t be sure; there’s a window on the far side of the room, but time on Glavis is different, artificial nighttime and starlight instead of sun. His armour has been moved from the floor, neatly piled on a dresser against the wall, his boots on the floor underneath. His flight-suit is spread out on a worktable in the middle of the room, and he can see from his spot that you’ve tried to mend it, patching the spot the Darksaber had cut open with a square of fabric. It’s looks to be the same kind of material, but the colour is darker. Beneath the sheets, his leg is wrapped in cotton bandages, and there’s no sign of blood seeping to the surface.

His head turns in the direction of the noise of the water, and he pauses, waits for some kind of pain to prick through his body, but it never comes. He feels…good. Well-rested. His eyes follow the sound, and then he sees it.

The door to your bathroom is wide open, and from his spot on your bed, he can see directly into the shower. You’re inside, steam pouring over the top of the glass wall, and Din’s whole body jerks. He never forgot what you looked like naked, and it’s been a long time, but somehow it still feels like the first time. He can feel the blood rushing south, and his hands clench in the bedsheets.

He just stares, watching the water move over you, cascading down your spine, rolling in rivulets over your curves, following the lines of your body. He wants to follow them too, wants to read you like a map only he knows the key to.

Dank farrik, he’s missed you. He hadn’t realized how much.

The water shuts off, and he sees you reach for a towel, wiping your face first. He sinks back down on the bed, wondering if he should feign sleep, feeling like a kid caught doing something he’s not supposed to. But before he can— “You’re awake,” he hears you call, and looks back just as you wrap the towel around your middle. “I thought you’d be out for the night.”

Din coughs, shifting the blankets, trying to hide the tent that’s formed in his boxers. “You don’t close the door?” He doesn’t know what else to say.

You laugh. “I live alone,” you say, stepping out of the bathroom, walking towards the dresser his armour sits upon. “Force of habit.”

He clears his throat. Loudly. Pauses. “…it’s a nice view.”

Your tongue peeks between your lips as you walk over to him, still in just the towel. Your hair is still dripping, water droplets dotting your shoulders. You sink slowly onto the edge of the bed. “How do you feel?”

“G-good,” he spits out, adjusting himself, making more room for you. “Really good.”

The corner of your mouth quirks. “I’m glad. You scared me, Man—” You catch yourself. “Din.”

A drop of water splashes down from your hair, starts a path down your upper arm, and Din reaches out, catching it on his finger. You watch his hand, lips softly parted, and he continues the path, drawing his hand up and down your skin, the backs of his knuckles against your bicep.

“I wondered where you were, all these years,” you whisper. There’s longing in your voice, he notices; the same feeling sits like a weight on his chest. “I never stopped wondering.”

“I’ll tell you sometime,” he whispers back. There’s something forming in the air between you, thick like the steam that still foams from the open bathroom. Din can almost taste it, and the thought he’d had in your living room resurfaces, making him twitch beneath the sheets. He could taste you so easily now. “It’s a long story.”

The corner of your mouth quirks. “I got nothing but time.”

So does he, he realizes. He’s without a ship, without his son, without anything anchoring him to one planet or another, to any sort of path. He’d been wandering already, trying to find the Covert, and now he is unmoored once more, yet somehow managed to find his way back to your hangar.

To your bed.

His hand stops chasing water droplets, and he sees your teeth sink into your lower lip. He lowers his palm until it rests on your bare thigh, and he can feel how your skin is still hot from the shower. “I never kissed you,” he rasps. “Before.”

Your head shakes slowly, and you turn towards him more fully. The towel is loose around your chest, your hand holding it in place, and he reaches for it, slowly uncurling your fingers from the fabric, until your grip falls slack, and the towel goes with it. “You should fix that,” you murmur.

“I’m out of practice.”

Your lips twitch again. “How bad?”

“Few decades,” he says softly. “Since before I swore the Creed.”

“You were a child.”

“It was a childish kiss.” He pauses, moves his hand again, brushes dripping locks of hair from your face. “I don’t want to kiss you like that.”

“Just…” Din leans in slightly, tilts his head to the side. “Do what feels natural.” You mirror his movement, and his eyes are glued to your mouth, to the way your lips stay parted even when you’re done speaking, the way your collar lifts with shuddered breaths. He sees your hands move the towel out of the corner of his eye, pulling the fabric away from your body completely until you’re bared to him, head to toe.

You’re just as beautiful as he remembers. If not more.

The tip of his nose drags along the slope of yours, and his hand slides from your thigh to your hip. “I need you closer, Sweets,” he murmurs, and you nod against him, your foreheads tapping together. There’s a bit of shuffling, the blankets moved back, his tented boxers exposed but barely acknowledged as you climb into his lap. He revels in the way you look above him, your knees pressed either side of his hips. You’re hesitant to lower your weight onto his leg, and he guides you slow, giving you a quiet it’s okay as you settle onto him.

He doesn’t feel any pain; he just feels you.

Once you’re comfortable, your hands clutching at his shoulders, he adjusts his grip on you, palms skimming up your spine, mapping out your ribs and the curve of your ass. You make a quiet noise when he squeezes one cheek, the movement propelling you forward, making your hips roll into his, your core pushed against his hard cock. It makes him hiss with pleasure, and he slides one hand up to your hair, knotting his fingers in it and dragging your mouth down to his.

It’s not artful; he’s sure it doesn’t look pretty from the outside. There’s a lot of teeth and tongue, the fumble of hands as he tries to get you even closer. He’s sure you’ve been kissed better than this, and it makes his cheeks heat, makes him pull away, tucking his chin towards his chest. “I’m sorry, I—”

“Hey,” you say softly, your hands moving to cup his cheeks, tilting his face back up towards you. “It’s okay. Just…follow my lead?” You say it like a question, your thumbs swiping over his face, through the smatter of facial hair along his jaw. “I got you.”

Din nods, lets his lips part as you cock your head to the side, leaning in slow. You kiss his top lip and then his bottom one, giving him just enough teeth that he wants more, wants it harder. He grips your hips as you move, but your kiss stays tender, slow, your tongue a wet heat against his own. He’d dreamed of this, of kissing you, and this one — albeit the second attempt — is everything he ever imagined.

Finally, your mouth grows more insistent. He’s hard as steel between his legs, and he can feel how hot you are, your wetness spreading across his boxers with every roll of your hips. Your mouth is sweet, almost sugary, and he finds himself chuckling against your lips, still trying to get you closer. Your stomach presses to his as you wrap your arms around his neck, kissing him harder, your tongue licking into his mouth.

“Sweets,” he grinds out when you start pulling at his undershirt, insistent to get it over his head. He lets you, and when you lower your head again, your mouth moves to his throat instead, and it makes him moan. “Mesh’la, wait, please, I need—”

You pull back instantly, your eyes bright with worry. “What is it? Are you okay?”

“I want…” His eyes drop, tracing a path down your body, his throat growing dry when they land on the apex of your thighs, the glistening wetness he knows he’s caused. He lets one hand follow the path his eyes made, rubs his thumb over your clit. Your whole body shivers. “I want to taste you.”

Your eyes go big, pupils blown with lust, and Din uses your momentary shock to his advantage. He’s stronger than you, perks of the bounty hunting lifestyle, and he flips you easily with one arm around your waist, his other hand hitching your thigh over his hip. You squeak as your head hits the pillows, clinging to him until you’re laid out beneath him.

It’s his turn to kiss his way down your throat, and he does, laving his tongue against your pulse as he makes his way down your body. He pauses at your chest, moves to the side to close his lips around your nipple. It makes your back arch, a high-pitched noise falling from your mouth, and he grins against you, giving you just the edge of his teeth before he’s wandering across your chest to give the other the same attention.

You’re a writhing mess by the time he’s settled between your thighs. He can’t keep his eyes still, raking over every inch of you, trying to remember every part. He can see the muscles in your legs jump as he traces his fingers over them, the more sensitive parts of your skin making you keen.

With your legs spread, he can see everything, and his mouth waters at the sight of your wet cunt, walls fluttering around nothing as he teases you with his fingers, collecting your wetness on the tips before drawing them to his mouth.

He moans at the taste. Of course, you’re sweet. Deliciously so.

“Din,” you groan out, propping yourself up on your elbows. He can feel you watching, and his gaze flicks up to yours as he drops his jaw, lowers his mouth to you. Your eyes roll back for a moment, one hand moving to knot in his hair, and Din moans into you. His tongue explodes with the taste of you, sending shocks down his spine, making his hips rolls into the mattress, seeking relief.

Just do what feels natural, your words echo in his head. So he does. He licks into you, wide stripes with the flat of his tongue, smaller kitten licks to your clit. He can’t get enough of your taste, hooking his hands around your thighs, pulling himself deeper into you. And you guide him some, your hand in his hair an anchor of sorts, tugging slightly to get him right where you need him, a gasped oh fuck, right there! reaching his ears.

It’s not before long that you’re smacking at his shoulder, muffled moans on your lips with your teeth sunk into your lower one. He detaches from you, gets one more good look and lick in before he’s following your grip, kissing every inch of you he can reach as he makes his way back up your body.

“I need you inside me,” you slur, your hands reaching down, pushing at his boxers. His cock springs up against his stomach and he groans, the sound growing louder when you wrap your fingers around him. “Please, Din, I want to cum on your cock.”

It’s a miracle he doesn’t cum right then and there, hearing your words turn filthy. And filthier still as he hauls himself over you, plants one elbow beside your head, looks between you, reaches down to line himself up and—

Freezes.

He can feel your eyes on his face, features pinched with anticipation. Your hands have found homes along his ribs, fingers tapping out rhythmless patterns. Hips lifting, you must see something in his expression, because you move a hand to his chin, lifting his eyes to yours again. “Din,” you say, and a shiver shoots down his spine again at the way his name sounds on your lips. “It’s okay. We can stop, if you need to.”

“No!” he nearly shouts, and feels himself flush, lowering himself slightly, careful not to drop all his weight on you. “No, that’s not what I…I don’t…”

“Don’t what?” you murmur. Your voice is quiet, understanding. You give a soft laugh. “I know you’re not a virgin, but if you don’t want to, it’s okay, I won’t say any—”

“It’s not that,” he cuts you off, petting his hand over your still-damp hair. “I want to. I want you. It’s just that…” He chews at his lip. “No one’s ever seen my face, while we…when I…”

Realization slides through your features. “Oh.”

“Yes.”

“I don’t have to look,” you say quickly, skimming your knuckles along his cheek. “I can turn over, if you like, if that’s easier than—”

“No,” he says, not a shout this time, but firmer. “I want you to see, Sweets.” He drops his chin, emboldened by your softness, your understanding. He kisses you soundly. “I want to kiss you while you cum.” His words pull a silky noise from your throat.

He breaks the kiss as he takes himself in hand, pushes into your dripping cunt. You’re hot, clenching down on him instantly, arms draped around his neck as he lowers himself further, latches his lips to yours. He hitches one of your legs high on his hip, drives into you deep. He had you close on his tongue already, and he rolls his hips hard, catching something deep inside that makes your entire body seize.

“Yes, Din, please, oh gods, please, please, please,” you’re babbling against his lips, one hand pressed flat between his shoulders, the other knotted in the back of his hair. “Yes!”

Just as he said, he kisses you while you cum. He feels it pulse through your body, your limbs taut and then lax, still holding him close. Your hips chase his, cunt clenching tight as a vice, and Din’s not far behind you, pleasure lighting a fuse down his spine.

You pull your lips from his just as he starts to spill in you. Your hand moves to grip his chin, and you force his gaze to yours. He gasps and your mouth mirrors his, lips parted in a soft o, turning to a grin as he grinds into you, painting your insides as deep as he can go. It feels like an implosion, his bones rattled in his body, but then set on the softest bed of silk as he collapses into your chest. You hold him close, petting one hand through his hair, breathing deep and slow until his own evens out, matches yours, until your heartbeat syncs with his.

“Mesh’la?” he calls after a moment, cheek still pressed to your sternum.

“Yes, Din?” you reply, your voice scratchy as your nails start to drag along his scalp. His eyes are heavy.

“I missed you.”

He can hear the smile in your voice. “I missed you too.”

Din wakes alone in your bed again.

He thinks it’s the next morning — the rest of what he assume to be evening was spent in your bed, both of you naked and wrapped in each other. Again and again and again, he pulled pleasure from your body, let you pull it from his, found your bliss together. By the time you were both too tired to move, sprawled on the mattress, your head on his shoulder, you’d whispered, “You’re a good kisser, Din Djarin.” And then you were asleep, Din not too far behind.

He dresses quickly, boxers pulled back on, undershirt in his hand as he pads out of the room. He finds you standing in the kitchen, a steaming cup of caf in your hands. The droid — Shrimp, he dimly recalls — is perched on the table, beeping out a message to you. You’re nodding along, blowing the steam off the top of your caf, and your eyes flick to him as he steps into the kitchen.

“You know Peli Motto?”

Din’s brow crinkles with confusion. “You know Peli?”

You scoff. “That woman taught me everything I know.”

“You’re joking.”

“Swear on my hangar.”

Din just laughs, walking around the table. He slides an arm around your waist once he’s close enough, leans into kiss the side of your head. You lean into him. “Why are we talking about Peli?”

“She sent me a message,” you say, offering him your caf. He takes a sip, only feeling more confused. “Asking if I had any spare ships laying around my hangar. A replacement for her Mandalorian friend.”

Din balks. He hasn’t told you about the Crest. “Sweets…”

You step away from him, pressing a hand to his chest as your eyes go wide with realization. “Din Djarin, what did you do to that ship?”

“I didn’t—”

“Din.”

“It was Imps,” he says, trying to reach for your hip. “It wasn’t—”

“Where is the Razor Crest?”

He sighs heavily, and reaches out to take the cup of caf from you again. “Now it’s nothing but a scorch mark on the planet Tython. It was the Imps. They took my son.” The words are out before he can stop them.

Your eyes go so wide he’s worried they might pop out of your skull. “Your son?”

“It’s a long story.”

You pluck the caf out of his hands, walk around the table, pull out a chair and sink into it. “I got nothing but time.”

#sleepover saturday #my fics #din djarin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fic #din djarin fic #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin smut #din djarin fluff #din djarin headcanon #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian smut #the mandalorian fluff #the mandalorian headcanon #the mandalorian fanfiction

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cherienymphe · 10 months

Text

Basic Training XIII (Peter Parker x Reader)

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, MURDER, violence, kidnapping, captivity, public sex, degradation, forced pregnancy, forced marriage, stockholm syndrome, ptsd, housewife kink, cop!Peter

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | divider by @whimsicalrogers

➥ series masterlist

summary: A pit stop during a road trip ends tragically when a small town cop sets his sights on you. You’re the newest addition in a long standing fucked up family tradition.

Peter was at work.

It had been some weeks since the inevitable had happened, waking up to find Peter putting on his uniform. You had expected it at some point, but definitely not so soon. Or, at least, soon for you. It had been hard to hide the disappointment on your features when the dark-haired man had glanced at you, his own face falling some as he neared you.

“Hey,” he’d softly said, cupping your face as he leaned over the bed. “It’ll be okay.”

You hadn’t responded, only blinking, and Peter continued.

“I’ll only be gone a few hours, just to get both of us back into the swing of things. I’ll be back in no time,” he’d assured you.

He’d been right, of course. He had only been gone for a few hours that day, but what felt like no time to him felt like an entire day to you. You’d gone through every task like it was indeed nothing more than a chore, merely trying to find some solace in your cleaning and cooking and gardening, trying to find some way to keep your mind off of Peter’s absence.

In truth, all you’d accomplished was counting down the minutes until he returned.

You’d been in the middle of helping Pepper with lunch when familiar hands had settled on your waist. It had startled you, at first, before the familiarity of them set in, prompting you to stop what you were doing. You hadn’t hesitated to turn and wrap your arms around him, feeling so much more at ease with him home.

“What’ya making?” he’d asked after briefly acknowledging the other woman in the room when she’d done the same.

“Thor wanted subs,” you’d told him. “Pepper’s toasting the bread.”

He’d smiled at that, and it was something you did often, now. Unable to hide your relief at having Peter home, telling him about your day, and listening when he did the same. The town struck you as so small, from what you remembered anyway, but you were always shocked by just how much crime and mess Peter and the rest of the station had to deal with.

The day he’d come home with a bandage on his arm was burned into your memory.

“It’s nothing,” he’d kept reassuring you. “Just some asshole trying to rob a bank with bad aim.”

You hadn’t laughed at the joke as Peter had, and he’d quickly swallowed his chuckles down. He’d reached out to touch your face in the hallway, but you’d been intently focused on the light blood that had bled through a bit. He’d been right, of course. It was nothing, a flesh wound, a graze, but it hadn’t stopped you from worrying all the same.

The heaviness in your chest had shocked you. After all, you liked to think that Peter meant nothing to you, but that wasn’t entirely true. You’d hesitantly reached up to graze his arm just below the white gauze, eyes burning. Peter could’ve been seriously hurt, he could’ve died, and that had worried you for more reasons than one.

“Peter,” you’d softly started once in the privacy of your room moments later. “What would happen to me…if something happened to you…?”

Surprisingly, it was a thought that had never occurred to you before. These men were mortal and human just like anyone else, and considering their professions, the possibility of any of them dying should’ve entered your mind at least once or twice. However, as you’d stared at his arm, you realized that this was the first time you’d truly given it some thought.

You’d heard him sigh.

“Don’t think about that,” he’d tried to coax you away from the thought, making you look at him.

“…but you’re a cop…and clearly this town isn’t as boring and safe as I’d initially thought.”

You had multiple reasons to come to that conclusion.

“What if something does happen to you?” you’d quietly asked him.

Peter had stared at you for a while before slowly leaning in and brushing his lips against yours.

“That won’t happen, pretty girl,” he’d slowly assured you, continuing before you could say anything. “…but if that ever were to happen…you’d just still be a functioning part of the household with no title to your name.”

You had frowned at that. So, you’d still be doing as you did but just without Peter around. The thought had terrified you for one reason above all else, and his name was Steve. You didn’t even want to imagine the kind of trouble you’d get into without Peter around to protect you, and you had thrown your arms around him before you knew it.

He’d rubbed your back, making soothing sounds, but you’d shaken your head, burying your face into his shoulder.

“I think I’d rather just die.”

You had said it so quietly you were sure Peter didn’t even hear you, but if the way he’d paused was anything to go by, he’d heard you clearly.

You couldn’t survive in this place without Peter, and he had to know that. You felt like you were barely hanging on when he was around, and God knows that thread only became thinner when he went to work. If you had to face the reality of never seeing Peter ever again, you didn’t doubt that you’d lose all reason under Steve’s wrath and stern discipline.

“Don’t say that,” he’d whispered. “Besides, it’s not going to happen.”

You had to believe that because the alternative wasn’t feasible to you.

“You don’t know that,” you’d murmured back, fingers digging into his side and the uninjured arm.

“You wouldn’t want to live without me…? Even if you had something to remember me by?”

You’d stiffened at that, understanding dawning on you as to what he was hinting at.

Peter didn’t bring up the possibility of kids often. He probably didn’t want to scare you, but you knew what was expected of you…you knew what he wanted. On the off chance that Sharon or Laura brought their sons around or Steve or Margaret stepped out with Sarah, you were no fool. You saw the smile that lit up Peter’s boyish features. You saw the longing in his deep brown eyes, the desire to have children of his own someday…with you.

Of all the men here, if any of them deserve to have a kid, you supposed that it was Peter.

However, you wondered just how true that was. The man had kidnapped you, after all, and clearly had no qualms against his brothers and whatever methods they chose to punish their wives with. Peter wasn’t a good guy, no matter how good he made you feel these days, and so maybe he didn’t deserve any children.

…but you yourself had wanted kids someday…but not like this.

The thought of subjecting your future sons to the same fate as their father or your future daughters to the same fate as you made your eyes water. It seemed like such a cruel thing to do, but giving Peter children was inevitable, you supposed. It’s not like you had any means to protect yourself against the possibility, and since Peter had first had sex with you, he had never not come inside of you.

It was honestly only a matter of time.

“I…don’t know,” you’d honestly answered his question.

Without Peter, any child you had would be far better off with any of the other wives than with you. You doubted that you’d even be able to look after yourself, let alone a whole other person who’d completely depend on you. On the other hand, though, you didn’t know if you could trust your hypothetical child’s wellbeing with anyone but you. Especially with Steve around.

Someone had to make sure they didn’t grow up completely messed up by all of this.

…but then again…maybe you weren’t right to be that someone either.

After all, Peter had kidnapped and raped you, and you greeted him when he came home from work each evening. You smiled as you told him about your day. You clung to him in the dead of night and welcomed his kisses. Even then, as you held him and fretted over his safety and the danger you had never considered he’d be in before…

You yourself were already so messed up by all of this, so how could you keep the same from happening to anyone else?

“You’re doing so good, pretty girl.”

Peter’s soft encouragement went straight to the pit of your stomach, adding to the heat that was already there. The water in the bathtub jostled slightly, small ripples in the water from your movements. Peter’s hands were pressed firmly into your waist, and you could feel his gaze on you.

“So good,” he whispered, leaning up and brushing his lips against yours.

You felt so…full, much fuller than you did when Peter was covering your frame with his own, pressing you into the mattress and pushing his cock into you with a pace that had your breath shortening. Now, you were the one on top of him, lifting and lowering yourself, sliding up and down on his cock with every movement.

A simple bath had turned into something more when Peter’s hand dipped between your legs, a noise of mischief escaping his lips as you’d tried to shy away. He’d been smooth in sliding you back onto him, a hand resting on your back before he’d expressed his desire to see your face.

Peter pressed kisses along the expanse of your throat, tasting you with them and his tongue. Your bare chest brushed against his own with every rise and fall of your hips, your hands pressed into his shoulders to steady yourself. Sex wasn’t new to you, but you’d always thought of it as a chore more often than not. You’d thought it was just one of those things that wasn’t for you.

Peter’s presence proved that the fault lay with bad boyfriends.

Granted, it’s not like Peter gave you the choice to refuse sex, therefore forcing you to engage in something you’d always thought of as meh. He didn’t even allow you to disassociate as you had in the past, forcing you to be present and engaging and taking pleasure that you weren’t all that familiar with. You both hated and loved it.

Peter moaned into your mouth as he kissed you, a wet hand massaging into your back, and you kissed him back, hot and wanton and just as hungry for your climax as he was his. Every time you sank down onto him, your walls stretched, and with Peter’s hand on your hip, rolling it over his, you had to pull away and gasp.

The first time you came around him, you were in the tub, but you were in the bed when you stiffened around him for the second time. Peter talked you through it, whispering sweet nothings to you as explosions burst behind your eyes, one hand twisted with yours and the other tracing patterns into your thigh.

“Such a good girl,” he murmured into your neck, his chest pressed to your back as you lay beneath him. “We both have to wake up pretty early, though.”

He sounded sad as he said that, pulling away from you. You were still catching your breath when you turned to face him, eyes fluttering closed as he reached out to brush his fingers over your face. You were tired, but you still found the strength to stare back at him. Peter was pretty, you’d noted before, but it was something you hadn’t wanted to linger on then.

Your eyes drooped a bit as his hand danced towards yours, taking it and playing with your fingers. It was moments like this that made it so easy to pretend. It was dark outside, and in the room, the only light coming from the glow of the moon outside. The rest of the house was quiet, and the only sounds in the room were that of your labored breathing.

It was moments like this that made it easy to pretend as if Peter hadn’t kidnapped you, as if his brothers hadn’t killed your friends. It was easy to pretend like you were the only ones in this whole house, just basking in each other’s presence and the afterglow of taking pleasure in each other’s bodies under the cover of darkness.

Like a normal man with a normal job simply coming home from work and making love to his normal wife.

Peter’s fingers touched your ring, and you were brought back to reality.

“Not every couple has done it…but some of the others have…had ceremonies…”

Your brows rose at that, and Peter’s gaze remained on the thorned ring around your finger.

“I would really like it if we had one too,” he murmured. “I… I want to declare my love and vows to you in front of the whole family…and have you do the same to me.”

You didn’t know how to feel about that, and so you merely frowned. Your eyes met Peter’s when he finally glanced up, and his tongue darted between his lips.

“…because I do, you know.”

When you didn’t respond, your confusion must’ve been evident to him because he continued.

“I do love you.”

That word made you feel faint, and you quickly sat up. Peter followed, a hand on the back of your neck and the other still playing with your hand.

“I do,” he reiterated, making it hard to swallow. “You’re so open about what’s on your mind, and you’re never afraid to ask me anything you want.”

You hesitantly looked at him, pulling your gaze away from the sheets.

“…and now that you’ve finally settled here, I can see how caring you are. I see how worried you get when you think Jane is straining herself or when you think Margaret might be too tired on her feet. I saw it when you were more worried about your mom than…”

He trailed off, but he didn’t need to finish it. Maybe it was silly at the time to worry more about your free mom than your captive self, but you couldn’t help it.

“I knew I chose right, but it’s something entirely different to have it confirmed every single day,” Peter whispered, taking his hand and resting it under your chin. “…and you may not love me yet, but that’s okay because I know you will…just like I love you.”

Peter’s words were so…heavy. You found it hard to believe that he loved you, but then again, Peter had nothing but all the time in the world to observe you and watch you and take note of every flaw and quirk. Who were you to tell him what he felt? No man had ever told you that before, and there were layers to the fact that the first one who did was the same who’d stolen you away.

Something stirred in your chest at that.

“I want to make every promise in the world to you, and I want to do it in front of our family.”

Our family.

That was so strange to hear, but wasn’t it the truth? You had long accepted that you were never leaving, and despite what you personally wanted, this was your family, now…weren’t they?

“You don’t have to give me an answer, now,” Peter assured you, laying back down, fingers grazing over your lower back. “…but you know what I want.”

Yes, but what did you want?

You cared about Peter more than you wanted to admit. The thought of losing him in any way made your chest ache, but that wasn’t love. You knew what it really was, but your heart couldn’t decipher real feelings from ones brought on by circumstances and a means to cope. Your heart only knew that Peter was now in it, and his fingers on your skin and his devotional words made you feel things that you were ashamed of.

He pulled you back down to lie with him, resting your head on his arm as you clung to it. You looked up at him as sleep fought to claim him, his own lashes fluttering as he stifled a yawn. You were going to be with Peter forever, that was indubitable, and declaring that in front of the whole household wasn’t going to make it any more true than it already was.

You tilted your head back down, pressing your face into the arm of the man who loved you.

You had just got done taking the dish out of the oven when a familiar voice outside drew your attention. Peter’s laugh was loud, and you hurried to set the heavy pie and get your gloves off. He had been gone when you woke up, and Sam had told you that he’d had to go in early with Steve. You thought that meant he’d be home earlier, but no. This was one of those rare days where he was gone almost the whole day, and you’d been so anxious.

“Slow down, Y/N,” Christine called as you dashed out of the kitchen.

No other effort was made to stop you, and you practically tripped over your feet as you hurried down the hall. If Peter was having some important conversation with Steve and Tony, he put it on the back burner in favor of catching you as you flew into his arms.

“Woah, hey,” he chuckled, arm tight around you as he held you to him.

“I haven’t seen you all day,” you murmured. “You were gone when I woke up.”

You pulled away just a tad, hand twisting into Peter’s dark uniform as he gave you an apologetic smile.

“I know,” he sadly said. “This one screwed up some paperwork with a guy we arrested, and we had to go in pretty early.”

He jerked his head towards Steve as he said this, and you’d forgotten about the blonde’s presence entirely. Tony too. You barely spared them both a glance, only acknowledging them as evenly and respectfully as possible without putting in too much effort. You were already turning back to Peter when they returned the acknowledgement.

“Jane told me your favorite food,” you told him, pulling and forcing him to come with you.

He threw Steve and Tony a backwards glance as he waved them off, signaling that they’d continue whatever they were talking about later.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I made a cherry pie,” your tone was hopeful, nervous, and Peter’s gaze lit up.

“Really…?” he wondered as he stopped, more excited, now. “All by yourself?”

You nodded.

“It hasn’t been tasted yet, so I hope you like it,” you worriedly said.

The other man softly chuckled, and you briefly glanced up as Natasha walked by.

“I bet it’s perfect,” Peter assured you, kissing your cheek. “…and even if it isn’t, I’ll love it anyway. You made it, after all.”

You weren’t able to linger on his words like you wanted to, worriedly gazing at the redhead’s back.

You’d been worried for her ever since that day she’d told you she thought she was pregnant. She hadn’t brought it up since, and neither had you, too afraid of being overheard by the wrong person. You didn’t know if she was or wasn’t, and if she was, and Bucky knew, the whole house would definitely know by now. Thor had made a whole day of it when he found out Jane was pregnant, and considering what Natasha had told you about all of their efforts, you doubted that Bucky would be any different.

However, there was no word of it, and while Natasha didn’t seem as mopey as she had been, she was still…off. Quieter. She smiled more, now, especially at Bucky, and you’d found yourself wondering if she’d made peace with what he did to your friends so quickly. It seemed…unlikely but considering that she was in the same boat as you, with no chances of leaving, it’s possible she wanted to make peace with it for her own sake.

You wouldn’t fault her if she did.

None of this was easy, and especially so considering her own history with Bucky, so you felt no anger or disgust when their intertwined hands rested on the table between them. You didn’t blame her for the smiles she threw his way, or the soft kisses on her cheek that she didn’t turn away from. After all, you yourself had cut the first piece of pie for Peter, anxious to see how the brunette liked it.

“It’s great,” he hummed.

You’d been skeptical, still unsure of your own cooking skills, but Peter had assured you that he wasn’t placating you. He’d even fed you a piece, and you’d been shocked at just how good it really was. You and Peter had mostly been in your own world throughout dinner. After all, you hadn’t seen him all day, something that only strengthened your animosity towards Steve, and you felt like you had so much to tell him.

So, when dinner was over—and Natasha and Laura were cleaning up—you were disappointed as Peter stood too. The other men were heading towards the den to talk about work and the household as they did every evening after dinner. Peter’s hand was on your lower back as he walked you towards the stairs, and you knew your hesitation was evident.

“You’ve been gone all day,” you whispered, almost afraid to voice your desire to have him come upstairs with you. “…and who knows how long that will take. I don’t want to be asleep when you finally come up to bed.”

Peter tilted his head at you, studying you in a way you couldn’t place. His other hand reached for yours, fingers threading through your own, and you watched his tongue dart between his lips. There was a furrow between his brows, like he was thinking deeply about something before he glanced over his shoulder.

“Do you want to sit with me?”

You hadn’t expected that.

You didn’t quite catch what he meant at first, and then it was your turn to frown. You blinked at him, confusion and apprehension filling you.

“I can…?”

You couldn’t swallow down the small relief you were starting to feel. It would be different—unfamiliar—but at least you’d be with Peter instead of alone in your bedroom.

“Am I allowed to?” you wondered. “I didn’t think any of us could.”

Peter gave you an encouraging smile.

“It’s not common,” he honestly answered, pulling you along. “…but sometimes little Sarah can only be quieted by Steve so Margaret will bring her, or now, with Jane being pregnant and hormonal, she gets her way if she wants to rest in Thor’s lap.”

He chuckled at that.

You’d cleaned the den a few times. It was a large room with no windows, only brightened by the low light of lamps. The furniture was all dark wood and leather, and it had a bar that you’d never been tempted to use. You’d always been able to imagine the men sitting around and discussing police paperwork and what household business needed to take priority over others.

As Peter led you into the room, you realized you’d be witnessing it tonight.

“Peter…”

Steve’s stern drawl of his name reached your ears, half warning, half question.

“She’ll be good,” Peter lightly promised.

There were just enough seats for the men, and you realized why Peter had mentioned Jane sitting in Thor’s lap when she got in one of her moods. You didn’t hesitate to sit by Peter’s feet, curling your legs up underneath you as he took your hand. Truthfully, you didn’t care what they had to discuss, even if it was interesting and consisted of the mention of some woman who’d broken into a house.

You just cared about being next to Peter.

As you’d guessed, you were tired, and you were right to worry that you would’ve been asleep by the time Peter joined you. At some point during the meeting, your head drooped, and you did the right thing in leaning it against the side of Peter’s leg, your cheek resting on his thigh. Your hands curled around his leg, holding onto him as you fought sleep. Your lashes fluttered, and it was easier said than done…

Especially when you felt Peter’s hand on your head.

His fingers gently pressing into your scalp was soothing, and you slowly blinked, fighting fatigue. You were pretty sure Thor was talking, now. Or was it Stephen? Either way, it didn’t help, and you shifted, tightening your arms around Peter’s leg. The feel of his hand in your hair was going to put you fast asleep…if it weren’t for the feel of an oppressing gaze.

When you glanced over, your eyes met familiar blue ones, Steve hardly paying attention to a thing Stephen was saying. His cold blue irises were focused entirely on you. For a moment, you worried that you did something wrong, and you clung to Peter even tighter, and the brunette made an inquiring humming noise. You only shook your head in response, looking away from the blond and desperately wondering why he seemed to hate you so.

It was hours later when sleep evaded you. It was strange. You’d been so exhausted downstairs that you’d passed out almost immediately when you crawled into bed. However, your body had betrayed you in the middle of the night, waking and refusing to go back. Peter’s arm was comforting around your waist when you stirred, and you’d simply laid there for a few moments, basking in the feel and sound of him before making your way to the window.

The moon was only half full, and you used the glow of it to look down at your ring.

You thought about what Peter had said, about a ceremony, and you touched the thorned metal. You had never given marriage a lot of thought before, but you had never imagined it would be in the backyard of a large and beautiful country house, decorations and everything homemade.

You had also never imagined it would be to the man who’d kidnapped you either, but…

You sighed, shifting the ring a tad and blinking. It was true that your friends would want you to be happy, and that your mom, wherever she hoped you were, hoped you were okay. In a lot of ways, you weren’t, but in some ways…you were. No one in your life would’ve wanted this for you, that was sure, but you were in a bad situation, you were never getting out of this bad situation, and so why not make some good of it?

You glanced up, eyes running over the yard briefly, and you were about to look back down at your ring…

…when you saw it.

Movement in the yard made you blink, and it was so late, you almost wrote it off as some animal. You were out in the rural Midwest, hidden away amongst the trees, and so the odd animal here and there wasn’t uncommon. Jane had left a towel on the clothesline one night and something had dragged it off by the next morning.

However, looking closer, the figure was too large to be some animal.

They were moving across the yard, slowly and carefully, as if they were trying to go undetected. There was a sinking feeling deep in your gut, and you took a step closer to the window. You could feel yourself frowning, worry coursing through you as you watched some stranger figure move about. You were just about to call for Peter when the glow of the moon glinted off of hair.

Beautiful red hair.

Your lips parted at the sight of Natasha in the yard. It was too late for anyone to be outside, let alone her, and when she looked over her shoulder, her green eyes lifted right towards your window. You could tell that she saw you, her face falling just a tad, and you both blinked at each other. It didn’t quite click at first, unable to understand why Natasha was outside so late, but then your eyes fell to her clothes, clothes that she wouldn’t be caught dead in in the house.

Bucky’s clothes.

You felt like a bucket of ice-cold water had washed over you, and you placed your hand on the window, your gaze almost pleading. You silently begged her to come back, to turn around before she was caught. You shook your head, disbelief and horror and confusion tearing through you. You shook your head at her again, glancing at your door, trying to silently convey that you’d help her come back inside and lie if need be.

Anything to keep her from being thrown in that basement again.

However, Natasha silently refused, her only response being to step away slowly and continue going. You sharply exhaled, feeling frozen, and you didn’t know what to do. She didn’t look back again as she ran across the yard, and you pressed your hand to your stomach just as a familiar voice reached your ears.

“What are you doing up?”

Peter’s voice was groggy, sleep coating his tone, and you flinched. Blinking, you looked over your shoulder, heart in the pit of your gut as he rubbed his eyes. You stared at Peter with parted lips, eyes burning with tears, but you didn’t know why. You were confused. You were scared, but why did you want to cry?

Was it because you had to tell Peter that Natasha had managed to sneak out somehow, making a break for it? That her entire demeanor this past month had been a farce, a way to be sure Bucky wouldn’t be suspicious? That the discovery of what he did to her friends had indeed been too much for her and had pushed her over the edge to bring all of them down?

Were you crying because you had to tell Peter Natasha had escaped and therefore get her into more trouble than she probably ever had been in before?

“Y/N, what’s wrong?”

Peter had seen your face, now, sitting up with concern in his eyes, and you glanced over your shoulder. You could just barely make out Natasha on the other side of the pond, so close to the trees, and you exhaled.

Or were you crying because if Natasha succeeded, your time with Peter would be numbered? Peter was the reason you were here, the sole reason you were in this place, and yet, the thought of him behind bars and forever separated from you was too much to wrap your head around. The man was your sole comfort. Peter was who you clung to, the thought of being away from him enough to send you into a downward spiral.

Peter was all you had, now…

…and yet…

With all of that being true, your eyes finally met his again.

“I… I had a nightmare.”

The lie was said so softly, you almost couldn’t believe you’d said it. You watched his face fall some, scooting to the edge of the bed and reaching for you. Like an obedient lamb, you walked right into his embrace, and more tears spilled over before you could stop them. He shushed you, rubbing your back and soothing you, but you couldn’t be consoled.

The moment to stop Natasha was gone. Who knows how long it would be before Bucky discovered her absence. If Natasha was caught, you did not envy what awaited her, but if she succeeded…you did not envy what awaited the you in the future. You did not envy the version of you that would have to watch Peter be arrested and separated from you forever.

You didn’t envy the version of you that would have to learn to live without him.

You wrapped your arms around him and let Peter pull you into a kiss.

#peter parker x reader #dark peter parker x reader #dark!peter Parker x reader #dark!peter parker #peter parker imagine #marvel imagine #peter parker fanfiction #marvel fanfiction

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cranberryjuice-posts · 3 months

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HELLO?? I LOVE YOUR CLARISSE FANFICS I EAT THEM UP EVERY SINGLE TIME!!! ok ok so i was wonderingggg if you could do dior goodjohn x (actor/singer) reader! their in this interview together just the two of them for percy jackson, the interview makes reader uncomfortable and then clarisse is just like protecting reader! then when they get home they get blasted with edits of them but if you don’t do fanfics of the actors that’s totally ok because i have one for clarisse! clarisse la rue x (athena) reader! the reader and clarisse where friends before clarisse got sent to camp haft blood and so like about 3 years later reader gets sent there too, reader doesn’t recognize clarisse before clarisse says this one things that makes reader remember (you can decide on what she says! would be amazing if their could be like a makeout sesh😋😋) TY IF YIU SEE THIS AND YK MAKE THE FSNFICS AHH LOVE YOUR WRITING

You know where to find me — and I know where to look

Pairings - Clarisse La Rue x Fem! daughter of Athena! Reader

One of your earliest memories was when you were 13. Running around with clarisse in your private catholic boarding school, skipping class and watching as she would constantly get into fights.

You both looked after eachother, clarisses mom was enlisted in the army thus she lived with her grandma who wasn’t the nicest and you.. well your dad seemed to only care about you when he needed something solved.

Forcing clarisse to sit on the schools bathroom sink counter you started to clean a cut on the girls cheek. Not wanting to even think about how you’ll get the blood off her light blue uniform top. “It’s not even my fault!” The young girl yelled. “If Jeremiah thinks ‘slap ass Friday’ is so funny then maybe he should get his ass beat every now and then”

You just nodded following along with what the girl spoke. Moving a frizzy curl out of the girls way you noticed how she scoffed. “I should just cut this off” she grabbed the loose curls shoving them into her messy ponytail. “Don’t do that” you sighed pulling her hands away from her hair. “You Just Need some help to keep your curls nice that’s all”

Clarisses cheeks flushed, she shoved your hands away as she looked to the side. “Whatever”

“Hey!” A teacher aggressively busted into the bathroom. “Skipping class really?! Both of You principal office now!”

Clarisse grabbed your hand pushing past the teacher and down the private schools halls. You laughed as you followed the girl around the school, running down the stairs and past the nuns.

Shoving into a janitors closet and shutting it before the teacher could catch up. You panted while clarisse who Just practically ran a marathon was fine. Turning on the light you plopped down onto a pair of stacked chairs. “How are You able to do that!?”

“Do what?”

“Run like That and not even be tired” you questioned. Clarisse just shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t really know I just am I a guess” she sighed sitting on a shelf.

Finally catching your breath you looked over “Hey clarisse?”

The girl set the tool she had been messing with down. “Yeah?”

“Will we always be best friends?” You quietly asked. Paying attention as clarisse had an annoyed look on her face she soon nodded. “Yeah.. cause you’ll always know where to find me”

You rolled your eyes “well I always know where to look” chuckling you reached out with your pinkie. Clarisse followed suit latching here onto yours. You knew what was between you and clarisse was far away from platonic but what did you know you were just some 13 year old kid.

The next morning clarisse was gone. Not a word not a letter nothing.. she had just left

You promised yourself you would never forget her. At first it started with not remembering how she spoke, then you forgot her face, and soon enough even her name you had completely forgotten.

———

Three years later.

After being chased by a hellhound and a few other angry monsters you found yourself at camp halfblood.

The weeks sorta merged together. However once you were claimed by Athena everything seemed to change, new found siblings. People wanting to be your friends and now finally not feeling like you were alone.

Through out your weeks at camp you had heard about a girl named clarisse. The name sounded familiar but you couldn’t place it exactly. The fact the mysterious girl avoided you to didn’t help either.

—

Annabeth Open the door agressivly throwing her dagger onto the bed. “What’s wrong?” You asked looking up from your book. “Nothing nothing.. I just got paired to lead a training class with clarisse”

“And what’s the problem?”

“She’s terrible What do you mean ‘what’s the problem’” your sister scoffed crossing her arms.

“I just meant that clarisse hasn’t done anything to me personally.. I don’t think I’ve even met her before” shaking your head you returned to your book.

Annabeth stayed quiet for a moment before grabbing the boom out of your hand. “Fine then, if you’ve never met her before then you should go lead the class with her.. besides it’ll be good for you”

Begrudgingly you accepted. Leaving your cabin you headed towards the arena, dagger strapped at your thigh.

—

The arena was loud and well… sweaty. Joining the kids who were sparring you made your way to a girl who stood crossed arm wearing Greek armor. “Uh hi? Your clarisse right” You stepped up to her. “I’m annabeths sister she wasn’t feeling well so I’m here to help you uh lead the class”

“You have any experience in battle” she rudely spoke not looking at you. “No b—“

“Then get lost I don’t need any dead weight” she scoffed before turning her attention back to the other campers who were sparring. “Hey! Did I not just say to stop stepping out!!”

You looked at the girl with a irritated face. “I’m not dead weight I can help”

Clarisse grabbed her spear before she harshly turned towards you. Just as she was going to say something she stopped. Looking at you for a second clarisse seemed to calm down. “Y/n?” She quietly asked.

Stepping back some you looked around confused. “Uh yeah.. that’s my name” you nodded awkwardly.

She took her helmet off tossing it aside looking at you excitedly. “It’s me? Remember? no fucking way your a demigod to! I should of guessed you were always the top of our class— gods how have you been”

At this point you were weirded out. “I’m sorry but I don’t know you..” She furrowed her eyebrows slightly fustrated. “What do You mean you don’t know me? We were best friends”

You just shrugged your shoulders apologetically. Clarisse nodded taking a moment to think before grabbing your hand, forcing it into a fist with your pinky sticking out. She linked her pinky with yours and gave you a slightly annoyed look. “You know where to find me”

It took you a few seconds to register what she said. After an uncomfortable amount of silence clarisse sighed, before she could pull away however you tightly linked your pinky with hers “and I know where to look” You smiled “oh my god clarisse!” you laughed hugging the girl tightly.

Some of The campers around stopped what they were doing, shocked at the fact clarisse was being hugged by a pretty girl. Quickly returning to what they were doing after receiving a hateful glare from clarisse.

The strong girl hugged you back tightly, allowing you to pull back you continued to grin. “Look at You! Wow you’ve gotten so pretty, and strong to gods” laughing you reached out to touch the girls face before noticing her hair. “And your hair— see what did I say all you needed to do was learn to take care of it properly”

A familiar rush flooded your body. How clarisses hands were now squeezing your hips with her body close to yours- so close you could smell her pine cologne. Your cheeks turned red once you realized you were playing with the girls hair

Clearing your throat you pulled back completely taking a few steps away from her. “Sorry I just uh.. I got to excited”

Clarisse shook her head “don’t worry about it.. anyways uh if you still wanna help with all this just grab a sword from over there ok”

You smiled in response. It had been years since you felt like that, Clarisse for some reason always made you get flustered… but that didn’t mean anything.

———

Over the next week you found yourself spending every free second with clarisse.

It was like a breath of fresh air. You both had changed a-lot from being 13 to 16 but the same spark was still between you both. You found it amusing how she could go from an Absolute bully to a sweet heart towards you.

What didn’t help was how attractive the girl was. Her muscular arms and face that was meant to wear greek Armor made you go weak in the knees. Being gay was something you came to terms with years ago but finding yourself falling in love with your best-friend was just cringe. Out of all the girls at camp you choose clarisse.. really

——

The best part of camp in your opinion was the bondfire. Being able to sit around a cozy setting with friends and family warmed your heart in more ways than one.

After some time you were approached by a girl named Willow who you later found out was a daughter of Hermes.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t like her. She was tall, strong and had a charming face, And she clearly seemed to like you to. “Don’t lie to me pretty girl you’ve seriously never had your first kiss”

Shaking your head you let out a soft laugh. “No never, actually I’ve never had a girlfriend before” Willow scoffed, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear she leaned forward some. “Well.. I can offer an easy solution to both those problems— that is if you would like it” she tilted her head some.

Before you could answer however clarisse shoved Willow back from where she was making her almost fall out of her seat. “Clarisse what the fuck!”

“She’s not interested Willow, instead of preying on girls who don’t want you why don’t you go fuck around with one of your ex”

Campers looking over, embarrassed enough as it was you Grabbed clarisses arm pulling her away. Quickly finding the Athena cabin you threw the girl inside. “What was That” you almost yelled.

“What was What” she continued to play innocent, now messing around with you stuff— grabbing s mechanical pencil to mess with. “Stop Just stop! Clarisse a girl was finally showing Interest in me—-“

“Yeah a fuck girl who only wants to finger you then break your heart but god forbid I look out for you right!”

“I don’t care about that! It’s still the matter of fact someone liked me and you just—“

“Did you ever stop to think there might me other girls out there better than Willow who like you!”

At this point you were beyond frustrated. “Gods can You stop interrupting me!” You watched as clarisse awkwardly shifted her stance, now feeling bad you sighed walking over to the girl hugging her. “I know I’m new to this whole demigod life and you have no idea how thankful I am for having you here”

Clarisse squeezed you slightly. After a few moments you laughed. “What did you mean by ‘other girls here like me’ I’ve only been here for what like a month?” Clarisse didn’t respond however her actions told you otherwise. The shifting in her feet, the way her eyes avoided yours, how she held you— fuck clarisse liked you.

Once you realized it the daughter of ares knew you already figured it out. She cursed under her breath for a moment but was soon caught up in the fact you had grabbed her face and kissed her. The kiss only lasted for a second even though it wasn’t that great of a kiss it got the point across. “I like you I like you a lot actually uh clarisse your super cool and sweet and I ju—“ you started to anxiously ramble until she cut you off with yet another kiss this time it being more directed and sweet.

Pulling away you smiled, keeping your lips close to the girls “you know what I love about you.. how you always let me finish my sentences” the opposing girl just rolled her eyes making you laugh once again

———

Once you returned to the campfire you were confused as to why people were making teasing remarks at you and clarisse.. until annabeth pointed out your now messed up hair, flushed cheeks, wrinkled shirt and lastly the growing hickey on your neck.

———

Y/n - you are a sociopath these look like you tried to strangle me

Clarisse - Yeah Well you weren’t complaining when I was leaving them there

—

#lesbian #wlw #clarisse la rue #clarisse pjo #clarisse x reader #percy jackson fanfiction #clarisse my beloved #clarisse x female reader #butch clarisse #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse x you #clarisse larue #pjo show #percy jackson show #pjo fandom #percy jackson

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specialagentlokitty · 4 months

Text

Klaus x autistic!reader - just be there

I just read your Klaus x autistic reader i was wondering if i could request another Klaus x autistic reader whereby the reader doesn't exactly go missing but kinda goes off on her own because everybody like damon, stefan elena ect were arguing and it was all too loud for her and then they realise the readers gone, klaus finds out and is annoyed but eventually finds her and takes care of her, totally okay if not - thanks for taking the time to read ❣️- @floxalprinxess3000💜

Listening to the arguing, you simply just walked to the door, a tight grip with your hand around your arm, nails digging into the skin.

You made your way outside, and down the street, not caring about not telling them where you were going, you just didn’t want to be there anymore.

There was only one place you wanted to go to, and that’s where you made your way to.

Everybody was still so busy arguing, shouting, they hadn’t noticed you were gone, but they did notice when the door was thrown open and a part of a fence was thrown through, barely missing Elena.

“Where is it?!” Klaus shouted.

“We won’t tell you!” Bonnie snapped.

Klaus threw something else through the house, narrowing his eyes at them.

He stopped slowly looking over them all once again.

“Yeah, she’s in here with us, so you’re not going to throw anything else.” Damon taunted.

They all knew Klaus had a soft spot for you, it was obvious when he tried to attack them but stopped when he saw you.

He always stopped when he saw you, because in truth he was soft on you.

“No she isn’t.”

“Yes she is.” Caroline said.

They all seemed so smug and he shook his head, slowly backing down the porch.

“No she isn’t you idiots!”

Klaus spun around on his heel and jogged down the street, trying to figure out where you would go so he could find you.

Your friends frantically looked around, but none of them knew where you would have run to.

The only person who did was Klaus, he had been there plenty of times before, he knew it was your favourite place, your calm place.

He wasted no time in getting there, and he looked around, finding you sitting under a tree.

He walked over, crouching over you and he took your hand in his, moving it away from your arm.

“It’s alright love, you’re alright.”

Klaus sat himself at your side and reached into his pocket, pulling out some bandaids that he used to cover up the small wounds.

He smoothed his thumb along them and smiled, bringing your hand to his lips he kissed your knuckles.

“All better now.”

You took your hand back and placed it on his knee making him chuckle.

He smiled, reaching out to place his hand on the side of your face, letting you lean into his touch.

“How did you find me…?”

“I always know how to find you love, no matter what, no matter where. I’ll always find you, you remember that alright?”

You looked away.

“What’s going on? Usually you don’t go gallivanting all alone. The idiots didn’t even know you were missing.”

“Arguing… I don’t know what about…”

Klaus hummed, running his thumb along your cheek.

“They should know better by now. I swear when I get my hands on them…” he growled.

You reached out, touching his face, running your finger along his furrowed brow, looking at his hybrid eyes.

“Klaus…”

His eyes connected with yours and they returned to normal.

“I’m sorry love but it’s true, they need to be taught a lesson. Watching them just completely ignore what makes you uncomfortable is not fair, I don’t see why you like them so much.”

“They’re my friends…”

Klaus smirked a little.

“What does that make me?”

You smiled softly at him, running your fingers down his face, then you reached for the necklace around his neck so you could mess with it.

“My more than friend…”

He chuckled softly, reaching up to take your hand so he could lace your fingers together.

“Well, would you to know what this more than friend thinks?”

You nodded.

He stood up, still holding your hand.

“I think you need to go for ice cream at that place you like so much, don’t you?”

Your face immediately lit up and you nodded, letting him pull you up.

You wrapped your arms around him, balling your hands into the fabric of his shirt, resting your head on his chest.

“Can we stay here…? They can’t find me here..”

Klaus nodded, wrapping his arms protectively around you.

“We can stay here as long as you like.”

He was in no rush to go anywhere, it’s not like he had plans.

If you didn’t want to see your friends, then he would hide out there with you so you wouldn’t have to see them, then when you were ready he would get your favourite ice cream and take you home.

You enjoyed the feeling of his arms around you, you felt safe, and protected.

Maybe he was the big bad guy for everybody else, but you stumbled across him before you found out, you found safety in him before you knew that.

He never brought that life around you, he kept you protected and safe from everything he was doing because there was something about you.

He didn’t know it was, but there was something about you he just couldn’t hurt, he just couldn’t upset.

To see you hurt or upset it hurt him.

“Would you like to know a secret?” He whispered.

Klaus felt you nod your head, and he smiled, taking your chin between his fingers he tilted your head up to him.

“Whenever I need to calm down, I think of you…”

“Why…?”

He leant down, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Because I care about you love, if you need to calm down, or you need help just think of me, I won’t be too far away..”

You took took his hand, wrapping it around your shoulder, and he pulled you into his side.

“Can we go back home..?”

“We can do whatever you like.”

You smiled, taking his hand and you both began to leave you hiding spot, making your way back out on to the streets.

Anybody who ever dared to look in your direction was immediately run off by him.

When you got distracted he would let you drag him around.

All you needed him to do was just be there, just be right next to you because then you knew that everything was going to be okay.

Because as long as Klaus was next to you you knew that you were safe, that you were fine

#the vampire diaries #the vampire diaries imagine #the vampire diaries x reader #the vampire diaries x you #klaus mikaelson imagine #klaus mikaelson #klaus mikealson x reader #klaus mikaleson imagine #klaus mikealson fanfiction

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watchmegetobsessed · 5 months

Text

ONE YEAR

A/N: heeey look at that! im posting something new again!

WORD COUNT: 1.2k

SUMMARY: On the day before Christmas you realize just how much has changed in one year.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

Time has always been such a weird concept in your life. When you were a kid one year felt like a decade, week-long summer vacations felt endless and you could have sworn that you’d never grow up.

But then, of course, you did, like everyone else and time sneakily started to speed up. One day after the other, weeks turned into months and years and before you could realize, another birthday has passed, you got older even though the last one felt like it was yesterday.

One year can feel like a second, but it can also make such a difference and today, the day before Christmas you’re reminded of it.

Waking up you’re not surprised to find the other side of the bed empty. The mornings when you could peacefully cuddle with Harry are now long gone, but knowing that he is somewhere out with your daughter makes up for all the missed moments together in bed.

Stretching long you give yourself a couple more minutes to just rest and get your head ready for the day. The night wasn’t too rough, only had to wake up twice to feed Alma and she went back to sleep without a fuss this time. Maybe she can finally feel the Christmas spirit as well and her gift is to let you rest finally.

Sitting up in bed you turn towards the window and see that it’s still snowing, the street outside is clothed in the prettiest white blankets that’s almost entirely untouched since it’s so early in the morning. Your wish for Alma to have a first Christmas with snow is actually coming true.

Snatching one of Harry’s hoodies from the closet, you make your way out of the bedroom as you’re putting it on, noticing his voice coming from the living room the moment you reach the stairs. Trying to be as quiet as possible you head down, hearing his cooing voice that’s for sure for Alma.

“See them? You like them? They are pretty, right?”

He has the most soothing voice as it is, but whenever he is talking to Alma it feels like it softens even more, as if that little girl melts the man in every possible way.

Well, that’s kind of the truth, Harry is smitten with his girl.

Harry is standing by the window that watches over the snowy street, the lights of the christmas tree reflecting in the glass because it’s still a bit dark outside. He is holding Alma in one arm, holding the curtains to the side with his free hand, gently swaying from side to side, a motion that always calms your baby, but only when her daddy does it.

As you watch them in awe you think back to this exact day a year ago. It’s one to remember, because this was the day you found out you were pregnant and you shared the news with Harry. As much as you love your daughter, it’s no secret you weren’t planning her arrival so soon. Harry proposed just weeks before the pregnancy came into the picture and you both agreed to take some time just for the two of you, enjoy married life alone before expanding your family. Travel, explore, find yourself before becoming parents.

All those plans changed when the second line appeared on your test.

Harry was surprised, maybe even shocked a bit. Not because he didn’t want kids, but because he was planning with another timeline that only included babies in 2-3 years. You talked for long hours that day and he told you he doesn’t feel ready, that he’s afraid he might not be the best father our baby deserves and he’s scared he might mess it up. You both cried and shared all your feelings and thoughts.

It took time for him to settle with the idea of becoming a father earlier than he planned, but by the time the nursery was done, he was a changed man. Throughout your pregnancy he did everything he could to better himself and be ready for Alma’s arrival. He read every possible parenting book out there, always took care of you and looked for ways to be more present in this new chapter of your life together.

Now it’s been four months since Alma was born and Harry is easily the best father you could ever wish for your baby and you’re so proud of him for everything he does for you and Alma as well. There’s no trace of that scared, doubtful man you sat on the couch with a year ago, the positive pregnancy test lying on the coffee table in front of you.

Alma’s head turns, as if she had a sixth sense to notice when you’re around and she gives you a toothless grin as you make your way across the room. Harry turns and you see the same sparkle in his eyes when he looks at you that you saw the first time you met. He says he knew he would marry you one day the moment he laid his eyes on you. You believe him, because you felt the same way.

“Good morning you two,” you smile, pressing a kiss to Alma’s forehead and one to Harry’s lips.

“Morning Mommy, we didn’t wake you up, right?”

“No,” you shake your head. Alma visibly starts to wiggle towards you, Harry hands her over and she lays her head to your chest right away, her tiny hands grabbing onto the sweatshirt that smells like Harry.

“Princess is kinda hungry, but I thought I could prolong breakfast a bit and distract her with the snow.” Harry smiles gently, running his knuckles down the side of Alma’s round face.

“You like the snow, huh? We’ll see how much you like it when we’re outside in the cold,” you chuckle.

You move over to the couch and Harry follows you, you sit beside each other, Harry’s arm instantly comes around you, pulling you against his chest as you settle Alma in your arms to feed her. This has been your usual for the morning feeding, but almost all feeding, because Harry loves being present in these moments. All those sleepless nights when she woke up every two hours and you had to sit in the nursery for most of the night to feed her, Harry was there every time. If you weren’t sleeping, he wasn’t either, even if all he could do was just be there, run his fingers through your hair and tell you how great of a mother you are, he never missed a chance to be present.

As usual, Alma passes out in your arms once her tummy is full and you can’t help but just stare at her and think of how you can’t imagine your life without her now.

Turning your head you find Harry gazing down at her as well with sparkling eyes and you wish to see him like this, so happy and content every day for the rest of your life.

“What?” he asks with a tiny, shy smirk, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Just… I was thinking about how much has happened in one year.”

Harry hums and you know he is thinking about the same thing from last year.

“Yeah. It’s crazy. Can’t wait to see what the next one holds.”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles blurb

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shy-urban-hobbit · 8 months

Text

"I'm telling you Geralt, my songs are definitely working."

"A few contracts not skimping on payment isn't proof Jaskier. It's coincidence." Geralt replied as he stuffed his newly purchased supplies into Roach's saddlebag. After two years, he didn't need to look to know the bard was probably doing his uncanny impression of a landed trout. His default expression when he thought himself gravely offended.

"Oh hoho. So it's proof you want? Fine, I'll get you proof you old cynic - wait, I'm here calling you old, how old are you? I know Witchers age differently but it's all so contradictory. I remember one text claiming you aged backwards. Backwards!"

Geralt was blessedly distracted from Jaskier's tangent by a small tug on his cloak causing him to look behind him and then down.

A small, tear stained face with huge, liquid brown eyes looked up at him. The hand that wasn't clutching Geralt's cloak fisted in the skirt of a green dress as she shuffled her small, booted feet. Witcher and child stared at one another and even Jaskier had fallen silent.

"Are you the White Wolf?" She asked in a small voice.

Geralt could only nod in response, keeping an eye and both ears out for angry adults about to accuse him of kidnapping.

"I can't find my Papa." She sniffled, voice trembling and eyes welling up.

He felt himself slip into Witcher mode, trying to think what could be snatching people from a crowded town in the middle of the day, "What do you mean you can't find him, has he gone missing or-"

"Sweetheart, do you mean you got separated from your Papa in the market?" Jaskier gently interjected before Geralt could start fully interrogating her. The girl gave a small nod, turning her attention to the bard now kneeling in the dirt next to her.

Geralt felt his face heat up. Right. Just a lost child. That was also a possible (and the most logical) explanation.

"It's ok, we'll help you find him. Won't we Geralt?" Jaskier's tone of voice leaving no room for argument.

It turned out that Jaskier's idea of helping was having the girl perch on Geralt's shoulders and scan the top of the crowd for her father while he stood playing silly little dittys to keep her from crying again. Geralt holding onto her shins lightly and trying to ignore the mess being made on his cloak by muddy feet.

"I see him! Papa! Papa!"

Geralt tightened his grip slightly as her weight shifted with her frantic waving. Waiting until he was clearly making his way over to them before setting her gently back on the ground.

"Mika! Oh thank the God's." He turned his attention to the two men, his eyes widened as he took Geralt in fully.

"You're-"

"Hmmm."

Geralt tried to hide his surprise as the man grasped his hand in a firm if slightly clammy grip. "My thanks Wolf. I swear, if I went home without her my wife would make sure I shared the same fate as that Hag from the song of yours." He said, smiling awkwardly at his own attempt at humour, "Come on Mika, say goodbye. Oh, here."

He reached into his satchel and pulled something out. Geralt could smell warm sugar as he handed it over. "It's not much, but I don't know a single person who doesn't like cake. I could do with cutting down myself." He said, patting his own slight paunch before taking his daughters hand with a final "Thank you." Mika turning back to give a wave which they both returned before the two of them disappeared into the crowd.

"What?" Geralt asked as they left the town. The bard hadn't stopped grinning at him like the cat who'd got the canary.

"Nothing. It just, the timing and everything. Seems Destiny agreed with me for once. The songs are making a difference."

"Hmm." Geralt fought the urge to roll his eyes.

"Oh don't give me that." Jaskier said, swatting Geralt in the side as he unwrapped the package Mika's father had given them, "You saw as well as I did there were plenty of town guards around but she went to you. She wanted you. Oooh, maybe this would be good for a new song. The Gentle Wolf! Yes I- hey! "

"No cake for you until you stop." Geralt stated, popping a piece into his own mouth to hide his smile.

#the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #geraskier #jaskier x geralt #jaskier/geralt #witcher geralt #geralt #geralt of rivia #witcher jaskier #jaskier

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loveisanimaginarydagger3000 · 7 months

Text

Kinktober (11)- Power Imbalance

Boss Natasha X Employee Reader 18+

Summary: When you were called into your boss's office, you were expecting to be fired, not fucked on her desk.

Warnings/Tags: SMUT MDNI, Boss/Employee relationship, Fingering, Oral, Brief Spanking, Desk Sex, Multiple orgasms

Kinktober Masterlist

“Miss Y/L/N,” you look up when you hear a woman say your name, a soft smile gracing her lips, “Miss Romanoff would like to see you in her office.” Fear ran through your body at the sympathetic look the woman gave you afterwards, your mind running a million miles an hour as you tried to figure out why your boss would want to see you in her office. When the woman turned and walked a few steps, looking over her shoulder at you expectantly making your eyes widen.

“N-now?” you stuttered out, not ready to face one of the most intimidating women you’ve ever met, especially when all your brain can think about is her firing you.

“Yes Miss Y/L/N, now,” there's a slight smile tugging at her lips, “I’d hurry if I were you, she doesn’t like to wait.” Papers go flying off your desk as you scramble out of your seat to catch up with the woman, following her confident stride with anxiety coursing through you. Once you reach the door with a sign saying Miss Romanoff, you take in a deep breath before turning to the woman for some support only to find her gone. Nervously, your knuckle raps against the door as you wait for a response, a professional ‘come in’ muffled by the door.

“Take a seat Miss Y/L/N,” she says to you without even looking away from her paperwork, fingers swiftly flicking through the pages before closing the file and turning her attention to you. You listen to her, an apology and mini speech ready in your mind in case she does fire you as you sit in the surprisingly comfortable seat. “I suppose you’re wondering why I called you in here?” Her tone is full of professionalism as she addresses you, her posture amazing as you try and not focus on the suit she’s wearing and how amazing she looks in it.

“Yes Miss Romanoff,” you manage out, feeling small under her intense gaze, a blush tinting your cheeks.

“Well, we’re here to discuss your work here at Avengers so far and what you have done,” your mind dreads what’s to come, you thinking you have horribly messed up all the paperwork you have done for the company so far. “Can you tell me when you handed in the completed file regarding the Strucker case?”

“Uh,” you search for the answer in your brain, taking a moment to remember fully what happened. You remembered staying after your shift had finished to complete the case file, being the last worker in the building to make sure you had it done a few days prior to the deadline. “I handed it in on the 5th, the deadline being the 10th,” you watch her reaction closely but to no avail as her face remains strictly professional.

“The Hydra case?”

“Handed in on the 11th but it was re-evaluated on the 12th, so um the 14th would be when it was handed in, the deadline being the 20th.” Your hands play with each other, a nervous habit you could never escape.

“Are you aware that the 11th and 12th was a weekend?”

“Yes?”

“Ok,” her fingers open the file once more, eyes scanning over the information present, “And what about the Ultron file?”

“Completed by the 25th, the deadline being the 30th,” she asks you many more questions regarding other cases you completed, your nerves building after every question.

“Are you also aware that you managed to complete eight high level priority cases within two months when it would have taken others at least three to four?” Your mouth parted at her words, your brows furrowing in confusion.

“No Miss Romanoff, I wasn’t,” you say, still a little confused.

“Well, you should be extremely impressed by yourself Miss Y/L/N,” a smile takes over your face at her compliment, your eyes watching her as she stands from her seat, walking around her desk until she could lean back on the front of it, standing directly in front of you now. “For doing so well, I have a little offer for you,” her tone drops an octave, the blush on your cheeks darkening as her green eyes look you up and down. “I can either shake your hand and congratulate you on your work, or I can find a more satisfactory way to thank you.” Her hands wrap around the metal arm rests of your seat, her body towering over yours as a wave of heat and arousal washes over you. “What will it be, Miss Y/L/N?”

You answer by slowly and cautiously leaning up to press your lips to hers, her hands cupping your jaw and tilting your head up to deepen the kiss. You moan into her mouth when her tongue slides across your bottom lip, seeking entrance to which you happily gave. Hesitantly, you placed your hands on her waist as she guided you out of the chair, spinning you around so your back hit her desk as her body pressed itself into yours. Her knee slotted between your legs, a groan escaping you at the action and breaking the kiss apart.

“Fuck,” you hear her sigh out, hands going to the back of your thigh and lifting you onto her desk. “Do you know how hard it’s been to resist you?” she pants out near your ear as she peppers kisses along your jaw, her hands sliding under your skirt and softly massaging the skin of your thighs. “My good, innocent little employee who’s so desperate to please?”

“Natasha,” you moan out, deciding to ignore formalities as you can feel her hand creeping high up your leg, fingertips ghosting your embarrassingly wet panties. “Please,” you can feel her smirk against the skin of your neck, her tongue licking a stripe up the column of your throat before she pulls back to look at you.

“Hush little one,” she rasps out, “Let me take care of you.” A whimper leaves your lips as she descends to her knees, a sultry smirk present on her face as she unzips your skirt and pulls the item off swiftly, your panties following suit. “You’re so wet for me,” she murmurs, kissing along your inner thighs to make your body throb with want and need for her.

“Please don’t tease me,” you whine out at the feeling of her warm breath fanning over your dripping core. She seems to take pity on you, mouth going straight to your clit and sucking gently, fingers running through your folds and gathering your wetness before effortlessly sliding into you. “Oh shit,” you moan out when her tongue swirls around your clit expertly, her fingers curling inside you perfectly as she hits all the right spots inside you.

Soon, she’s thrusting her fingers into you mercilessly, your knuckles bleeding white as you grip the edge of her desk for support, her tongue relentless on your sensitive clit. Your hands release the desk of their death grip, moving to tangle into her red locks. However, Natasha pulls back at this briefly and looks up at you, your arousal coating her lower face.

“Hands off Kotenok,” she husks out, the sound of her native tongue slipping from mouth makes you somehow even wetter. You listen to her words, moving your hands out of her hair and back to the poor table beneath you, mind clouding with pleasure as she adds another finger into you. It doesn’t take long for your orgasm to approach, her name falling off your lips like a chant as she continues to eat you out like she's starved.

“I’m gonna-” you cut yourself off with a scream, one of your hands clasping over your mouth to muffle the noise while the other instinctively goes to her hair once again as you come all over her mouth. She lets you ride out your orgasm before pulling back and letting her hand connect with your core, spanking your pussy making you cry out.

“I told you to keep your hands off,” her tone dangerously dominant as she looks up at you, sending a shiver down your spine. Her mouth goes back to your core, merciless as she listens to the pathetic noises that leave your lips as she drives you to another orgasm. Just as you're about to come again, she pulls back and spanks your core again, a guttural moan echoing around the room as she sends you straight into your second orgasm with the slap, body shaking on her desk. “Fuck, you like it when I spank you?” she taunts, standing up right and claiming your lips, “If I knew that I wouldn’t have hesitated to call you in here and bent you over my desk.”

“Please do,” you whimper out, her shaking her head softly and gently kissing you, letting you calm down after two intense orgasms.

“Not today little one,” she murmurs, “This was just meant to be a thank you but I got carried away.” You wish she would do it today but the rational part of you knew you shouldn’t rush into anymore, especially after only just finding out you liked to be spanked. “How about you have a meeting with me on Friday, we can discuss whatever you want?” Her hands comfort you by roaming your body before she helps you redress, a blush on your face as you anticipate what could happen.

“I’ll see you Friday, Miss Romanoff,” you say teasingly but before she can say anything else in response, the woman from earlier, who you realise is her secretary, knocks on the door to alert her of the meeting in a few moments.

“Don’t be a brat or maybe you’ll end up bent over this desk sooner than Friday,” she purrs into your ear, gathering the file from her desk and walking you to the door. “Enjoy the rest of your day Miss Y/L/N,” she softly says with a smile, you smiling in response before watching her walk away to the elevator, hips swaying subtly before looking over her shoulder to send a wink your way as the doors closed.

Only three more days till Friday…

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maximotts · 7 months

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Free use cowgirl Wanda 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

Going to the grocery store because Wanda’s been so busy lately only to find Wanda there and you’re like “omg hi Wanda 😊 But wait I thought I was doing the shopping this week?” and you check your phone to see if you’ve missed something. You haven’t. Wanda just couldn’t wait to bend you over 💞💞

My phone is doing the ios17 update and I'm just remembering I needed to finish answering this ask whoopsies

This got longer than expected (it's only like 600 words tho), but I simply cannot apologize for free use cowgirl Wanda content uhmmm cws for public sex and typical farm Wanda dirty talking, 18+ obvs

I don't think I've said it before, but Wanda does errands to shops in town to drop off farm goods every week because shopping local is good and cute! So there's a very high possibility you'd run into her at the grocery store and you're always so giddy when you see her, the shop owner thinks you two are just precious!

He doesn't even notice Wanda holding your hips so tight you're squeaking or how she's taunting you by pulling the ends of your pigtails! When you excuse yourself to finish the rest of your shopping, Wanda follows oh so innocently until the two of you are out of eyesight... and maybe she spots you stretching to reach the flour at the very back of the shelf, flowy dress riding up to show off your legs, how's Wanda supposed to do anything but pin you against the shelves?

"What right do you have to look this damn beautiful all by yourself back here?" And you can barely get a word in between Wanda's kisses, particularly when she takes your tongue and sucks, leaving your mouth an absolute mess.

At the sound of Wanda undoing her belt, you startle, trying and failing to wrench your thigh from where your girlfriend was shamelessly hitching it high around her hip. "Are you crazy? Someone's going to see us!"

"Now bunny, don't be like that," Wanda's totally unbothered by your struggles, knowing you'd settle as soon as she gets her hand up your panties— and she's exactly right. "I believe we have an arrangement, or did you forget?"

You couldn't possibly forget, your mind always racing with thoughts of how and when Wanda would decide to fuck you again. Sometimes you baited her into it, not wanting to wait, but being taken in the back of the town's only grocery store was an idea that'd never dared crossed your mind. Wanda's either until about five minutes prior.

"Good girl..." Wanda's smile is stunningly bright as she feels you relax against her, arms winding around her shoulders while she lines up her strap, opting not to prep you for the sake of time. "I'd guess we have about ten minutes before Steve finishes counting the jars I brought and writing me a check so behave and be quiet."

It's the shortest ten minutes of your life, the time flying by under Wanda's praises and the knee-buckling orgasm she gifts you. Your teeth desperately bite into the shoulder of Wanda's coat as she continues to fuck you, pumping your full of her cum until she's satisfied.

Pulling out was bittersweet, the brunette loving your impish whines but hating to have to leave. She did have to exercise some self-restraint, but that didn't mean she couldn't pick up where she left off later... "You'd better keep every last bit of my cum in that sweet pussy or I'll drag your ass right back here and we'll start all over again. Understand?"

"Uh huh..." It's terrible how quickly Wanda takes all your thoughts with such a quick fuck; you can tell how spaced out you sound, but you don't have anywhere near the coherence you need to mask it. You'd have to go straight back to the house after this, could only hope you remembered the rest of what you needed to get for dinner.

"I have a few more stops to make so I'll meet you back at home. Text me if you need anything, love you." Wanda sends you off with another kiss and a pat on the ass and before you know it, she's gone and you've never done your shopping more dreamily.

#I simplyyyy love her your honor #country bunny au.#wanda maximoff x reader #motts writes.#maximotts.

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ruewrote · 1 year

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𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑛 𝑟𝑎𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔.

PAIRING: jj maybank x fem!reader WARNINGS: ... GENRE: angst, fluff SONG INSPIRATION: almost by hozier WORD COUNT: 937 NOTE: its four in the morning so if there's any grammar mistakes bro idec anymore, anyways love you guys

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the five of you were out on john b's porch passing a blunt around, you were talking absolute utter bullshit about everything and anything, well that soon stopped when you caught a certain look that was shared between john and kie.

a slight awkward cough left you before you stopped speaking, feeling embarrassed, it didn't help that you were newer to the group and didn't have the same bond they all had together.

so pushing yourself off out of the chair you were currently sitting on, faking a smile asking everyone if they wanted anything to drink as you went to walk into the home, hearing no's from everyone you made your way to the kitchen. not feeling a pair of eyes on you as you did so.

your eyes watered, sniffling trying to gather yourself, lightly shaking your hands to distract yourself from crying, blinking away the tears successfully.

starting to walk back to the front door, swallowing the lump in your throat, pushing the door back open announcing some bad, but believable excuse to them before rushing home.

this is so stupid.

you really shouldn't be so sensitive y/n.

you lay on your back with your eyes closed trying to focus on the soft music playing in the background, but your loud thoughts wouldn't stop eating at you.

well, that of course was until a little tap on your sliding door turned into two taps, this continued to happen. furrowing your brows, looking over to the glass thinking it was just a tree branch.

nope, it was very much little rocks, pushing yourself off of your bed closer to find the cause of the knocking, looking down only to find a cheeky smile on a certain blonde's face looking right back up at you.

"rapunzel, rapunzel let down your hair!" he shouted in a playfully deeper voice, you rolled your eyes before opening it and yelled back.

"you know i have a perfectly good front door, right?" quirking an eyebrow at him and he groaned back at you.

"but this is so much more romantic, no?"

you had to admit that did make you smile, you moved back over to your bed to keep up your 'stoic' act. soon enough a very out-breath jj was leaned against the right side of the railing on your balcony.

"you— ah. that looked a lot— easier from down there." he was now bent over with his hands on his knees quickly regaining his breath as he stood up straight and gave you a look, the sort of look that said i have an idea.

that’s when he started to run for speed towards you, your eyes widened as you realized it was too late to move out of the way when his body collided with yours, ending up with him on top of you, you both groaned as you tried to push him off.

only for him to make his body deadweight against you which made you struggle more, “ugh! get off of me, you’re so heavy.”

“nope i think i’m gonna stay right here, you’re actually super comfy, night night,” he muttered before shutting his eyes, nuzzling his face into your neck. not that you’d mind being in this situation any other time but not now when he’s all sweaty and gross.

you eventually gave up pushing him, accepting your fate underneath him. remembering how super ticklish he is, you wrapped your legs around his waist as your fingers gently dug into his sides making him jolt off of you laughing.

"im sorry-- i-m sorry, ah--." unwrapping your legs, he fell onto the floor, still slightly laughing whilst looking at you, reaching your hand out for him to grab with a smile, "wanna order some pizza?"

that was it for the next so many hours the two of you messed around, having pillow fights waiting for the food to arrive, eating and then you both ended up a tired pile on your bed, jay resting his head on his arms now gazing up at you as you spoke quietly since everyone else in the house had gone to sleep, it was just the two of you awake.

books. you were now rambling about what new book you were reading and the contents in it. telling him your favourite parts so far, barely noticing that you were talking entirely way too much when you stumbled over your words.

not even realizing that you hadn't even been looking at him the whole time, your eyes had been glued to the white of your ceiling whilst using your hands to slightly gesture what you were talking about.

he was awfully quiet beside you, glancing over for you to be met with a soft jj, how his eyes drooped slowly as he blinked, a gentle smile on his lips. he was listening...to you.

you offered an awkward smile before groaning into the palm of your hand and laughing, "i was doing it again wasn't i? should i stop talking?"

"don't, your voice is very soothing."

with that being said you continued what you were saying previously but now faced him, running your fingers through his hair smoothing the pieces that were falling in front of his face.

chuckling when you heard the sound of his light snores, your hand only stopping its movements when you had to lean over to turn off your lamp, snuggling deeper into your covers as you skimmed over his face in the dimly moonlit room as sleep overcame you.

that's when you discovered your new fondness for the blonde pogue.

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ipegchangbin · 1 month

Note

Okay..fic idea..Changbin having a wet dream of an unknown person (Y/n) he wakes up to find them in a shop..and then the memory hits him so hard he loses focus and tries to avoid them but he cant

to say that i love this is an understatement.

🏷️ sub!changbin. dom!gn!reader. wet dreams. oral. slight hand kink.

he’s gone. whoever’s squeezing his chubby little cock is doing him so good that he could almost pass out in his own dream.

and if he cums, he wakes up.

through blurry eyes, he could still make out your face: beautiful, he thinks, with pretty fingers wrapped around his girth and palms around his tip. the insatiable, mouth-drying head that you’re giving him almost makes him shout your name, but he doesn’t know what it is, and somehow, he doesn’t want to cum. he wants to know you before his consciousness washes over all the pleasure.

“s-slow down,” his voice slurs, “too much…”

your tongue leaves his tip with a slurp and he moans. “too much already?”

changbin nods furiously, not minding how much more lightheaded he gets at that. everything’s slurring together, yet surrealistically, he feels everything as if you’re real. he’s painfully unaware that he’s dreaming, humping his comforter in real life with his shorts down, but in his head he’s getting ruined by a sickeningly sweet mouth.

drool slops down his short length as you continue to bob your head down on him. even with his size, it wasn’t easy to take him all in considering how wide his cock is: it stretches your lips out but you don’t let that hinder your action. you keep going, teeth pleasurably rubbing down his skin when you hit his base. his tip pulses at your throat, bot quite reaching the back, but you could swallow his cum like this.

actually, he almost cums, but you pull out to breathe before he could.

“i thought you wanted me to stop.”

“slow down, not stop,” he says with simple words, clearly too delirious to think.

“then why don’t you want to cum?”

he simply whines in response. his legs close a bit to tremble at the sides of your face. it’s a cute sight for you, seeing a burly man turn into a pillowy mess with only your hands and mouth.

and god did changbin grow obsessed with your hands and mouth. and your face. and everything about you. he can’t keep his bleary eyes off your hands: nails distinctly groomed with a ring on your middle finger, mole on your wrist that compliments the skin of your mouth.

he stares at you. wishes he could say your name. it’s at the tip of his tongue, as if he knows it, as if he could scream it over and over while you continue your silent mission to give him messy and sloppy head. his precum drips along with your saliva and it’s on his curly pubic hair, it gets on your nose, changbin’s thighs are even coated in it: you don’t stop, neither do you slow down.

he doesn’t remember the next things well. he hears something blaring but he doesn’t respond. he simply focuses on you, your hands and how your pretty nails wrap around him so nicely, how the mole and your lips move in fast unison on his cock. changbin can’t even make out what he’s saying but he knows how stupid he’s getting.

you let him know through breathy laughs in between. you call him cute. he’ll never forget your voice. your smile. your hands, your lips.

then you latch your mouth onto his balls. then your tongue licks a stripe up his ass.

the moans and whines and whimpers and cries that leave him drown out as you give him praises. “there you go,” “how adorable.” it’s borderline addictive as your hand pumps around him while your mouth sucks on his balls.

your hands and mouth go until he shoots a load out unexpectedly, cumming all over your face. but you don’t stop, you don’t slow down. you call him out to cum more, to shoot again on your tongue, and then a stripe of cum leaves his tip. he cums a third time, a fourth, a fifth, all in rapid succession as his cock fails to stop pulsing and shooting more.

his orgasm finally finished when he loudly screams your name—

beep. beep. beep. beep.

changbin’s eyes shoot awake, body trembling as it sits up instantly.

it’s 6 AM. he needs to go.

the morning is rough for him. like every other morning, it’s monotonous and hard — he can’t help his hard cock, walking through his apartment with an erection that wouldn’t go down.

after a breakfast that tastes like everything else, he goes on to brush his teeth. standing before him is himself in the mirror but it’s not what he sees.

all he recalls is you.

a visual of your hands — well-groomed nails, ring on your middle finger, mole on the wrist — creeping across his hips and down to his crotch make him feel hard again. the semi in his pants became a nuisance, so after he spits his toothpaste and mouthwash on the sink, he immediately reaches down.

“it’s not the same but it works,” he thinks aloud, as it fails to work. his own fingers, as stubby as his length, fail to reach the same

how the fuck is someone fictional so good at satisfying me?

changbin’s thoughts turn from frustration back into painful memory as he sees your face in his head. you’re stunning, he thinks again, as your image smiles from behind his reflection. then he blinks, and it’s all gone, and his frustrated cock simply stands.

he isn’t sure how to go about his day like this. he wears his big jeans to hide it at the very least, but the material on his crotch only ever really feels like hell for him. he goes to work like this, unable to take his mind off of you.

on his drive to work, he takes a detour to buy an extra file holder and a few other supplies. it pains him even more to be out for an even more extended period of time. he grumbles as he parks, staring down at his crotch as his car shuts. he could scold it if he wasn’t walking out in public.

so he enters the store with furrowed brows, eyeing his supplies until he bumps into an item. pissed, he reaches down to grab it and put it back, before a hand with well-groomed nails, a ring on the middle finger, and a mole on its wrist grabs it for him.

“there you go,” a smile beams before changbin.

it’s you.

“thank you,” he blurts out with puppy eyes and a pale face. what are the chances?

he’s antsy. he doesn’t want to leave. he doesn’t care if he’s straining ever so painfully against his own pants. you don’t notice, you just look back at him.

“no worries.”

you simply walk back to pick up another thing from the same aisle.

and so changbin’s stuck. there’s something alluring about you, the ideal person that he dreamed up with the exact same hands and gorgeous face that he’s thought of for the third time around. but he cannot mentally stand sparing you a glance or a thought, lest he explodes.

cruicially, he doesn’t want to leave without knowing your name.

lining up at the counter, you’re behind him and he feels your presence fully. your scent, your shadow cast on his, your hands grasping the shopping basket by your side that’s dangerously close to his own. he is scared at this point, so scared of turning your way or having you inch closer to the point he might feel your breath on his neck. it all takes him back to the sloppy blowjob, the feeling of your hands satisfying and overstimulating his pathetic cock.

he wants to make small talk with you. he wants to ask you who you are. that you’ve been in his dreams. that you made him cum. that your lips are heaven and your hands are hell. but he cannot. he shies away from your view but fails, turns bak to see you looking straight at him before turning your eyes away with a smirk.

you check out at two separate counters. you walk out the door, but changbin holds it for you on your way out.

“thank you,” you smile.

“n-no worries,” he stutters back.

how does he ask for your name? he sweats but you could sense it. your smile grows and a laugh, the same breath that he remembers exhaling right onto his skin and leaving goosebumps at his wake.

“how adorable. i’m y/n, what’s your name?”

#sub!skz #sub!stray kids #skz smut #sub!changbin #💬 z is writimg #💌 ipeginbox #<3 a lovely anon

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nochukoo97 · 1 year

Text

boyfriend drabbles (pt.1)

pairing: Jungkook x reader

summary: fluff omg, jk being a cute bf, painting each others nails and its just basically cute stuff HAHA

word count: 600+

boyfriend drabbles masterlist!

Ever since you and Jungkook had started dating three years ago, he became a major part of your daily life, and even on days where he would not be able to see you in person, your boyfriend would always make the effort to give you a call and whisper sweet nothings into the phone.

One of your adopted habits was to include your boyfriend in every aspect of your life. Whether it was a casual get-together with your own circle of friends or any other social event, you had an inclination to bring Jungkook along with you, a gesture that he wholeheartedly embraced, never once expressing reluctance or complaint.

In this case, Jungkook finds himself trailing behind you and your best friend, Sohee, as the both of you enter the familiar shop. A subtle wince crosses his face as he observes the two of you quickening your pace, your excited squeals filling the air upon reaching closer to the rows of products displayed before you.

Jungkook watches as the both of you light up upon noticing a small booth, remembering you had mentioned once about that particular brand. A quiet hum leaves his mouth as he watches the both of you excitedly swatch the different shades of eyeshadow, but to him, they look exactly the same shade.

—

“___, I’m gonna go to the toilet, wait for me here okay? Don’t you dare to try other stuff without me,” Sohee raises a finger at you playfully as she walks off. Now it’s only you and Jungkook, and your boyfriend is more than content to finally get some of your attention.

“Jagi,” Jungkook whines as he leans down to peck you on the lips, you chuckle as you reach up to ruffle his hair in sympathy. Poor boy, you thought.

“If we stay here any longer I’m literally going to go insane,” He whines, eyes adverting to your hand filled with various makeup products smeared onto your skin.

“I promise we’ll be quick,” A laugh sounds out from your mouth at his exasperated state, as Jungkook sighs, mentally cursing at himself for not charging his phone the night before, now that it’s battery had gone flat.

You begin to test out more shades where you and Sohee had left off, not leaving anywhere else, but it seems as though your boyfriend had other plans.

“Hey!” You gasp as Jungkook gently tugs on your arm, forcing you to follow along behind him as he trudges towards another aisle.

“Baby, what are you doing?” You question his sudden actions when your boyfriend reaches for the nail polish tester and raises your hand to paint your index finger oh-so-gently, his brows furrowed as he tries his best to paint within the nail. You begin to laugh at Jungkook’s sudden actions, but he cuts you off, “Jagi, stop moving, you’re gonna make me mess up,”

After he’s done painting your fingernail, Jungkook looks contented at his little artwork on your nail, and then he proceeds to attempt to paint his own finger too, but it’s harder for him when he attempts to use his non-dominant hand to paint. A disgruntled sound emits from his mouth, eyebrows furrowing as you grab the nail polish from his hand to do it yourself.

“I should have known you would betray me for you man,” You hear Sohee dramatically sigh as she approaches the both of you, Jungkook sticking his tongue out at her as she rolls her eyes.

Even though you and Sohee had spent at least another good twenty minutes in that store, your boyfriend didn’t mind as he held your hand the whole time, sometimes hugging you from behind and leaning his head on your shoulder as your best friend clearly annoyed from the third-wheeling.

a/n: hello!! i kinda wrote this in a rush without really planning so it might not be the best but its really short anyways haha, i realised i havent been putting a note at the end of my fics recently 😭 and i want to talk with you guys more! i also def need more inspo to write more scenarios so if you guys have any pleasee send an ask to me ❤️

#jungkook fluff #jungkook #jungkook au #jungkook ff #jungkook smut #jungkook x oc #jungkook x reader #bts #bts ff #bts fic #jungkook comfort #boyfriend jungkook

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ponyosmom35 · 4 months

Text

he's gone

Simon Ghost Riley x reader

synopsis: reader finds out that Simon passed when Price, Johnny, and Gaz show up at her house.

warnings: angst, death, PTSD, panic attack, crying, I'm so sorry

Link to master list:

https://www.tumblr.com/ponyosmom35/733401347573088256/simon-ghost-riley?source=share

She holds her hose tightly in her hand as she sprays her blooming flowers with water. The sun was beginning to set and she felt at peace. Allowing her mind to wash away the stress of the day. The sunlight hits her face and she sighs, imaging that somewhere in the world, Simon was looking at the same beautiful sky. She recalled their conversation earlier that day, a small smile coming to her lips as she remembered his voice.

She stood in the kitchen, intensely focused on her measuring cup as she attempted to fill it with the correct amount of water. She turns off the water after allowing it to reach ⅓ and carefully moves over to her mixing bowl. She dumps the water in and moves the mixer down, flipping the switch and watching as her kitchen aid whips the cake mix together. The loud noise drowns out the sound of her phone ringing and she carries on. A few minutes later she finishes putting the batter into a pan and throws it into the oven, hoping that a lemon cake would distract her from how much she missed Simon. She looks down at her small ragdoll kitten who plays with her feet and laughs, she picks him up and kisses his little face gently. Still deciding how she was gonna come clean about adopting a pet without permission.

It had been two weeks since he’d gone. So far she’d been doing better than she expected, managing to keep herself quite busy all day. It was the nights that were the hardest. She struggled to sleep without him. She tried to pretend like her body pillow was the same, but nothing could beat the feeling of his arms wrapped around her. When she came across a post about the little guy needing a home, she volunteered without a second thought.

He was quite good about calling, he would try to call every other day when in between missions. But as they got new intel he wouldn’t be able to reach out for several days at a time. This week she had not heard from him once. She knew he was going on their first mission. She worried about him, she knew that he could handle himself, better than anyone in the world.

She picks up her phone to set a timer when she realizes she’d missed his call. Her heart drops and she calls him back instantly.

“Si?” she asks anxiously

“Hi my love”

“Oh thank god, I thought something may have happened. I’m so sorry I didn’t hear my phone I was baking and it was on silent”

“Don’t worry about it, I don’t expect you to pick up every time I call”

“Of course I will” she says

“How are you doing darling?”

“I’m doing good, I decided to bake a cake for whatever reason” she says staring at the mess of flower and egg shells on the counter.

Simon chuckles and leans back in his chair as he imagines her in the kitchen trying to bake. Tears fill his eyes and he attempts to keep his voice steady.

“Is my kitchen still standing?” he asks

“The kitchen smells wonderful thank you very much” she responds

“What have you been up to this week? Catch me up”

“I wanna talk about you, where have you been the past week? Are you any closer to coming home? How are you doing? How are the boys?” she says rapid firing her questions

“We’re all good. But I don’t wanna talk about work, tell me about you distract me”

She nods to herself, understanding that he didn’t want to talk about it, meaning that their mission didn’t go as planned. “What do you want me to talk about?”

“just talk to me baby, anything”

“Well it’s been pretty gloomy today so I started reading a new book, it’s about grief. I’ve only read a few chapters but so far it’s been very reassuring and comforting to know that grief isn’t linear, you go through ups and downs just like anything else”

“That sounds wonderful love”

“Yeah, so I’m gonna try and read for a few minutes everyday. Kylie and I have started a jazzercise class, you should see how awful I am. I can’t look at myself in the mirror because in my mind I’m absolutely killing it, but then I look at the mirror and it looks like i’m half dead” she laughs

“I’d pay anything to see it”

“Don’t worry, when you come home you’re gonna get a full performance” she promises, causing him to laugh. The lump in his throat is tightening as the tears fall down his cheeks. He runs his hands through his hair and covers the speaker as he sniffles.

“I’m counting down the minutes”

“Me too” she muses “so I think we should get a cat”

“What?” he asks

“Let me rephrase that, I brought home a kitten last week”

“Did you now?” he chuckles

“Before you freak out, he’s so cute and cuddly, he was abandoned and my friend found him but she couldn't take care of him, I just had to bring him home!” she defends herself

“I’m not mad love, I’m glad you’ve got someone to keep you company. What's his name?”

“Junie”

“Why Junie?”

“Because june is the month we met” she admits

Simon puts the phone down and covers his face. His heart was crushing at her words. He receives a knock on the door, he wipes his eyes and picks the phone back up. “I love it”

“We’re about an hour out from departure, so I’m gonna have to let you go” he says slipping his mask over his face.

“Okay, please be safe”

“I love you more than anything in this world, take care of yourself okay?”

“Of course Si, I love you too, call me as soon as you can”

“goodbye love” he says before hanging up the phone.

She noticed his odd behavior that morning, but decided to let it go to prevent any unnecessary anxiety. She finishes watering the plants and turns off the hose. She walks to the steps and heads inside. She shuts the door, making sure to lock the door as well as placing the wood down to prevent it from being opened easily. She slips off her shoes and smiles at the sight of Junie sitting on the counter. She picks him up and holds him close. The sound of a knock at the door catches her attention. She wasn’t aware of any company. She walks over to the door and opens it to see John, Kyle, and Johnny. Her eyes travel to the British flag held in John’s hands and her smile falls.

“John?” she asks as her brain struggles to process the situation.

“y/n-”

“Don’t you dare” she warns holding her hand up to stop him “don’t”

“He’s gone lass” Johnny says, his teary eyes meeting her own. She shakes her head and glares at him.

“I just talked to him this morning” she refuses

“Mission was local, went south and we barely got out. We came here as soon as we could”

“What happened to him?” she asks, crossing her arms, clearly still in shock from the news.

“Can we come in?” John asks, she nods and leads them into the living room where they sit and she remains standing.

“Tell me john”

“Why don’t you sit down” he responds

“I want to know what happened!” she demands

“He was hit” Kyle says

“Where?” she asks, Price shakes his head and stands up, moving over to her and placing the flag in her hands. She notices the tags placed neatly in the center of it and she reads his printed name. She looks up at him as tears fill her eyes.

“He’s not gone, I just talked to him today! He was telling me not to burn the kitchen down -” she cuts herself off with a sob, and holds her hand to her mouth. “We’re getting married in four months”

“I’m so sorry for your loss, I-I wish I could’ve saved him” Price says gently

“Please don’t say that” she begs

“Is there anyone we can call for you?” he asks gently

“Stop this john I can’t - I can’t” she says setting his things down on the table as she looks out of the window. Tears stream down her face as she attempts to control her breathing.

“These are for you” Johnny says, handing her a bundle of letters, each of them addressed to her. There is a small box on the top of the pile.

Her vision blurs at the sight of his handwriting. Her body becomes weak as two words loop in her mind. Her body falls to the floor as the voices of the three men fade away. He’s gone. He’s gone. He’s gone. He’s gone. He’s gone. He’s gone. He’s gone. The man she loved with every fiber of her being. Her Simon. Simon who nearly killed the person who disrespected her. Simon who held her when her sister died. Simon who saved her life. Simon, who built her a bookshelf, redid her entire deck and porch. Never again would he give her one of his bear hugs. She wouldn’t hear his beautiful laugh, or watch the way he separated his food to keep it from touching. No more early morning cuddles, kisses, silly arguments. How would she live without him? What she wouldn’t have given to hear his deep voice in that moment, telling her that it was going to be okay. He couldn't. He was gone.

She was inconsolable, her heart wrenching sobs echoed through the house. Bringing tears to the eyes of the soldiers surrounding her. Johnny was at her side, holding her shaking body, trying his best to bring her even the smallest bit of comfort. He felt sick to his stomach watching her writhe in pain.

John had called her parents and the trio waitied with her until they arrived. As soon as John opened the door, they recognized him from the day he brought the news about Emma. Her mother gasps and hurries into the house, seeing her daughter crumpled on the ground, agonizing sobs erupting from her lungs. She drops beside her and rubs her back. Her father shakes Johns hand and walks the soldiers to the door. John pulls him outside and informs him the the truth.

“Sir, we need you to understand that the work we do is classified, in the eyes of the Government we do not exist unless we’re needed. With a job like this, comes sacrifices we have to make to protect the people we love”

“I’m not following? What sacrifices?” her father says, crossing his arms

“If one of the people we’re investigating finds any bit of information about out lives or our loved ones then they’d be in danger”

“Are you telling me that my family isn’t safe?”

“Officially I can’t tell you anything, but you need to know that we’re taking care of the situation, you’re family will be under 24/7 surveillance. You won’t even know they’re around”

“Is it true then? Is Simon really gone? Man to man, is he gone?” her father asks, staring at Price.

“For now” he responds “it’s imperative that y/n believes this”

“You’re asking me to lie to my daughter? Do you hear her in there? How can I-”

“Sacrifices, we all have to make them in order to keep our family safe. That’s all we’re doing here” Price shakes his hand and walks down the steps “take care of her, we’ll be checking in”

After hours of tossing and turning, crying until her lungs and throat burned she finally decides to get out of the warmth of her bed. A place she used to feel the most comfortable, now was empty. She rubs her hands over her face as her headache grows more intense, the lack of sleep already affecting her. Having woken up multiple times from nightmares, she willed herself to stay awake, to protect her fragile heart from the horror of her dreams. Everyday for the past week she’d been reminding herself that dreams are simply just a reflection of the mind, a way for her worries and fears to be shown. It wasn’t real. He wasn’t gone. This couldn’t be true. Simon wouldn't leave her.

She moves into the bathroom and stares at herself in the mirror, she looks exhausted. The weight of Simon’s absence is evident on her face. Her face was puffy and her hair was tangled. A mixture of tears, saliva, and mucus coated her face. She wipes it off and sighs. Her lips trembling once more as her eyes fill with tears. She grips onto her hair as she tries to breath through her fourth panic attack in 24 hours. Memories of his hands running through her hair flash through her mind. A wave of nausea runs through her and she stares at it in disgust. He always loved her hair, he’d play with it absentmindedly. She was angry. How as she supposed to live with the hair he would kiss every morning, the hair he gripped when he kissed her passionately. She notices the scissors on the counter and grabs them, without hesitation she begins to cut strips of her hair off. She watches as her gorgeous strands fall, some in the sink, others landing on the ground. She sobs as she ruins her hair, unable to stop herself. After several minutes, she drops the scissors and stares at herself, the jagged strands unbalanced. She rushes to the toilet in a split second and empties her stomach violently.

The sound causes her mother to rush into her room, she bursts through the door and spots her daughter laying against the toilet surrounded by her precious locks. “Oh honey”

please forgive me for this! omg I made myself cry. below is the link to when they reunite, I posted this a few months ago. If you wanna read that now, you are more than welcome I'll link it below, however there will be a few filler chapters in-between that I'll be posting!!!

You’re alive? (middle of MW3)

https://www.tumblr.com/ponyosmom35/724654294153003008/youre-alive?source=share

love you all <3

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strawberri-elixir · 2 months

Text

Sleepless nights

╰⇢ 29. I love you too (The original ending)

Warnings: none (unless you count a really long speech/confession as a warning)

note: this is the original ending that i had planned out from the very beginning (aka the ending i wanted more than the other before i got attached) but i’ll link the alternate ending at the bottom with the usual links when it’s done :]

“I…” You hesitated.

What was your answer? You never, in your entire life, imagined your little crushes would ever get this far. Let alone have both like you back.

But now, with everything that has gone down the past few months, you were faced with a difficult situation.

Yuta, the boy who’s been by your side before you could remember. And Toge, the one who single handily made the past few months arguably a lot better.

Both held a special place in your heart, one that would tear you apart if it was replaced with an empty void of their absence.

“I don’t know what to say…” You look down, already expecting to see disappointment if you met his eyes. “I just- I know it’s wrong but… I like you both. But I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings and break what we already have.”

But deep down, you already knew whose feelings you wanted to reciprocate. You just couldn’t admit it out loud.

“You should go to him then.” Your eyes flick up to meet his soft gaze.

It seems he knows your answer as well. You give him a small smile, pulling him into a tight hug before stepping back and running off to find a certain boy. But not before giving Toge one last glance.

Thank you.

You hurried down the hall, hoping to catch a glimpse of anything that would point you in the right direction. As you run up and down the aisles of the convention, you catch a familiar head of black hair headed towards the exit.

On the opposite side of the building.

"Yuta!" You let out a weak yell. The boy showed absolutely no signs of hearing your pitiful attempts at getting his attention, leaving you no choice but to sprint after him. “Wait!”

So you ran. Throwing out halfhearted apologies to the poor people passing by as you pushed through them. Truthfully, you didn’t care about the people around you, the only thing that was on your mind was the boy who was slipping through your fingers.

You broke through the crowds, exiting the main building and continuing your search for the boy. As your head shot side to side, trying to determine the direction of the boy, you catch a glimpse of Yuta, running out towards the parking lot.

He was about to leave you here.

“Yuta wait!” You slammed on the exit door and chased after him. As you inched closer, the dark-haired boy started slowing down, understanding that you weren’t going to stop.

When you finally reached him, you grabbed his hand. Your way of ensuring he stays in place as you catch your breath. "You were really gonna leave me here?" You gasped for air.

"I just assumed you would go home with Toge." The boy turned away from you but made no move to leave. "I'm sorry I ruined the confession, I thought you guys were done and-"

"Shut up." You held your other hand up. Yuta immediately stopped talking and turned to face you, his eyes reflecting the emotions that his body refused to displayed.

"You didn't even hear what I had to say."

"Well, I assumed that you would've accepted his confession...?" The boy looked confused.

"What- no- well-" Your brain was a mess and nothing was coming out right as you tried to form and explanation for him. Finally, you let out and exasperated sigh. "It's a long story. I don't want to discuss this in the middle of a parking lot."

Without saying anything else, Yuta grabs his helmet and tosses yours to you. "Let's go somewhere then."

You obliged, waiting for him to start up the engine before hopping on behind him.

“Ready?” He turned to you.

“Mhm.”

Before anything else could be said, the two of you sped off down the street. Back towards the same, nostalgic place the two of you grew familiar with. The park.

"So." Yuta sat in front of you as you sat in the middle of the empty field.

“It’s a long story.” You sigh.

“I’ve got all night.” He leans back onto his hands for support.

Fuck. There was absolutely no getting out of this. A short silence fills the air as you contemplate where to start. When you first started falling for him? Or maybe when you heard him confess his love for you when he thought nobody would hear.

“Well- so I may have had some sort of feelings for you for a while but just never realized it until recently when everyone just started getting closer and closer, right? But I swear to god that night when the four of us had that sleepover and I woke up to you hugging me and shit just did something to me and-”

You began talking at an alarming pace, wanting to get everything off your chest before you regret it.

“Oh! And when you told me you love me? Granted, it was indirectly. But I heard it, by the way, I couldn’t sleep again and overheard you talking. Anyways, I just couldn’t get it out of my head and Maki wasn’t much help either, so that’s on me.”

After what felt like forever, you finally took a break to breathe, glancing at Yuta, hoping to get a sense of what he was thinking. He looked… shocked, to say the least. But he didn’t say anything.

“So when Toge confessed, I’ll admit, I was really confused and didn’t know what to say. And I probably should’ve reacted sooner, but that’s beside the point. The point is, I like you too. Hell, I would probably go as far as to say I love you.”

You look at Yuta, looking for something, anything. After a few seconds, you were ready to crawl into a ditch and disappear. But before you could act on those impulsive thoughts, you felt a pair of hands hold your face. And then soft lips placing a kiss onto yours.

He kissed you. A soft, passionate kiss. One that you were quick to reciprocate, reaching up to hold his cheeks and keep him in place.

Before long, you both pulled away, desperately needing air. A warm flush filled your cheeks as you gazed longingly into each other’s eyes. You both had been waiting for this moment for so long.

“I love you.” Yuta suddenly blurted out. “A lot more than I ever thought was possible.”

Your eyes relax into a soft gaze. “I love you too.”

He couldn’t help but crack a smile, taking a hold of your hand and kissing it. You meant everything to him. “You have no idea how happy this makes me.”

A small chuckles escaped your lips. “Hopefully as happy as it’s making me.” You shift your body to lean on his shoulder, looking up at the dimming sky. The stars started making themselves visible as the moon settled into place.

It might’ve still been early on in the night, but you could already tell it was going to be one of those sleepless nights.

Masterlist | The alternate ending <3

ANOTHER NOTE: oh. my. god. we actually made it to end you guys! i just want to say thank you all so much for the support i’ve received throughout the duration of this journey! it really means a lot to me that so many people enjoyed this.

as sad as it is to see this series come to and end, i’m excited to get myself ready to make another series. and i hope you guys will enjoy that one as much as you enjoyed this one! thank you guys once again for making this series so fun to make and i hope to see you guys again for my next series!

taglist:

@sur-i-ki @aespaforlifersyall @camilo-uwu @butterflyqueen234 @shinsukeee @tanchosanke @meguemii @lees-chaotic-brain @you-always-made-me-blush @jayathelostdragon @chilichopsticks @polarbvnny

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melrodrigo · 11 months

Text

Tardy, part 3

Tara Carpenter x F!Reader

Summary: Ghostface makes his first move, how will you and Tara react?

Warnings: Violence, slight gore, suggestive themes, Tara giving powerbottom vibes, kissy kissy noises, fluff

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: I’m still writing out the plot for the rest of this series, so if you have something you really want to see, send them in my asks! As always, thank you for all the love <3

They say your life flashes before your eyes when you’re about to die.

It doesn’t happen exactly like that; it’s all a blur of feelings and pure animal instincts. When you see Ghostface make his way towards Tara, full force with a knife held over his head, something in you snaps.

You can’t seem to focus on anything else.

Tara whom you’ve been enamored with at first sight, Tara who makes you monthly playlists, who remembers your class schedule, Tara who just kissed you.

Tara. Tara. Tara.

Ghostface’s a finger away from Tara before you grab your computer; still playing Titanic, and slam it across his head.

“Get the fuck away from her.” You spit, watching as Ghostface whirls around bewildered, obviously not anticipating you fighting back.

He’s bigger than you, but he looks unsure. You see it in his stance, in the grip around his knife.

He surges at you, hands gripping around your shoulders tight. The knife is still in one of his hands, you’re acutely aware of it. You guys thrash around wildly, and fall onto the floor; hard. His head connects to the pavement with a loud thud, and for a moment you think he might be dead.

That is until Ghostface lets out a groan, and reaches out to try and grab you again. He’s weakened, and you take the moment to your advantage, kicking at his shins with all your might.

He cries out, grabbing at thin air.

You’re about to reach forward and rip the mask off his face, but Tara stops you with a tug on your arm.

You furrow your eyebrows, sending her a questioning look. Did she not want to find out who Ghostface was?

“Come on, we have to go. They’re still- Sam, she’s still down there.” She rushes out, and it’s only then you notice some messy mascara stains are running down her cheeks.

You frown. You know Tara’s a nervous crier, but it’s never happened right in front of you.

It seems like only then Tara realizes she’s been crying. Her cheeks flush red a little in embarrassment, but she’s still staring at you with urgency in her eyes.

You swipe quickly at her cheeks.

You follow her lead, but not before locking the door to the roof; leaving Ghostface locked up outside.

Sucker.

You and Tara sprint down the stairs and into the apartment, stopping short at the sight in front of you.

It’s a mess.

The coffee table is broken, carpet stained with blood; but worst of all, it’s empty.

You search for any signs of life, any screaming. They were here moments ago, where could they have gone? More importantly, where was the other Ghostface?

There’s always two, you remember.

You decide you don’t want to stick around and find out. You grab Tara’s hand, tugging her out of the apartment and down the stairs of their condo.

“Tara!” Sam’s voice bellows from below you. She looks uninjured, other than a couple of blood stains on her shirt.

You guys round the last corner of the stairs to come face to face with all your friends. Anika and Mindy stood tight together, holding onto each other’s hands for dear life. Chad’s behind them, looking smaller than you’ve ever seen him.

Sam’s at the front, nothing but fury in her eyes.

She rushes to Tara the moment you guys hit the floor, taking her in her arms; holding tight.

Despite the mini-argument they had before, Tara melts into her sister's arms. She sniffs a couple of times and buries her face in her sister’s shirt.

Then, Sam turns on you.

“What were you thinking? Bringing Tara up alone, when Ghostface is on the loose like this?” She hisses, eyes hard.

“How do I know you’re not the killer, hm? Distract Tara, let your partner come in and attack us. Was that your plan all along?” She continues, accusations spewing out of her.

“Sam, I know it looks bad but I did not plan this. I would never, ever hurt Tara. Ghostface came and attacked us too.” You reply, starting to feel agitated.

She scoffs and turns away.

“Are you guys okay?” You ask, turning and searching their bodies for any serious cuts or bruises.

“He didn’t come for us. He came in, gave Anika this, then went straight to the roof.” Mindy answers, voice hollow. She’s staring at the wall behind you, and you’re anger dissipates into uneasiness at her empty gaze.

Her words make your eyes dart to Anika. She’s cowering behind Mindy a little, one arm bloody, the other pressing into the wound. Your eyes widen.

“Oh, my god. Anika, are you okay?” You start walking up to her, but an arm in your way makes you stop in your tracks.

Mindy stares at you, accusatory glance in her eyes. Anika pushes her hand away gently, debating in a silent conversation. It seems Anika wins when Mindy finally let's go, and you send her a grateful smile.

“I’m okay. It hurts like hell right now but I’ll be fine.” She says, voice strong. You breathe out in relief, “I’m glad.”

“I think you need more urgent care than me though.”

You raise your eyebrows, what was she talking about?

“Oh shit YN, you’re bleeding,” Tara says as she pulls away from her sister, quickly rushing to you.

You look down, and you realize that you are in fact bleeding. Quite a lot actually, how you didn’t see it before was a wonder.

Your shirt is ripped at the part below your collarbone, and a deep cut could be seen; from your shoulder to the skin a little above your chest.

Woah, where did that come from?

It must’ve been the adrenaline, that stopped you from feeling it before. Because the minute you see it now you feel a throbbing pain shoot up immediately.

Tara stares up at you, her eyes guilt-filled and worried.

“Does it hurt?” She asks, her hands twitching at her sides; like she wants to reach out and soothe you.

It sure does hurt, but you’re not going to worry her with that now.

You bring your hands to her cheeks again, wiping a new teardrop that just fell. Now that Ghostface isn’t here, you take your time wiping her face. Savoring the feel of her skin against yours.

“No, it doesn’t.” You mutter softly. It might be a lie, but if it lets you stay in this moment forever you’d gladly say it for the rest of your life.

A cough from Sam once again breaks you out of your trance. She’s still glaring at you intensely, but at this point, you don’t even care.

“So, there was only one Ghostface?” You question, mind starting to get slightly woozy.

“Only one for this attack, we don’t know for sure if there’s only one.” Mindy corrects, and you can almost see the cogs turning in her head.

“Can you get your hands off my sister now?” Sam cuts in, still scowling. How are her eyes not tired?

You roll your eyes slightly; not enough for her to see, because well she was Samantha Carpenter. The only family your girlfriend-? had.

Was Tara your girlfriend now? She kissed you, but that could mean anything. She’d agreed to the date, but she could’ve easily changed her mind after it.

You’re snapped out of your thoughts when Tara takes you in a hug.

You can’t help but wince at the sudden contact with your open wound and she pulls back quickly.

“Knew it. You are in pain.” She mutters, before pressing her lips to your cheek.

Your eyes widen and you flush red embarrassingly fast. You stare at the rest of the group while she does this, gauging their reactions.

Sam glares, Chad has a pained expression, Mindy’s eyes soften, and Anika has a small smirk playing on her lips.

You’re still embarrassingly red when Tara pulls away, making her smirk as she eyes you.

“Shut up.” You mumble.

Tara tuts, “That’s not a very nice thing to say to your lover, now, is it? But I’ll let it go just this once. You did take a stab to the shoulder for me, after all.”

You don’t have time to process the fact that she called you her lover before she grabs your hand and pulls you outside; where an ambulance is waiting.

Getting fixed up wasn’t so bad, especially when Tara was by your side the whole time. Sat in peaceful silence; you can’t help that your mind starts to wander.

Ghostface was back, and you could tell it affected everybody in the group. You were lucky in a sense, this was your first time experiencing it; you didn’t carry that same trauma they did.

You glance at Tara, whose eyes are dark and gloomy. She’s watching Anika get fixed up too.

“I can’t believe the motherfucker is actually back.” She says, more to herself than you.

“We’ll get through this, Tara. You’ll get through this. You always have.”

She doesn’t say anything as she scoots in closer and wraps an arm around your waist. You don’t have the heart to tell her the position hurts your wound.

You don’t think you mind though, if it means staying here in Tara’s arms; where you belong.

“I think you should flee the country,” Tara starts abruptly. “It didn’t work for me and Sam but I think it might work with you. Ignore what I said before, you aren’t the star of this movie, it should work.”

You feign offense, hand over your heart.

“Well damn, you didn’t have to attack me like that.”

Tara shakes her head, still looking vexed. She turns to stare into your eyes, a serious look painting her face.

“I don’t want you getting hurt, and if you’re with me you will get hurt. Maybe even more than this.” She says, almost whispering.

You chuckle a bit and pull her head down so it’s resting on your shoulder.

“Tara, you’re crazy if you think I’m leaving you. I was serious about before, as long as I’m with you; I’m content.” You tell her, and her hands wrap tighter around your waist.

She doesn’t say it out loud, but she wonders how she got so lucky with you.

She tilts her head up to kiss you on the cheek.

You don’t tell her, but you’re thinking the same thing too.

If Tara was flirty before you confessed your feelings to her, then you could call her behavior now feral.

It hasn’t even been a full day since the attack, and so far; Tara’s managed to pull you into four different rooms in the apartment to make out.

You’re yanked into another one, her hands madly grabbing at you.

“Jesus chr-“ You barely let out before she’s kicking the door closed and connecting her lips to yours.

Her kisses descend to your neck, hands on your waist.

“Tara. Sam’s in the living room.” You warn, trying to push her away gently.

She bites down on your neck, enough to hurt.

“But I want you,” She says, voice muffled by your skin. “I’ve wanted you for so long. Now that I have the opportunity I’m not letting it go.”

You whimper slightly. Now that was embarrassing.

She smiles and takes your lips in a fierce kiss. You reply just as eagerly, fingers curling in her hair.

“Do you not want me?” She asks, biting at your bottom lip.

You stifle the groan that threatens to leave your mouth. Shake your head no aggressively.

“Of course, I do,” You mumble. “I just want you know…our first time to be, special.”

She softens a bit at your confession, reluctantly pulling away.

She huffs as she says, “Fine.”

You miss the feel of her body against yours immediately, and you grab at her; bringing her back into your arms.

“I never said we couldn’t do other stuff though.” You whisper, leaving little pecks on her lips.

She grabs your face and brings you to her lips forcefully, “Don’t do that, kiss me like you mean it.”

You gladly do.

“So…any chance you’re taking me on that date anytime soon?” Tara asks, arms propped up on the bed.

You swallow, try and steady your breathing.

Then you nod animatedly, “I really want to, but with Sam and everything…I think we’re on house arrest.”

She hums and falls back into the bed beside you.

“We could still sneak out, I do like pissing off my sister.” She suggests, eyes sparkling.

“Well, I don’t. Sam already thinks I’m a psycho killer, I don’t need her thinking I’m irresponsible too.” You reply, fingers tracing the fabric of her clothes.

Tara whines, pulls you closer by the collar of your shirt.

She flashes you those pleading eyes, and you feel your argument start to dissolve immediately.

“Please? I want to go on a date with you.”

You're silent in your thoughts, debating if it’s worth it to give her what she wants.

“Please,” She whispers a final time, and you decide that her begging is your new favorite thing to hear.

“Okay.” You relent, and she smiles victoriously.

“I can’t wait.” She giggles, giving you a quick peck and letting go of your collar.

When she gets up and out of the bed, you protest. She looks almost guilty as she tells you, “Sam’s gonna kill you if I stay in here any longer.”

You reluctantly nod, agreeing with her statement. She sends you a quick smile before exiting, leaving you sprawled on the bed.

You stare at the ceiling, millions of thoughts racing through your head. One comes out victorious.

How are you going to plan a mind-blowing date in one day?

#tardy #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #scream vi #tara carpenter x y/n #scream #tara carpenter x you

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