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ahgasegotarmy116 · 16 days

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Just Take It | Jeon Jungkook | Part Five

Summary: You start a conversation with Jungkook about where you stand but are interrupted by an uninvited visitor Pairing: Inexperienced f!reader x Best Friend's Dad Jungkook (20 year age gap) Word Count: 4.7K~ Warnings: Suggestive and explicit language (an argument). Nothing too crazy honestly. Horribly edited too because it's been three weeks and I wanted to get it out! a/n: Sorry it took me so long to get this chapter out but I was away from home for a week and then wrote a couple of one shots and blah blah blah lol but anyways I hope you enjoyyyy Requested by: @kkusadmirer 💜

After our eventful afternoon Jungkook and I ended up laying in his bed and watching movies since like he said, he wanted me to be "well rested" before we have the talk. The talk that could change everything between us...

There are multiple outcomes to this scenario and I'm not sure if I'm ready for any of them.

On one hand he could say this was all a mistake and he was just acting on his urges. I know now for damn sure though that he's attracted to me but I don't know what his motives and feeling are towards me. If he even has any besides surface level physical attraction.

On the other hand he could want to pursue a friends with benefits sort of arrangement. Being fuck buddies or whatever with an older man does sound exciting when I think about doing it with him. It's just that don't know if I'd want something like that even if it was with him.

I told Jared before that I wanted to save myself for marriage and I feel like that's something I still want to stick to. I've definitely crossed so many lines with Jungkook in the last not even twenty four hours, more like twelve hours or something like that but regardless lines have been crossed and I'm still not sure how I feel about any of it.

I want to say that I don't regret it and it's not just because it felt fucking phenomenal and out of this world but because I feel safe with him.

It might just be because over the past couple of months that I've been living with him he's become someone I care about and honestly trust with my life so I didn't really feel a need to say no to him. I wanted it to happen, I know I did I just didn't really think it would ever happen. I thought that it would stay in my hormonal fantasies forever and I was okay with that.

The way he's been treating me has shown me that he cares about me. Although I was trying to convince myself that it was somewhat of a paternal instinct in him and that he was just being protective over me, I knew that it was something beyond that.

I tried to somewhat address it in a weird sort of way with the whole asking why he didn't have anyone over conversation and he knew what I was trying to ask and addressed it but his answer me even more confused.

"I wouldn't want to ruin what we have going on here" like what does that even mean? He doesn't want to ruin the dynamic we have in the house in terms of we're comfortable with each other and feel no need to let anyone inside our little safe space.

Or did he mean that he didn't want to ruin what we have going on here because he wanted to see where things went with us on a more romantic level?

He hasn't explicitly told me that he would want to pursue a relationship with me but circling back to before he's given me clear signs that he's attracted to me and isn't one to hide it.

He knows to a certain extent that I find him attractive too because I asked him to take my virginity. (I'm never gonna be able to live that one down) Anyone could tell that he was clearly struggling to hold himself back and the fact that he kissed me just shows that he wanted to. That he wanted me.

Then there's another possibility that he might want a sugar baby sort of relationship and I don't even want to think about something like that.

Don't get me wrong! I respect the hustle, but that's just not for me.

If I'm gonna be doing something like what we are doing right now then I want it to be something that I want to do without any ulterior motive. I don't want to put a monetary value on the time I spend with him but not gonna lie, living it large and not having to worry about money or working sounds very tempting.

I don't think he's that kind of man though...or at least I hope he's not.

"Penny for your thoughts?" he asks playfully, having noticed that I haven't really been paying attention to the movie we've been watching.

"Just thinking" I answer, cuddling in closer to him as I've refused to let go of him today and he hasn't made moves to do any different.

"Bout what?" he prods further, placing a kiss on the top of my head and taking in the fresh scent of his shampoo in my hair.

"Things" I continue, liking the game we've started to play.

"What sort of things?" he chuckles, telling me that he's enjoying it too.

"All kinds of things" I say nuzzling closer into him and he wraps his arm tighter around me to keep me there.

"Wanna share a few?" he asks, clearly not letting this go since he wants to at least make sure I'm okay.

"Thinking about how you might want to make me your sugar baby" I mumble into his chest and he laughs wholeheartedly making me even more embarrassed.

"Is that something you'd want?" he asks and I shake my head.

"You don't wanna be at home and sit pretty, waiting for me to come back and shower you with gifts and jewelry and give you the world?" he teases while pinching my sides making me pull away from him, trying to escape.

"N-no! Now s-stop" I choke out through laughter and gasps of breath. "What would you want" he asks after having tackled me down onto the mattress making sure to do a thorough job of tickling me until I could barely breathe.

I take a second to think, my eyes going back and forth between his while his stay still, focused and almost begging for an answer.

"I thought we weren't going to have this conversation until I was well rested" I say, breathless, still not knowing up from down when it comes to us. If there even is an 'us'.

"You feel well rested?" he asks, cocking a brow at me and I nod my head quickly, giving me a crooked smile in response. "Then it's perfect timing right?" he continues and I nod again leaving him getting off of me and leaning his back against the headboard, waiting to hear what I have to say.

I take a minute or so to gather my thoughts and the whole time he's watching me curiously, almost able to see the wheels turning in my head.

"What happened between us kind of caught me by surprise" I start, looking down at my lap and playing with my fingers nervously. "I don't regret it, it was just, well I'm just kind of confused about how you feel about me, and I'm really confused about how I feel about you" I admit and I can see his expression go a bit wary but I jump at the chance to explain myself.

"It's just that I think both of us know at this point that we're extremely attracted to each other" I start out and the corner of his lips upturns for a second but nods in confirmation, waiting for me to continue.

"With us getting physical and all so quickly I can't help but think that maybe we should take a step back. I would like to know your thoughts and intentions and feelings about all of this. I might be overthinking it but I really think it's best to be up front and honest with each other" I say and take in a shaky breath, scared I might've said the wrong thing.

"You're so sexy when you act so mature like that" he taunts and I groan, wanting to keep this serious. "I'm just playing Bunny. Well I'm not because you really are sexy but I don't want you to feel all nervous and insecure like you are right now. We're being open and honest right?" he questions and I nod my head, eager for him to continue.

"Meaning it would be the perfect opportunity to tell you that I have feelings for you right?" he says and my eye bug out in response, not knowing what to do now. "Wasn't expecting that huh?" he chuckles and I shake my head making him laugh even more.

"Cat got your tongue Darling?" he teases and scoff at that. "No I was just being polite and letting you keep talking since you let me do the same" I say, making excuses and trying to keep my voice level.

"Sure Bunny" he smirks not believing a word I said but continuing nevertheless.

"I've had feelings for you for a while now and I haven't told you or acted on it because I wanted to respect the fact that you were in a relationship. I never liked Jared though for what it's worth" he says without hesitation and it makes me cringe at the thought that I was about to marry that snake.

"Is it harsh to say I'm glad he's out of the picture?" he says boldly making me laugh. "Not just because it benefitted me but because he didn't deserve to marry a beautiful, intelligent, kind hearted woman like you. I would've said something but I'm not your father so I knew it wasn't my place" he finishes and making me smile, thankful that he was so considerate.

Now that I think about it, even back then I respected and trusted his judgement so it wouldn't have bothered me even if he did say something.

"It's not harsh to say because I'm happy about it too. To be honest though I don't really know what I ever saw in him. I think because he was the first guy that more or less respected my boundaries that I thought I had to hold onto him. I don't know" I say and he nods his head.

This is something I haven't experienced before. Someone sitting and taking the time to actually talk things out without any outside distractions and focusing on each other and hearing each other out.

Maybe it's just an age thing and the fact that Jungkook does fit the standard of dating older and more mature men is better. We're not dating though, but I guess we'll hopefully figure out where we stand once this conversation comes to a close.

"I'm really confused and I kind of don't know how to feel but I'm not closed off to figuring things out" I say, glancing up at him and back down at my lap, nervous from seeing how fascinated he is with me right now.

I hold my breath and wait for him to say something but when nothing ever comes I chance looking up at him again and I'm surprised to see how he's still watching me.

"Like I said, I've had feelings for you for a while and if you're open to seeing where things go then I would really like to take you out on a date. Like on a proper date. I know since we've been living together and we've been spending a lot of time together but I-" he start off strong but begins to ramble and is regretfully cut off by the sound of the front door opening.

"Dad! Dad where are you?" Jina calls out and neither of us dares to move or make a sound. "Dad" Jina drags out, regretfully confirming that I am in fact not dreaming. "Be down in a second" he says then presses a finger to his lips.

"Just stay in here and I'll take care of it" he whispers and I nod my head, watching him as he panics internally before leaving the room and closing the door softly behind him.

What the hell are we gonna do? My car is out there! Or wait, did I put it in the garage yesterday? I can't remember but I really hope it's not out there otherwise she'll already know I'm here.

"What are you doing here?" Jungkook says. I can hear his muffled voice through the walls and I know I probably shouldn't listen but curiosity gets the best of me making me rush to the door and quietly crack it open, needing to hear how this conversation goes.

"Nice to see you too dad" she says, and I hate the fact that I'm only able to hear them but I'll settle for this.

"You should've contacted me before you came over Jina. You know I don't like people showing up unannounced" he says sternly.

"You're usually totally fine with me coming over" she says sounding thoroughly confused and I can hear Jungkook clear his throat before she starts again.

"Am I interrupting something?" she asks after no doubt clocking the dishes that were left over from lunch. Two plates, two cups and two sets of silverware. A dead giveaway that someone is here especially since it hasn't been cleaned up yet.

"You are actually" he says and I trip, surprised that he would straight up admit it but he has no reason to hide, and neither do I.

Having pushed the door open thanks to my clumsiness (somehow able to stay upright and keep my dignity this time) I'm faced with the dilemma of if I should just go back inside and pretend that never happened when it clearly did or come out and face her.

I'm given the luxury of having that choice since she hasn't seen me yet but I decide it's better to do this as soon as possible. We've hid the fact that I've been living here for two months so what's adding on the fact that I've been messing around with her father while doing so.

(Although this is a newly added feature but she doesn't need to know that)

I take a deep breath before stepping out from behind the door, watching Jina's face go from surprised to confused to disgusted to angry before turning back towards her father.

"You're fucking my best friend?" she accuses, not completely wrong but semantics.

"Best friend's don't fuck around and get pregnant by their friend's fiancees" I remind her, walking down the stairs in conveniently only Jungkook's shirt making what's going on, or what's starting to go on between us even more clear.

"Oh grow up! It's not like there's anything we can do to change that now can we? Plus looks like you're doing just fine without him" she throws at me and from that moment I'm not pulling any punches. She wants to play dirty? Fine, let's play dirty.

"Jina stop it" Jungkook growls, going on the defensive, not being able to gauge what kind of mindset she's in or even her reasoning for coming here but wanting her out all the same.

"Grow up?" I chuckle dryly, "I guess you're right, I guess maybe I have started growing up since it seems I've matured enough to be with someone like your father. Which, last time I checked, wasn't someone you have any business in questioning on things like his sex life and who he does and does not partake in it with" I say, placing a hand on his bicep possessively and I feel the tension he had once held in his body start to melt away.

Interesting to know that I have this effect on him...

"Come on, we both know that you're probably just a piece of ass to him" she scoffs before turning to address him. "Didn't know you started picking up strays. I wondered where she had ran off to" she says, continuing to disrespect the both of us without a care in the world.

"Don't call her that!" Jungkook says, jaw clenched as a way to keep himself in check.

All I see is red though and the next words I hurl out are ones that I couldn't stop myself from saying even if I tried. The ringing in my ears fanning the flames of my agitation making it impossible to hold back.

"How's life being pregnant with my fucking ex boyfriend's baby? He's probably taking real good care of you huh?" I taunt, cocking a brow at her and from the way the color rushes to her cheeks and the words die in her throat are enough to tell me everything I need to know.

He hasn't done shit for her.

She balls her hands into fists by her side and lunges at me but Jungkook jumps in between us, grabs her by the shoulders and turns her around, forcing her out the front door.

"You're gonna throw me out and choose that slut over your own daughter?" she yells struggling to get out of his grasp the whole way.

"Last time I checked honey the only slut around these parts is you" I throw back, following right behind them and the way her jaw drops is just priceless.

"That's enough! Jina go!" Jungkook says through gritted teeth letting go of her once she's passed the thresh hold, leaving her standing there, looking between the two of us before scoffing and storming off down the driveway.

"I knew you were obsessed with her I just never thought you would bother acting on it" Jina spits out at her father and when she sees that he doesn't flinch she hurls more baseless lies and insults at the both of us.

"You know she's just using you to get a place to stay and get over her ex right? What happened to staying a virgin until you got married y/n? Huh? Guess getting cheated on really fucked you up" she spits while unlocking her car.

"And I guess fucking around with an ego-driven two-timing narcissist gets you pregnant" I throw back and she purses her lips before sinking down in her car, accepting defeat this time and leaving like her father told her to.

"Say hi to Jared for me" I call out, waving at her as she grips the steering wheel until her knuckles have gone white, putting it in drive and backing out of the driveway.

I walk over to the couch and let out a big sigh once I've sat down, throwing my head in my hands as a way to ground myself.

Breathing through this dizzy feeling from that whole confrontation that I had not been prepared for is a lot tougher than I thought it would be, my whole body still buzzing.

I hear Jungkook close the door behind him after having watched her speed down the street, still worried for her safety but also wanting to make sure she was actually gone. What happened just now was enough of a confrontation to last me a lifetime, or at least it feels that way.

"Hey" he whispers, kneeling in front of me and rubbing my back, "Are you okay?" he continues and I nod my head, feeling the tears prickling in my eyes, calling my bluff.

"Come here" he whispers, sitting on the couch next to me and pulling me onto his lap, rubbing my back again and holding me while I let out some of those tears I had held back.

"I don't even know why I crying" I say, sniffling and sitting back up to dry my eyes.

"No one likes getting into fights with someone they used to care about. Well, nobody sane likes getting into fights with someone they used to care about" he says, trying to lighten the mood and it does the trick making me scoff a bit, smiling at his efforts to make me feel better.

He cups my face and wipes a few tears that had fallen, looking at me with his brows pinched together as if his heart is breaking with mine.

"But you still care about her though, don't you?" he asks and I nod my head. "It's hard not to" I admit, getting off his lap and sitting next to him which makes him angle his body to face mine, taking hold of one of my hands, encouraging me to speak my mind.

"She's been my best friend for the past five years. That's not something that can magically be turned off for me. I know what she did to me was devastating and I don't think I'll ever be able to forgive her for it. I'm still trying to heal from it all so I don't know, I couldn't help but defend myself, and you. I'm sorry you had to see that" I say, mumbling the last part and feeling so much regret for saying those ugly things about his daughter right in front of him.

"Everyone has a right to defend themselves and when you're being attacked like that, you can't help but say hurtful things. She had no right and she knew that and wanted to hurt the both of us anyway" he says and I take a deep breath before turning my attention back to him because she said just as many hurtful things to him as she did to me.

"Are you okay?" I question, tightening my hold on his hand to hopefully encourage him to be vulnerable with me as well.

He nods his head with a sad smile and waits a beat before saying anything and I hold my breath until he does.

"No one wants their daughter to end up in the kind situation she put herself in or see the people that they care about hurting but what she said didn't hurt me" he says and I nod my head, paying attention to his hand that I have placed in my lap, tracing the swirls of ink with my eyes as they travel further up his arm.

"What did hurt me though was the way she was talking about you. You know that's not how I feel about you at all right?" he says, tilting my face up towards him making purposeful eye contact with me, needing to know that I believe him.

"I know" I nod, giving him a sad smile accompanied by my still glossy eyes making him even more sad seeing how upset all of this has made me.

"Can I do anything to make you feel better?" he asks, cupping my face and keeping my eyes on him when I try to turn them away. "No, I'll be okay" I shake my head and he studies my features before nodding and accepting my words at face value.

"Okay, do you wanna go back up to my room? You can sleep in there with me if you'd like" he says, brushing a tear dampened strand of hair out of my face.

I give him a mischievous smile, telling him I know what he's up to but he pulls away and puts his hands up in a way to defend his motives.

"Just sleep, I promise. Scouts honor" he says, crossing his heart and I laugh at his playfully defensive nature. "Sure" I say, taking hold of his hand while he stands up and leads me back to his bedroom.

~~~~

After having talked a little bit more about what had happened the topic of conversation circles back to what we had been in the middle of before she showed up.

"So earlier it seemed like you wanted to ask me a question" I say, taking a sip from my soda that had come with the take out we had ordered hours ago, toying with the straw and keeping his attention.

"Yeah? And do you know what your answer might be to said question?" he teases, wetting his lips and keeping his eyes trained on mine.

"You have to ask the questions first Daddy" I say placing my drink down on his nightstand and when I turn to face him again he's tackling me down on the bed peppering kisses all over me.

"Stoooppp" I giggle and he laughs along with me before leaning back to hover over me. "Will you go out with me?" he asks and I can tell that this whole moment has him feeling like a teenager again.

"I thought you'd never ask" I say, running my fingers through his hair making him lean into my touch.

"You can't take it back though. Once we do this I won't ever let you go" he husks out, placing a kiss on my palm and I shutter at the feeling. "Then don't" I breathe out making a flame of desire flash through his eyes.

"You're gonna get yourself in trouble you know that?" he warns, placing a kiss on my nose before getting off me and turning off the tv. "Hey! I was watching that!" I pout "No you weren't" he chuckles. "Plus it's time to go to bed. We've got a big day ahead of us" he says, getting under the covers and motioning for me to do the same.

"Big day?" I question, not remembering we had something on the agenda this weekend. "I may or may not have planned out our date this morning while you were still in bed Sleeping Beauty" he says, pulling me onto his chest but I sit up pulling away from him with my brows scrunched together.

"How were you so sure I would say yes?" I scoff, shocked by his bold assumption. "From the way I've been making you moan my name I figured you wouldn't mind going on one date with me in return" he says and my jaw drops, throwing the covers off myself and making a break for it but he yanks me back towards him making me flop down on the bed.

"You can't just say things like that" I whine, hands over my eyes as a way to block him out of my vision and hide the very apparent blush that I'm sure is starting to bloom.

"Am I wrong?" he taunts, placing kisses on my neck and collarbone, dangerously close to making me moan his name again.

"You're no fair" I say, pushing him off and giving him my back making him chuckle at my shy behavior. He lays down and pulls me back into him. My back now against his chest and his hand placed on my hip where I'm again reminded that I'm only wearing his shirt and my under ware.

"Keep your hands to yourself Mr." I tease while prying his hand off me. "Come on darling, you know I'm a man of my word. Just sleep, nothing else" he says, this time sliding his hand further up to hold onto my bare waist.

"Fine" I grumble out and he laughs and nuzzles his nose into my neck, taking another deep breath, flooding his senses with my scent.

"Goodnight Bunny" he mumbles against my skin. "Goodnight Daddy I tease and am rewarded with a slap on my ass.

"Did, did you just spank me?" I say trying to wiggle out of his hold but he's already got his arm wrapped around my waist again. "I told you that pretty little mouth of yours was gonna get you into trouble didn't I?" he says, switching to rubbing his hand along the tender flesh he just struck, caressing it in a way to ease the pain.

I pout and settle back into the bed, not dignifying his words with a response. It's only when I accidentally move my hips backwards do I freeze from gaining a soft moan from him, no doubt caught off guard from the contact of my ass up against him.

"Sorry I didn't mean to I-" "I know Bunny, just go to sleep" he says placing a kiss on my neck and holding my hips in place, putting a little more space between us.

As I slow my breathing to a steady one I start to lull myself to sleep but I flinch at the sound of his cute snores in my ear. 'Something I'll have to tease him about in the morning' I giggle to myself and take his hand off my hip, choosing instead to hold it against my chest having him surrounding me. Soon I'm slipping into that dreamland he had drifted off to moments before, safe and warm being in his arms.

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manicpixiedreamcurl · 9 months

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The More You Give ❧ (Part VII)

Pairing | Eddie Munson x shy!reader

Warnings | 18+ only, do not interact if you are underage. Heavy petting, P in V sex, soft dom!Eddie. Discussion of uncomfortable sexual experiences. Inordinate amount of praise kink, good girl's, and vulnerability on both sides.

Word count | ~10,000

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Previous Chapter

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Most days, walking into the cafeteria comes with a cool sense of dread. A heaviness in your chest, mind working overtime to prepare yourself for an hour not quite talking with your not quite friends. You’re never sure what you prefer; the white hot shame that comes with laughter at your expense, or the simmering ache from being ignored entirely.

But there’s a levity to your mood today. You’re proud, or maybe more accurately relieved, at the circled red letter on the top right of your Chemistry test.

You spot May at the usual table as you file in, catching her excited wave over the head of some of the cheer girls. The others offer a cursory glance before returning to their conversation, but May’s expression is expectant. “So? How’d you do?”

You grin. “A minus.”

“I knew it!” She squeals, removing her bag from the chair next to her to make space for you. “You always make a big deal out of tests, and then breeze through!”

She’s half right.

Something about the weight of potential failure, some unknown consequence to doing poorly, always has you worrying about tests days prior, heart pounding in the moments before you flip the paper. Then you second guess yourself all the way through, scribbling over wrong answers before writing the same thing down again.

But you certainly don’t breeze through. The weight of this test on your mind had you bursting into tears in Eddie’s van last week. What was supposed to be a movie theatre date turned into an impromptu study session at the library. Eddie sat opposite you while you read over your notes, writing up his campaign ideas and flicking through a book he’d found in the fantasy section before working begrudgingly on an essay about JFK he was supposed to have handed in the week before. He switched to the seat next to you when you failed to hide a sniffle, let you tuck yourself under his arm and press your face to his shoulder.

“C’mon,” he said eventually, coaxing you out from the damp spot on the collar of his shirt. “Talk me through what you don’t get, okay? I bet the answer’s up here.” He pressed a finger to your forehead, narrowing his eyes like he could pinpoint the spot in your brain the information was hiding. “We just gotta knock it loose somehow.”

He must, truly, have been bored to death as you went through the problem, starting over again and again each time you explained yourself into a corner. But he listened anyway, prompted you to keep going until you came to an answer that satisfied you, a conclusion that made sense, and then he listened to the next problem.

You apologised at the end of the night. For all the hysterics, for dragging him along to a joyless evening. He’d swiped the thought away with a casual wave of his hand. “You couldn’t be my smart girl if you didn’t have to study sometimes.”

Just thinking about it now, your eyes flicker from May’s hand on the back of the empty chair beside her to the place Eddie sits, far on the other side of the room.

It’s an invisible line you haven’t crossed, spending any time with him at lunch. Eddie would never let you question whether he wanted you to sit with him, never let you worry about seeming clingy. He’d made it clear you were always welcome. What stopped you was that tug at your heart, that feeling that you’d be taking another step away, putting more distance between you and your friends. Or May, at least. You can’t remember the last time Heather sat with you more than once a week.

And you promised, sincerely, that you would try a bit harder with the cheer girls. Apart from that one tipsy conversation with Tracy at a party, you’re not sure you’ve quite fulfilled that.

But you want so badly to tell him. Shamefully, it was your first thought when you turned your paper over today. Along with the usual relief came excitement, knowing Eddie would be pleased for you and make it clear, call you his smart girl till your face burns hot.

“I’m just-” You start, tucking your bag up on your shoulder, glancing back to May. “I’m just gonna show Eddie quickly.”

There’s a pause. Her pleased expression, the gentle curve of her wax pink lips, doesn’t falter. Instead, it seems to calcify on her face. “Oh. You’re gonna sit over there?”

“Just for a while,” you reason. “Just to show him my grade. Okay?”

She makes a high mm hmm noise, half agreeing, half unsure, but you decide to take it at face value, making a beeline for Eddie’s table.

As usual, he sits at the head, the frizz of his hair lit up in the natural light from the window behind him. His expression is a touch bored, eyes blinking slowly, chin resting on his palm as a boy at the other end of the table - young, with tight brown curls tucked under a yellow cap - talks a mile a minute. You catch the words radio and roof as you approach, but your own mind goes blank when you reach them.

You’d feel only excitement, if it was just Eddie who noticed your presence. For his part, his whole posture changes; from slumped over the table to sitting straight up, his pouty lips turning to an excited smile in your direction as his hand drops away from his chin. But on top of that, six additional faces turn to watch you walk up the side of the table. Maybe you could handle three, used to some attention from Jeff, Gareth and Matthew at this point, comfortable in their acceptance of your silly little fidgets and occasional long silences.

But the other three, all freshmen, staring at you like you grew another head on the way over, have you shuffling in place, playing with the strap of your bag. You vaguely know Mike from watching him run out the door on the occasions you’ve babysat Holly, though his hair is a good couple inches longer than the last time you spent an evening at the Wheeler’s. The others, Lucas and Dustin, you know both from Eddie’s descriptions and his complaints.

“Hi,” you say, voice quieter than you’d like as you wave at the group.

“To what do we owe this pleasure, Princess?”

Your mouth opens, and your throat closes. Your face feels suddenly warm under the eyes of his whole table. In an instant, you regret coming over here. What must you look like? What will they think of you, when they realise you came over here to brag about a simple test result?

Eddie hums a questioning sound, bringing your focus back to him. He’s looking at you the way he does when you both know you’re going to have to be the one to speak first. There’s anticipation there, but the little curve of his lips is all kind patience.

You swallow, glance down the table again. You make eye contact with Lucas, give him an awkward smile at his friendly wave. Even at that, you know the words won’t come. Sighing quietly, you unzip your bag and search through your books for the test, drawing out the paper and fiddling with the corner for a second. How do you tell him, all of them, that you really aren’t bragging? That more than anything you just want to thank him?

Eddie’s eyebrows raise as he looks between you and the paper. When he holds his hand out, and you find yourself passing it to him instinctively, toes curling in your shoes.

“An A!?” He screeches immediately, thoroughly dispelling any hope you might have had that he’d keep it to himself. Though your face burns, you fight the urge to glance around and offer an apologetic smile to his group, to the people that turned at the sound of his yell, because this is Eddie. Any embarrassment you might feel pales in comparison to hearing the pride in his voice, to see it on his face. What do judgmental looks and cruel whispers from strangers mean to you when they’re caused by Eddie, so excited and pleased for you that he’ll yell it publicly?

You tuck the top of your foot to the back of your ankle, playing with your skirt, correcting him shyly. “An A minus.”

Eddie scoffs. “An A’s and A, sweetheart. I’d know, I’ve missed enough of them.”

Knowing now that at least Eddie himself has taken it the right way, you let yourself indulge. “I was two marks off a real A.”

Eddie’s hand slams down on the table with a bang, making you and everyone in the surrounding area jump as he rises, kicking his chair back with a screech. You watch, left in some strange place between proud and mortified as he practically floats over to the neighbouring table, flicking the paper at a group of juniors dressed exclusively in neon.

“You see that? My girlfriend got a fucking A in Mr Brown’s AP Chemistry class!” He moves the paper around, displaying it for each of them. “That shit’s like fucking gold dust- hey!” He turns to shake it at a passing boy with a calculator in his breast pocket. “You’re in that class, right? How’d you do in this test, huh?”

“If you must know, Munson, I got an A plus.”

There’s a moment of silence.

“Okay, man. Shit. Kinda showing off a little-” He turns to you, eyes wide and head tilted as if to say get a load of this guy, but you’re shaking your head, desperately biting back a smile.

“Eddie!”

“Ah, she calls to me.” He drifts over to you then, frizzed hair flying out behind him. You giggle a little wildly behind your hands, still shaking your head at him though any disapproval is for show at this point. Everyone who turned to watch Eddie crow seems to have returned to their conversations, this side of the room apparently well used to his outbursts. He stops close enough that he’s all you can see; his dimpled smile, eyes shining at you while he hands you your test back.

“Take my seat, Princess.” He gestures with a wide arm, directing you to the chair he rose from. You make a quick glance over at the cheer table, find Caroline just sitting down now with her tray, and feel an unusual sense of relief. It feels like freedom, to be on this side of the room, and not directly under her gaze.

By the time you’re settled in his seat, Eddie has retrieved a spare chair, carrying it above his head and dropping it down next to you with another outrageous bash. He collapses into it, his arm finding the back of your chair as he leans in to Jeff, sitting on your left. “You’re in that class, too, right man?”

“You know, we’ve been friends three years now, Eddie, and you’ve never once taken an interest in my grades,” Jeff answers, shutting down Eddie’s inquiry before he can really ask. He turns to you. “Bet it was question 18 that got you, huh?”

“Mm, no, that was okay.” You answer. “Eddie and I went over retention factors so much at the library last week. I understand it way better now.”

Six pairs of eyes blink at you, and the relief you were experiencing is fading fast. Instead, you get the recognizable sense that you said something wrong. Your foot starts tapping at pace, fingers finding the edge of the table and running over the edge.

“You were at the library?” Gareth asks Eddie, aghast tone mocking but serious in its surprise.

“I’ve been to the library before,” Eddie bites. “M’there all the time.”

“We’re not talking about monopolising the fantasy section, here,” Matthew says. “You were studying, Eds.”

“I told you,” Eddie replies, widening his legs until you feel the denim of his jeans rough against your bobbing calf. “I’m working hard this year. Trying to get out of this shithole.” He presses his leg more firmly to yours, and you realise it’s a deliberate touch, a silent reminder that he’s there, that he’s not going to leave you alone with whatever’s got you fidgeting.

“You said that last year,” Jeff says.

“And the year before that,” chimes Gareth through a bite of his sandwich.

“Yeah, well, I meant it this time,” he says, leaning back in his seat with a deep sigh. “Jesus, Henderson, you look like you’re gonna explode. Go on. So you’ve built your stereo on the roof.”

“Not a stereo, Eddie- a radio!” Dustin cries through a mouthful of cafeteria lasagne.

Eddie’s face darkens. “Do I look like I give a- Christ.” He closes his eyes tight, shaking his head with genuine frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Whatever, man. Please, please, just finish your story so we can all move on with our lives.”

Undeterred by Eddie’s rough tone, Dustin launches right back into what he’d been speaking about as you approached. Mainly focused on how he convinced his Mom to let him up on the roof in the first place.

You sigh in quiet relief as the attention of the table moves swiftly away from you, leg slowing until it stops shaking altogether. Eddie’s knee bumps yours, and you feel the warmth of him as he leans in to speak softly, just to you.

“My smart girl,” he says, drawing pleased shivers up your spine. “You deserve it, yeah? You worked real hard.”

“I wanted,” you start, grabbing at his sleeve, thumbing the chain that holds the leather together. “I wanted to say thank you for helping me. I know it was kinda boring.”

“Nah, glad I could help.” Eddie’s expression turns a touch sheepish. “I, uh, actually got a C on that History essay? Mrs Kelly said I would have got a B, if I’d handed it in on time, so…”

Your eyes widen, barely able to process the sight of him now. Eddie Munson, who just yelled across the room about your academic achievements, now looking anywhere but at you, scratching his face and shrugging like his own barely matter. You find his hand, squeeze it tight until he shows you his eyes.

“Eddie, that’s brilliant!” You say. He puffs out air like it means nothing to him, shakes his head. “When-”

“You aren’t even listening, Eddie!” Dustin calls from the end of the table. Eddie rolls his eyes, but then he gestures ;azily for Dustin to continue, now with the gift of his attention. It’s enough for anyone to believe he finds the boy annoying at best, but you know from how Eddie talks about them that Dustin’s kind of his favourite. There’s a clear fondness in Eddie’s tone when he rants about Dustin trying to contribute ideas to his campaigns, the begrudging respect he has for how unapologetically himself the boy is. The touch of jealousy that creeps in when he talks about Dustin’s friendship with Steve Harrington, of all people. Badass, my ass, he mumbles each time.

You listen in comfortable silence to the conversation as it continues, occasionally contributing a little yes or no when Jeff asks you leading questions, your fondness for him ever increasing. Only when you watch Eddie retrieve a bag of pretzels from his backpack do you remember your own lunch, too taken in by the awe in Matthew’s voice recounting the first time he heard a Judas Priest song, apparently life changing.

You frown at the realisation that the half empty bag is all Eddie brought for himself, immediately offering your open tupperware and holding it steady under his shaking head until he acquiesces to tearing one half of your sandwich in two, chewing on the quarter in between his contributions to the conversation.

Your ears prick when you move on to tearing the segments from your satsuma, handing a half to Eddie without a word. Amongst the chatter, Mike laughs about Dustin’s current failing grade in Latin, an unusual outcome for him. Dustin sighs like an old man.

“I ask you, how many tenses does one language need?” He groans. “I thought there’d be something we could use for a campaign, The Exorcist style, you know? Instead I’m trying to remember the difference between types of declensions. Or I will, when I fully grasp what declensions are.”

The conversation about Judas Priest you’d found yourself somewhat involved in fades with how much you’re focused on Dustin’s defeated tone. One part of you is screaming that you could help him, that he seems really worried about it and he’s a smart boy so it probably wouldn’t be much work to get him on the right track. Then another part, the one that screeches and wails its distress until your head hurts, asks, what if he says no? What if he laughs? What if they all do?

You open your mouth, wondering if you should just say it across the table. Just offer; just do it. Of course he won’t say no. And if he does, he’s Eddie’s friend so it will be gentle. Still embarrassing though. Your mouth closes again, teeth digging grooves into the gum behind your lips. Just help him. You pull your sleeves down over your hands, playing with the soft ends. You clear your throat, take a breath-

“I’m good at Latin,” you say, immediately cringing at how that sounds. But you’re pleased when Jeff goes on chatting about the album he just bought, letting you contribute to the other conversation across the table freely. Dustin blinks at you owlishly. “I mean, I can help. Tutor you, or something? If you want.”

“Seriously!?” Dustin asks, flashing you a braced grin when you nod. “That would be amazing! Thanks!”

You smile, just sighing out your relief when you feel another nudge at your knee. Eddie’s watching you, eyebrows raised. You shrug shyly, grasping the sleeve of his jacket again to fiddle with the chains. He pulls free, but only to take hold of your hand instead.

You’re basking in the feeling of knowing Eddie’s proud of you, your own pride in yourself, and you know you couldn’t force yourself back across the room today if you tried.

❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦

You realised, walking alone to class, that you hadn’t spoken that much during lunch the entire time you’d been at highschool. Giggling at Lucas’ jokes, asking about their DnD characters, getting increasingly comfortable talking about metal with a group of people who are genuinely excited to hear about your introduction to the genre. By the end it felt almost natural; simple and fun to talk to an entire table of people.

But you’re feeling some of the effects of it now, even quieter than usual in Eddie’s van as Gareth considers whether to paint or sharpie the Corroded Coffin logo Eddie designed onto the front of his bass drum.

From the soft hum you’d given in greeting as you climbed into the van after school, Eddie had offered you his palm, open and relaxed. Now, your forefinger traces the long groove from his wrist to the base of his thumb that forms his life line. You love Eddie’s hands, love how they feel in yours, and on every other part of you they’ve touched.

You swallow, face suddenly hot. It’s been easier, nicer, every time Eddie’s touched you. So much so that you now understand why it’s all some people think about, all that drives them. The way Eddie feels inside you, all the words that spill from his mouth as he moves; how much he wants you, how good you make him feel. You find your mind circling back to it at the strangest times. In class, making dinner, driving home with Eddie’s friends-

You jump a little at the chorus of bye’s from the back, the sound of the doors being thrown open. Eddie’s already watching you curiously when you look back to him, unable to hold eye contact, half convinced he’ll be able to read your thoughts with one good look at you. “You okay, sweet thing?”

“M’just tired.”

“Right,” Eddie says, nodding thoughtfully. “The guys- they can be a little intense.”

Mirth spreads through you at the thought of Eddie ‘jumps on cafeteria tables’ Munson describing anyone as intense. “I like them.”

“You say that now. A week tutoring Dustin and you’ll be changing your name and moving to Idaho. I’ll never see you again, and it’ll be all that little punk’s fault.”

“He’s your favourite.”

Eddie’s tone goes from playful to offended in a second, as to close a screech as his deep voice can get. “He is not- I don’t even have- Even if I did have a favourite, which I don’t, Dustin Henderson would not even come close-” He pauses at the sound of your laugh, narrowing his eyes. “Mmh. I get it. Tired, but not too tired to rile me up.”

You chew the inside of your lip, fighting a smile. Running a finger along his palm again, you reply, “it’s not particularly difficult.” You expect another dramatic yell of offence, or maybe a laugh. Instead, you get something pleased from his expression, dimples on his cheeks. “What?”

“Nothing. I just like it when you tease me.” His fingers close around yours, weaving together. “S’like you’re more comfortable around me, I guess.”

You’re sure he’s right. Every day it’s a little easier. Every time you see him, your mind gets in the way less and less, slowly coming to accept that he’s not waiting for you to say the wrong thing, that he won’t abandon you when you inevitably do.

“You make me feel comfortable, Eddie.”

“Yeah?” His eyebrows raise, waiting for your quick nod. “Does that mean you’re coming back to mine?”

“Actually,” you start, truly needing that comfort now. You know the implications of what you’re going to ask, sure that if somebody other than Eddie heard you, they’d come to conclusions about the kind of girl you are.

The more time you spend with Eddie the less you’re sure that it matters if they would be right or wrong.

You press your knees together, tap your fingers in a wave along Eddie’s knuckles. “Well, my parents aren’t home...”

There’s a second of silence, long enough to have you squirming, finding his dark eyes and then looking away again in a loop.

Eddie leans into you, chin tilted to capture your gaze and keep you there. “You mean to say that the Princess’ tower is unguarded this night?”

Your stomach squeezes at the sound of his voice, serious and soft, like a real adventurer on the verge of committing himself to a great quest. You love this about Eddie, how easily he can slip into characters like this. It’s something he learned from DnD, or maybe Eddie’s so good at the game because he has this ability to play at being somebody different without hesitation, without a hint of the worry you’d feel if you tried it, convinced you’d do it all wrong, sure you’d sound stupid.

“No dragons for me to slay?” He asks, closing one eye like he’s trying to work out if you’re tricking him. Your head shakes, and Eddie turns your hand in his to bring it to his mouth. He kisses your knuckles, a soft warm press. “S'that what you want?”

“Yes, Eddie.”

“Okay,” he says, lips meeting your hand once again. “To the castle, it is.”

Eddie is as quick as usual to drive you home, each turn forcing you to lean to the door or to the centre console. But any urgency seems to vanish the second he’s pulled up by your house. In the van, you wait as he makes sure he has his wallet and his keys, sets the sun visor back into position. When you've jumped out, you watch him check that he's locked each door of the van with more care than you've ever seen from him, like he's particularly worried about a carjacker on your suburban street in broad daylight.

Inside, Eddie is careful about unlacing his shoes and placing them at the door next to yours, toed off your heels carelessly. Then, at the top of the stairs, when you think you finally have him at a regular pace towards your room, you are jolted back by his sudden stop on the landing, leaving your hands connected at the end of stretched arms.

“‘M looking for anything I can use as a weapon, you know?” He says, peering into a vase of fake orchids, examining a glass seahorse statue, scrunching his nose when he gets hit with the scent from a bowl of potpourri. “This all feels a little too easy, and you’ve gotta expect the unexpected in situations like these.”

“Eddie?"

You’re so endeared to him, watching him examine the objects your Mom set out playing up to this story he’s created. But the way he’s stalling, almost hesitant, has you sure you missed a clear sign along the way. “Eddie?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you, like, not want to come here?”

His head shoots up then, round eyes blinking. “Of course, I did. I do.” Eddie laughs airily, tucking some of his hair behind his ear as he approaches. “I’m a freak, okay? I’m not crazy.”

You still feel like you’re missing something, wondering if you should offer him another way out. Eddie makes a sweeping gesture with his arm, inviting you to guide him forward. Walking slow to give him time to change his mind, you make your way to your door, decidedly not looking back at him when you enter.

Eddie is unusually quiet, then, following you in but stopping once again when he takes the first step onto your cream carpet. You only glance back at him when you’ve dropped his hand and started playing with your sleeves, comforted by the fact he just seems to be taking everything in. He stands out, all ragged denim and black leather in the pastel softness of your bedroom, and yet he fits so well in a room full of things you love.

He shifts his weight back and forth on the soft carpet, subtly sniffs the air that must smell of you and the apple blossom diffuser on your side table. His eyes drift as he takes in each focal point; the desk laden with textbooks and paper, your windowsill, lined with a couple snow globes, a ceramic cat you’d painted as a child, a framed photo of you and your friends Heather gave you for your 16th. He scans quickly over the cork boards to the corner of the room, smile lines appearing at the sight of your long favourite stuffed animal, a soft grey elephant you’d carefully positioned on a pink cord beanbag, looking ready to start reading judging by the pile of books to her right.

His gaze eventually circles back to you, waiting nervously for his reaction. Eddie shifts back and forth on his feet. “You know, I, uh, gotta admit, I imagined some stained glass.” He gestures lazily to the window, then to your bed, the wooden frame and the blue floral bedspread. “And I was sure you’d have one of those beds with all the fabric, you know what I’m talking about?” He raises both hands to motion the shape of a canopy bed, fingers wiggling.

“Disappointed?” You say, only half joking.

Eddie finally takes a step further in, turning to the shelves of books by your bed. “Me? Nah I was worried about getting tangled up in it, to be honest.” He flashes you a quick grin before scanning over the spines. Eventually, he points to one. “Iron Maiden, yeah?”

You check the book he’s pointing to, The Complete Poems of Samuel Taylor Coleridge, and nod, always pleased by the reminder that Eddie listens, really listens, when you speak. That he remembers so many innocuous things you share with him, things you’d never expect him to remember.

You badly want to reach out for him then, fingers itching to hold his hand, play with his sleeves. You almost do, raising your arm a touch, but a wave of concern hits you, still trying to work out if you’ve done something, said something wrong to make him act like he’d rather not be here.

Eddie catches your stunted movement, eyes blinking at your fidgeting hands before shifting to your face. You’re sure then that your anxiety is clear in your expression, that he sees how eagerly you’re waiting for him to give you an explanation for his hesitancy in the hallway.

Eddie frowns, looking at the books again. He clears his throat. "I've never been in a girls' room before," he tells you. From his voice, it sounds like a confession.

“Oh.” Your brows furrow, trying to work out how that matters. “I mean, they’re not all like this.”

"No, I mean, it’s just that it’s like, a first. For me.” When that doesn’t quite cover your confusion, he continues. “Nobody ever wanted, y'know, me in their room. Or whatever."

Your heart pangs with sudden understanding, the memory of Eddie lying across from you on a blanket, the warm sun on your skin. Am I being too intense? That's what Eddie had asked you, that day at the lake. People say I can be too much too soon.

“And it’s already different, with you. Better. I mean, shit, a million times better,” he says, eyes wide. “But I still just didn’t expect you to, just, ask me, like- Like, you just want me here. Cause it’s never been that simple. Shit. I’m fucking this up, aren’t I?”

“No. No, Eddie,”

“I didn’t wanna make you worried or anything. It’s the complete last thing I’d ever want. I guess I was kinda just waiting for the other shoe to drop.” He laughs again, but it’s hollow, and cuts off too suddenly to be real.

You give in entirely, practically launching at him to wrap your arms around his torso and pull him into a tight, desperate hug. You wish, not for the first time, that you were more like him, better at getting your thoughts into words and saying them.Then you could soothe him like he deserves. Then you could tell him the truth.

Eddie’s face presses to your hair, arms tight around your shoulders.

“Eddie,” you murmur into his shoulder, squeezing him again before you build the courage to look him in the eyes. “You’re so-” Your throat tightens, forcing you to whisper. “You’re so good.” It seems lacklustre, probably a million better words to describe all that Eddie is, but it feels right; it’s what you think, that Eddie is, deep at his core, so good that it hurts. “You’re too good, too good for anyone that made you think-” Your voice cracks, and Eddie blinks shining eyes at you when you reach up to stroke his cheek. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he assures, pressing his face to your palm. “I’m okay. Really.”

You press your lips to his, hoping he understands this at least. You feel his smile, and believe that he does. He hums as you shift your kisses to the corner of his mouth, his cheeks. You peck the end of his nose, watch it scrunch sweetly. You’re warmed by the sight of his reddening face, the sound of his laugh. “You know how to make a guy feel appreciated, sweetheart.”

Your hands seem incapable of moving from him, only moving from his cheek to his shoulders, wrists tickled by the fluffy ends of his curls. “I want you here,” you say, a little strained. “I promise.”

“I know. I know you do.”

“I would have invited you earlier,” you continue. “It’s just…”

Eddie’s eyes flash. His hands, big and warm, rub up and down your back, pulling you closer to him until you’re flush against his chest. “It’s just, we couldn’t have done what you want to do,” he finishes. “Not with your parents downstairs. That’s right, isn’t it?”

Your stomach twists with that exciting shame, face hot. You don’t have anywhere to hide, caught by Eddie’s gaze. You still can’t look into his eyes for too long, lest your heart beat out your chest, so you find yourself staring at his lips, pillowy and pink. “Not just that.”

“Okay,” he answers, hand drifting down to skim the end of your skirt. You press closer to him when his fingers tease the soft skin of your thighs, and he breathes a laugh. “But, mainly that, huh?”

Your fingers curl into his shoulders, embarrassed and excited in equal measure that he’s naming your intentions so clearly. You bounce a little on your toes, still gazing at Eddie’s lips, the dents of his laugh lines and his dimples.

Callused fingers reaching under your skirt, his thumb grazing the cotton of your panties, pulling at the elastic. You think you’re being subtle, the way you open your legs a little to make space for him, but know immediately that you failed when Eddie laughs, eyes crinkled at the sides. He breathes a sigh, watching you lose the last pretence that you aren’t a little desperate for him to touch you how he wants. “My good girl.”

Oh, but that makes you ache for him. Your head drops to his neck, hiding your face in his skin. You breathe him in, smoke and Eddie, swallowing a whimper.

“You like that, don't you? Like being a good girl.”

You nod on impulse, willing to agree to just about anything when his fingers drag over your mound, press to the split of your pussy through your panties, the material just grazing your clit. But something about what he's said isn't quite right, and you start shaking your head instead.

Eddie's mouth finds your ear, warm breath teasing the sensitive skin at the top of your neck. "No? Not a good girl?"

You shake your head again, because that's not right either. You tilt your face to catch his gaze, ink dark eyes already waiting for you. "I like-" You sigh when his fingers catch at the fabric that sits at the top of your sex again, giving a single teasing circle that helps you relax enough to tell him the truth of it. “It’s for you, Eddie.”

"Ah," Eddie breathes, finally, finally dipping his fingers past the elastic of your panties. He hums his approval when he finds your clit, swollen and waiting for him. He gives you one tap just to see you pout, then he’s rubbing tight circles that have you trying to press even closer to him, nails digging into his shoulders. “My good girl, mm?"

"Yeah," you nod desperately, proud to see how pleased he looks with you. "Yes, Eddie."

"That's right." He continues, watching your face as your lips open to moan softly, eyelids flickering. His fingers dip quickly to your entrance, dragging slick up to ease the way for his fingers on your button. “Just for me. Cause I'm the one who gets to touch you," he says. "Only I get to hear you like this, yeah? Hear you begging me with that pretty voice?"

"Only you. Please, Eddie."

“S’cause you know I’m gonna take care of you, don’t you, sweet thing? You and this pretty pussy?”

Eddie's fingers keep rubbing at your clit, pulling sensations from your body that only he ever has. Staring at him, hearing his rough voice even as he looks at you like you’re precious, you feel it again, as you have with increasing frequency. How badly you want him like this and every other way. It almost overwhelms you, makes you want to hide away again in his shoulder. But Eddie is owed the sight of the pleasure he brings you, deserves to see it play out on your face, hear every whimper clearly. Eddie coos softly at the sight of you, his free hand coming to support the back of your neck, nodding you through each shaking breath. “That’s it. That’s it. You gonna cum?”

A tremble moves through your body, hips rolling against his hand as you groan into the air. The high builds to a long, half painful peak, your hands grasping at Eddie’s t-shirt, his hair, first for something to hold on to, then because the resulting groan has your cunt clenching around nothing. It crosses over into too much suddenly, twitching away from his hand between your legs even as you give in and throw your face to his neck, kissing your gratitude all over the pale column of his throat. You find his pulse, feel its steady beat under your lips, and bite. It’s little more than a scrape of your teeth, but Eddie shudders in your arms, tilting his head back to let you soothe the bruised skin with your tongue, then kisses.

You sigh deep, relaxing your death grip on his body while Eddie kisses at your sweaty temple. You peek at him then, find the warm brown of his irises swallowed up by darkness, his tongue licking quick over his bitten dark lips. He pulls his hand from your panties, showing you the remnants of your slick on his fingers before licking at his ring finger. “Always taste so good, baby. Wanna try?”

“Uh huh,” you say, head fuzzy with pleasure. Your mouth drops open for him, letting him press his middle finger to your tongue. You close your lips around it, sucking gently. You don’t think it tastes of much at all, but Eddie seems suddenly desperate to get at what he’s given you. He drags his finger from your mouth and captures your lips before you’ve even registered the loss, his tongue licking at yours like he can steal the taste of you back. “That what you were thinking of when you invited me up here, mm?” He says when he breaks away, lips still grazing yours as he speaks. “Or do you want more?”

You do want more. You want Eddie. Want him filling you with the length you can feel, hardening against your thigh. You want to make him feel good, want to hear him groan when he cums. “More, Eddie,” you whisper without shame. “Please.”

“Fuck,” he breathes, leaning in for another desperate kiss, taking advantage of your pliant state to open your mouth to him. “Fuck. I wanna bend you over so bad,” he admits, watching your face for your reaction. “You want that? Want me to fuck you like that in your pretty princess bed?”

Your toes curl, clit throbbing at the playful tone of Eddie’s voice, teasing and rough. “Mm. Okay.”

Eddie tilts his head, meeting your eyes, checking in. “Okay?”

You try to picture it, imagine how Eddie will feel fucking you that way. In truth, you’re stuck on how vulnerable you’ll be; exposed, not able to see him or cling to him the way you like. But it’s Eddie, you assure yourself. You take a breath. “I want that, Eddie.”

The kiss that follows is sweet. It’s a comforting reminder that no matter how much Eddie teases you, how rough he gets, he's still the boy who calls you princess, holds your hand in the car, promises to take care of you.

He helps you remove your shirt from your heated skin, pulls his own over his head the second you start tugging at the hem. Once you have access to his skin, you can't stop touching him, palms flat to his chest, kissing his neck while he pulls your panties down over your hips.

“C’mon, sweet thing,” he murmurs, turning you to face your bed. He kisses your shoulder, his body warm at your back. "Climb up for me, mm?"

You want to do what he says. You want him to touch you like this. But you still feel a prickle of nerves as you crawl up to your pillow, body exposed and missing Eddie’s skin already.

“So pretty,” Eddie says above you, behind you, as you rest your chin on your curled arms on top of the mattress. You hear the clink of his belt, toes curling at the sound. Then you feel him through his boxers, hard and hot as he rolls his hips against your ass. You hear him whisper, shit, say something about protection. It's followed by a far off, satisfied a-ha at locating a condom in his discarded jacket, but it’s fuzzy beneath the sudden rushing in your ears.

You feel him again, grinding against you, and you're not sure where all the excitement went. You’re staring at the blue cornflowers on your pillowcase while he continues behind you, remembering the last time you were positioned like this, tense and vulnerable. You try to breathe slow. When that doesn’t work, you try to let the heavy throb between your legs remind you how badly you want this.

It doesn't work, and you focus instead on feeling of just having to lie like this, get through it for him, just stare at the flowers and don't cry and he’ll be finished soon-

The pressure behind you disappears, the mattress shifts under you. Eddie bounces when he flops down beside you, face level with yours and hidden behind his flying hair. He makes soft puh noises like he’s trying to spit it out, blowing it away from his face. You blink, the white noise in your ears fading when you touch him, tucking his hair back behind his ear to find his grateful smile.

“Thanks, baby,” he says. He reaches for your hip, rubbing soft as he presses your arched body down until you're lying, flat to the bed. Then, all heartbreaking gentleness; “where’d you go?”

You stumble, embarrassed. “I, I didn’t-”

“Stopped making those pretty noises for me," he reasons. “Isn't any fun without 'em." Your bottom lip shakes, and you feel like an idiot.

Eddie. Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. Not Andy, not some boy here for himself, only to take and never give.

"Hey," he says, shuffling in until he can bump your nose with his. "We don’t have to do it like this if you don’t want. You know that, right? Don't have to do anything you don't want.”

“It’s not that, I-” You sigh, watch Eddie’s shining eyes, round and soft, waiting for you. “I needed to know it was you. I’m sorry.”

Recognition registers in his face. He frowns, cupping your face in his palm. “No apologies. Not about what you need, okay?”

“Okay, Eddie.”

“Wanna cuddle?”

You do. Desperately. You reach out for him easily, shuffling until you're surrounded by him, clinging to his torso, cheek to his chest.

"Ah," Eddie breathes, wiggling like he can get his skin any closer to yours. "That's the good stuff."

You hadn’t realised how fast, how hard your heart was beating until you’re settled in Eddie’s arms and it starts to slow. There's a minute’s comfortable silence, letting his presence ease you back to comfort. Then he hums, strokes at the hair on your temple. "You gotta tell me when something's not right, ‘kay?" he says seriously. "I like to think I can read you pretty well, but I could've missed it."

"I'm sorry," you say, then, remembering you just agreed not to do that, "sorry."

Eddie breathes a laugh through his nose, leaves a wet kiss on your forehead. "My shy girl, mm?"

"Sometimes it's just…hard to say what I'm feeling. I didn't want you to stop.” You hum. “I don't think I did."

Eddie considers that, still stroking at your hair. "Do you, uh, know what a safe word is?” You shake your head, and he continues. “S’kinda like a code. Something you can just say if you wanna press pause, you know? Means that instead of getting in that head of yours, trying to work out what you want, you can just say a word and we’ll talk about it, yeah?”

You consider it, imagining the scene if you'd been able to just say one thing and slow down. Easier not to have to think through what you need before you tell him, just say one word and let Eddie help you get there, coax from your head what you haven't worked out yourself. "That sounds good, Eddie."

"Yeah?" He asks, eyebrows raising. “Okay. We can keep it simple for now. If we wanna stop completely, for any reason, we say red, yeah? If we need to slow down, talk a little about what we need, we say yellow. And green for keep going. How’s that sound?"

"Good," you say, feeling grateful that you’re learning all these things with Eddie. "It sounds good, but I- I am sorry that I'm, y'know. Difficult, sometimes."

Eddie blinks, eyebrows pulling together. "Difficult? My sweet girl? Nah. Besides," he leans in, closing one eye. "I like looking after you."

You sigh happily when he kisses you, gentle and seeking nothing more than sweet presses. But you're still wet and wanting, hand rubbing across the softness of Eddie's tummy until your fingers draw across the sparse hair at the top of his pants. Eddie makes a noise in the back of his throat that has you pressing your thighs together.

"You wanna turn over, mm? Open those pretty legs for me?”

Yes. You love having Eddie on top of you and inside you. Better every time, as your body gets used to him, as Eddie learns how to draw pleasure from you, as you learn what makes Eddie gasp, makes his hips move desperately like you're the only thing he needs.

But you pause. Now, comfortable in the knowledge that you know how to slow down, stop when you need to, you let yourself imagine Eddie behind you. His hips hitting the back of your thighs, his big hands holding your waist, arching your body just right to slide inside. Letting yourself be vulnerable with Eddie, the feeling of offering yourself up to him, the reward of his touch.

“I want to try, I just, I need-” You don’t know, exactly. You feel another wave of irritation at yourself, wishing you could be a little more simple. That you didn't need to cling to him that first time, that now you need him to work out this hurdle.

Eddie hums, and the mattress shifts again as he sits up behind you. “Lift these hips for me again, sweet thing?” He asks, helping you shift your knees forward, tilting your body up for him. You hear the crinkle of him tearing open a condom, his soft sigh as he rolls it down over his cock. “There’s my girl,” he murmurs, hands smoothing your skirt up, exposing your hot flesh to the air. You shiver up your spine, but when Eddie grinds against you, what follows is his torso stretched along your back until you can feel him pressing wet kisses to your shoulder. The tension falls away, replaced by the tickle of Eddie’s hair at your neck, his sweet sting of his teeth nipping your shoulder, the sound of his pleased hums.

A final touch, his left hand grabs yours on the mattress, linking your fingers up and resting them in your eyeline. You know Eddie’s hands better than you know your own. Thick fingers adorned with a pig, a cross, a skull; all pale skin but for the subtle pink at his knuckles and around his nails. The veins that run from the end of his fingers to his wrist, the dip at the end of his thumb.

“Better?” Eddie asks. You hum happily. You’re so blissfully wrapped up in him like this, surrounded and safe. Eddie’s right hand teases your clit again, presses gently at your entrance and finds you still went and wanting, bearing down at the first dip of his digits inside you. “Fuck, don’t worry, sweet thing. Gonna give you what you need, mm?”

“Eddie,” you say, his name a gentle plea.

“I know,” he whispers, squeezing your hand in his. He reaches between your bodies to guide himself to your entrance, the head of his cock tapping torturously at your clit. You have half a mind to kick your legs out in impatience now, settle on whining at the back of your throat. Eddie breathes a laugh into your shoulder, but it shifts immediately to a groan as he presses inside.

You’re still not entirely used to the feeling of him slowly filling you, the edge of pain still leading you to bear down on him, body stuck between desperations; to force him out or or pull him deeper. But then there’s the perfect ache of feeling full, the warmth and heaviness of him inside.

Eddie’s hips roll, the wet sound of him pulling from you making your toes curl. He starts up a steady pace, easing your body into letting him slide deeper into your cunt with each thrust. His fingers return to the top of your sex, rubbing at your sensitive button. With every slow thrust, each stroke of your twitching clit, it feels like your body is opening up to him, easing the way for him to press deeper, push inside a little rougher. Your body flinches, tightens and loosens up all over when the end of his cock finds the back of your pussy, sending waves of pleasure up your spine.

“Feel good?” He says, amusement in his tone. You moan freely, happy to be teased by him as long as he keeps touching you. “Tell me.”

“Feels good,” you parrot, staring at Eddie’s hand in yours, the slow movement of rose tone up his wrist, along to his knuckles as he heats up. You shiver to let in his warmth, his breath on your shoulder, his chest at your back. His cock, hot and thick, fucking you open.

“My good girl,” he murmurs, groaning at the way your cunt clamps down, gushing wet around his thick cock in thanks for his praise. “Christ. I shoulda known that was your favourite,” he breathes, his right hand pressing at your mound to angle your hips just so, helping his cock find the spot at the end of you that makes your thighs shake with every heavy push. “S’mine too.”

His lips travel up the side of your neck to the top of your cheek, eyes finding yours when you turn to him. Eddie gives you a gentle pout at the sight of your mouth open to take gasping, whimpering breaths, your eyes fluttering when he starts to bully your clit in line with the increasingly harsh movements inside you. “You were fucking made for me,” he tells you. “You know that, don’t you, sweetheart?”

You cry out, arms giving way underneath you when your body twitches all over, squeezing tight around Eddie’s invading cock. Your head drops into the mattress next to your joined hands, but you nod desperately, wanting him to see that you know perfectly well. That nobody could make you feel as good as Eddie does.

Eddie keeps your body angled how he wants, adjusting your hips to pull your back into an arch. “All mine, aren’t you? Mine to look after, mine to touch. Mine to fuck-” He gives you a harsh thrust that makes your thighs twitch, legs close to giving out if he wasn’t holding you up with his arm under your stomach. “I wanna feel you cum, yeah? Think you can?”

You’re still nodding, hand gripping his tight, fingers curled through his.

“For me? Just for me?”

Always. Only for Eddie. You can’t say it, mind too far away to form the thought properly, but the feeling of him saying it like that, claiming your pleasure for himself as he drags it out of you with his cock, heavy and hot, and his hand playing with your clit, drives you over the edge. You mewl into the mattress, cunt clenching tight around his throbbing cock as your pleasure peaks.

Eddie makes a soft whimpering sound as you cum, following you down to bury his face in your shoulder. His hips move faster as he starts chasing his pleasure instead of focusing on yours, hand that was teasing your clit now stroking at your hip to soothe your sensitive, twitchy body.

Hearing him now, gasping breaths, whimpers in your ear, you sink happily into this feeling. Almost as good as reaching your own peak, the knowledge that you’re making Eddie feel good. That this boy who treats you so well, dedicates himself to helping you find your pleasure, loses himself a little at the clench of your cunt around him.

You drag your clasped hands to your mouth, kissing at the pink skin of his knuckles. How could anybody not want this with him? How could anybody have given him up? You feel a sudden, desperate possession of him, the need to claim him like he claimed you.

“Mine,” you murmur, pressing your lips to the back of his hand in an array of gentle kisses. Your other hand reaches back to tangle in his hair, scratch at the back of his head as he whimpers. You crane your neck, searching for his eyes. They’re dark, shining as they take you in. His cock twitches inside you, and you squeeze his hand again. “Mine?”

His bottom lip shakes. “Yeah. M'yours. Yours, fuck-” He captures your lips but the kiss ends quick when he groans, hips stuttering in your warmth then sinking deep. You keep scratching at his neck as his body shakes through his orgasm, and still after when his weight drops on you and you fall flat to the bed together. You lie there for minutes, catching your breath, luxuriating in the feeling of being held by Eddie, pussy still clenching weakly around him.

Eddie hums, pulling from you slowly with another wet sound that makes you bury your face in your pillow. He rubs at your hip gently, squeezes your hand a final time before untangling from you to deal with the condom. You make a mental note to do something with that before tomorrow morning, but Eddie has your mind going wonderfully blank again when he bounces back beside you and pulls you in. You’re both a little sweaty, cheek a touch too hot against his chest, but you have no interest in cooling down if it means you have to stop touching him.

“Good?” He asks, fingers rubbing at your temple. You hum a long content sound in answer, not ready to form any coherent thought yet, and feel Eddie’s chest shake with laughter under your cheek. “Good.”

You lay like that, clammy and pleasured, convinced nothing could drag you from this bed. Until you feel a quick pang in your stomach, and the quiet reverie is interrupted by a deep rumble. There’s a moment of silence, then Eddie snorts underneath you. You’d be embarrassed if his laugh didn’t make you want to follow his happiness, smiling shyly when he rubs gently at your tummy. “Hungry work, huh?” He asks, giggling. “Never fear, sweet thing. I can fix that.” He pauses then, licks his lips quickly. “Hey, you got a box of mac and cheese sitting around here, somewhere?”

❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦

You flinch, watching with increasing horror as Eddie’s attempts to chop the onion you’d handed him. Fingers splayed and terrifyingly close the blade, you’re stuck between gently taking the knife from him and asking point blank how he’s managed to keep all ten fingers intact this long.

“Do you want me to finish that?” You ask, frowning when he shakes his head, still fully concentrated on each dangerous movement, his tongue just poking out of his lips in a physical demonstration of his focus.

If you weren’t so terrified, you’d be appreciating how soft and comfy Eddie looks right now. Black Sabbath t-shirt tucked into his jeans, socked feet ready to slide along your kitchen floor. His dark curls pulled back from his face and braided by your own hands, tied at the end with your favourite lilac scrunchie that you kind of hope he’ll keep.

But you can’t think about it, because you’re terrified Eddie’s going to ruin his musical career here in your kitchen, making pasta.

“No, need, sweet thing,” he assures. “This is a patented Munson technique for chopping onions.”

You could curse yourself for not having any boxed mac and cheese, for suggesting you cook something from scratch together in the first place. You’re used to cooking, with your Mom and Dad, with your friends, and eventually for yourself. But you get the sense that Eddie does a lot of microwaving, looking after himself the same way he has since he was a kid, at dinner time when Wayne is working nights.

“Eddie, can I?” You gently take the knife from him, turning the half of the onion left and chopping it with your thumb tucked in.

He tilts his chin. “Lacks the adrenaline rush that comes with the Munson method,” he says when you’re done, watching you tip the contents of the chopping board into the heated pan on the stove. Then, a little sheepishly, “I, uh, I don’t cook much. If that wasn’t obvious.”

“You don’t like it, or?”

“I like this,” he answers. “And I make breakfast sometimes with Wayne. But not dinner, so much. He’s usually at the plant that time of day, so nobody ever taught me, I guess.” He pauses. “That’s not true. My mom and I used to cook, I think. Sometimes.”

You wait for a couple of seconds, watching the onions and garlic soften. “When you were a kid?”

“Yeah, we’d make stuff like this. Or, she would. I think I’d just watch mostly. Stir stuff, lick the spoon.”

“Best part,” you say, smiling. Then, watching him carefully. “Your Mom, she…?”

“She died,” he finishes with a shrug. He taps at the counter with his knuckles. “Then I lived with my old man, and he was not one for cooking lessons,” he laughs derisively. “Then one day the bastard dropped me off at Wayne’s. Best thing he ever did for me. Not that he cared either way, he was just sick of having me around.” Eddie finally looks at you then, and catches something in your expression that makes him wince, the laughter that follows clearly forced. “Christ, sorry. I’m really dumping on you today.”

“Don’t apologise, Eddie.”

“Nah, I shouldn’t have-” He shakes his head, tapping the counter again before resting his palms at the edge. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Eddie, of course it matters,” you say, turning off the stove to approach him, standing separated from his body by his arm reaching to the counter, keeping you from wrapping around him the way you want to. “Of course it matters.”

Eddie shrugs again, and it’s another one of those moments where you wish you were more like him. Eddie always knows what to say, senses where you’re hurt and how to soothe it, knows when to talk and when to just hold you.

But now that it’s your turn, you’re left feeling useless, stuck just wanting to cry at the thought that anyone has ever hurt him, made him feel like he has something to apologise for just for being around.

“I think you’re so wonderful, Eddie,” you say. “I want you around all the time.”

There’s a second of something. He turns to meet your gaze, searching your face with a frown. Then he gives you a small, barely there smile. The arm between you raises to let you close, wrap him up in a tight hug. You feel his body lose tension as he sighs, your hand stroking his back the way you know he likes. “I want you around all the time, too, sweet thing,” he says softly. “I really do.”

Next Chapter

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x shy!reader

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himbocoups · 10 months

Text

˗ˋˏ Epistolary Yearning ˎˊ˗ | 18+ Only

synopsis: a series of letters, speckled with notes of budding romance and longing, exchanged between a newly married couple separated by seas and the ongoing war the emperor sent his commander to end.

pairing: duke!lsm x reader (gn afab)

genre: epistolary form, historical fantasy, romance | smut

tags: arranged marriage, mentions of a war, dk and yn accidentally invent the concept of planes, two people very much falling in love | degrading, fingering, guided play, honey play, marking, mirror play, pet names, praise, pussy slapping, riding, spitting, squirting…

wc: 5.13k

message from nu: fueled by my love for historical, fantasy, and isekai manhuas. big thank you to my beta readers (@heartkyeom, @aceofvernons, and @multi-kpop-fanfics) for reading when I was playing with the format of this fic + @junkissed with helping out with the syntax for this one very confusing line I wrote. also summoning @onlyseokmins bc I told her I'd tag her once duke!dk was finished <3

himbocoups's masterlist

Letter One - YN

My Lord,

How are you? I hope your trip is going as smoothly as planned.

It has been a while since I last heard from you. As Summer comes to a fading end, Autumn threatens to wash the foliage to hues of brown and auburn. And I sit at the library nook beside the window, taking quill to parchment against the cover of a heavily bound book and scratching against blank pages before I can muster the courage to write to you. I do sincerely apologize if this attempt seems strange.

Though I pity our brief time together, the only things I familiarized myself with are your scintillant eyes. Maybe instead of feeling as dull as the color of nature, I’ll think about how the color is reminiscent of your eyes. Eyes, these beautiful jewels seem to reflect the light through your smile. I can’t help but imagine myself as the last person to see them every night as I lay beside you as we drift off into slumber. Would it be too forward of me to say that the thought of growing fond of you, not just your eyes, is slowly appealing more and more to me?

However, I do have hesitations as I am left alone to roam these lonely halls in a place so unfamiliar to me. It would be a pity shall I reach familiarity with my surroundings before I become familiar with you. Or even worse, to have you forget your familiarity with me.

Please be safe for me. Hurry home soon.

Letter Two - DK

My Jewel,

For someone who longs for familiarity, you need not create even more distance between us through formalities. And my love, you need not refer to me as your Lord. Love is all I ask for, as love is what you will always be to me. Albeit, I do find it disheartening to read that you think of me so lowly. I could never forget someone as precious as you, even if you do not believe in your preciousness.

Nevertheless, I, too, pity the brevity of our time together. Marriage agreed upon through an exchanging of letters by our guardians, now our marriage follows suit in the epistolary form. Yet no descriptive access through penmanship could ever grant the feeling that blossomed inside me and continues to bloom since I first laid my eyes upon you. And on the eve of the third week of our matrimony, I was whisked away to end the war. I do sincerely apologize for my absence.

On this rocking ship, all I can do is stare into the swirling sea in search of a passing merchant ship with letters to deliver. The birds that soar above me seem to provoke me with their independence, cawing in hearty guffaw at the fact that this poor man can never take flight at any moment back into his lover’s arms - where he feels most at home.

Maybe we should take giant birds instead of ships, soaring in the skies and reaching our destination in an instant. How wondrous that would be.

But I am an equally lonesome Commander among his squadron, a man who keeps the first letter from his lover in the pocket against his breast and his wedding band around his neck. Just thinking about how you were thinking about me while writing that letter, still thinking about me, conciliates any disarray in my mind. And I promise you that I will make you feel loved for the rest of your life, even if our love is only budding.

I will lead my men well. Then I will lead myself home. To you.

Letter Three - YN

My Dokyeom (If it is fine to refer to you in this way),

I do have to admit to my shyness, how my face flushed with heat when you referred to me as your beloved. Your “love”…my goodness, our servants nearly called the doctor over when they saw my state of awe. Although, I do apologize if the language in my initial letter seemed blunt or made you feel even a hint of sadness that I accidentally made you for a man with a cold demeanor.

You wrote: “Maybe we should take giant birds instead of ships, soaring in the skies and reaching our destination in an instant” in our last exchange. What a preposterous idea! But what a new discovery to find that you are as funny as you are charming. Shall we commission a local alchemist to create potions that magnify tiny sparrows to large ships? Or shall I ditch my archery lessons in exchange for nights in your magnificent library, scouring the archives with the hope to find a recipe to an enlarging potion hidden in a romance novel?

Oh, how I wish everything could be as easy as depicted in romance novels or that one Opera we went to watch. Days consume me on end. Not in the way in which I consume much of my leisure time by staying in the places we frequented in our time together, but in the way in which time passes by so slowly it feels like the concept of time is consuming me instead. I wish it were you who were consuming me even though I do feel it through your love. Because I, too, keep your letter near me. And I trace over the areas your quill indented the parchment, so much that I sometimes end up smudging the dried ink with my hand.

I do miss you...even more when everything around me reminds me of you. Because you, who makes silly promises about a budding romance, will also be the receiver of my elementary promise about my slowly collecting love for you.

P.S. They are close to finishing our portraits. I have yet to decide where they are to be hung.

Letter Four - DK

My Love,

My Seokmin. Seok. Min. Mine. Beloved. Love. Dearest. Husband. Equal. Anything but Duke, Lord, Commander, or Dokyeom is welcome. How I wish for the day I get to hear my name leave your lips through a soft murmur, laughter, greeting, whisper, and mayhaps even a whine.

Honeymoon was cut short by my trip across the sea. We are finally on land. In front of me is a crackling campfire whose glow conceals the redness of my cheeks, dappled with jubilance from reading your last letter.

My dearest shy and humble lover whose metaphoric propositions of love are anything but reticent, I have annotated my favorite portions and circled words that I replay in my mind as a source of comfort. However, like what you did with your quotation of my imaginary bird ship, I must reference a few nuances in your letter that I find interesting. Particularly, I find that you must be careful in formatting your syntax, my beloved — for your way of language is enough to drive a sane man mad. Just think of me: a sane man before I had you and now a man slowly falling madly in love with you.

Referring back to how time achingly consumes you, your “I wish it were you who were consuming me. Although I do feel it through your love” causes me to quiver in a way that is only shared between two lovers. I am a man whose honeymoon was interrupted by the king’s call, a man who is weeks without his lover, a man who has needs - desires. And your need for me to consume you? I can only pluck it out of context.

If everything around you reminds you of me, then I must tell you that I hope your reminder does not make you suffer as how I suffer. My love, do you know how painful it was to lay in my bed while the ship continually rocked back and forth? It was reminiscent of our second week together when you decided to mount me in bed, your beautiful opalescent undergarment covering an action so lewd that it could never be named in public. Yet I was a man on a ship with his aching cock in his hand, imagining his newly beloved on top of him who squeezes him tightly as they ride his lap.

No hand could ever replace the fervor of having you rock me, leaning forward to kiss me down my naked chest while sucking and licking the thin area of skin right above my collarbone. How warmly your walls enveloped my own, squeezing and contrasting with every glide you make. I couldn’t help but twitch in you, trying to hold in my selfishness by grabbing onto your thighs - kneading and feeling the skin fill the areas between my fingers. But you bounced on my lap like a bunny in heat, causing my hands to trail further upwards until they lay on your ass…I wanted to worship you by turning myself into a throne, a marble stand so others could be in awe of you for centuries to come.

Mouth unable to talk, your kitten drooled onto my lap and coated the surface with liquid lust while you whimpered as I praised you for treating me so well. I scooped the syrup from the maple tap and brought it to my mouth to suck; even now I can still feel your sweet syrup rest on my tongue and swirl in my mouth. Yet there I was on that boat, losing my mind with my hand on my tap. Bed sheets soaked with my sweat, I could only imagine that it was your sweat-glistened skin that stuck against mine. It was but a shame, and still is but a shame, that the image of you collapsed against my chest with exhaustion when your thighs trembled with such a quake only exists as a memory. How long would it take for me to turn the memory of me looping my arms around your back and pushing your upper body against mine, feeling you build and crash through a scream, into our reality?

The land is no better than the sea. Truly, it must be treason to think such impure thoughts while riding on my finest stallion to head to our base. I am a Commander, a Duke for God’s sake. But the bouncing, the clopping - oh, beloved, my skin pricked with heat so much that I thought bandits were ambushing us. The pain I felt while I waited for my swelling to go down - I am utterly embarrassed to admit I almost released while riding in front of my men.

How I wish I could come running back home to you. Shall I single-handedly overturn the monarchy so we can be equal partners to the throne? So that we can be rulers who need not leave our estate? Just give me the word, and the empire will be yours. Then I would never need to leave your side. That I guarantee.

P.S. Hang the portrait wherever you please. Perhaps the ballroom so I would always be with you during the night of the balls.

Letter Five - YN

My King,

How mad of you to write such vulgarities, to suggest usurping the throne only if it means being able to stay with me. You are a Commander. You are a Duke. You are one of the King’s men. Do you not fear the inevitable consequences that you would face should your letter be opened by anybody other than myself? Do you not fear what would happen to you if your lust-driven joke was wrongly taken for treason? I must say that despite everything, I found myself dipping a finger into your words and listening to my juices sing your letter like lyrics.

Your words comforted my ache at my core, skillfully fighting fire with fire to extinguish my burning forest. However, if you were to turn into a mere object – a chair, a throne, a stand – I would never be satisfied in your worship. ‘Tis true that I would like to be worshiped by you like the first time your palm cupped my face in private confinement under the shade of the gazebo in the garden. With nobody around us, your face softened to reveal the most beautiful smile I have ever seen. Earnest eyes flittered to and fro as you studied me in awe and whispered words of praise. Up until then, I never even knew you could worship a person such as me. Yet, you, a mere stranger I met a few hours ago, placed a kiss upon my lips as soft as the petals on the flowers that surrounded us.

If worshipping me means an inanimate you, I don’t think there would be anybody who could worship me with such sincerity and reason as you do…and I quite like the animate you even if the animate you screamed at the bug upon your sleeve. I couldn’t stop laughing then. And when you looked back at me with those bashful eyes, I knew this would be a marriage filled with laughter.

Laughter, as I have recently learned, doesn’t only exist jovially. No. Reading your comment about my syntax, I almost erupted in a peal of sinister laughter. My poor lover with his cock in his hand and his quill in his other and his attempt to warn someone with such an extensive educational background about their syntax…you are too pure for this world. Should it make you feel better in any way, I have also thought about you in ways such a person in my stature should never.

The other day when I was particularly distracted by the particular “unease” that had been building inside me, I accidentally launched a practice arrow into the wind. Chasing it, I happened upon our agriculture stables where the young workers sit and milk our cows. I swear, I must have been in such a delusional state to feel such a rush just from watching the motion of our cows getting milked that I ran off to the kitchens without picking up my stray arrow.

Can you believe it, my dear? Have you been thinking of me differently since I admitted to almost leaking when I saw the cows getting milked? Would you think of me even differently if I told you I thought of you while talking to our ice sculptors? If you can quench my thirst on my loneliest days, I can only imagine what taking you in paired with ice would feel like for both you and me.

Mayhaps, we should convene in the kitchen at night after the bell strikes twelve when all of our kitchen staff have retired. I want to kiss you with cherry-stained lips, watching tint transfer onto yours as I play with the seed of the fruit in my mouth while I wait for our cups of tea to steep. Kissing, I hope, would act as an analgesic for your painfully sleepless nights. Still, I find it abstruse that a kind, gentle, and good man like you would live such a cathartic life as a commander. Enerverated in every way as I am, I can only offer a somnolent kiss in hopes of luring you to sleep before your tea can fully steep.

“What is a man without his honey,” you would say. Then I would ask you to specify what type of honey you are referring to.

You would reply with this cheekiness in your voice while your lips pull into a wide smile, “the syrup.” If I’m not wrong, you would peck the top of my head while you reach over me to grab the jar that the cook keeps at the counter for you to easily access. Because the man with a honeyed siren voice that often procures lullabies for me to fall asleep also has a taste for the pollinators’ syrup.

As you can tell…we are not simple people. We are not a regular couple. We have exchanged letters for longer than we have physically been together. So when I tell you to close your eyes to try to find your honey, would you? If I blindfolded you with a kitchen towel and told you to search for the dab of honey I swatched on my body, could you do it? Would you go to the lengths just to search for the honey to your tea?

Would you use your nose and sniff along my skin, searching for the floral and fruity aroma? Gently picking up my arm and bringing it to your nose, would you gently guide your nose along the surface of my skin in a position so intimate that you feel my arm hairs tickle the tip of your nose? Would you guide your nose upwards along my arm until you arrive at my collarbone, sniffing and docilely licking areas you think to be as sweet as honey?

Imploring you in your reconnoiter, I must keep quiet as I watch you blindly explore every groove of the topography of my body. I imagine myself tilting my head towards the side to allow you access to the side of my neck, sharply breathing in as you nose the area in which I am the most sensitive. I see you hesitate for a second before planting your supple lips against the skin as if to sample before making a decision. To your surprise, what coats your lips in a sticky and sweet amber gloss is the honey I placed on my neck slowly trailing towards my collarbone. And I watch you intently as you lick it off your lips, leaving a translucent liquid sheen.

Affected by a magnetic lure, you would somehow find yourself in front of me, your head positioned right above the slowly trailing bead of honey. It starts with a lick, hot tongue against cold skin. I can’t help but feel how the bumpy texture of your tongue cleans and pulls its way up my neck. After the hot saliva hits cold air, you take off the kitchen towel and look at me like a puppy waiting for its owner.

“Such a good boy,” I murmur as I take the towel from your hand and wrap it around the nape of your neck to pull you in closer. “How does it taste?”

What is more, is that I hope that in that moment my heart is not the only one that is beating as fast as how a hummingbird flaps its wings. My greedy husband, you back me against the kitchen island until you are pressed firmly against me as I watch and feel you bite and suck a garden of flowers across my neck and chest. Your large hands find themselves around my thighs, kneading and squeezing them so much that the fabric of my night clothes bunch in the palm of your hands. So I maneuver your hands around my waist, and you spin me around and bend me against that counter so I can feel you push yourself against me.

“Be good for me,” you would command while undressing me.

Then I would feel it, hands spreading my legs and fingers prying my ass apart, and then your warm and flat tongue against my kitten. One single lick would make my knees buckle. But you eating me out from behind, the way you knead my ass while you take your time swirling your tongue against my lips and lapping up my juices would make me come in an instant. Your tongue presses against my nub while your nose digs itself into my opening almost to the point where you’re fucking me with the tip of your nose, yet it is me who begs for air. And you keep my liquid on your tongue as you rise from your knees to pull my head back until I’m looking at you and your swollen and burgundy lips with my head tilted backward.

And you pry my mouth open with your hand and watch me catch that sweet honey on the tip of my tongue.

My dear, I am much too hot to even think about what comes after you let go of my jaw. My tenses in this letter are all mixed up because I’m so caught up in my delusions that I mistake dreams for reality. I feel ashamed to revert to such elementary composition when I am clouded by lust. But in this sensory game of wits, who do you think would win — the explorer or the explored?

P.S. I’ve had our painting temporarily hung in our dining room as I cannot even bring myself to think about the possibility of hosting a ball without you. The great ballroom has been collecting dust since the first month you left for the war. Besides, invitations to the first ball of the season have long been sent out. I attended and made some acquaintances. Are you proud of me? Are you missing me as much as I am missing you?

Letter Six - DK

My Sweet,

Loneliness is when you are trapped by your stillness while everything around you splits into two and crumbles. And you are stuck in the open space of where everything once was, you in your bubble of muteness as the world crashes and breaks in a cacophonous roar. The feeling that engulfed me during these past few months was beyond my description of loneliness. So with a happy heart, I am telling you that the war is over. I’m coming home soon to hold you in my arms, to show you what this world that surrounds you is truly like — delicate and with the warmth of a glowing morning Sun that promises juvenescent Springs until the end of time.

Regarding your question about the potential winner of the sensory game you described in your last letter, whether I am the person exploring or explored, I know I would always be the victor as only a true victor can call you “his.” My sweet love, I hope to stick by your side as long as I prefer honey in my tea and you by my side when I sleep.

However, with a slightly interruptive transition, I have a few requests regarding the contents of your postscript. That is:

One, I am wholly and with every fiber of my mind, soul, and body proud of you. You, my shyest lover who sought friendship in your moments of loneliness, I love you so. Yet I find myself utterly in distress that I cannot co-host our tea parties until later should you hold one in a few days. Our estate is boring, and it must be tiring seeing the same things and people every day for the past few months. I urge you to go out more and explore so I can come home to plentiful stories told in your voice. I want to fall asleep to your descriptions so I can dream of how you see the world around you.

Two, of course, I am missing you. Even if I were a few yards away from you, I would still miss you. I am currently bothering our treasurer in regards to spending the rest of our budget on a winter wonderland in which we would freeze the entire world so I could easily and quickly sled back home like a seal off an iceberg. However, our treasurer is insistent on saving the budget for lodging, travel, and sustenance. I, for one, think I am right.

Three, I think this might be my last letter in a while as when this stack of parchments finally reaches you, I would almost be home. So I am struggling between keeping this short and straight to the point or long and thoroughly eloquent with everything that I want to write and say to you. Instead of coming to a conclusion by myself, I bid you farewell until we meet again with this set of instructions within my set of requests for you. I’m sorry if the format of my letter makes it very hard for you to read. Like how you described your delusions, I often find myself alone at night imagining you by my side so much that I feel your physical presence next to me.

Four, as for our portrait in our dining room, I must ask you to perform a favor for me as I have not seen the finished painting myself. It is a test regarding the “likeness” of our portraits that can only be performed by yourself. When you wish to perform the test before I arrive, please excuse all our staff who stay by your side during dinner and ask to eat alone. Should they give you looks, please say that it was requested by me.

When you are alone, I need you to get into a position in which you can look at yourself through the large mirror that is mounted above the low mantle towards the end of the dining room table. I assume our portrait is hung on the wall at the other side of the dining room table, am I right? If you move the plates and sit on the table, you should be able to look at both your entire body and our portrait through the mirror. Do not worry about making a mess my dear.

Perhaps this test may be a little lewd for a dinner setting. But after your proposed rendezvous in the kitchen in your last letter, I suppose this test would be nothing to you.

Look at yourself in the mirror. Can you imagine me behind you, slowly kissing down your neck as I undress you while the candlelights flicker beside us? Our shadows cast against the walls that surround us tell the story of two lovers slowly conjoining into one. And I sit you against the front of my naked body, bending your legs and positioning them so you can see all of you through the mirror.

My love, can you see your lips unfold into a beautiful bloom, leaking with its sweet nectar for your man to taste? The sweet nectar, the glistening substitute to the honey our staff brought alongside our dinner rolls, rolls off the flower and soaks the tablecloth beneath you. Tonight I am not doing anything except revel in your beauty like a man awestruck by something so exquisite that he cannot do anything but stare.

I want you to imagine that the same me in the portrait is the me you imagine to be behind you, the very me who writes this letter and instructs you on how to pleasure yourself for the night. Suck on your own fingers, my darling. Bring your fingers to your lips, and let me see the way you ready yourself before the pleasure comes. Because what I want is for you to fuck yourself well for me so that after you’ve squirted all over the dining table your pussy continues to throb so much that you confuse it for your beating heart.

Don’t be shy. Bring your soaked fingers to your folds, and trace along the lines of the petals. Look at how they seemingly open and close as your stomach jerks in reaction. Slowly rub yourself up and down, coaxing that beautiful sigh that I know too well out of your mouth. Feel the pads of your finger mix with your juices, slipping easily and making your hand glide smoother.

Are you looking at me through the mirror? Are you begging me to instruct you in other ways to satisfy your lust? Do you want to rub your pearl and flick it with your finger in a way that makes you clench and collapse?

What is it, honey? Are you whining for me to make you feel good? But this is your guided session. Don’t you see yourself through the mirror, so pathetic looking that you would do anything that I tell you to do? Then take that same hand you used to tease yourself and slap your pussy for me. Bring the hand back and bring it down on your pussy quickly and with so much might that the sound of palm against tender skin echoes throughout the empty dining room.

Don’t you feel pathetic? Getting off from you slapping your own pussy? Doesn’t it please you and make feel so dirty at the same time? When you’re striking your palm against your pussy over and over as your other hand unconsciously reaches upwards to knead your sore nipple, are you looking at yourself through the mirror? Are you still imagining me sitting behind you on our dining table, whispering and taunting you as you attempt to come undone? If your head is not completely clouded with lust, when that pussy is throbbing with such pain and pleasure, you will take your finger to your entrance and insert it slowly so you feel your warm and wet insides slowly swallow your finger the further in it goes.

Let your mouth hang open as you plug yourself with another finger. Fill the lonely dining room with your sweet moans for me. Listen to your kitten squelch and leak the more you pump yourself so that a warm and hot feeling grows in your stomach, making you clench your body tighter and tighter. Scissor your fingers, and fill up that empty space where my cock usually rests. When you release, pull out your fingers as you come on the tablecloth and look at the cream I miss the most.

You’re so perfect, you know that? You’d look even more perfect when you’re on your knees with your fingers underneath you and inside of you. Bounce for me my sweet, ride your own fingers as if you’re riding me. Massage yourself with your other hand, grabbing and kneading your breasts and your nipples as I do for you. Can you see yourself through the mirror more clearly when you’re in this position? Do you see how messy and needy you look while you’re pathetically riding your own fingers? Do you wish they were mine? Do you wish they were my thighs?

Open your eyes for me as you reach another wave of ecstasy. Look at me in the eyes, the man painted next to your glowing figure as you reach your last high. I know you can do it. Scream my name if you love me, and squirt as if your pussy was crying for the man you love.

Turn your head around when you’ve caught your breath. Look at our portrait. Do you see how I’m smiling at you?

I’m proud of you, my love. Thank you for holding on for so long. I’ll be home soon.

P.S. I love you.

#svthub #seventeen smut #svt smut #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #dk smut #seokmin smut #dk x reader #seokmin x reader #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #dk imagines #seokmin imagines #✏️ ━ himbocoups

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archonsabyss · 10 months

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╰─..✶. [ Dad or Daddy? ]

❒ pairing: husband!kuroo x fem!reader

❒ genre: fluff! nsfw/suggestive [mdni]! insinuated smut + smut build-up no actual smut yet!

❒ warnings: established relationship! slightly clingy & horny kuroo! talk of wanting to start a family! few swears thrown here & there! Talk of pregnancy & breastfeeding! playful teasing & dirty talk! think Kuroo has a daddy kink in here?

❒ wc: 2.08k

𝗢𝘂𝗿 𝗟𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗹𝗲 𝗙𝗮𝗺𝗶𝗹𝘆 (pt 2) | 𝗠𝗼𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗞𝗶𝗰𝗸𝘀 (pt 3) | 𝗡𝗲𝘄 𝗔𝗱𝗱𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 (pt 4)

─❒ authors note: honestly idk wher to start but hi.. I'm Raie and I suck at writing but I write anyways. I look forward to sharing my lustful fantasies with y'all

He'd been pestering you for the past three weeks. Lurking around every corner, eyeing you from every angle, and carefully watching even the smallest of twitches in your expression.

Kuroo was hovering.

No doubt about it, something was up and if anything by the small hints he'd been dropping you knew exactly what.

"Love?" You sighed heavily for the umpteenth time today as you returned the clothing item to its line. You looked over your shoulder at your husband whose eyes have been glaring attentively at your head─ not so inconspicuously drifting to your stomach when he knows yours looking─ ever since you've entered the mall.

Kuroo doesn't say anything as he stands behind you with his hands stuffed into his pockets. He simply shrugs with a pursed smile as you raise your brow at him.

He doesn't want to outrightly say it which is why he's been quietly hinting at his now-growing desire to build his family. He knows you know what he wants but to your amusement, you've ended up teasing him longer than he had the patience to deal with.

You want him to verbally bring the topic up whereas he wants you to read his mind and do it first. And so far, he'd been keeping a good pace of competing with you. But he was slowly slipping when he caught you looking in the direction of the kid's clothing only to turn on your feet and walk in the opposite direction leaving him to pout and trail behind you.

"Are you hungry?" You asked and he shook his head, shoulders perching before dropping.

"Are you tired?"

"Are you... horny?"

"Why must you put it like that" He cracked, an excessively dramatic pout forming on his lips as he huffs under his breath and stepped closer to you. "But now that you mention it, kinda"

You chuckle lightly, looping one arm around his waist and giving it a slight squeeze before planting a kiss on his cheek and the corner of his lips, finally relenting to the suffering you've caused him with your feigned obliviousness.

Despite the circumstances, Kuroo's mind drifts away for a moment when he sees you smiling at him. He melts and admires the gentle tugging of your lips and the way your eyes waver between understanding and as always complete adoration whenever you look at him.

He's so enamoured with the way your gaze is filled with love that he's taken by surprise when you lean into him and whisper a few words seemingly nothing to anyone but everything to him.

He blinks and you don't let go of his hand or the arm you're clinging onto.

Kuroo looks down at you unphased but you see the gears churning and his mind processing.

"So... You're saying yes?"

"No, I said we'll talk about it at home"

"Which technically means yes! You've never said no to me before..." He states factly, his eyes beaming with life and excitement and you knew he had a point.

"We'll talk about it at home" You conclude one last time and he lights up even more.

Suddenly he's tugging you in the direction of the baby clothes and just as he pointed out─ you were unable to deny him so you stifled your laughter and allowed him to pull you along.

"I want this" Kuroo shoves his phone in your face for you to see a picture of a matching father and daughter outfit and you indulged him with an amused smile, nodding your head before getting back to work.

After dragging him away from the baby section, you'd gone to pay for the clothes you'd picked out in favour of his input and Kuroo huffed the entire time at your lack of enthusiasm, but little did he know you were enjoying every second of his enthusiasm with a fond secretive smile.

Kuroo carried the bags until you reached the car, shoved them into the backseat and practically sped home.

"Now then," You could practically hear the smirk in his voice as he dropped the shopping bags onto the couch, shrugged off his hoodie and turned to face you with a knowing grin.

You know what you said but at the time you forgot you had documents that needed to be submitted or else you'd probably─ most likely lose your job. "It feels like you're avoiding the topic, again... " You heard him grumble under his breath and you felt bad, it wasn't your intent but Kuroo could wait a few hours more could he not?

He couldn't.

He'd call your name in a sing-song, show up behind you and wrap his arms around you, whispering sweet words into your ear hoping to seduce you away from work.

When that didn't work he became more touchy. His hands fitted on the curve of your hips before they snuck under your shirt and drifted up to place on the dents beneath your ribcage. Your skin is warm compared to his chilling fingertips.

You'd hiss at him but make no move to shoo him away which he'd taken as permission to continue. It led to his hands roaming every inch of your stomach and swell of your breasts beneath your bra but no reaction. He then tried sliding his hands down your pants which then garnered the response he was looking for.

"Tetsurou, my love. Let me finish cooking so I can get to that report. Once that's done we can talk, okay? But the more you try to seduce me the longer it's going to take"

"Then just leave the food and the report"

"No can do. It's not worth starving or the stress, please, baby boy" You pleaded softly.

"I hate you" He mumbled but he didn't mean it.

Kuroo exhaled loudly while leaning down defeatedly to peck your cheek and forcefully drag himself away from you when you say, "What a shame, to have to tell our kids how much their father hates their mother"

Kuroo's ears perk. He glanced over his shoulder with slitted eyes narrowed at you.

"Does that mean..." The words get lost in his throat as you wink at him.

"Mean what?"

"Fuck you... sweetheart" He swears but there's no aggression to his tone when you can hear the distinct manner in which it almost fades out softly when addressing you.

Kuroo is standing in front of you within seconds, spinning you on your heels and pulling you flush against him.

"What's wrong?" You chuckle, trailing a finger up his chest. "Have a change of heart... Daddy" You emphasize the last part but internally you're cringing. "Don't want me to have your babies?"

"Now.. you're just mocking me" He pushes you against the counter and looks at you intently. "You never call me daddy" The shock is evident on his face but it does not mean he hates the newly given title, if anything he loves it and loves it even more after replaying it countless many times in his head.

"Call me that again"

"No"

"I've waited five years" Kuroo confesses exasperatedly and you scrunch your nose, processing.

"I want kids and I want you to call me daddy" He grumbles, grinding against you.

"You want a lot of things, Tetsurou"

"Things I only want with you" He nuzzles his nose against yours.

He certainly had a way with words.

"I want to be the father of your kids! I want to love and cherish them just as I do you! And I want to have as many children as you'll let me... I just want it to be with you, everything. My firsts and my lasts, everything..."

Long forgotten are the food you intended to prepare and the work you were stressing to hurriedly submit. In that moment all that mattered stood in front of you. A moment just as special as your first kiss and your first night together and the day he proposed and the day you married. Sincerity in his every word and the sincerity in his intention blissfully overwhelmed you.

"Contrary to what you may think, I've given it a long hard thought. I've looked up every possible pregnancy article and watched those horrifying birth documentaries, hell, I've even sat down with your mother for God's sake. I know it'll be hard but you gotta give me props here sweetheart... "

"Tetsurou"

"Like I get it. You're probably scared. Babies grow up and their teenage phase ain't a joke but fuck. Do you know how hard it is to not think of you pregnant? Or when our bundle of joy is finally born and you're breastfeeding em? Could fucking drool at the thought. And we'd for sure all get matching outfits! Cuddle up in bed! I'd Spoil my babies rotten"

"Tetsu, love"

You've gone ignored twice but you let him have his fun rambling. You're pretty amused but there's a tinge of anxiousness arising ever so slowly.

"I don't care if we get cock blocked for the rest of our lives. Pregnancy is something I'd love to experience with you and only you" Spoken as if he'd be the one baring the child. You're entertained.

"Is that so?"

"Yes. And I just picture coming home to my beautiful wife, to a home filled with laughter. I'd have my little army of partners in crime... teach em my ways and we'd bully the guys together"

"I'd feel sorry for your wife. She doesn't know what she signed up for, did she?"

"Meanie"

"But 's too late now" You hummed pinching his side and slipping out of his embrace only he was faster and grasped your wrist, giving one forceful tug which has you reeling back into him.

"You're right about that" He exhales lightly, warm air blowing softly into your ear causing a chill to run up your spine. Kuroo tugs on the drawstrings of your pants loosening them.

"She's mine and I'm hers" He nibbles on your earlobe.

"And she ain't getting away"

You relent. You give in.

Your head falls back to rest against his chest, lulling to the side giving him free access to the entire expanse of your neck and he takes full advantage of it. His finger trace over your cunt and your jaw clenches in response.

"Tetsu..." You mumble weakly.

"Just think of it, sweetheart... You'd take me so well I know it" His index finger teases your entrance.

"Y-You're not giving me t-time to answer y-you..." You stuttered between ragged breaths. Kuroo's arm wraps around your waist and holds most of your weight sensing your knees giving in.

"My bad, my bad"

With that said, he pulls away. His finger leaves your cunt to ache for itself as he brings it to his finger and licks it clean.

"Tetsu" You groan, "Can't you just put it in"

"I haven't received a clear answer from you, sweetheart. Until we talk this through properly you ain't getting anything. I gotta know if ya want me with or without protection"

"Please" You ask softly and he purses his lips knowing that he's slipping.

"Call me daddy"

"No" You refused immediately and is he surprised? No. But he knows you'll break so he rubs against you.

"Either of the two"

"Oh fuck just put it in, please"

"No can do"

Your fuse has been blown and you throw your head back in frustration. Him wanting kids but denying you made you irritable, though if you were the least bit rational right now you'd have admired him and even respected him all the more as a significant other; needing a clear and affirmative answer from you before proceeding. Then again, he'd given you the ultimatum of calling him something you'd only ever jokingly said once to him in your entire time being together, which was today and not even an hour ago.

"Kuroo" You warned as his hands teasingly massages your thighs.

"Nah ah. I'm not giving in this time baby... You can't have me until you decide"

"for fuck sakes I'M PREGNANT already"

☣ copyright @archonsabyss all rights reserved // do not copy; steal; plagiarize; reword or repost my works to any other platform! No translations! // All credits to original owners of characters/anime and pictures that are not my own!

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pocketjoong · 3 months

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☾₊‧⁺˖⋆noctem⋆˖⁺‧₊☽ 〘act 1, chapter 2〙

〘Synopsis〙『Your hatred of dragons is a hate born of witnessing their flames consume your village, leaving nothing but destruction in their wake. The worst of all is the beast that haunts your dreams, the very dragon whose memory fuels a burning desire for revenge within you. But life has a way of unsettling even the most steadfast convictions. And when you stumble upon a truth that shatters the boundaries of your understanding, you begin to question the very essence of the world you live in.』

〘Pairing〙『Night Fury!Seonghwa x afab!Reader』

〘Genre〙『FANTASY, ACTION, SMUT』

〘Word Count〙『2.5k』

〘Chapter-specific Warnings〙『Based on How To Train Your Dragon. Canon-compliant violence. Mentions of dragons attacking the mc's village. Mentions of fire. Passing mention of injuries. MDNI.』

〘Banner Credits〙『@playmetheclassics』

please note: there will be NO taglist for this series

By the time you finish tending to the injuries of those who had been sent to the infirmary, the sun is rising in the distance. A weariness settles over you as you dress the wounds of the last person you have to tend to, and you look forward to the two weeks of peace after a dragon attack.

You rinse the grime and blood from your hands in the basin tucked in the corner before rushing out of the building. Relief washes over you at the sight of familiar figures at the edge of the cliff that overlooks the port. Even though they’re merely silhouettes against the morning light, you know each of them well enough to recognise them by their shadows.

As you move closer, you note that Yunho, Wooyoung, and Mingi, the village blacksmith, look battle-ravaged and tired. But they are watching the sunrise with content smiles. You approach them with a smile of your own, but you can’t help but scan their figures for any injuries that might need healing.

Amusement dances in your brother’s eyes at your worried expression, “I'm fine. Mostly unharmed save for a few small bruises and the soot lining my clothes.”

When you turn your focus to the others, you find them grinning back at you. “And you guys?”

“No open stitches or any new injuries. I told you I’d be careful,” Wooyoung declares, his tone light-hearted.

Mingi ruffles your hair while he offers his own reassurance, “I’m fine as well. I stuck to my workshop until the very end, only leaving when Yunho and Wooyoung needed assistance with the ballista.”

“Let’s go back home and get some rest. Wooyoung and I have a meeting to attend at the hall in a few hours,” Yunho says, leading you towards your home with a guiding hand on your shoulder. Mingi trails behind silently, waving in farewell before taking the dusty path to reach his house, which also doubles as his workshop.

You, Yunho, and Wooyoung share the house overlooking the village. All three of you moved here after losing your families to a brutal attack years ago. Despite being only a few months older than Wooyoung and barely a year older than you, Yunho seamlessly assumed the role of guardian for both of you. The weight he shouldered at the tender age of twelve, stepping into the shoes of a village leader after the tragedy, often made you feel bad for him. His duties far exceeded what any child should bear, but he bore them with a grace beyond his years.

The dream claws at your consciousness, a relentless reminder of the incident that tore through your family. You can handle the sympathetic looks of your fellow villagers, but the nightmares are another story. You hate them, for they persist, leaving you exhausted and weary even after a full night’s sleep.

You unlock the door, ushering the two males inside. As the door creaks open, the comfort of the space envelops you like a familiar embrace, and you can’t help the sigh of relief that leaves your lips.

────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────

You know you are dreaming, but the panic that grips your throat is a tangible force that twists your heart and leaves your hands shaking. It’s a suffocating reality that is too familiar, too hauntingly real.

Your surroundings are too hot, too bright, and suffused with smoke that blinds your vision. The orange flames dance menacingly in front of you, searing painfully against your skin. Your brain is screaming for you to do something, to move. But you are frozen in the face of danger and struggle to comprehend the unfolding nightmare.

There’s a presence beside you, but the ringing in your ears drowns their voice. Squinting through the smoke, urgency compels you to find an escape route. If you don’t move, you’ll be burnt to a crisp by the flames, and you won’t let a dragon be the reason you meet your end.

There’s no time to waste, you realise when there’s a crash in the adjacent room. The sound is what finally jolts you into action, and without hesitation, you grab the person next to you and bolt towards safety.

The relief when you escape the fire all but vanishes as the sight in front of you changes, and you find Yunho trapped in the claws of a massive dragon. His desperate struggle mirrors the fear etched in his eyes. The image shakes you to your core. It’s new, and you know why you’re seeing this: every time Yunho is out fighting the dragons during an attack, you can’t help but worry about his safety.

There’s a beat of silence as if the world has stopped around you before you jump towards the creature holding him hostage. But you’re too late. You meet the ground with a crash while the dragon takes off, taking Yunho away from you.

You jolt awake, your heart pounding so hard that you feel it wants to escape your chest. You’re covered in cold sweat, and you feel it trail down your back. You gasp for air, for the relief that comes with your lungs being filled with oxygen. Instinctively, you look down to check your hands, half-expecting to find the remnants of blood and soot on them.

Dazed and disoriented, you rise, stumbling towards the bathroom. Looking into the mirror, you wince at your wide-eyed and tear-stained face. You’re breathing fast, too quick to be considered normal. Staring at your trembling hands, you run them beneath the water before splashing the cold substance on your face.

Feeling a presence next to you, you turn around to find your brother gazing at you worriedly. But before you can ease his worry, Wooyoung walks in through your bedroom door, which is now wide open courtesy of Yunho.

“Is everything okay?” Wooyoung breaks the silence, voice is still gravelly from sleep. You feel bad for waking them up and worrying them like this, but right now, all you can focus on is the raging panic inside of you. “I heard you screaming, Y/N.”

You blink; your throat definitely feels raw, but you can’t remember hearing yourself scream.

“I think it was a bad dream,” Yunho mutters softly, eyes still trained on you.

Dream?

It’s almost as if everything falls into place when you hear Yunho’s words. You had the nightmare once again, the same one you had had since you lost your family during an attack when you were ten years old. With clammy hands, you tightly grip the bedside table in a futile attempt to steady yourself. Stumbling, you crash onto the floor as you try to calm your furiously beating heart.

Yunho scrambles to kneel next to you, brows furrowed in worry. “Y/N, breathe with me, c’mon. ’S okay, you’re safe.” You let him tuck you into his chest, the touch becoming an anchor to help you ground yourself. You breathe deeply, timing your breaths in tandem with Yunho’s. You remind yourself over and over again that he’s safe and sound.

“Was it the same dream?” Wooyoung’s voice is closer now, and you open your eyes to see him in front of you. You shrug as an answer to Wooyoung’s question.

“I’m sorry for waking you up,” you whisper apologetically, but they quickly shush you.

“Do you want to go back to sleep?” Wooyoung murmurs, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as if he already knows your answer, “Or would you like to help me with lunch?”

“Brunch,” you declare, carefully disentangling yourself from Yunho, who has fallen asleep. Little snores leave his mouth, and you suppress a giggle. You grab a pillow from your bed, gently supporting his neck to ensure he sleeps comfortably even if he’s on the floor. Quietly, you follow Wooyoung into the kitchen.

“What are we making?” You question, standing in the middle of the room while Wooyoung rummages through the cupboards.

“How do omelettes and buttered toast sound? Yunho bought bread from the village baker last evening, and I’m sure we haven’t run out of the jam we prepared,” he stops his hunt and starts gathering the things needed for the proposed meal.

“We also have some leftover meat pie,” you inform him, fishing out the pie from the pantry and setting it on the table. Grabbing a large bowl, you crack some eggs while Wooyoung chops the vegetables, the two of you falling into rhythm easily.

Wooyoung reaches over to add the chopped vegetables to the bowl, stirring them with the eggs as you place two pans on the stove. Soon, you have two omelettes sizzling in unison. Carefully, you add different spices and ingredients to each one based on your individual preferences. Spotting extra vegetables, you throw them in a pan to sauté them while Wooyoung handles the omelettes.

“Wow,” Yunho walks into the kitchen, drawn in by the aroma of food. He peeks over your shoulders. “That’s a feast right there.”

Eventually, you and Wooyoung finish cooking and carry everything to the table with Yunho's assistance. The three of you happily devour the food, joking, teasing, and laughing between bites.

“I have to go into the forest to gather more herbs. It’s amazing how fast we burn through them after the attacks,” you sigh, already tired by the mere thought of having to haul a huge batch of herbs from the forest.

“Be careful,” Yunho warns you. “The forest is safe right now, but you can’t be careful enough.”

“Don’t worry,” you reassure with a smile. “I’ve done this so many times.”

After bidding goodbye to the two males, you follow one of the trails behind your house that leads into the forest. You hum a small tune as you walk through the woods. Despite the village being attacked every fortnight, the forest is safe because the dragons avoid lingering for fear of getting captured. The chirping birds and the small animals frolicking around in the undergrowth lift your spirits. You take a deep breath, unable to stop yourself from breaking into a smile.

The sound of a nearby waterfall catches your attention, prompting you to change course towards the opening through the trees. However, you halt in your tracks when you spot broken trees and upturned earth, suggesting that something came barreling down from the sky.

The only thing that would crash down from the sky is a dragon.

Unsheathing your shortsword, you slowly approach an outgrown rock where the wreckage seems the worst. You take a deep breath to calm yourself before peeking to check if you’re right, only to hide behind the rock once again quickly. There, on the other side, is a dragon you’ve never seen before.

It doesn’t take a genius to identify it as a Night Fury, also known as ‘the offspring of lightning and death itself.’ The beast’s scales are pitch black, adorned with small horns that spike from above its eyes, down its neck, back, and tail, the tip of which fans out like that of a whale. Surprisingly, it doesn’t look as terrifying as its reputation suggests, resembling more of a feline than a vicious reptile. For being a dragon dreaded across the seven seas, the beast looks tamer than the ones you’ve come across over the course of your life.

Peeking from behind the rock again, you realise the dragon is tangled in rope. There are signs of struggle, showing that it tried but failed to free itself from the binds. As it seems to be asleep, you approach cautiously, awed by the sheer size of the creature. The dragon likely hears you because, even though it can’t move, one of its eyes opens, fixing a stare at you. It releases a warning growl when you move even closer, but you scoff, knowing fully well that it won’t be able to harm you.

“You know, you really look more like a cat than a dragon,” your tone is belittling as you tilt your head to meet the dragon’s gaze head-on.

The dragon emits what seems like a scoff, earning an eye-roll from you. “You should be nicer to me. After all, I could kill you, and then what would happen, huh? Your little family would find it harder and harder to attack us, considering that you’re the one who makes it difficult for us to bring down the rest of your kind.”

It hits you that this would be your first dragon kill, and for some reason, it gives you a sense of satisfaction. Eliminating the Night Fury is a step closer towards your goal to avenge your family and the countless others who were destroyed by these beasts.

Raising your blade, you look down at the beast with a blank expression. The dragon gazes at you with big, pleading eyes, its pupils round and sparkly like that of a cat. Your grip on the weapon falters, and sensing your hesitation, it lets out the most pathetic of whimpers.

“You have some nerve, really,” you sigh, the urge to harm the creature gradually ebbs away the longer you look into its eyes. It’s a living, breathing creature, and it goes against all your ideals as a healer to kill a sentient being. “First, your kind kills my family, then you guys literally cause so much damage to my village every time you attack, and here I am, wanting to spare you? Why can’t you be as ugly as a Gronckle?”

The dragon blinks at you in confusion.

“Stop looking at me like that!” You scold it, only causing the dragon to huff, this time in amusement. Sensing that you’re not going to kill it, the beast lets out another whine and closes its eyes.

Sighing once again, you use your sword to cut through the ropes, loosening the bonds that bind the poor creature. That is your second mistake because the moment it is free, the dragon lunges at you, pinning you against the rock as you gasp in shock. It growls at you, keeping you restrained with its claws.

“Oh, isn’t that just lovely?” you mock the dragon. You know you’re playing a dangerous game, but you can’t stop taunting it. “I save your sorry life, and you thank me by pinning me to a rock? Quite the peculiar way to express gratitude, I must say… and quite kinky.”

The beast regards you with a look of sheer disbelief, scoffs dismissively, and turns around to fly further into the forest. Only when it crashes into an outcrop of rocks, do you notice the unsteadiness of its flight.

Is it injured?

Your brows furrow as a pang of worry pierces through your heart, but before you can act on it, the realisation of how late it it dawns upon you. You haven’t even started collecting the herbs you had ventured into the forest for. Deciding to return tomorrow to check on the dragon, should it still be around, you start the laborious task of gathering the herbs you need.

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rosesaints · 10 months

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help wanted ! chapter two.

pairing: miguel o’hara / f!reader summary: more or less, you agree to be your one night stand's babysitter rating: 18+ explicit (minors, do not interact) warnings: fantasy and allusions to explicit content series masterlist / previous chapter / next chapter

Your first job was working at an ice cream store over the summer when you were sixteen.

All things considered, it was a relatively easy job and the pay was decent. Take an order, cash the customer out, and scoop. Rinse and repeat. The owner was this sixty-something old lady who had been running the stand in your hometown for as long as you could remember, and was the only employee until that summer when she decided to retire. Your mother had bargained hard with her to get you the job, drastically exaggerating your very limited work experience and bragging about your many, many achievements, “My daughter is just such a go-getter, she won’t let you down!”

She was very generous and mostly left you to your own devices, so you were free to blast your music and get free ice cream. How hard could it be?

One hot summer day proved you very, very wrong. There was a line out of the door, the owner was nowhere to be seen, the A/C had died on you very early on in your shift, and the ice cream grew runny and unpredictable under the scorching, July heat. You vividly remember the feeling of melted ice cream running down your hands, serving some very lopsided cones to a group of middle school girls as they looked you up and down. You remember the shame, the embarrassment, and the urge to run for the hills. Ice cream dripping everywhere.

You know the feeling tightening in your chest all too familiarly.

Miguel O’Hara and his daughter are looking at you expectantly, and the words keep getting lost on the tip of your tongue. Admittedly, you had never planned on seeing Miguel again after last night. It was a brief moment of confidence and clarity for the first time in weeks, and you don’t even remember the last time you had felt so hot, so wanted. So, so utterly destroyed. You woke up with a pep in your step and felt ready to take on the world.

You make eye contact with Miguel and the memories come rushing back like wildfire.

He watches you struggle to keep your moans contained, has to gloat as you melt around his cock. “You like watching me stretch it out, don’t you? Say it.”

Every instinct in your brain was telling you to scurry back to your house and lock yourself in your room for the rest of the summer. You were halfway through formulating a plan on how to best avoid your next-door neighbors when you realize you’re still standing on their porch with a plate of blueberry muffins.

Miguel, on the other hand, seems completely unaffected, maybe even a bit smug. He’s looking at you expectantly and with the composure of someone who didn’t just rail you in a random bar’s bathroom. “Can I help you?”

Your mouth dries and you can feel your palms sweating under his gaze. “My… my mom sent me over with some muffins. Blueberry. Really good.” Oh my god.

He raises an eyebrow and leans forward to look over at your house next door, cocking his head just slightly in realization. “You’re the daughter I’ve been hearing so much about? I thought you were still at college.”

“Y-Yeah, I just graduated.”

“Oh. Congratulations,” Miguel looks down at his daughter earnestly, smiling and gesturing to the plate of muffins on the verge of falling over in your hands. “Gabi here has a sweet tooth, and I’m afraid I’m not that good of a baker. Your mom’s been a huge help since the day we moved in.”

The only thing you can do is nod in futile agreement, of course, your mom is just so helpful. Practically a saint. You’re going to need to have a long talk with her later about being too neighborly and offering your help to people. Gingerly, you hand the baked goods over to Miguel and prepare to excuse yourself with a long-winded explanation about how you really should go, they must be so busy–

He beats you to the punch. “So I heard you’re interested in babysitting.”

You swear that you can feel your heart dropping to your stomach. You knew that you could very easily refuse, turn around and go home to pretend this interaction never happened, but then you imagined your mother’s disappointed gaze, returning empty-handed without even considering his offer, thinking about the fact that your parents have been letting you crash at home for free and that this was the only thing they had asked from you to do in weeks. You hardly believe the next words that come tumbling clumsily off your lips, unsure and unsteady. “I… am?”

Miguel grins. “Do you want to come inside and talk about it?”

It’s, quite frankly, a terrible idea. But not nearly terrible enough to stop you from accepting with wide, doe eyes and bringing your feet forward to enter the O’Hara home.

There are a few things you notice when you walk in: his house is spotless. The decorations are few and in between, but they’re classy and timeless. A couple of soccer balls float around the hallway, and it looks like they were working on a puzzle just before you got there. On the walls, there are many, many pictures of Gabi in various areas of the house, Gabi cuddling with a soccer ball when she was less than a year old, framed canvases of Gabi’s past birthdays with cake smeared all over her face, lots of selfies from the infamous Facebook mom angle, but it’s endearing. You can feel the love pouring out from every single one.

Not a single photo with a wife, thank god. You don’t know how you could come back from that one.

You’re led into an even more impressive kitchen as he gets Gabi settled into her breakfast, fruit loops with a side of Dora the Explorer as you hear him ruffle her fluffy, brown hair. “Espérame un momento. Sé buena, conejita.”

Miguel walks back into the room and you wonder what the next best course of action is, where you could even start. Thanks for fucking me into next week, it was really good. I don’t know why my mother is so insistent on me becoming your babysitter. He’s even taller than you remember, handsomer too, and you take the time to revel in just how handsome he was. Warm daylight cast a soft glow on his features, long lashes fanning his high cheekbones, reminiscent of some Roman god you’ve seen in a museum once before—

He’s looking at you with something akin to amusement and you have to quickly pull it together, embarrassed of having been caught missing the last thing he said with your ogling. “I’m sorry?”

“I asked what made you wanna babysit. Your mom told me you have an internship with the Daily Bugle and a few things lined up. I was wondering what made you wanna jump ship all of a sudden,” He smiled lightheartedly, and the room felt a little less tense, a little less fraught on your nerves “Babysitting’s not nearly as glamorous as working with J. Jonah Jameson. Just a little bit similar in terms of the temperament, I guess.”

“Oh,” You feel embarrassed. How does someone explain a failed engagement and the root of your lost prospects to a one-night stand and potentially your future boss? Yeah, my ex-fiance may have gotten me blacklisted from most of the multi-media companies in the tri-state area. Gotta make do with what you have. “You know how it is. Tough job market nowadays, and my mom insists since you guys just moved in. She adores Gabi.”

“She’s a handful,” He laughs, warm and husky and it’s addicting. You can’t help the smile that blooms across your face and he looks endearingly over to the living room. “I actually would really appreciate the help. Her old babysitter’s going abroad this summer and I’ve been searching for a while now for a replacement. If you’re interested, I can tell you more about what I’m looking for?”

“Yes! I mean, yeah. I’m... I’m thinking about it.”

“Well alright,” Miguel’s smile grew, and you felt your heart swell at his approval. Focus. “Can you give me your phone?”

Your brain short-circuited at that moment. “For what?”

“So you can text me when you’ve decided,” His eyes shine with something mischievous, but it feels genuine. It was an innocent and harmless request, and you couldn’t argue with his logic. You probably would have needed his number if you accepted, anyway. “And so I can ask for more muffins in the future.”

He’s tapping his name and number down on your phone, listing out some expectations and requirements for the job that you should probably remember. At that point, you contemplated whether or not he even remembers the events that occurred the night before, wondering how he was acting so casually and discussing the rates of pay of a babysitting job ($30 an hour was pretty damn good), as he hands your phone back to you.

You thought you were in the clear, ready to make your leave, until you took your phone from him, and something in his gaze shifted, more heated and hungry.

Miguel murmurs your name, so close all of a sudden. Goosebumps lit your skin on fire as he brushed your hair back, examining the turtleneck you wore. His hand brushed the side of your neck in a manner that was anything but innocent, scrutinizing the fabric with the pads of his fingers and you start to crumble, frozen as all you can do is stand there. “This is different from last night.”

This was the man you had fucked the night before . “I couldn’t… couldn’t let my parents see.”

He hums in acknowledgment, but he continues to mess with your collar, pulling the fabric down just a little bit, just enough to see the assortment of purple and red bruises that marked your neck. His eyes darkened ever so slightly, as he pulled the fabric back up and met your eyes again. “You missed some.”

“What?”

One of his hands drifted down, and you resisted the urge to turn around and check that Gabi was still busy, hoping that she was still wrapped up in her cereal and her show. His hand is rough, calloused, and hot. So, fucking hot . Miguel’s hand stopped suddenly just past your skirt, squeezing the soft skin of your thigh. “Here.”

As you looked down, you noticed that he was right. You could see a vague outline of his handprint beginning to bloom in red on the skin of your thigh, and your breath gets caught in your throat. His smile was sharper, then, more dangerous and he let you go.

“I’ll be waiting for your decision.”

You were lightheaded and half-delirious as you made your way out of his house, wishing Gabi a quick goodbye as she grins at you happily, thanking you for the muffins with a full mouth of cereal. The entire walk back to your house, you could still feel him staring, still feel his fingers around your neck, how impossibly full you felt from those hands only the night before—

You didn’t dare to look back.

Practically stumbling through your front door, your heart raced as you faced yet another surprise for the day. Your mother had been waiting in anticipation by the door, wearing an expression of hope and optimism that seemed oblivious to the fact that she had just dropped a bomb on your summer plans. A whole summer with that man? Panic set in as you wondered how on earth you were going to survive this ordeal.

"Well?" your mother asked impatiently, her eyes brimming with curiosity. You glance at the clock and realize you'd been gone for quite some time, leaving her imagination to conjure up all sorts of scenarios. None of them probably held a candle to what actually happened. "How did it go?"

Taking a deep breath, you began to respond, "I told him I'd think about babysitting—"

Before you could even finish your sentence, your mother's squealing interrupted you, a sound that rivaled the exuberance of a lottery winner and surpassed even the joy she displayed when you graduated college, hell, even when you told her you got engaged . Her enthusiasm was infectious, and it left you both bemused and slightly apprehensive.

"Emphasis on thinking about it," you quickly interjected, trying to temper her soaring expectations. "Don't get your hopes up just yet."

But your mother brushed off your cautious words with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Don't be silly, hon," she asserted, her voice overflowing with conviction. "How could you possibly say no?"

How could you possibly say no?

Of course, there was only one reasonable course of action to take once you made your way back to the privacy and security of your room, far from your mother’s overwhelming positivity. You looked up “Miguel O’Hara” on your laptop immediately. Your research proved fruitful and abundant, as only a handful of his names were in your area.

For an hour, you found out several things: Miguel O’Hara attended Stanford University nearly nine years ago, played soccer and track on a full-ride, and majored in their Bioengineering program with a minor in Ethics and Society and Spanish. Since then, he worked his way up the ladder starting as an intern for Alchemax International, and was currently one of their lead geneticists, with about a dozen awards and articles about him with lofty descriptions like, “A genius in the field of genetics.”

Before Gabi, his Instagram was sparse, with soccer game photos, picturesque screencaps of Stanford, and updates about his genetics research here and there. Five years ago, it felt like he came alive, a million vibrant little photos and updates of Gabi and her penchant for soccer spreading to every corner of his feed. There were bright, wide smiles on every slide, and you could tell that she was the light of his life, the focus of all his efforts.

Still, no wife in sight, and you release the breath that you didn’t even know you were holding.

Diving deeper, you saw that he also coached your hometown’s little league girls’ soccer team and you briefly smiled at one of his posts with all the girls and their new trophy, with Gabi at his shoulders and flashing toothy grins at the camera. There’s so much pride, so much joy in just one photo.

And then as recently as two months ago, they had moved into the house next to yours. It explained why you had virtually heard nothing about them when you were in college, too caught up in the haste of graduating and setting up your internship, setting up a life with your fiancé—

There’s a nervous, pregnant pause as you remembered the life you were on the cusp of just a month ago. At that moment, you were supposed to be interning at the Daily Bugle, accompanying reporters to events and press conferences, diligently editing and proofreading, and hauling ass through the bustling streets of New York, clutching cups of coffee in your hands—This dream that you used to fantasize and romanticize for the longest of times, and all you feel is hollow.

Instead of bustling around a lively apartment that wasn’t entirely yours , discussing wedding plans over takeout and Netflix, you were sitting alone in the familiar confines of your childhood bedroom. Cross-legged, you contemplated how you allowed yourself to be swept up in someone else's plans, losing sight of your desires along the way.

The past three years replayed in your mind like a worn-out tape, each day blending into the next as exhaustion seeped into your bones. The weariness, the constant drain of energy, was your constant companion as you followed the path your fiancé had paved for you.

But now, there was a flicker of realization that ignited within you— didn’t you deserve a break? Didn’t you deserve some fun?

Your eyes hazily drifted back to the laptop screen before you, illuminating the room with its gentle glow. You think of bergamot and crisp green leaves, a summer well spent at your neighbor’s house, blueberry muffins, soccer fields and dark, dark eyes. The answer seemed clear as day.

No use in lingering in something as foolish as what could have been, when you had something right in front of you.

At dinner, the room was filled with the sounds of clinking silverware and the gentle hum of conversation about each other’s days. Dinner was a familiar meal your mother had fretted and labored over for the better part of the day, something warm and distinctively comforting from your childhood. The sun’s just barely setting outside, casting the room in a warm, orange glow and everything feels normal, less daunting.

It’s nice, you had been forgoing dinners with your parents in favor of takeout in bed with your favorite trashy reality show during your first few weeks with them. You had forgotten that despite the way that your life had been abruptly upended in recent memory, you had managed to resurface with relative ease due to their support.

But glancing across the table at your mother, you felt a little bit less supported, her face contorted in what she believed to be subtlety, struggling to contain her curiosity and eyes brimming with unasked questions. She was trying to feign nonchalance, attempting to appear casual while her anticipation was clear from across the dining table.

Finally, unable to resist any longer, she seized the moment. Her voice carried a hint of hope, laced with the yearning for a resolution. "So are you done thinking about it?"

Caught off guard, you momentarily froze, your mind scrambling for a response. You mustered a reassuring smile, trying to cloak whatever lingering uncertainties you had left. This was the woman who had been your biggest cheerleader, who had picked you up off the side of the road after you lost your first job at the ice cream stand, took you to Ben & Jerry’s straight after, and cut off ties with your old manager like it was nothing. You smiled. “Yeah. I think I’m going to take up Mi–Mr. O’Hara on his offer.”

If your parents noticed any slip-ups in your wording, they don’t mention it.

“You know, isn’t it just delightful that there’s no Mrs. O’Hara in the picture—”

“Mom, we have got to talk about boundaries. Seriously,” You nearly drop your fork into your food, aghast by what your mom just implied. “He’s our neighbor.”

It was late at night, bolstered by a surge of courage, when your fingertips danced hesitantly over the screen of your phone, lingering above the name "Miguel O'Hara." You consider your first text to him heavily on your lips, testing the weight of each word as you typed and re-typed over and over.

Hey! So, I've made up my mind—I'm in for the babysitting gig!

Not quite.

Guess what? I've decided to accept your babysitting offer!

Not quite satisfied with that either, you take a deep breath and decide to go for a more straightforward approach.

Hey Miguel! I've been doing some thinking, and I'd love to babysit Gabi! Just let me know when you need me, and we can work out the details.

With your heart racing, you pressed the send button and watched as the message turned blue. The dots of his reply began immediately. Stopped. Began and stopped again. Then:

Can't wait :) I’ll see you on Monday?

You could have thrown the phone right through the wall. Oh, you were down bad .

Shaky fingers gripping your phone, you’re filled with a mix of excitement and nervous anticipation, reading and rereading his response. You haven’t felt this giddy since… forever. The smile on your face grew wider with each passing moment, and you couldn't help but feel the same surge of confidence you felt the night before coursing through you.

He’s everywhere, all-encompassing. You feel him along the shell of your earlobe, whispering something absolutely shameless and incorrigible to you. It has the desired effect, your heart stuttering with desire and your sweet cunt tightens around his cock in anticipation. He places a finger on your lips and his, slick with your arousal still, and beckons you gently to still. Be quiet.

Then his teeth are sinking into your skin, hard.

“Look at you,” Miguel murmurs, drawing tight circles over your nipple as you cry out silently. “Shameless.”

Your hands are entangled in his, reaching every which way, and you babble, mindlessly, without a thought of decency as you scratch your fingers through the lean skin of his back, mouth watering at how perfect he is for you, how his size fits inside you like a glove. Running your tongue over the long muscle of his neck, tasting the salt and cinnamon and and sucking a bruise in the same spot where he had kissed and suckled the night before.

His dark and heavy lashes flutter; his head dropping impossibly close to yours, and then he’s begging for something against your jaw, thrusts growing uncontrolled, his hips catching as his cock twitches in you.

You can’t say anything back. Your breaths come out ragged and strained, crooning until he hits something deafening inside you, and then the feeling spreads across your body like wildflower and it’s so hot, it’s searing and you just want him to move, unable to function with the way he just holds there right up against that spot and lets you both feel each other like this for a second.

You don’t want him to stop; you never want this to end. It feels so good being full of you, you mumble.

“Let me taste you, cariño,” His voice is filled with need, to the point of growling. It’s different—

You can’t help the whine that escapes your breathless lips as you wake up in a hot flash, realizing that you’re still within the confines of your bedroom.

Monday couldn’t come fast enough.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #oscar isaac #mdni #miguel o'hara smut

488 notes · View notes

firefly-in-darkness · 6 months

Text

Make It Right

Pairing → Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary → Bucky Barnes broke your heart, can he fix it? Can he make it right?

Word Count → 1.6k words

Warnings → angst, heartbreak, swearing.

Beta → none.

Prompts/Bingo Cards

AFG Square Fill → “I don’t want you to be with anyone else.” - @anyfandomgoesbingo

AF Angst Square Fill → smudged makeup - @anyfandomangstbingo

Writer's Note → well, this is a little angsty one that's been sat in my drafts for a while… hope you enjoy! ✨

“I hate you,” you slurred down the phone, “I wish I'd never met you!”

Bucky’s heart broke at your words but he couldn't do anything about them, he hated himself for the pain he was causing you. He realised long ago that you weren't just friends with benefits. A few weeks into the arrangement, all of the rules went straight out the window.

What was wrong with spending time together, going to the college football games, studying in the library until darkness had fallen or hiding out at house parties when it was too rowdy for either of you to handle?

How could he not let you stay over when you looked like an Angel sleeping in his arms? The post-sex glow, the warmth of your body and the so-familiar scent of peach and vanilla filled his head with fantasies of the casual relationship being so much more.

It was perfect, you were perfect.

Until your ex-boyfriend started making threats.

The corridor was empty and it was just typical that your snivelling ex-boyfriend, Brock Rumlow, decided to make an appearance. Bucky didn’t engage with him, just brushed straight past him. In an instant he was pinned against the wall, winded by the blow.

Brock’s grip on Bucky’s collar tightened, yanking him forward and back against the wall. He growled and snarled at Bucky to retaliate but he just smirked at him.

“Oh, you think this is funny do you?” Brock spit out, “Well, you won’t find it funny when I tell the Dean that you were the one that caused that fight with Alex."

Bucky paled at the thought of being used as a scapegoat, he’d already had a few run-ins with Alex Pierce for making derogatory comments about you. If the Dean heard of this, Bucky was certain he’d lose his scholarship.

“Oh and if you go near my girl again, I’ll make sure that she gets caught up in all that mess too,” Brock shoved him again, “I’m sure she’d love to know how much of a violent person you really are.”

Brock walked backwards, laughing as Bucky dropped to the floor.

The words of your ex-boyfriend had taken over his mind and fuelled Bucky’s actions. It was all to protect you, he couldn't care less what happened to him. He wasn’t going to let you suffer because things went too far.

It pained him to see Rumlow’s arm draped around your shoulders at the last Panthers game. His eyes stung as he watched you kiss in the depths of the library. It broke his heart when you tugged Rumlow into a bedroom at Grant’s frat party, the seductive smirk on your lips.

“Saw you with Yelena. I came by your dorm today,” Your voice cracked over the line, “she's pretty, smart and witty.”

Bucky's mind raced, you had come to visit him? What has Yelena got to do with this conversation? You answered for him.

“Just wanted to give you back your leather jacket.” You hiccuped then your tone changed, “She's more your type, better than me.”

“I'm not-” Bucky tried to interrupt you to no avail.

“I thought you loved me.”

He heard the signature sound of the call ending. Without a moment spared, Bucky shoved on his combat boots and grabbed the leather jacket that Steve had found on their doorstep earlier.

It smelt of you, it was intoxicating. It encouraged Bucky to do what he needed to do. To tell you everything. He couldn't let you think he didn't care, that he didn't love you. Fuck Rumlow.

Bucky raced to your dorm. He should have come to you first, told you what happened and come up with a plan to stop Rumlow’s threats from coming true. Now you were drunk and vulnerable. He stopped in his tracks, he didn't know where you were. Scrolling through his contacts, he called Wanda, fully expecting an earful from your best friend.

“Barnes?”

“Wan, where’s Angel? She called and sounds wasted.”

“Why should I tell you?” Wanda snapped.

“Please? I need to tell her the truth.”

“Oh shit.” The sound of the phone being dropped echoed in Bucky’s ears, the panic rushed through his veins.

Your voice, the person he was looking for could be heard at a distance, “tell him to ‘fuck off.’”

“I wanna go to bed now.” You whined, Bucky could imagine the pout and blurry eyes you were giving your friend.

He started to walk to your dorm in the hopes that you or Wanda would give away your location if you weren't at home.

“It's okay,” Wanda's soothing voice was louder, no doubt comforting you.

“Need blanky please.”

“I'll get it in a minute, let's get you cleaned up first.”

The mention of your childhood blanket kicked Bucky into gear. You were at home. He ran. his legs moved as fast as they could to get to the shared apartment.

He was a panting mess by the time he reached the building. No clue what he was going to say. The stairs were neverending, the physical pain pressuring his body to stop. It was nothing compared to the thought of losing you forever.

Bucky pounded on the door, attempting to catch his breath at the same time. His fist didn’t stop hitting until he almost fell through when it was opened by Wanda.

She shook her head, “this is not a good idea, she’s a mess.”

“I’ve got to make this right. I fucked up,” Bucky pleaded with her.

Wanda opened the door wider for Bucky to enter and he sighed in relief.

You were sat on the couch with the blanket wrapped tightly around you, but even with the comforter, he could see your frame had shrunken in on itself. Your head was resting on a cushion, eyes closed as the sobs wreaked havoc.

Bucky’s heart broke at the sight and rushed to your side, wiping your hair away from your face.

You pushed at him, “Go away, Wanda.”

“It’s me, it’s Bucky.”

Your eyes burst open and he felt your shoulders go rigid. The crying had been silenced but tears still streaked down your face along with the mascara and eyeliner you must have been wearing earlier.

“Why are you here?” Your voice cracked.

“I’m so sorry,” Bucky cupped your face, his thumbs brushing away the tears, “I should have told you about Brock, and what happened with Alex. I couldn’t let you get hurt.”

Your eyebrows knitted together, “What are you talking about?”

“Brock said he’d get us both kicked out of college, you know it would only take one conversation with his stepdad.”

You listened intently with tears in your eyes.

“I got into a fight with Alex, over something stupid.”

Wanda interrupted, “It wasn’t stupid, he called your girl a slut. He deserved it and more.”

You winced, “You did that, for me?”

“Yes, and I’d do it again,” Bucky reassured her.

You couldn’t stop the hiccups but tried to speak, “Brock’s -hic- gone. He was transferred. Something about his dad -hic- getting a better job at a better school.”

Wanda passed you a glass of water, “I’ll be in my room if you need anything.”

You lifted your legs to sit up straight. Bucky took the seat beside, afraid of what would come next. A scholarship-sized weight had been lifted but he still felt the pressure of you wanting to be with Brock, that you might not choose him after everything.

“I ended it. That’s why I came to see you, not just about the jacket,” You dipped your head.

Bucky’s index finger lifted your chin to look into your eyes and show you that he meant his words with all his heart and soul, “I want to be with you.”

“But what about Yelena?” Your gaze didn’t waiver, giving Bucky hope.

“We’re working on a project together, I am not interested in her like that.”

“I don’t want you to be with anyone else,” You whispered as if uncertain that you wanted him to hear.

“I was an idiot, I thought I could do this whole fuck buddies thing with you,” he shook his head, “I was wrong, I want to be your boyfriend, I want to show you how much you mean to me and tell anyone that will listen.”

“Are you sure?” You looked down, your hands anxiously twisted together.

Bucky took your hands in his. He was a fool, a fool in love with an amazing woman who thought he didn’t care.

“I love you, with all my heart.”

“I love you too.” You whispered.

Bucky felt like the pieces of a puzzle were falling into place. He should have known all along that this was where he was meant to be; with you.

“Can I kiss you now?” He asked, wanting to show you how much he loved and cared for you.

Bucky leant forward, giving you the power to make the decision. It might hurt his ego for a moment if you chose to pull away but he wouldn’t hold it against you. As he waited, he vowed to do whatever you wanted, whether that was to be your partner or friend. If you asked him to leave, and even though it would be hard, then he’d go.

“Well, are you going to kiss me or just stare at my lips?" You quipped, snapping Bucky out of his thoughts.

Bucky pressed his lips to yours, sealing his promise to be with you ‘til the end of the line.

~ Tag List ~

@aeo10fan @capsgrl @charmedbysarge @coffeebooksandfandom @eclipses-and-moondust @emmabarnes @escapingthoughtsandsecrets @foxyjwls007 @gooddaykate @guera31 @ihatecats123 @im-squished @impala1967dwinchester @justagirlinafandomworld @justanotherblonde23 @justile @kalesrebellion @leyannrae @mishkatelwarriorgoddess s @nekoannie-chan @queenoftheunderdark @quinjetboi @redbarn1995 @selen-o-phile @starryeyeseunbyul @stuckonjbbarnes @stuckysavedmylive @suchababie @supraveng @valsworldofcreativity @vicmc624 @vintagepigeon @weird-mumbling @wiccanmetallicrose @writerwrites @doasyoudesireandlive @princessmisery666 @rainbowkisses31 @little-diable @ajaviary @pottahishotasf @itsamarvelfan-writes

#bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes #sebastian stan

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normal-thoughts-official · 7 months

Text

Okay. It's official. I fucking hate the way Choices is dealing with the "MC gets kidnapped" shit

They're focusing on the plot to the detriment of any emotional stakes, which is always a bad move but it's a particularly bad move when we barely understand what the threat is this time but have been missing these characters and wanting to see them again for three years. Every expression of feeling over MC's kidnapping feels rushed and squeezed in, like they're trying to get it out of the way so they can get back to the Valax shit. Imtura, Nia, and Mal made up in five seconds without us even understanding how exactly this awful fight went down to begin with. MC explains what happened while they were in captivity and they all just go to sleep. Not even a "holy shit MC, are you okay?" or "we will end her" or anything. We don't even get a general line of how they reacted like "they were horrified" "they were angry" "they were sad" "they didn't give a flying fuck" or something.

Even Imtura's grief, while definitely the best written one out of the four, felt like it was dealt with in seconds (I'm yet to play with my Imtura-romancing MC in my other acc so I'm not sure how it goes with her in the bathhouse but it shouldn't take romantic involvement for the grief to last). Even when Valax shows up a second time it doesn't feel like they're as terrified of the idea of losing MC again as they should be

There are some pretty good angsty lines and moments but they always pass so quickly it feels like they're brushing it all off. It almost feels like fanservice. "See, here, your LI kisses you as if pouring all the longing of a year into it. And then you go to sleep. Happy?" No, actually. For fuck's sake, you have to dig deeper than that

The only moment we had that wasn't plot related was bathhouse scene, which was cute, but felt entirely out of place. They just made up, they still don't even know what happened to MC, if MC's okay, they barely had the time to catch up and they're just carefreely dunking each other in the water? It could have been played like a cathartic "finally having fun after so long of suffering" sort of deal at least and then it would work, but it simply wasn't written that way and it just feels like their entire dynamic is botched and weird and we're supposed to forget that for the last year MC was gone and Imtura had a massive fallout with the rest of the group. They keep alternating between these super dramatic declarations and lines and acting as if nothing has happened, and it just doesn't work. Take the time to deal with the emotional consequences of the LITERAL INCITING INCIDENT OF THE STORY, then you can jump into battles against the big bad hot gorgeous goth woman. This just feels like they don't want to deal with it and are just throwing some lines here and there so we don't complain

Don't get me wrong, I'm generally enjoying the story and I'm happy to have the gang back, but PB's not doing their own plot justice, especially considering they've supposedly been writing this for three years. The emotional stakes are always what carries a story, even a fantasy/action one. We have to care about the characters, which we do because we have since book 1, but it doesn't seem like the story does and it gets more and more disappointing every week

#im just venting but god im SO frustrated I've been looking SO forward to bolas2 and it's just not delivering #playchoices #blades of light and shadow #bolas #bolas2 spoilers #choices bolas #blades of light and shadow 2

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wandussyfantasy · 7 months

Note

Hey buddy

I have a request for Leigh Shaw and GN! Reader w peepee :)

Reader and Leigh have been a friends with benefits type of thing. Leigh also made it clear about no feelings since she wasn't over losing matt and she just needed a distraction. It isn't until she hears that Y/N has been going on a date with Becca, another widow from grief group.

Leigh then confronts reader about it and she realises in that moment that she has feelings for them which she tells them and then walks away. Ghosting them until they confront her at her home while Amy and Jules are out. They tell her how she has ruined their growing relationship with Becca by making them realise that they have always felt the same. Resulting in Leigh bringing them in for a passionate kiss and reader then asking if they can take her on a date.

Thank you awesome dude.

Love Me or Leave Me

Summary: You and Leigh have a special arrangement that gets disrupted when she finds out that you have been dating her friend, Becca.

Pairings: Leigh Shaw x NB!AMAB!Reader

Word Count: 6,749

WARNINGS:

18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT READ & DO NOT INTERACT!!!

smut, gn!reader amab, powerbottom!leigh, fingering, dirty talk, fluff, agnst, car hookup, fantasies, teasing, foreplay, and creampie.

𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓. 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.

“‘What is grief, if not love persevering?’” The nerdy grief counselor reads out to the group from his notebook. “How can we relate this line to ourselves and our own experiences with grief?”

You sigh and look over to see that Leigh is just as unimpressed as you are with the new counselor. The one that usually led this group had to move to another state and so the organization has been trying to find a replacement. Unfortunately, the only people volunteering their time to help people with loss either haven’t experienced it themselves or are fresh out of college with psychology degrees they have no clue what to do with. You clear your throat and scratch behind your ear before you fake a phone call and leave the group. “I am so sorry, it’s my mother,” you excuse yourself as some regulars in the group try not to snicker. You walk out to your car and without much thought, you move it to a more secluded spot in the dark parking lot and swipe through a dating app as you wait.

Leigh knocks on your window a few minutes later. “I thought you wanted to give this guy a chance,” she says as she climbs on your lap.

“I did, until he started quoting a comic book character,” you kiss her to trigger the physical response you needed in order to feel something other than the annoyance and the pain of your loss. She is grinding against your bulge to help you harden. It doesn't take you long, it's been almost a full week since the last time the two of you have met up for this since you went on a short trip with your friends. “You look very pretty in this dress by the way,” you compliment her as you dip your fingers in her panties to rub her clitoris.

“Shut up,” she says, she thinks you only like it because of the easy access you'll have to her. But then again, that's why she chose to wear the dress in the first place. Leigh wasn't much for wearing dresses unless there was an occasion. Her mom was curious as she left the house and although this is the time Leigh normally attended the group, she began to wonder if her daughter was using that as a cover now and hoped that she was going on a date. You kiss as much of her exposed skin as you can while you finger Leigh and as much as she is enjoying the way your fingers know how to move, that's not what she is looking to penetrate her. She pulls your head up from her chest and kisses you hard. “Fuck me already,” she whispers impatiently.

“Alright,” you say as you unzip your pants and pull out your dick. “So bossy,” you grumble as you penetrate her. “But fuck, I’m not complaining,” you grunt as soon as her warm walls envelope your thick cock. Leigh holds onto the seat as she rides you until she realizes that something is missing.

“You have a condom on right?” She asks through breaths as she continues to move her body up and down on your lap.

“Uh,” you try to figure out the best way to tell her that you don't have one on and the best way at the moment as your brain is clouded with lust is, “No.”

She doesn't stop moving as she hits you upside your head. “Why not?!”

“You told me to fuck you already. It's not a big deal, I'll pull out. Oooh this feels so good.” You say as you continue to meet your hips with hers. You start to kiss her body and get even more turned on when you realize she doesn't actually mind that you're fucking her raw.

“Do you use them when you go on dates?” She asks as she slows down. Pregnancy wasn't her concern. She doesn't want to contract anything, she's gone this long without ever getting anything, she wants to continue that streak.

“No,” you start out plainly just to mess with. This time she stops moving completely and looks at you with wide eyes. You break into a smile. “I don't sleep with my dates. It's only been you since we started this arrangement. I'm clean, I promise. I got tested weeks ago.”

Leigh sighs as she wraps her arms around the back of the seat. You move your hands from her thighs to her ass. “Don’t scare me like that again, it's not funny.” She moves her hips in a small circle motion and you moan as you tip your head back as you promise not to do that again. With your neck exposed to her, Leigh does something she never really does. She leans in and starts to softly kiss your neck until she reaches a spot that depending on the shirt you'll be wearing after this, may or may not hide the mark she is about to leave.

As you feel her sucking on your skin you start to pound into her as you're getting so close to finishing. “How close are you?” You ask as you pick up the pace.

“Almost… almost there,” she pants out as she grips onto you.

“Where should I…?” you ask as you feel the build up of your impending climax. The answer that Leigh almost gives, surprises her and puts her over the edge as she imagines the way it would feel like to have your cock pulsing inside of her, filling her up with your semen. It's been so long since she's felt that. It was a surprisingly extremely rare occasion with her husband. Since he didn't want kids and was on and off depression medication they rarely had sex without a condom and even if they did, he almost never came because the medicine made it difficult for him. As she orgasms her walls clench around you almost as if they were trying to milk you. Her body is tempted to feel your release in full as she has felt you cum inside of her a few times with the condom on. But she wasn't going to feel it tonight. She pulls herself off of your cock, impressed that you held off your release and she grabs a napkin from the passenger's seat, you typically ate something on the way to the meetings. She covers the tip of your penis and uses her other hand on the base to help you cum. You groan as you empty into her hand.

“I'll see you later,” she kisses your cheek and exits your car.

Later that month, Leigh is meeting with Becca for tea before Leigh’s next class. The young widow is still teaching at her mother's women's health studio and Becca attends a class when she can to stay fit and stay connected with Leigh. The two have grown closer as Leigh finally started to let people in, slowly but surely, and Becca has learned to respect Leigh's need for space.

“So, I've been seeing someone,” Becca starts as she stirs her tea slowly with an anxious smirk as she tries to contain her excitement.

“Really?” Leigh is surprised, she didn't know that Becca was dating.

“Yeah,” Becca starts and waits for Leigh to press for more information and once she does, Becca's act falls apart as she spills all of her secrets. “So, you know Y/n, from group? That guy that lost his mom? He's also in some indie band that in my opinion is totally underrated and-”

“Isn’t Y/n nonbinary?” Leigh cuts Becca off, she didn't like it when people misgendered others, especially not when it's you.

“Yes! Oh shit, did I say 'he'? Damnit,” she shakes her head. “I’m sorry, I'm still learning this whole gender and pronouns thing. Anyway it's Y/n. We've been on a few dates lately and I think it could turn into something. That's if I don't screw it up. Ugh, I hope I don't. I really like him- them! I like them.” Becca hangs her head. “I swear, I'm not doing this on purpose.”

Leigh remains quiet as she processes this information. She had your tongue inside of her just this morning when she accidentally broke a rule and spent the night at your place. Now she's finding out that you're dating her friend? “It’s fine, I think. I don't know. My sister knows more about it than I do. She says that some people don't mind the mess ups as long as you respect their preferences and don't use the wrong pronouns intentionally.” Leigh says to comfort the girl sitting across from her, giving herself a hard time.

“Ok,” Becca relaxes her shoulders. “But um yeah, what do you think? Is it bad that I'm going out with them? I mean, yeah, we sort of met at the group but we didn't start talking until we matched on a dating app. I completely didn't recognize them on their profile until we met in person.” Leigh asks if you recognized her on the app and Becca laughs. “They did! They said that's why they felt comfortable asking me out like an hour after we matched and they thought I recognized them too. We had a laugh about it. They're really great, I think the two of you would get along if you wanted more friends.”

Leigh plasters on a fake smile as she tries to ignore the pain this conversation is causing her. She cannot believe that you started to date Becca without telling her when you knew the two of them are friends. “How long have you been going out?”

“Oh we’ve been going on what he calls 'intentional dates' once a week every week this month but we hang out all of the time. Except when either of us is busy, which they tend to be. But it's okay, they send me cute messages when we're apart. We haven't been physical yet though, we kiss a lot but when I try to make it more, he stops anything from happening. Oh no, you don't think he might be gay do you?” She has a hand over her chest as she worries about what the lack of a physical connection could mean.

Leigh shakes her head as she sips her tea. “No, I'm sure they're trying to be respectful. I mean, your husband died while serving in the military and they have a band that hardly anyone has ever heard of. It can be intimidating,” she reassures her friend while subtly correcting her. Leigh wonders how often Becca messes up when it comes to how you identify. Leigh never fucks that up and doesn't know how people do. Right now, she can't even figure out what you see in this girl. Sure, Leigh knows you're dating around. But as far as she knew, they were meaningless dates that never got anywhere. She didn't consider what it would be like if you actually found someone that you were interested in. Leigh picks up her phone and sends a risky photo she has been debating for sometime on whether or not she should ever send it to you and adds the message, I need you tonight.

“You are so right, Leigh. They don’t know about how bad my marriage was before my husband died. Maybe I should make the first move!” Becca suggests and that sends images to Leigh’s head that upsets her. She doesn’t want to share you with her. She doesn’t want to share you with anyone. Especially since the two of you have been talking about maybe having more sex without a condom. She wanted to feel you coming inside of her but now she can’t have that if you’re seeing someone exclusively. She probably can’t have you at all if you continue to date Becca. Then Becca gets a message and her grin disappears. “Awe bummer, they canceled our date for tonight,” she frowns.

“Oh no, did they say why?” Leigh sips her tea as she poorly hides her enjoyment.

“Yeah, they have band practice. They’re going to let me know when they can reschedule.” She sets her phone on the table. “You don’t think they might be pulling away because they’re intimidated by my dead husband right?”

Leigh shakes her head, “Becca, you’re overthinking it. Have they ever given you reason to worry they’re not being truthful?”

“No,” Becca says as she thinks about it for a moment. “Well, other than the mark he had on our first date. It was like right here and I thought it was a hickey but he said he got it when wrestling with one of their bandmates.”

Leigh clenches her jaw as she remembers making that mark. How could you lie to her friend like that? To someone who is so trusting and sees the best in people. Then she gets a reply from you stating that you’re free tonight and will make dinner so they have something to eat after. The both of you know it’s against the rules to share a meal so close to having sex. Since the arrangement was friends with benefits, it wasn’t against the rules to share a meal and they have shared many friendly meals. She has even had you over for a meal with her mom and sister a few times. But when it was shared after having sex at night, it left the option of her falling asleep and spending the night again. Which she already did last night. After the first time that happened and she woke up comfortable and in your arms, she freaked out and didn't talk to you for two weeks and that's when it became a rule. It has only happened a couple times since but you always make sure you're up before she is.

Leigh knows she's breaking many rules with that picture and request, and she knows that you know it as well. The fact that you don't seem to mind it at all gives Leigh a warm feeling inside. She is the person you would rather spend your time with. “What’s that smile for? Do you have a hot date tonight?” Becca asks as she finishes her tea.

“What?” Leigh breaks from her thoughts and drops her smile. “No, I just, no. Um look at the time, we better get to the studio. I'm the instructor, I can't be late to my own class.” Leigh gathers her things and Becca follows as she gets ready to leave as well.

When Leigh arrives at your apartment, she is wearing the sexiest outfit she could find in her sister's closet. Jules was more than happy to lend the outfit and bit her tongue in asking too many questions, she was having fun dressing her sister up. It was another rule broken. Never dress up for sex. It's just sex, come as you are. She was starting to worry that she has broken too many rules by now. No more than one meeting within 48-hours. No sleepovers, unless absolutely necessary. No nudes. No meals together after sex. No jealousy. No preventing the other from getting into a relationship, unless absolutely necessary. No feelings, just sex. But the look you have when you open that door says it all. You don't care about the rules anymore. She wonders if you ever have.

Leigh greets you with a kiss, it's slow and deep. Unusual to the heated rushed ones you're used to. But you don't mind the change. “I have to say, that picture was quite the surprise,” you start as you guide her to the bedroom.

“So was your tongue this morning,” Leigh says as she bites her lip. “I thought you deserved a gift as a thank you.”

You hum, “Well, I didn't need one but it is very appreciated.” You walk her towards the bed with your hands on her hips. “You look stunning tonight, you rule breaker,” you have your lips on her neck as the two of you fall on the bed.

Leigh lets out a soft giggle in acknowledgement. “You noticed?”

“Of course I noticed, you practically gave me an exam on the rules before the first time we slept together. Well… technically the second time. The first time was an oopsy that got us to the rules.” You lightly remind her as you continue to kiss her body. You love her tastes and her sounds and the way she knows your body like no one ever has before. “What drove you to this?”

“Don't worry about it, let's just focus on making each other feel good,” Leigh says as she reaches between the two of you to stroke your cock. You don't argue or question her. You rock your hips into her hand until you have to pull away from her to undress. Leigh rises from the bed as you sit next to her and start pulling your pants down. Once your shirt is off, Leigh stands in front of you and when you're not paying attention to her she lifts your chin with her finger. “Watch me,” she says as she kisses your lips.

You are surprised by her again. Leigh starts to do a little strip tease for you. Pulling her clothing off slower than she ever has before. The way she sways her body around and removes the clothing is unpracticed and a little goofy but you don't laugh, you sit there and stroke your penis as you watch her. You lick your lips as you think about being inside of her again. There isn't anything else on your mind but being with Leigh right now.

However, Leigh is stressing herself out. She can't tell if you're enjoying her little routine or if you think she is being ridiculous. She rushes the ending of her little performance, thinking what Becca might do in this situation. She isn't sure, she doesn't know if Becca would be a slow and patient lover or a fast paced “let's get this over with” lover. Maybe she has kinks and fetishes. Maybe she's vanilla… Leigh can be pretty vanilla. Did you like that? Did you find her boring? Is that why you continue to date even though you have a sexual relationship with her? “Fuck, that was hot,” you whisper as she presses her naked body to yours, breaking her from her spiraling thoughts. You crawl back further on the bed, pulling her with you, and lean against the headboard. “I should have woken you up with a morning cunnilingus ages ago if this is the thanks I would've gotten,” you kiss her and Leigh smiles for a second until she reminds herself why she is acting this way.

Leigh is on a mission to make you see that you don't need Becca when you have her. No feelings. The rules echo in her head. This is just sex and friendship, nothing more. She tries to remind herself. At the moment she can't figure out how she ended up in this arrangement in the first place. Maybe it was something to do with that thing Becca mentioned to her about being touch starved. Maybe it was finding out that Matt had an emotional affair with his colleague. She could blame the arrangement on being a young widow and not wanting to give her heart to someone yet. Gosh she was a broken record lately. No wonder you were looking for something or more so someone more stable.

Your lips bring her back to the moment as you travel her body. “You’re so beautiful,” the compliment warns her heart, you don't normally compliment her so much. And under different circumstances, she might have left and not called you for a week but she loves how soft you're being with her right now. She hadn't realized how sweet you are until the thought of losing you started to become a reality.

“Let’s take it slow tonight,” she whispers as she lets go of the manic energy she came in with.

“Okay,” you caress her cheek as you agree. She leans into your touch as you do. You move your fingers under her chin and guide her into a slow kiss. She melts against you as your lips move together. You swiftly move the two of you so that you're on top of her. “Lay on your stomach,” you say. Leigh makes a face. “Just trust me.”

“Alright,” she flips onto her stomach and pulls the pillows under her arms to prop herself up comfortably. The mattress creeks as you leave the bed to retrieve the massage oil and Leigh lifts her head up. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to give you a massage,” you say as you return with the oil. You straddle her legs, your cock laying against her soft bottom, rubbing the oil on your hands before you start to spread it in her back. You are slow and careful with where you apply pressure. Leigh has never been given a massage as part of sex before and she wasn't sure how she felt about it yet. She couldn't deny that it felt good though, you really seemed to know what you were doing. As you rub her shoulders, you start to kiss her neck and as you move your hands lower, your lips and body follow.

You take a moment to rub and massage her butt cheeks then move onto her thighs. She started to hum as her body was a little sore from the classes she had to teach earlier. Leigh hadn't realized how much she needed this massage until she had your magic hands on her. Then as you're rubbing the back of her thigh, she feels your tongue inside of her and she lifts her head up again in surprise. She had gotten so lost in the other sensations that she forgot for a moment what the two of you were doing.

You only move your tongue inside of her for a minute or two before you return your focus to the massage. “Lay on your back now,” you say as you are now standing in front of the bed. Leigh flips over again, relaxing into the mattress in a way she never has before. You grab her left foot and start kneading it with your thumbs, following it with circular motions. Leigh wasn't someone that liked her feet touched in a sexual context but it's been forever since she's had a foot massage and the way you were doing it surprisingly wasn't turning her off. She's grateful when you don't kiss her feet.

You grab the towel you had brought with you and wipe the excess oil off of your hands. You crawl your way back up Leigh's body, stopping for a moment to kiss her pussy. You trace patterns on her skin with your tongue that send chills up her spine. She worries that it's about her too much and that she isn't doing anything to pleasure you but her thoughts leave her mind again as you latch your mouth on her breast with your fingers inside of her. She moves her hands from her sides to touch you as you continue to make her feel everything. She starts with running her fingers through your hair. It was longer than when she met you since you wanted to grow it out this year. She wasn't sure how this length would look on you but as it's grown, she hasn't had a single complaint. Then as your mouth moves across her chest, her hands move down your back. She can't massage you nearly as well as you had done for her but she does what she can and you appreciate the effort.

When you're done paying attention to her breasts, you pull your fingers out of Leigh. You trace her lips with the coated fingertips until you dip them in her mouth and she licks them clean. Your dick twitches at the sight. You kiss her on the mouth as you line yourself up at her entrance. You move the head of your penis up and down between her wet folds to prolong the action and then you reach for the condom on the nightstand.

“No,” Leigh stops you as she covers your hand with hers. “I don't want anything between us tonight,” she says. Always wear a condom, no matter what.

You nod, “Okay.”

You press into her entrance slowly and it's like she's feeling you for the first time. Like really feeling you. Not just riding you to get her climax. This isn't a drunken decision like the actual first time. This isn't just something that the two of you are doing to pass the time. This is real. The two of you are making love. This isn't fucking. This isn't just sex. It's slow and intimate and passionate. It's something that she wants for as long as she can have you. Leigh doesn't want to lose you to some other girl.

As the two of you make love, she decides that she isn't going to be afraid anymore. She is going to tell you how she feels about this arrangement and she hopes that you'll feel the same. As she gets closer to her climax her mind is wiped clean, not a thought haunts her as she chants, “Oh god, oh god, oh god,” over and over again. Anticipating her walls squeezing your penis so close to your own orgasm, you start to pull away from her, planning on having her finish on your mouth. But Leigh has other plans as you pull away, she locks her legs around your back, keeping you inside of her.

“Leigh, I won’t be able to hold off,” you warn her.

She kisses your mouth, “It’s okay, I want you inside.” Her words trigger the two of you to share the most euphoric orgasms either of you has ever had in your lives. You've never released inside of someone without a condom before and the feeling was like nothing you've ever experienced before. As for Leigh, she is enjoying every pulse of your penis as you empty your balls into her.

“Fuck, Leigh. What's gotten into you?” You pant out the question with a laugh as the two of you calm down. Once you start to soften, you pull out and roll next to her. Leigh is quick to roll on top of you, laying against your chest as you catch your breath.

“Nothing, just a thank you,” she replies as she snuggles against you. Holding you as close as she can. No cuddles or snuggles or any physical touch unless it's related to sex. Leigh tries to get her brain working again so she can tell you how she feels but she's also enjoying being in your presence and relaxing in the moment.

Unfortunately, there isn't a lot of time before your phone starts going off. You grab it from the nightstand and sigh with a frown. “I’m sorry, Leigh. I have to take this.” You kiss her on the lips while you pull away from her. Leigh wraps herself in your blanket as she watches you leave the room. You hop on one foot at a time as you put your basketball ball shorts on and answer the phone. “Hey cutie, what's up? Yeah, it's going great. Yeah, I'm sorry I couldn't tonight. But maybe we can do something tomorrow night?” You say as you walk away.

Leigh scoffs, she couldn't believe what she was overhearing. You had just came inside of her and you were making plans with Becca. Bubbly, positive, happy, pretty Becca. Not complicated and upfront with her feelings, Becca. Perfect widow, Becca. She gets out of the bed as she becomes blind with rage. She feels so used. Clearly breaking the rules wasn't enough to keep your attention. You still wanted her and not Leigh.

She angrily grabs her clothes off of the floor and when you return she is almost fully dressed. “What's wrong, Leigh?” You say as you notice how upset she is.

“You!” she snaps.

“What?” Leigh storms past you and you follow her. “Leigh, talk to me, please.” You try to get ahead of her before she can get to the door but the apartment is small and she has it swung open before you can push it closed. “Leigh, please, tell me what I did wrong!” You beg as you continue to chase her. It didn't make any sense, she was holding onto you. She let you cum inside of her. She sent you that picture. She was so happy five seconds ago. It couldn't have been the call, you've taken them a couple times before. One time she even answered the phone for you and sucked you off while you chatted with the girl. This doesn't make any sense.

“You had to start dating my best friend! Didn't you? What? One widow wasn't enough to have on your roster? You had to have two?” She shouts as she spins in front of you.

“Oh shit,” you stand there dumbly as you realize she knows about Becca. “Leigh, I'm sorry. I didn't think it would be a big deal. And best friend? Really?” She narrows her eyes at you.

“So not the point,” she starts through gritted teeth as she stops and spins to look at you, “she is still my friend. That's so low of you to put in this position!”

“Shit,” you shut your eyes as you understand where she's coming from now. “Leigh, please, come inside and let's talk about this.”

“Are you going to stop seeing her?”

“What?”

“It’s a simple yes or no question. Are you going to stop seeing Becca?” She asks again.

“I don't know,” you deflate. “Becca is the first person, other than you, who seems to get me. We connect well and she's sweet and considerate and goofy and if I'm honest, I kind of like hanging out with her. It's not easy dating these days.”

“Do you want to get serious with her?” Leigh asks.

You haven't really given it much thought. You were just enjoying your time with Becca right now. In a similar way you were enjoying your time with Leigh. “I don't know,” you shrug. “Maybe? But what do you care?”

“What do I care? Do you really think I'm so heartless?” Leigh says back. “I care because I’m in love with you! You fucking idiot!” Leigh freezes and her angry expression drops as her blood runs cold in her body. She doesn't give you a moment to respond or even process. Leigh gets in her car and leaves. This time, you don't chase after her.

Leigh knew she wanted an exclusive relationship but she didn't know how deep her feelings ran. Is she ready to be in love with someone? She isn't sure. Not after the rollercoaster that was Matt and his secrets. You and her were a secret and you kept it so well. Can she even trust you? Do you trust her?

Her phone ringing snaps her out of her thoughts for a second. She knows it's you. She can't answer. This is not an easy situation by any means and she needs to distance herself from you. Figure out how she really feels and maybe you will do the same. There's a chance she could lose you for good. Lose you to Becca. But that could be a good thing for both of you.

Your phone calls don't stop for the rest of the night. The next day it's text messages and the day after, it's nothing. You finally go silent and Leigh is both relieved and terrified. She has no idea what you're thinking right now. She has no idea how you feel. She cannot believe she said those words to you. What was she thinking? She wasn't.

The next week she receives a few messages from you, asking to talk, but she never responds. Leigh isolates herself from everyone she knows just in case you try to go to them to get to her. She doesn't hang out with Becca because she cannot stand to hear how great things are between the two of you. Or how horrible things are. Either way, she doesn't want to know. When her mom and Jules try to ask her what's wrong, she avoids the subject and they figure that she's having another “Matt episode” and they leave her be.

Leigh decides to visit her husband's grave and think about the life they could have had. Would she be in his arms right now while he thought of another woman? Would he have left her for this woman? Or was it a crush that would have faded? Would he ever come around to the idea of kids? Or would that have been their breaking point? Did they get married too young? Did they move too fast? She has so many unanswered questions about their relationship, and he isn't here to help her figure them out. Not that him being here would have been much help. There are so many questions surrounding you and instead of talking to you, she's hoping that ghosting you will keep you away.

Another week goes by and this time she doesn't hear from you at all. More silence. But there is no peace in it. She can't keep going like this. She wants to call you but she's scared. At least this way, the only person that gets hurt is her. You and Becca can be living happily ever after with each other and she will try to find something simple and easy. The weekend that her mom is away at a retreat and Jules is spending the night at her current girlfriends house, Leigh invites Drew to go out. She drinks and dances and flirts until she finds someone to go home with. It gets hot and heavy and she sloppily makes out with this person, trying to get their clothes off. Except, it doesn't go past the intense kissing because she breaks down into tears. She falls apart in the strangers apartment and they are nice enough to allow her the space to let it out. She ends up passing out there and they let Leigh sleep it off in their bed and they move to the coach. They drop her off at her house early the next morning.

“Leigh,” your voice is broken and you wake to her slamming the car door shut. Leigh’s face is a mess from sleeping and crying in her makeup but that's not what you're thinking when you set your eyes on her. You startle her as she climbs the porch steps. “Oh,” you say as you put two and two together. Leigh's hair and outfit are all out of sorts and you remember seeing her like that after a night with you. “Okay then, I'm clearly wasting my time here,” you rise and stretch your stiff limbs, sore from sleeping next to the front door, and wipe yourself off. “I’m sorry, I'll leave you alone.”

Leigh watches you in shock, you're standing in front of her. You're a mess and you're here. She has images in her head of what you would look like by now. Clean and happy and waking up to a nice warm breakfast with Becca. Not here. Not waiting for her all night. “What are you doing here?” The words come out harder than intended and she wants to rewind but it's too late.

You scoff, “Making a fool of myself, clearly.” You start to walk away but Leigh reaches for your wrist to stop you and you do. It's been far too long without her touch and even this little bit is more than enough to get you to fall apart.

“I’m sorry, I panicked,” she says in a small voice with her head down. You sigh as you fight against your better judgment. She has a hold on you that you didn't realize was there until you almost lost it. Or maybe you have lost it. You don't know yet. “I’m not good at this. I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do.”

You aren't sure if she means that she's not good at ending things or if she's not good at fixing them. You look over at your car and think about the night you ended things with Becca. You still weren't certain if you felt the same way about Leigh or if you had those feelings for Becca so you had to see for yourself. You continued to talk with her after the whole thing with Leigh but you kept your distance. Then you finally took her on a date, ready to end the night in bed with her but throughout the evening you noticed how you had to force yourself to continue a conversation or even pay attention to one of her stories. It was natural with Leigh. When you tried to sneak a taste of her food she got weird and territorial about it, surprisingly Leigh never did. Whatever you thought you had with Becca before Leigh's confession was gone and you realized that the only person you wanted to be with was Leigh. So when you dropped Becca off at her apartment and she tried to kiss you, you stopped her and told her that you had a complicated thing with someone else and that you couldn't continue with Becca anymore. She took it very hard. She was in tears and she couldn't believe that you had strung her along the way you did. You tried to tell her it wasn't like that but it didn't do any good. It was hard to end things with her but it was what was best for the both of you.

Now you have to work it out with Leigh. Well, either you work it out or you have to let her go. “Just talk to me, Leigh. You tell me that you love me and then you run away. I've been worried sick for weeks and you wouldn't talk to me!” You pull your wrist out of her grasp and pace between her and the front door. Pulling on your already messy hair. “Then I come here and wait all night for you to let me in and you're off fucking someone else!” You stop in front of Leigh with red eyes and tears at the brim. “Am I stupid for being here?”

“No,” Leigh says as a wave of sadness hits her. Her lips quiver and she drops her shoes to grab your shirt to pull you close to her. “No, you're not stupid. I'm so sorry,” you let her lean against you, but you don't wrap your arms around her yet. Leigh sighs, happy to feel you again. “Gosh, I've missed you,” she whispers into your chest. “I didn't have sex with that person. I tried to but I didn't want to. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have ghosted you. I should have stayed. I'm sorry. Is it too late?” She pulls back enough to look at you.

Looking in her eyes, she is being sincere and vulnerable and you've never fallen for anyone harder than you are right now. You know that things won't always be easy with Leigh. But she is worth it. You wrap your arms around her and bring her into a warm embrace. You feel your heartbeat against you and it heals the cracks in your heart. “No, it's not too late.” You hold her. “But I do think we need to start over.”

“Okay, yeah,” she nods and sniffles. “Whatever you want. I'll do it. I just want to be with you,” she holds you tighter.

“I just want to be with you,” you say as you step back and pull her into a passionate kiss. It didn’t matter to you that she had a bad morning breath with a hint of whatever alcohol she consumed the night before. And your morning breath didn’t affect her either. In fact, she wanted more of you. But you pull away before she can deepen the kiss and rest your forehead against hers. “Will you let me take you out on a proper date, Leigh Shaw?”

“Yes, I will,” the two of you kiss again.

The End.

#smut #leigh shaw #leigh shaw smut #leigh shaw x reader #leigh shaw x you

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siriusleee · 8 months

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Like Blood on Iron | Part 6

Historical Executioner AU Summary: The executioner has always been an enigma to you - drawing you in. His sword drawing a line in the dirt as he made his way to the village center, and leaving back to his cottage on the outskirts of town. However, your curiosity can't stop the future your family has planned for you.

A/N: I am actually sorry to the anon who asked me weeks ago if this Jonathan is Jonathan Price and I said no. I lied. I couldn't show my hand to fast.

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You don't bring up running away with Simon again. You think about it, each night sitting in his cabin, the nights you spend beside him, fingers memorizing the hills and valleys of his body. It eats at you - the complete knowledge that if you were to leave alone, you would leave him behind. You're not sure what would be worse: a life without him or a life with him always on the fringes.

You almost bring it up again, just once. Lily had cooked too many sticky buns, something you'd found out Simon was completely susceptible to. There was a sneaking suspicion that she was doing it on purpose - you knew that she was smart enough to put it together: the cloak you'd returned, and all the nights you spent away. Watching him suck the syrup from his fingers, the question tumbled out of you - one you'd been thinking of for weeks.

"You can get married can't you? The last executioner was."

Simon froze, finger still poised in his mouth. His gaze kept you pinned to your seat as he thought about his answer.

"We cannot marry once we've been sentenced. However, if we were married previously, we stay married."

You had wanted to push the question further.

Would you marry me?

But you didn't ask it, instead keeping it close to yourself.

There was no good answer, and you knew whatever it was he said would break you anyway. So you keep the fantasies to yourself: of the two of you running away, of Simon being the one to wait for you at the end of the aisle. Even if it meant Mother and Father never speaking to you again, you would give it up for him. But you know what he would say, so you keep it to yourself.

You know you need to tell him when Jonathan is coming home, so you do. Curled up into the small of Simon's back, you whisper the words, mouth nearly pressed against his spine. It's a subtle shift, the way Simon tenses at the words, but you feel it nonetheless.

"He'll be back in the port tomorrow."

Simon swallows heavy in the silence.

"I hope he arrives in one piece."

He doesn't roll over to face you while the two of you speak, and you don't want him to. You couldn't take the look on his face, you know it.

"I'm sure he will. He's not new to sailing."

"I suppose you'll be staying home tomorrow night - to spend some time with him."

His voice clenches at your heart; absentmindedly you trace patterns on his back, fingers stuttering on the scars that litter him. Your favorite - one that's shaped vaguely like Orion, you trace, feeling the way Simon shutters at the feeling. It takes nearly a full minute for you to speak around the knot in your throat.

"I will have to stay late at home, yes. But I can come here after."

Simon shakes his head, the bed shaking beneath the two of you with the movement.

"He is your fiance; you should spend some time with him."

You can't think of anything you want to do less, but you know he's right, and you know he won't let you do otherwise. So you slip your hands around him, pulling him so that your chest is pressed tightly against his back, and let his breathing lull you to sleep.

He wakes you up earlier than usual to go home the next day.

When you step through the front door of your home, it's still dark outside. The faint sounds of the house sleeping greet you along with the smell of a long extinguished fire. Upstairs it's chilly, your feet freezing almost immediately against the wooden floor. Your first stop is to peek in at Maggie and Lily, each curled up against each other.

Your second is to clean up, to prepare for the day.

By the time everyone is awake, you've done your best to get some sort of breakfast ready. Or at least prepared enough that Maggie and Lily can take over.

"You look horrible," Maggie says, pulling the toast from the fire. Her eyes are dark moons against her skin, her hair still tangled.

"Thank you Maggie, I really appreciate it." Your sarcasm falls flat - she must notice, must know why because she doesn't have a retort for the first time.

"Are you excited?" She asks, pulling an apron around her waist to keep her skirt clean. You pretend to pick the dirt that isn't there from beneath your fingers so that you don't have to meet her pinpoint gaze.

You decide, after fiddling with your thumb for long enough, that there is no reason to lie to her.

"Not in the least bit."

Lily keeps her eyes downcast at the dough she forms roughly - dough for dinner tonight. You know the serving girl will be here later to help with it. Nothing can be spared for Jonathan's arrival. Jonathan who you will march towards in a month. Jonathan who had to know about Uncle Henry, and who couldn't do anything from halfway across the world.

"It could be worse you know, he-"

"Shut up Maggie."

Your words cut through the kitchen; around you the ambient temperature drops. Lily's hands still in her task, but she still doesn't look up at the two of you. Maggie turns to face you with a stiffness that could only be inherited from Mother.

"What did you say to me?" There's fire burning in her eyes, but today you don't care.

"I said shut up," your voice quavers, "you get to marry the man you want. You got a choice in your own life. You want to be a wife and mother. I want differently. I want to travel the world with the man I love, and I can't. So please, just fucking drop it Maggie."

Your eyes plead with her - don't rub in today. Just leave it be.

You don't know if it's the look you give her, or if she finally developed the ability to feel sympathy, but she drops it.

When breakfast is ready, you skip it. Your feet pull you heavily up the stairs and to your bed. Even with the sleep you got the night before, warmed by Simon and held tightly to his side, you crawl into bed, flinching at the cold that attacks you.

You force yourself to sleep.

For the first time in a long time, you have a bad dream.

It is Simon waiting for you at the altar, usually worn out black attire swapped for something new and clean. The flower lined path between the two of you is long, and it seems as if no matter how many steps you take, you can't get any closer. Eventually you start to grow frustrated.

A movement on your right startles you, and you realize your arm is linked with your Father's. He should be walking you towards Simon, but instead he's steadfast. He doesn't look at you; his sight is death upon Simon. When you try to pull your arm away from him, he keeps you glued to your side.

At the altar, Simon's face starts to warp and shift into something more dangerous. He grows almost skeletal, skin paling.

Behind him, the glint of a sword.

You recognize the hit, the cross so delicately affixed on the end. It's his own sword, the one assigned to him when he became the executioner. You try to shout for him, but your Father keeps his iron grip on you - you're too far away for Simon to hear your yell.

When the iron meets blood you wake up.

Your mouth is coated in copper and iron; you've bitten your tongue in your sleep. Between the slots in the shutter, you can tell the sun has shifted drastically. The smell of a roast drifts up to you; at the end of the bed a heavy gown, light blue and new to you, is laid across the foot of the bed. It's an obvious message from Mother on what to wear for the night.

Your legs are lead; trying to stand makes you dizzy and the blood in your mouth makes you want to vomit. The wavy mirror across the room winks at you, projecting back the ragged version of yourself. You frown at it, fingers rubbing your eyes to try to get the haggard look off of your face. But it's futile.

The dress is like water between your fingers; you can only imagine how much it must have cost Mother and Father - how much wasted money trying to impress someone who already agreed to marry you.

The dress is light against your skin - laces pulled tight in the front to keep the neckline from slipping down to low.

You hate blue.

Your favorite color had been red - the red that only showed on the horizon when the sun was setting late in the summer. The red of the berries you and Lily could find in the early fall. But once, you'd arrived at Simon's when he wasn't expecting you; when he answered the door he had a dirty tunic you'd never seen before: forest green and loose around him.

The sight of him in something other than black had changed your entire perspective on the idea of colors.

You know that your face still looks terrible when you arrive downstairs, but everyone has the good graces not to say anything. Instead, they skirt around you - a ghost they’re tired of seeing. Father walks past, boots so freshly shined that you’re sure if you bend down and look, you could see your reflection in them. His waistcoat is looser than you remember it being; you can’t remember the last time he ate a complete dinner.

Maggie’s at the door with Edward; his hand lingers at the small of her back. The sight of them makes you want to hurl - it’s not fair. It’s not -

“Hello.”

Soft air tickles the shell of your ear, causing you to jump and stumble into the wall. A warm, rough hand wraps around your elbow, pulling you away from crashing.

The corner of Jonathan’s eyes crinkle up at you, the corner of his mouth turning up as he looks down at you. The smell of the sea waves off of him: coarse salt and sunshine, blue waves rolling beneath the smooth deck.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, straightening you back up. He must feel how your muscles tense beneath his hand because he drops you, your skin tight where he touched you.

“I just wasn’t expecting you,” it’s the truth, and you don’t need to force yourself to sound pleasant because of it.

“I arrived early, but your little sister said you were sick and asleep,” he holds his hands behind his back as he speaks, spine ramrod straight and the stance reminds you so much of Simon that your stomach aches.

“I was sick earlier, but I feel fine now.”

“You don’t look fine.”

His golden brown mustache twitches when you shoot him a look of venom before you can stop yourself.

"Don't you think that's a rather rude statement to say to a lady you've barely spoken to."

"It would be rude," Jonathan starts, cutting off to nod and Maggie and Edward as they skirt past the two of you to duck into the dining room, "if I lied to you."

"Is that so? I suppose that's some sort of moral code you live by."

Your tone is piercing, but Jonathan doesn't seem to mind. You don't break your stare away from his eyes, surrounded by weatherbeaten wrinkles. The product of months spent burning in the intense sea sun. He steps half a step closer to you, mouth opened to retort, but is cut off by Father.

"Everyone come!"

The sound of chairs scraping on the floor fills the house, but you don't move. Jonathan stays in place beside you, arms crossed over his chest as he stares into the dining room. The silence stretches out across the two of you until Father yells at the two of you again. Jonathan gestures for you to go first, he follows so close behind you that you can feel him just at the hem of your dress.

You can tell by the furtive looks that everyone sends you throughout dinner that they're waiting on you to explode and run away again. Everyone but Jonathan, who chats happily with Edward and teases Lily, her small smile shining in the otherwise oppressive room. But the time crawls, and by the time Maggie and Edward stand to excuse themselves from the barren plates in front of them, you're exhausted.

You want to excuse yourself back to bed, and you think you might when Father leans back in his own chair, hands clasped tightly in his lap, and speaks to Jonathan.

"Jonathan I believe my daughter could use some fresh air; her complexion is terrible. Do you mind accompanying her?"

"No Father," you try to deflect, pushing yourself away from the table, "I'm sure Jonathan wants to get home. He must be exhausted."

Across the table, Jonathan studies you with a look you can't fathom. You try to beg him with your eyes to say no to decline the offer, but he doesn't.

"Nonsense," Father says, hand digging into his pocket for his tobacco, "you have a wedding in three weeks and the two of you barely know each other. Go."

His words leave a ringing in your ears; you find yourself moving like a wind up doll, following Jonathan to the door. You flinch away from him when he tries to settle your cloak across your shoulders, but he pulls away, and you take the strings from him.

The darkness is oppressive outside; fog rolls in heavy and pregnant from the sea. The last few villagers skirt around, attempting to avoid the rain that threatens to fall from above. Jonathan sets a leisurely pace, steering the two of you away from the town center. The silence stretches between the two of you, the only sound is the two of your feet against the hard packed dirt.

He steers you towards the pier, his ship bobbing in the distance. The lanterns scurry around the deck, but you can't make out the faces of the men carrying them.

"Where is it you want to sail first?" Jonathan's voice cuts through the wind rolling off of the waves. He keeps a distance between the two of you.

"What?"

"Where do you want to sail first? You are in charge of our path?"

You can't help the mirthless laugh that escapes you, hands clenched so tightly together beneath your cloak that you're losing sensation in your fingertips.

"I am in charge of no path Jonathan. Let's not make a pretense of this entire thing."

He shuffles his feet, boots carving the soft loam beneath the two of you.

"Is that how you feel?"

"It's not how I feel, Jonathan. It's the truth. We can labor under whatever pretense we want, but it's the truth."

You watch his hand come towards you from the corner of your eye, but it barely skirts the curve of your shoulder.

"Is there - is there someone else?"

You can feel his warmth through all the layers of your clothing; it's dangerous you know, to tell him the truth. To betray the secret happiness you and Simon have, but you're so tired of pretending to be someone else. Of pretending that there is nothing between you and Simon. So for once, you let the truth fall from you.

"Yes. There is."

You expect his hand to turn heavy, to dig into the sensitive skin of your shoulder and dash you across the ground. But if anything his hold growls more gently as he steps towards you, chest nearly touching your arm.

"Why don't you refuse - tell your Father you won't marry me. And marry him instead?"

"You're naive," you shrug his hand off, "if you think I have a choice. My Father settled on you, and that is what I have to do. I have no rights except the right to my home, which has to be provided to me by a man."

"And so you are stuck."

His mouth turns down as he speaks, fingers dipping into the neckline of his shirt. He pulls out a flash of a medal, and you recognize it from the one that dangles above you from Simon's neck.

"Let me guess," you cut him off, "you're going to tell me how much you relate to me. How the King and his military took all the choices you had once."

"How did you know?" He asks, letting the cross fall to dangle on his chest.

"You aren't the first person to ever tell me that."

"Was he wrong?"

You think of Simon telling you the same thing, think of the way he's been regulated to his position because of a mistake supposedly made on the battlefield. Of the way the both of you are trapped here under someone else's bootheel.

"He was right, in a way."

You pull yourself away from the image of the ocean, Jonathan following you faithfully. Your feet find the hidden path you and Simon used to walk when he was still Ghost to you.

"I don't suppose," you ask, rounding the farthest house and turning back towards home, "that you are so kind and noble that knowing I belong to someone else, you will tell my Father that you don't wish to marry me anymore."

Jonathan chuckles, watching you out of the corner of his eye.

"You don't think that you could grow to love me?"

You measure your words out with the beat of your steps.

"Perhaps in another life, Jonathan."

He doesn't answer your question. The last of the shutters close around the two of you as he walks you home, cloaks swishing over the dirt and cobblestones. Fat, heavy rain drops start to fall, you pull the hood of your cloak up to protect your hair. When the rain starts to fall harder, Jonathan follows suit.

At your front gate, you go to push past him and leave him at the latch, but Jonathan reaches out to stop you. His eyes shine at you from the darkness of his hood as he holds you still, one arm on each elbow.

"For what it's all worth: I am sorry."

You think, as he leans down, that he's going to kiss you, and the thought makes your stomach drop. But instead he presses a single, chaste kiss to your cheek before pulling away. Your skin tingles from where his beard touched your sensitive skin.

The rain starts to fall in a heavy sheet as he brushes past you, back towards where his ship is docked. You're stuck, fingernails digging into the wood of the front gate, and you think you might throw up from the feeling of the world rushing beneath your feet.

It's not until you lift your head, trying to unstick your feet from where you're frozen to the ground, that you catch sight of the looming figure down the street.

tag list: @silverianni, @milfs4lifee, @koi-feish, @shirabeastly, @pookie90, @ghostlythot, @hearts4sky, @crystallizedtime, @the-worlds-tempest, @myconglomerateromance, @elena-ph, @chaoticgoblindev, @pipocfamily, @canadianmilkbag, @caspertheassholeghost, @2512121morningstar, @glitterypirateduck, @elli0t3r, @clairdelunelove, @captainprice4life, @generaldestinychild, @crowsjourney, @c0pernicus, @wistfullyhypomanic, @arbesa-mind, @ray-rook, @daisyfrubies, @september-22-1996

#simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #my fics #ghost cod #simon riley smut #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #ghost cod x reader #cod fanfic #cod x reader #ghost call of duty #call of duty fanfic #call of duty mwii #like blood on iron

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abiiors · 11 months

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Lessons in Patience

oh, uh, happy birthday to him and time for me to disappear after posting this...

warnings: minors dni, orgasm denial, she/her pronouns, maybe just a smidge toxic idk, cockwarming??? typos maybe; it is what it is, anyway enjoy...

wc: 4k

the minimalist, modern round clock on the wall ticks by mercilessly slow.

the office is fully his space, designed to his tastes and likes, and she, the intruder. sure, she’s a very very welcome intruder but an interloper regardless. and there’s not much she can do but peak at her husband over the edge of the book she’s been reading for the past half an hour. or trying to at least. just in the last five minutes, she’s read the same three lines at least seven times. it’s of no use but, the other option is to sit and stare at ross while he works. which is always a good option. except today.

in his fitted black button-down, that’s tastefully unbuttoned, he looks like the stuff of her fantasies. he has always been, of course, but the way his gold chain peeks out and grazes the hollow of his throat every time he moves, makes her think all kinds of thoughts. his mouth is parted in concentration, pink lips that he occasionally gnaws on, and his thick brows furrow as he intensely stares at whatever’s on the screen.

and while it’s enough to turn her thoughts extremely filthy, the realisation that he hasn’t been paying her any attention douses cold water on her for the millionth time.

‘ross,’ she calls out, desperately trying to keep the neediness out of her voice, ‘how much longer?’

he hums distractedly without looking up, ‘need to read this thing before i sign it, my love.’

obviously, that’s not the answer she’s looking for. “need to read the thing” can range from anywhere between ten minutes to an hour, and he’s so focused on it too.

‘baby, take a break!’

he shakes his head minutely, ‘we just had lunch, darling, an hour ago.’

‘yeah, but…’ she trails off because it’s useless. he’s clearly not listening.

bent over his slick macbook, hand rubbing his face occasionally, he is the utter portrait of focus. her mind wanders to the drawers of his desk where she knows she’ll find the small toy. this is not her first rendezvous here; nor would it be her last. that desk has seen a lot of things; from their first scandalous hookup in a moment of weakness, to multiple quickies when she has come over. there was even that one time when she had knelt between his legs as he tried to focus on a zoom interview. matty had gone on and on with his thoughtful answers till ross eventually muted the thing and tangled his fingers in her hair. she snickers at the sudden sympathy she feels for the inanimate object. not that it makes ross waver even a smidge. if only, he leans closer to the screen. it’d certainly be a shame if she were to be a…distraction.

because there is always a third option.

she pushes herself off the plush settee and saunters over to him purposefully. this has been going on for a week now and she’s had enough of it! enough of him coming home by the time she’s just starting her day, enough of him being dead asleep by the time she returns. and this is not to blame him, of course. she knows how busy he can get once they start getting closer to the release date. but she’s had enough of not seeing him for more than a few hours throughout the week. despite them living together.

a finger trails down the side of his jaw. down his neck too. she makes sure to use her nail, red-painted and sharp, and halts it right over his pulse point.

‘lunch was two hours ago.’ a pout. an exaggerated one, sure, but it does the job because he chuckles at her restlessness.

‘fine, two hours ago. that’s still not a long time.’

‘isn’t it?’ now she’s just being petulant. she leans down, lips hovering right over where her finger was just a moment ago and trails them down his neck the same way. he stills. ‘it could be great if you took a quick break…’

this she whispers suggestively and leaves the thought half-finished so his brain might try and fill in the gaps. and it works like a charm.

‘oh,’ he breathes softly, his focus now wavering slightly, but he hasn’t set the laptop aside and turned all his attention to her. not yet.

‘baby…’ he warns but his voice lacks its usual conviction. torn between work and wife, ross fidgets for a second. ‘i only need a little more time…’

‘you’ve said that to me twice already.’ another kiss. this time, she even strokes his bicep and the muscles under his black shirt respond to her touch.

‘oh you’re impatient, aren’t you?’ he turns to her partially, only looking at her through the corner of his eye but it’s enough. she’s so close to achieving her goal that she can almost taste it.

taste him.

‘so what if i am?’

‘i said,’ his voice takes on a commanding tone, ‘wait a little more.’

on any other day, she would have obeyed the tone almost instantly. she likes their little routine where he’s in control, likes riling him up enough that he reminds her of it. not today though. today she has no patience fo it.

‘and i said,’ she grits out, equally testy and bold, ‘i want your attention.’

‘that’s all you want?’ he challenges.

‘mmm, for now.’

cheekily, she sidles up to him to find an in, one opening to slide onto his lap. but with one huge hand on her hip, he holds her firmly in place.

ross shakes his head, one eyebrow raised in warning, ‘are you in a mood?’

about to protest indignantly, she opens her mouth. instead, a squeal comes out when he sharply tugs her towards him.

‘are you that desperate for me?’ he asks again when she’s firmly trapped between his thighs. his voice, his whole demeanour has shifted entirely. now the man in front of her is staring at her intently; his pupils so dilated that his eyes look black. and she’s not just trapped physically, no, he also has her hooked on him. because she simply cannot look away even when a flush creeps up her cheeks.

‘answer me, darling,’ he mocks while his fingers grip her hips even tighter. ‘not going to run your mouth anymore?’

that snaps her back quickly, just as quickly as the wetness pools between her legs. ‘and if i say yes?’ she challenges right back, ‘are you going to do something about it?’

another sudden tug and now she’s landed right in his lap, right where she has been trying to get. her breath leaves her body the minute she feels his bulge press against her crotch.

‘oh you really are being a brat today, huh.’ fingers grabbing harshly at her chin so he can make her look at him, ‘my little attention whore. you want my cock? will that shut you up?’

she nods as much as his grip allows her to. still, it’s enthusiastic and more than a little desperate. the sound of him unzipping his trousers makes her grind her hips in anticipation. her hands move swiftly, fidgeting to take him out of his trousers and boxers but ross wraps a hand around her wrist.

the man has saintly patience. and right now it’s a fucking problem.

‘you only get,’ he speaks slowly, as if to drill each word into her, ‘what i give you. do you understand?’

too eager to even protest, she nods quickly but he’s not satisfied. ‘use your words, my love,’ he taunts and slides her underwear to the side, ‘tell me you understand.’

‘i do,’ she whines, ‘i’ll only get what you give me. but please, just—’

she’s cut off quickly by a harsh kiss; teeth biting her lower lip till she gasps. his tongue runs over the spot, soothing and teasing before he slips it inside her mouth. his hands, once again back on her hips, lift her up until she feels the familiar feeling of his tip nudging against her.

she slowly sinks onto him, adjusting to the delicious thickness of him, stretched out just enough to straddle the boundary between painful and pleasurable. mindnumbing.

his hands hold her down, giving her time to adjust to him she thinks, but…

but when she tries to move, he doesn’t let her.

‘ah ah,’ he tuts, ‘what did i just say? you,’ he kisses the corner of her mouth, ‘will only,’ another kiss, ‘get what i give you.’

and with that he turns around to his laptop once again, completely unfazed by anything.

flabbergasted would be an understatement.

for a moment, nothing else registers. not the desk digging into her back, not the clacking of his keys, not even his breath on her neck. the only thing she feels is him, thick and hard inside her and the urge to move, to grind against him, to create some friction. the ache between her legs intensifies tenfold.

‘wha—’

‘you wanted my attention so desperately and now you have it.’ he answers it so nonchalantly that she wonders for one insane moment if she’s imagining him inside her. ‘now are you going to be a good girl let me finish this?’

‘no–’

‘or are you going to complain and whine?’

his interruptions have her seething. this is torture and he’s doing it on purpose; making her keep his dick wet while he continues to ignore her. and acting like the feeling of her tight cunt and her hard breathing doesn’t bother him one bit when she can feel him twitching inside her.

what had he called her before? a brat? she’ll show him what a brat is.

with renewed determination, she lifts up her hips, ready to sink down on him again, ready to set the pace but he calls out her name in warning. a sound that sends a million shivers down her spine.

‘i’m going to give you one last chance.’ his eyes bore into hers, dark and unflinching, ‘be still for me. until i tell you to move. you know what good girls get?’

oh so now he wants to play games. fine then, she’ll indulge him. ‘what?’

he leans closer, mouth right next to her ear, breath hot on her neck, ‘good girls get to cum. you want that don’t you?’

yes, yes she does, very desperately. but she doesn’t like his tone, doesn’t like being denied things after displaying a saintly amount of patience all week.

‘i can make myself cum,’ she huffs. her tone is not nearly as haughty as she wants it to be but haughtiness is not the point of this. this is a trap and she needs him to walk into it. take the bait.

ross only raises an eyebrow because seemingly, he knows her better than she knows herself at this point. he’s calling her bluff.

‘no, i’m serious!’ her hand trails down, making sure to graze against his chest on the way. heart beating faster than ever, she smirks at him right as she rests it right above her clit.

he moves, just the smallest amount, and a jolt of lightning runs through her entire body so fast that she almost falls onto him. she can imagine this, face into the crook of his neck while he lazily fucks into her, slowly and leisurely until she’s had enough of this pace. then he would grab her hips and make her bounce up and down on his cock till she’s limp with pleasure.

all of this if she showed some patience.

but no.

she wants him now. not twenty, ten, five minutes later. now.

her finger rests on her clit and she sucks in a sharp breath, about to flip the tables on him. she’s salivating at the idea…oh, how tortured he would look, how angry. he would surely forget all about his work then…

a hand roughly closes around her wrist and yanks it away. her eyes meet his, dark and angry. no, he’s livid.

‘i warned you, love. didn’t i?’

*****

a buzzing sound fills the room, almost menacing, while she lies splayed on the desk, hands tied together with his belt. a thrill of anticipation shoots down her spine. this is what she’s been waiting for all day, well a much tamer iteration of it but she has no one but herself to blame for it really. she had squealed the second he pulled out of her and cleared the desk with one swoop of his hand. not that there was much on it, to begin with, but watching him “prepare it” was thrilling just the same. plus there’s the knowledge that anyone can hear what’s going on. yes, his office is locked and almost sound-proof but who’s to say they won’t still be interrupted by a knock or a phone call or any other number of factors?

‘look at you…’ he walks towards her now, the tiny bullet vibrating in his hands. her underwear has long been discarded to one side and her dress is now pushed up to her stomach; all of her lower half on display for him. ‘all eager and pathetic.’

it seemed like all her brattiness had paid off, it seemed like a reward…at first. but now the vibrator buzzes closer to her swollen clit, almost touching, almost—

her thoughts are cut off when he abruptly presses it against her. a sharp cry rings out, her legs going taut instantly as she melts into the sensation. he moves it again, down her slit and back up again spreading delicious tingles all over her body.

‘feels so good…’ she breathes out. three words, that’s as much as she can get out at the moment.

‘does it?’

she hums in response, she thinks so anyway because the bullet circles her clit lightly again. the toy rests against her just long enough for her to get used to it before he moves it away. he ups the setting, making her jerk violently. it’s sudden, it’s amazing and she almost doesn’t register that there’s something in his tone.

‘just like that…’ she gasps softly as toy runs over her inner thighs and then against her opening.

‘just like that, yeah?’ he repeats her words back to her and she gasps out a yes in response. the darker tone lingers, but none of it matters as the familiar knot builds at the base of her spine. a moan as her back arches off the desk, she’s so close, so…

it stops.

he stops altogether.

a feeling of annoyance and borderline anger washes over her. ‘why did you stop?!’

through her half-open eyes, she can see his arched eyebrows, mouth quirked to one side in amusement. ‘you think you deserve to cum? what did i say to you before hmm?’

She tries to jog her memory while the bullet comes to life once again.

‘come on, darling,’ he mocks, ‘i haven’t got all day. what did i say before?’

he rests the vibrator on her lower stomach, inching it downward at a snails pace as she tries to come up with an answer, ‘umm, ahh, i don–i don’t remember.’

‘yes you do.’ his finger slides up her slit, collecting her wetness and spreading it on the tip of the bullet. ‘what did i say about getting to cum?’

‘ahh, oh,’ she tries to speak but it turns into breathless garble as soon as the tip nears her clit again. ‘you said—you said good girls get—fuck, ross please!’

‘good girls get what? hmm? go on,’ he asks again and lifts the bullet up and away from her leaving her feeling cold and whiney and much more frustrated than before. the belt digs into her wrists as she struggles against it, not enough to cause any serious harm, but she knows they would be red by now.

‘good girls get to cum,’ she spits out glaring at him with as much anger as she can muster. of course, he’s ready with his next question.

‘and have you been a good girl?’

the cycle starts again, vibrator purring right above her clit, then moving down mercilessly slow until her thoughts turn to mush and yet she’s somehow expected to form a coherent answer.

‘have you?’ he asks again, ‘really think about it.’ his thumb joins the vibrator this time, calloused and rough, as he rubs her in tandem.

‘i can be–i will be, plea–fuck, i promise please.’ a string of incoherent pleas come out of her mouth the harder he goes. her legs shake and spasm, she’s so close again, almost there, almost ready to make a mess on the table but ross has other plans.

he tuts and takes away her pleasure once again.

‘you can be, i know you can,’ he walks to her side, looking down at her now and parts her lips with the thumb that was on her clit a moment ago. ‘but have you been good today?’

thumb pushed in her mouth, she glares once again. tears form at her lower lashline but she won’t let them fall. instead, she flicks her tongue around his thumb in a silent plea.

she can be a good girl for him, she really can.

he laughs darkly and walks away again only to stand right between her legs. she imagines what she must look like to him from this angle. legs spread wide apart and her swollen cunt on display, her thighs must probably be a mess from her wetness. hands tied together above her head. and that he’s clearly enjoying as he eyes her hungrily.

the fire burns hot and hungry, ready to incinerate anything in its wake. her body burns with it; feverish and writing as she tries to grind on his face. his hands dig into her thighs keeping her still in place. she has no agency in this; she is only his plaything. what had she said before? she can make herself cum? well of course he had taken that as a challenge. because now, desperate as she is, nothing would make her let go until he says so.

and he won’t say it until he’s done having his fun.

‘so fucking sweet,’ he hums against her, ‘almost want to let you cum now so i can taste you…’

she’s sure she nods at that. yes, yes, do that. let me. it’s not just for her benefit, it’s for his too. but then he clicks his tongue softly.

‘but you know what they say about patience…’

she doesn’t. that’s what got her here in the first place.

his teeth are on her inner thigh, biting and leaving behind a million red marks that his tongue soothes an instant later. but it doesn’t stop there. his tongue is almost as cruel as his teasing. it laps at her, broad strokes and kitten licks, and swirls around her clit till her thighs are clenched around him and shaking, spasming. maybe he’s finally going to let her cum after denying her time and time again.

‘so close,’ she mumbles in a daze, ‘please i’m going to cum, please.’

‘no you’re not,’ he stops momentarily and her head spins. please not again, not again. the pressure inside her is painful, she feels like she’s about to burst into tiny pieces and yet he has his hand on her stomach, holding her down, holding her together.

‘hold it,’ he commands and sucks on her clit again.

‘i can’t–please, ross, i ca–can’t!’ the tears spill over and she doesn’t care about the begging any more.

‘yes you can,’ he gets up and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘if you don’t hold it…well,’ he looks at his laptop and shrugs casually, ‘i do still have two pages left to read. should i–’

‘no!’ she cries out, holding onto the sobs that threaten to spill. for once she’s grateful for the belt tying her hands together, if it weren’t for that, she would have long since ripped out her hair in frustration. ‘no please, i’ll be good, i’ll be a good girl.’

that makes him smirk. ‘now you want to be a good girl for me? would this have happened if you would have sat still for twenty minutes? hmm?’

she shakes her head vigorously. no, it wouldn’t have. her head lolls to one side, too tired from shaking it and ross laughs. it’s languid and careless, like he really could just walk back to his macbook without a second thought. she could be lying almost spreadeagle on his desk all day and none of it would matter until he’s done.

‘my pretty baby,’ he coos, fingers trailing up her thigh and resting at the apex, ‘are you going to be a brat again?’

‘no,’ she mumbles and whines out his name again, ‘i–please, ross, please.’ those are the only words she’s capable of saying anyway. everything else has gone hazy and through it all she sees his lazy grin as he lowers his mouth between her legs again.

‘have you learned your lesson yet?’ spoken so close to her cunt that she feels his gravelly voice shoot straight to her core. she has no idea what she says but it must have satisfied him because his tongue is back on her, so is his thumb.

somewhere the buzzing starts again or it might just be her ears ringing at this point as she loses herself to the tingling feeling in her body. nothing else matters, only him and pleasing him and being a good girl for him. a jolt goes through her whole body at the touch of the vibrator once again. she can’t take it anymore, not again, not—

‘good,’ he hums, tongue dipped between her folds, ‘you can let go now.’

he doesn’t even finish the sentence before she’s moaning the loudest she has, screaming practically as her thighs clench around his head and the knot inside her breaks. waves after waves after waves of pleasure crashing on her until she’s practically drowning in ecstasy. there’s nothing else but his mouth and his voice. she doesn’t know anymore where they are or what day it is or how long she’s been here.

all she knows is that she’s trembling and shaking, head lolled to one side. coming down from her high and cold at the absence of his touch. a few minutes later his hands are back on her thighs along with something damp and cold that feels amazing against her skin. every small graze against her clit makes her wince and he apologises softly, first through his words and then by placing small kisses on her head, her shoulder, her hip, whatever’s closest to him.

‘baby?’ the leather around her wrists loosens and his fingers rub at the red marks as if that would make them go away. maybe they would dissipate a little.

‘hmm?’

she’s surrounded by his scent now and the feeling of his arms around her. ‘can’t keep your eyes open can you?’

‘mm-hmm.’

‘can’t do much of anything it seems.’ his voice is back to being kind and sweet but there’s also some teasing in it and of course, some smugness. he has just fucked her to within an inch of her life of course…and he didn’t shed a single item of clothing.

there’s a brief feeling of floating before she feels solid ground again, it’s a lap. ross’s lap.

‘we’re leaving in ten minutes,’ he tells her. but she’s too far gone to care.

#ross macdonald #ross macdonald fanfic #ross x reader #ross macdonald x reader #ross macdonald x you #ross x you #ross the 1975 #ross macdonald fic #ross macdonald smut #the 1975 #the 1975 fic #the 1975 fanfic #the 1975 smut #smut writing #matty healy #george daniel #adam hann #minors do not interact #smut

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not-goldy · 2 months

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Tkk have zero respect for Jk. Today, tkk still lying saying Jikook seperated after 5 weeks or Jk wanted to join Tae, but can't cause of tattoos, even tho he never said any of that & Jimin was a last resort, even tho Jk could've enlisted alone. Mad they didn't get the buddy system for their favs. My question tho, why is it Jk always doing all the sacrificing in their minds? Its Jk wanted to be with his baby, but couldn't. You don't hear them say Tae could've enlisted with Jk instead, if tattoos were an issue tho. Do you? Does this mean Tae doesn't love JK as much as Jk loves Tae, since Tae didn't sacrifice what he wanted to do, to be with Jk? You don't hear them saying poor Jk, when all tae's pictures of him and jennie hit the web or Tae was vacationing with her or walking with her holding her hand in Paris and how Tae spent more time in Paris with Jennie, then he did with Jk on that friend ski trip. Do you? Its always Jk either being the shitty BF emotionally abusing Tae & even physically cause they try to say Jk yanks Tae away from people, etc or its Jk is the reason Taekook is not Taekooking or Its his tattoos, he couldn't go, but he wanted too LIE. Its them saying Tae tried to tell us for months Jk is his lover, but Jk is off doing fanservice with others and hurting Tae instead. The flip flopping narratives & victim complex throw on Tae is disturbing. Its okay for Tae to fuck Jennie for 2 years, hold her hand in Paris, take intimate pics in her bed, take couple selfies with her in his house wearing matching clothes, follow her on IG, lounge in bed with Wooga and kiss on them and go off with them and hang on randoms in paris & say he likes Jimin the most over Jk and move another man into his home who is not Jk. See all of that is okay in their minds and yet they still manage to make Jk the abuser treating tae like shit, cause how dare he enlist with another man, hang out with his 97 line, its all fanservice, he doesn't treat tae right.

They don't know what narrative they want to run with, but they know whatever it is, Tae has to be the main character. They are all tae solos and want him to be the main character no matter what. Even if it means painting him as a helpless abused victim by the most popular idol on one hand & on the other, the one Jk has to make sacrifices for, but never the other way around. Tae can treat JK like garbage, cause its deserved for all his years doing fanservice with Jimin. They really hate Jk and they hate him more now since Chapter 2, cause he didn't play along with what Tae was doing. Plain and simple, but he's the most popular idol and that pairs well with more attention on Tae when it comes to trending, so they keep him around for that. Its not Taekook they like. Its the ship being big that they like and the attention they get from it and the bigger the ship, the more attention for Tae and that is what matters. That's what it always been about it. Funny thing is though, Tae hates these fools and keeps shitting on their fantasies on purpose and they keep letting him. He gives a little, then snatches their fucking scalps for them. Deserved too.

That's an understatement I don't know a single Tuktukkers who likes Jungkook for real

In fact he has no agency no autonomy where they are concerned everything he does is coerced, against his will there's no free choice in their vocabulary

To think some of them are grown adults with this mindset is crazy

Jungkook has been caught sneaking Jimin into his hotel room by hybe hidden cameras and nooooo Jimin is the one to blame for it. Not the guy who sneaks into his room at 1am to lie on his bed doing absolutely nothing

They just can't admit the fact Jungkook IS NOT who and what they think he is nor what they want him to be in their ship realm.

And they HATE him for it too

They hate that man they ship with their favs

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littlemissaddict · 3 months

Text

Just a little StevexFem!Reader something, not proofread and unedited.

I Told You So

“You've got to be kidding me!” Robin's voice echoes throughout the empty store as soon as the door closes behind the last customer.

“What have you done now?” Steve sighs from behind the counter as he tries to peer around the shelves to find where Robin's voice came from.

“Me? Nothing” she answers, finally revealing her location and moving, with purpose, to join Steve at the counter. “You on the other hand” she trails off as Steve scoffs.

“Me? What have I done other than doing what we are paid to do?” He defends, not liking that he's been blamed for something when he doesn't even know what that something is.

“Oh my god, I knew you were an idiot but I didn’t think you were blind as well” Robin groans dramatically and buries her head in her hands. Steve is even more confused now but he's starting to realise that this has to have nothing to do with work. “I swear you flirt with everyone girl that walks through that door but that girl,” Robin throws her arm in the direction of the door where said girl has not long since left, “That one girl who is so clearly into you, you have never even thrown a line her way” she explains but by the confused look still on Steve's face she can tell he has no idea who she is talking about until she says her name.

A look of recognition washes over Steve's face and finally she thinks he's realised but then a frown settles on his face. “I think you've gotten it mixed up Robs, she's not into me she's just friendly is all” he replies with a shake of his head. Sure Steve's desperate to find ‘the girl’ the one that he can love and who will love him back, the one who he can share a future with, a family with but the girl Robin is talking about is not her. Yes she's friendly, always greeting him with a smile, asking him how his day was or how his weekend had been but they were not signs that she was into him.

Robin feels like banging her head against a wall at how stupid Steve is being. “Really!?” She fixed him with a stare and he nodded in reply. “Okay so let's say she is just being friendly, why does she come in almost every shift that you're here?”

“She likes movies, me being here has nothing to do with it” he answers with a shrug.

Robin groans, “So when she comes in, she says hi to both of us, just being friendly but say she's browsing the films and I go over to ask if she wants any help you can guarantee her answer will be she's just looking” she sets up the scene for him, it's something she'd noticed after just a couple of visits to the store not that she's bothered by it but she just wishes Steve would do something to put the poor girl out of her misery. “However, if you go over and ask if she wants any help then the answer is always yes and she'll spend ages listening to your awful taste in movies and she'll always leave with one of the films you recommend” Robin adds, hoping that Steve will finally get it.

“I don't have awful taste in movies” he protests, thankful that the store is empty as he doesn’t want anyone else to have to listen to Robin's fantasy world. “And clearly it's just a case of right time right place” he responds in answer to her previous accusation.

Robin answers his stupidity with a groan of frustration, throwing her hands up in defeat. “Fine don't believe me but next time she's in and you're being your normal charming self, flirt a little and you'll see” she says, pushing herself from the counter and walking back towards the pile of movies she was sorting through before all this.

For the next week Steve had been scrutinising his every encounter with her because as much as he hated to admit he was wrong, Robin's words had stuck with him and while he wasn't getting his hopes up that a pretty girl was finally into him, he had started realise that Robin had been right and that she seemed to hang around and wait for him instead of Robin. So he'd had it planned, he was going to do as Robin said, he was going to flirt a little and see her reaction just to make sure.

As if on cue the door chime sounded and he looked up from the pile of videos he was scanning back into stock only to be greeted with her smile. Steve couldn't help but smile back, “If it isn't my favourite customer, what can we find for you today?” He asks, abandoning the tapes and making his way around the counter towards her. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Robin's head peek over the top of one of the racks from where she was returning already scanned tapes back to the shelves.

“Oh uh” she stumbled over her words and Steve wondered if it had been his ‘favourite customer’ quip or if she was just surprised by his forwardness today as usually she would browse the shelves for a bit before either he or Robin asked if she needed any help. “Um I'm not sure, what do you suggest” she covers her words with a small smile hoping it would distract from her earlier slip up of nerves.

“Well what do you fancy, action?”

She shakes her head.

“Horror?”

Another no. Steve had expected that though as he knew she didn't like them but he liked to tease.

“No I know, no tough guy to keep you safe while watching. Sci-fi?” He moved on as if it were nothing, like he hadn't just remembered something she'd said months ago, even if it was a joke, and that she wasn't short circuiting in front of him.

Another, albeit delayed shake of the head.

“How about a bit of romance?” He followed his words with suggestive raises of his eyebrows that had her stuttering out an ‘okay’ as she followed behind him towards the right section.

Steve was enjoying himself, it'd been a while since his attempts to flirt had received anything but a roll of the eyes or in some cases a giggle if they'd been after a bit on discount but he doesn’t think he'd managed to turn anyone into a stuttering mess. Maybe Robin was right and he was expecting a ‘told you so’ in the very near future but he was going to make it worth it, maybe get her to agree to a date before she left.

“Now this one I have been told, from a very credible source, is a classic” he played it up, reaching toward the shelf and pulling out The Princess Bride, “it tells the tale of a beautiful princess who falls for a simple farm boy, who is in search of employment and gets attacked by a pirate?” Steve stops a little confused by the synopsis of the film and as he hears a giggle he looks up to find it coming from her.

“Sounds like it has a bit of everything” she smiles, sounding more like her normal self than the stuttering mess Steve had made her with his unexpected flirting. “Ok you've convinced me, I'll take it” she adds, holding out her hand for the tape.

Steve moves to give her it before he seems to rethink pulling it back again. “Too late, I think it's already been rented,” he teases, a sad smile on his face, “so I guess you'll just have to come watch it with me” he adds notchantly as though it's an afterthought and not as if he'd planned it from the moment he realised that Robin was right.

“Well then I suppose that'll have to do” she tries to play it cool when really she's freaking out because Steve Harrington has practically just asked her on a date. “Friday night, your place?” She asks.

“Friday night, my place” he confirms with a nod. Problems, or in this case perks, of living in a small town everyone knew everyone's business including where they lived.

“I'll be seeing you then” she nods, the smile in full force on her face as she turns, heading towards the door but she stops before she exits. This time turning in the opposite direction, Robin's direction, and that's when Steve notices that Robin's still peeking over the shelves but she's quick to duck down as if she hadn't been watching the two of them. “bye Robin” she chuckles before actually leaving this time.

After the sound of the door closing and the footsteps retreating does Robin finally exit her hiding place. “You know Robin, if this works out then I owe you one” Steve smiles appreciatively at her as he places the tape on the counter ready to ring out.

“Yeah, yeah that's just what friends are for, just don't parade it in front of my lonely, single self” laughs with a shake of her head.

#steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things

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malina-33 · 9 months

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Femme like you - Chapter 1

Summary: You are the new tour manager for Arctic Monkeys during The Car era. You are practically the only girl in the team, also younger than the rest (27), so your skills are immediately called into question. In particular, by the frontman who is not used to being led by a woman.

Word count: 3,1k

Warning: age gap

A/N: Hi, you all!!! I'm so thrilled and excited to do this kind of stuff, but it feels like I'm making my dream come true. This series won't be very long even though I have an eye-watering number of moments I want to release in this fic, but English isn't my first language and it's pretty tough to write in it (so if you find any mistakes don't be afraid to text me and correct). I spent a lot of time to write this small opening chapter, that’s why following parts won't appear regularly, but I promise to uptade them every 2-3 weeks! They will definitely be longer that the opener😉

I read a lot of works with Alex, 'cause my addiction doesn't seem to disappear, so this idea just popped in my head and I couldn't resist. Never thought that I would be an author, not a reader in Tumblr, but voila - here I am. I really expect you to love it❤️

And yes, I know that their current tour manager is Steven Champan, but for the story I changed it slightly, hope you won't mind :)

“James, seriously?” Alex looked away in bewilderment from the bottle of Hennessy to Ford.

“More than you can imagine” producer chuckled. “I will be with my family in Scotland, I haven’t seen them in a while, and she will replace me for the UK and European parts only, it’s about one and a half months”.

Turner looked him up and down with a displeased look, still sitting on the couch with a bottle in his hands “That’s ridiculous. She has never worked with us! She will break into all our well-established processes, not knowing the specifics of the work and will only interfere. We'll make it on our own, not the first time, man, huh?” Alex decided to soften his tone a little to appease his friend and cutely knitted his eyebrows.

“Al, you are being childish. C’mon, we have already agreed on everything, she is a good specialist, don't let yourself be deceived by her appearance” Ford threw a jacket over his shoulders, silently saying that the conversation is over.

“Just because she's your friend's daughter doesn't mean she's good!” The singer spat out the last argument hoping to reach out to the conscience of their producer.

“Give her a chance, you won't be disappointed” James said mysteriously, closing the door quietly behind him and leaving the disgruntled frontman alone with his obsessive thoughts.

***

You sat in your car in the parking lot in front of the Domino Records headquarters, nervously clutching a Starbucks cup. There were still 20 minutes before the meeting, but you arrived early. All the documents had already been signed, the agreements had been discussed, but the most thrilling moment remained - the meeting with the group itself and the technical crew.

When James Ford, your father's old friend from university and at the same time music producer for Arctic Monkeys, called you several weeks ago with an unusual request, you simply didn't have a chance to refuse. You've been dreaming of working in this industry since 16, especially since you adored this group and were at their concerts six times. Being their manager for one part of the 7th album tour sounded like a fantasy, but here you are, sitting in front of their label building, where you have a meeting with the musicians. If you caught the lucky girl syndrome, then you definitely didn’t want to let it go. At least not now.

From the trance into which you plunged by shaking coffee in the cup, you were brought out by the deafening creak of tires on asphalt. You immediately snapped out and looked in the rearview mirror. An elegant Cadillac whistled and stopped 3 parking lots away from you just passing the dividing line.

You weren't stupid not to realize whose car it was. The passenger got out, slamming the door sharply. He was wearing a beige trousers and matching jacket with black vest underneath, translucent red aviators were on despite a cloudy day. Paying no attention to your car and not even bothering to close his, a man quickly walked inside the building.

You followed the door closed behind Alex Turner itself with a blank look, finished your coffee in one gulp and also got out of the car, taking your purse from the passenger seat. Having heard about his "punctuality", you assumed that everyone else had already arrived, so you walked to the building as well. "There's no point in delaying this moment, let's start early" you bravely told yourself.

The studio in southwest London wasn't as big as you expected it to be. The guard pointed you to room 14, saying that you were already awaited. Inside, the bright corridors were hung with rare photographs, including images of early Monkeys' concerts. You smiled slightly as you looked at the photos of four young people laughing with their hands in their pockets. "Nice time" you thought.

You didn't really understand why you were so inflamed. You are all adults, lads have been warned about the change in management in advance so it won’t be a surprise for them, what could be the problem? You had enough work experience to know what to do, you were excellently good-looking and successful, then why did your palms sweat? Immersed in your thoughts you didn’t notice that you had reached the end of the corridor and stopped at the half-open door, from behind which quiet voices could be heard.

“Oi, she better buy me a bottle of beer on the way, my head hurts after yesterday. Why did I come so early, gosh?”

“It's been 5 minutes since you've been here, and you've already blown my mind’’. Seemed that it was Matt.

"I prefer to come sober to meetings scheduled in advance, but for the future I will keep in mind to see you no earlier than Tuesday, Mr. Turner”. Maybe it wasn’t the best greeting phrase, but you just couldn't resist. When you entered the room with these words, 7 surprised pairs of eyes met your figure. Alex, Matt and Nick were sitting on a leather sofa in the center of the room, Jamie was pouring water into a glass at a side table, Steven was sitting in a chair talking to Ben, who was reclining on the arm of this chair, behind them was a man whose name you didn’t know.

"I'm sorry," you quickly became embarrassed, realizing how inappropriate those words sounded. Silence reigned in the room for a few seconds, but was quickly interrupted by the awkward coughing of that same unfamiliar man. "Um guys, this is your new tour manager for these two months, Y/N Y/S" He said softly enough, stepping out from behind the chair and holding out his hand for you. "I'm Marcus, James' assistant, the rest you should know".

"Yeah, right, he told me about you, I'm very glad to meet you," and carefully shifting your gaze to the others you added "everyone".

You stood in your knee-length leather boots, denim shorts and an oversized cream-colored jacket not knowing what to do with the burning eyes on your persona.

"Actually, I brought a homemade cider as an ice-breaker, it's in my trunk, so after the official part of the meeting we can try it. Not beer, but still tasty," you said with an apologetic smile, trying your last attempt to ease the conversation. The room froze in silence once again, and in this moment Matt laughed out loud, slapping his knee and throwing head back on the headboard. Jamie and Nick joined him, smiling broadly, while Ben, Steven, and Marcus chuckled hoarsely as they looked at each other. Only Alex remained frowning as he continued to scan your figure.

"I like her already! Great move, miss Y/S" Matt said, obviously being amazed.

You breathed a sigh of relief as you sat down in the chair Marcus offered you. He was noticeably younger than the others, near your age, which immediately made you sympathize with him.

"Well, when we finally got to know each other, let's get down to business. As you all know James is on an unscheduled vacation due to family circumstances. Hence we are going to work with Miss Y/S in UK and Europe festivals, while I will assist her. I know that Y/N discussed with James all the main points about dates, places and stuff, but now we have to delve into details of the organization process itself. Ben and I will explain the tech part and the lads will share their preferences" Steven began the discussion by leaning a little closer to the center of your improvised circle. He seemed to be a very wise and at the same time charismatic man. Attractive, but platonically.

“Sorry, may I interrupt before we start” It sounded more like a statement from Alex. “How old are you, once again?"

"I'm 27, Mr. Turner. And let's make it clear, since this still raises questions. Yes, I'm quite young relative to you and indeed a stranger to your team. But I've known James for a long time, as well as your work, whose main fan I have been since 18. I have been in show business for 7 years now and worked with Maneskin at the very beginning of their career. It’s not difficult for me to provide my CV if necessary, but I’m here because I sincerely want to help my father's friend and ensure that you have the most comfortable atmosphere during your stay in Europe. I have an idea what it's like to be on tour for a year, I understand how tired you are, and that you need conditions for rest and creation. So I'll let you do your job without the interference and you’ll give me freedom to do my work properly, I'm sure we both do it very well, especially since you are not the only one, Mr. Turner, who can make a show out of nothing”. At these words the drummer whistled, turning to the gloomy vocalist, but you continued “I’m really extremely happy to be a part of Arctic Monkeys team, for me this is a great opportunity to test myself and work with such big people like you. So I don't see any problems in our interaction, taking into account that I'm here temporarily.

You glanced at the men with a soft, but tenacious look, catching your breath “Didn't seem to miss anything at this point, deal?”

Steven was the first to answer, smiling paternally at you and accepting your little speech. You also noticed that Turner shook his head, but smirked to himself, which relaxed your muscles a bit. If you didn't get along from the first sentence, then at least you can establish a normal business relationship. You understood that the nature of a rock star is unpredictable, following the development of the group and the change in the image of the frontman for many years, but you couldn't imagine that he would talk so irritably to new people. Yes, he certainly behaved ugly, but you also started the dialogue with a caustic comment. Apparently, you deserve each other.

After the temperature in the room dropped and everyone took a more relaxed posture, you began to discuss current tasks. Your first gig will be in Bristol on May 29th, so you have two weeks to get ready. In fact, everything has already been done even before the start of the whole tour. Now your duty is only to coordinate the setlists with the guys for each performance, to make sure that all agreements with venues are fulfilled, the rider is completed, the equipment is working properly, the buses are ordered, the hotels have confirmed the reservation, and the whole team has arrived safe and sound. Okay, maybe it's not so little, but you're ready for any challenge. This is your passion after all.

You will ride in a separate minivan with the management team, and not with the guys, which in general wasn’t a big surprise for you, but in hotels you will be provided with a separate room, unlike the rest of the staff, who live in double suits. You didn't know what caused such generosity, but you were pleased anyway. You talked for about an hour, agreeing to meet again at the sound check in a week, and then only before leaving for Bristol. During this time you will have to study all the venues, call the transport company and confirm the details of the trips.

Your meeting ended on a positive note, the guys were asking you about your life, your education and hobbies, you said that you had been dancing professionally for many years and even took up drumming at the university, to which Matt happily promised to give you lessons, triumphant that he finally met someone who doesn't play the guitar, but the drums.

“Be careful, Matthew, if it turns out that she is more talented than you, we’ll replace you without any hesitation. She looks better” Nick joked and immediately got the middle finger in response from the drummer. Even Alex genuinely smiled, looking back at the friend.

"Oh, don't worry, it's unlikely. But as for the cider I wasn't joking, at least I'm definitely good at that"

"Wait, did you make it yourself?" surprised Ben.

"Yes, I live in the suburbs of London and have my own small garden, I make cider for friends during the season"

"You know what, I'm already tired of this stuffy room, you say it's in your trunk?" Matt, confirming his status as the most talkative member of the group, stood up impatiently, stretching his stiff limbs.

"Yes, let's go and give it a try" you said, also getting up from your chair. “Who is with us?” you raised an eyebrow in question and the answer was six men who rose to their feet.

"Definitely need a smoke” murmured Alex in addition, patting his pockets for a pack of cigarettes.

“Damn, where did James find her?” you heard Jamie's question addressed to Steven as you left the room with Matt and couldn’t hold back a short, but self-satisfied smirk. "That's not the last ace in the hole, Jamie" flashed through your head.

"I'm asking the same question" but instead of Champan, the voice was given by Alex.

"Al, will you calm down today or not? Did yesterday's booze give you such a headache?" Cook hissed almost angrily.

But you didn’t hear the answer, moving away along the corridor to the exit.

***

When all the lads came out from the studio, you and Matt had already taken a wooden case with 12 bottles of cider out of the trunk of your white Range Rover and put it on the hood. Coming closer, Alex threw a jacket over his shoulders and took out cigarettes, offering you one.

"I don't smoke, thanks," you replied calmly. He arched an eyebrow in surprise and took a pipe of tobacco between his lips. “You better start, darling” He took a quick puff, blowing smoke in your face, and looked intently from under his eyelashes. Despite the sweet name, from his lips it sounded somehow humiliating. You didn't answer, turning around and taking one of the bottles, silently passing it to him. He thanked you, and you gave each man a bottle as well. "For the new leg of the tour! Cheers!" Steven exclaimed, raising the bottle in the air and you all clinked glasses together.

The eight of you stood in the parking lot next to your car. You and Marcus leaned on the hood, Chapman nestled next to your right, and the guys were in front of you. You stayed in pleasant silence, interrupted by the chirping of birds from a nearby square and breezes of the wind that swayed your styling. Satisfied sigh followed by Marcus and Jamie, which made you laugh cutely.

"Enjoy?" you asked playfully, taking a sip.

"Y/N, that's amazing! I’ve never thought our team would feel so acutely short of a personal alcohol supplier" Jamie savored the taste, taking small sips.

"It's only 6% alcohol, I brought this one on purpose, knowing that you will most likely be driving. But there is also 12% sort in my basement, so in case of anything, you know where to find me"

"Actually not, but for the sake of such a case, we will definitely get your address from James" Nick answered cheerfully.

You spent 20 more minutes talking about the process of making an apple brew and sharing your alcohol tastes. “What a topic to discuss” you hummed to yourself. Eventually you gave Ben, Marcus, Jamie, and Matt one more bottle, promising to bring more of 12% sort to the concert, and you were about to leave when suddenly your phone rang. A dark and mystical tune played from the back pocket of your shorts.

"Woah, that’s pretty old one" Alex said with unexpected liveliness.

"One of my favorites from yours" you replied quickly, pulling out the device. It was James. You decided to call him back when you would be alone, so you dropped the call, texting him that you would call back later.

"Hey Al, we haven't played it in a while. What do you think, mate?" Matt asked conspiratorially, giving him a little nudge on the shoulder.

"We’ll see, I think it's possible. NME will especially rejoice at this, still considering it insanely vulgar" the singer rolled his eyes, but couldn't help smiling.

"Isn't that right, Mr. Turner? Whose propeller is it then?" you grinned as you took an empty box and returned it to the trunk of the jeep.

"Miss Y/S, don't make me doubt your foresight as well" to your surprise, he came over to help you close the tailgate. You dusted your hands and shifted awkwardly from one foot to another, being locked between the car and the frontman. You could literally see wrinkles around his eyes and cider-wet lips that now were gently stirring.

"Who called?" the man asked more quietly than usual. "Uh, James, I think I should call him as soon as possible"

"Yeah, most likely" Turner reluctantly backed away from you, letting you through, and you walked to the driver's door.

"Well, guys, I was very glad to see you, I'm sure fruitful work awaits us!" you smiled reassuringly, swaying from heel to toe from jitters and excitement from upcoming events.

"See you in a bit, Miss Y/S, I will send you all our numbers and other necessary contacts tonight. Sleep enough these days, you will soon miss it" Steven winked and extended his hand to you for a handshake, so you answered him willingly.

“Goodbye, guys, see ya!” you only waved at other lads as you climbed onto the running board and sat inside the car. The Rover started with a pleasant growl, vibrating under your hands. You drove off, leaving the men in the parking lot, but noticing one fixed look of chocolate eyes in the rearview mirror. You attributed the recognition of the color of his eyes to a million views of concert photos on the Internet, but not to those few seconds near the trunk when you smelled his cigarette breath on your face.

That will be a roller-coaster indeed

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A/N: Please, let me know what do you think about this duo, what are you expecting from them, what do you want to read in the next chapter? Let's get to know each other better in comments - how long are you in fandom, what are your favorite type of fics and etc? Your feedback is my force to write, love you and stay tuned - a big adventure is going to happen 🤭❣️

I also publish the work on AO3:

#alex turner #arctic monkeys #alex turner imagine #alex turner fanfic #alex turner fic #alex turner x reader #alex turner x y/n #alex turner x you #am7 tour #the car #the car era #am7 era #matt helders #miles kane #jamie cook #nick o malley #alex turner fanfiction #femme like you fanfic

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noisynaia · 1 year

Text

Magnetic Fields

My work for the lovely @pedrostories Secret Santa event 2022 🎁

@queenofthefaceless I hope you enjoy this, it was so fun to write! 💕

pairing: Din Djarin x afab!reader

word count: 7.2k

note: Explicit. (18+) The Razor Crest lives, and the helmet comes off. Bounty hunter reader. Canon-compliant injuries. Enemies to lovers (lovers to enemies to enemies with benefits to lovers). Mutual pining. Unprotected P in V (with use of contraception). Slow burn. No use of (y/n). The reader uses she/her pronouns. This has not been beta-read and English is not my native language. December has been more stressful for me than I thought it would so I haven't even had time to proofread this, so It might be pretty messy, but regardless, happy holidays ya'll! ♥︎

Crossposted on ao3

Smut right under the cut.

You had never, not even in your wildest fantasy, thought you would do this with him again. It is, of course, very different this time around. No clumsy hands or nervous laughs as you shyly explore each other’s bodies, no eager kisses shared in the pitch-black darkness, for you to wonder what he looks like under the heavy helmet. No, this time around it’s rougher.

Your knees are being pushed deeper into the hard mattress of the bunk with each frantic thrust from the Mandalorian behind you. Your ass is in the air and your face is buried in the pillow that smells so overwhelmingly of him. His armour normally conceals it, just like how it conceals so much else of him, but the sheets reveal his secret. His scent is rich and musky with a certain freshness that is reminiscent of pine, and it’s just like you remembered it.

The angle of which he’s railing his cock into you is perfect, every strong thrust hitting that spongey magic-spot inside you, that is making your eyes teary and have you whine with pleasure. You are dripping wet and the adrenaline that still pounds through your body is making everything feel a hundred times more intense. You do fear that you’re going to regret this in the morning, but right now you simply don’t care. After two weeks of being cooped up in the cramped ship with the Mandalorian and his foundling, too scared to seek your own release out of fear of being heard, this is exactly what you have been desperate for. A part of you is aware that you have missed it, missed him, but you don’t let that part of you be heard right now. This is a transaction with mutual benefits, nothing more. The two of you fucking the adrenaline and frustration out of your systems and then you’ll go back to ignore each other as much as possible in the morning. But damn if his body isn’t heaven…

Two weeks earlier…

You take one last glance around the room, making sure that you have not forgotten anything, not that you have many items left that could have been left behind… Your ship is gone and with it most of your belongings. The Silver Lining had gotten wrecked to scraps on your last mission and had been completely irreparable. That ship had been your everything and with the loss of it had come the loss of your home, along with most of your belongings, your livelihood and your whole identity. The journey back to Nevarro had been long and dreadful, the bus pods slow and uncomfortable, but you had finally arrived about a week ago and had informed Karga of your situation.

He had given you his condolences about your ship and told you that he would try and see if he could do something for you. You appreciate this, but had also expected him to do something for you, after having worked for him for so many years. He had asked if you would be willing to team up with another member of the guild until you have collected enough credits to get a new ship, if he was able to find a willing partner for you.

You had said yes to this proposal, it would not be the first time you partnered up with a fellow bounty hunter, even though you haven’t done it for more than a single hunt or two at a time, not since your beginner days with him... But you’re in a compromised situation and your options are limited.

You have stayed at the dingy inn since you came back to Nevarro, sleeping most of the days away and spending the nights drowning your sorrows about losing your beloved ship with too much Spotchka. But you had been contacted by Karga last night, he had found a hunter that is willing to partner up with you until you are able to get a new ship. Your best guess is Klian, the two of you have developed a sort of friendship over the years, mostly after you have learned to turn a deaf ear to his flirtatiousness.

You check out of your room before heading to the Cantina where Karga resides. It’s a short walk and you’re soon stepping through the door to the busy establishment. You walk over to the area where you always can find Karga, ignoring the annoying comments from the drunk Cantina goers.

You look up when you reach Karga’s area, and the sight that meets you makes your stomach drop. There in the dim Cantina is the last person you would ever think to have agreed to team up with you, but there he sits at Karga’s table, in all of his beskar-clad glory, Mando…

You don’t know much about what the Mandalorian has been up to the last several years, you’ve actually only seen him a handful of times in the decade that has passed since your fallout. You had dropped trying to talk with him the first time you saw him again after he had left you, he had been so standoffish and cold. You have no idea how Karga has convinced him, of all people, to take you onboard.

You are still standing a few metres from the table, too surprised to say anything, the two men staring up at you from their seats at the table. Karga with an almost humorous expression, Mando not giving any emotions away do to the helmet

“Please take a seat.” Karga finally breaks the silence. Gesturing to the empty chair opposite from Mando.

You reluctantly sit down, making an effort to not meet the visor of the Mandalorians helmet, instead shooting Karga a confused and not very friendly look.

You risk a single glance over at Mando and that is when you notice a little green creature sticking its head up from the seat next to the Mandalorian. Has he got himself some sort of pet? You have never seen a creature like it before and you are staring at it as it gurgles happily at you. It takes you completely by surprise. The whole situation is so weird and your face is so contracted with confusion by it that it could be mistaken for disgust.

“I’d appreciate if you’d stop bothering my child.”

His child..?! Since when has he got a child? And what the hell does he mean by bothering…

You stare at Mando for about three seconds before you explode.

“Fuck you, Mando!” You hiss as you stand up, not offering another word as you and swing your bag over your shoulder and storm out of the cantina. There is no way you’re going to partner up with that asshole. Fuck this, fuck Karga and fuck Mando!

—

Din is a selfish man, selfish and weak, at least when it comes to you, maybe he should have let you leave, especially after having ignored you for so many years, undoubtedly hurting you badly by it. Din should let you make the choice of rejecting his offer, even if it’s going to hurt him, but he instead passes Grogu to Greef and stands up to follow you out of the Cantina. He is selfish after all.

Seeing you and Grogu in the same room had been too much for him, the only two people he has truly loved in his adult life were overwhelmed. His heart had begun to yearn. He had snapped at you, not knowing what to do with his emotions and he hates himself for it, you don’t deserve that, you have not deserved any of the shit he has put you through.

He has been avoiding you the best he could in all these years. He has been making a habit of checking the spaceport on Nevarro for The Silver Lining, every time he docks there. Usually finding some sort of excuse to wait till you have taken off to go collect his pay and new bounties from Karga on the occasions you are on the planet at the same times as him. It has, however, not been possible to completely avoid you through the years, he usually opt for ignoring you on the occasions that he finds himself in your proximity. Din hates himself for it, the hurt in your eyes makes him feel sick from shame. He is not proud of how he broke things off with you all those years ago, but he had no choice, or at least he had felt like it.

Din had first met you when you both were young, only a year or two after he had become a member of the guild, and you had just left your home-world of Corellia, joining the guild had been tough for you, but you were a skilled hunter and an astounding pilot, but you had had a hard time being taken serious as a young woman in this line of work. It had not taken long for the two of you to form an alliance, you were the two newest members of the guild and the youngest, teaming up had seemed like a good idea. It had not taken long for the young Din to become completely captivated by you. You were beautiful, smart and so very kind and he had soon developed a huge crush on you.

He had been over the moon when you had seemed to reciprocate his feelings, it had been a sweet but intense romance, like young love often is. You had bewitched him entirely, and the realisation of just how deeply he began to feel about you had frightened him. He had almost taken off his helmet in front of you. He had gotten more distant after that. You had asked him one night if anything was wrong, if you had done anything to upset him. It had broken Din’s heart to hear you sound so unsure and hurt. He had come up with some lame excuse, telling you that it was nothing. He’s a Mandalorian, he could never give you what you deserved. He does not have the capacity to give you that and he could not break his creed.

He knows that he had hurt you, even though it was the last thing in the galaxy he had wanted to do, but he truly had felt like he hadn’t had a choice, he would not have been able to keep his creed if he had stayed with you. He had left you on Navarro, taken off in The Crest in the middle of the night without even saying goodbye.

But now his creed has been broken… When he heard what had happened to your ship and that Karga was looking for someone to take you in he just couldn’t help himself, the tiny chance to get you back in his life had been too tempting.

—

You stomp out of the Cantina, your ears are ringing with anger, but you don’t get far before you feel a big hand grasping your wrist stopping you in your tracks. It had been so long since he last touched you, but you know it’s him. A wave of emotions and memories sweeps through your body by his touch.

“Where are you going?” He asks as he spins you around to face him, his grip on your wrist is gentle.

The softness he speaks with is throwing you off, you don’t know where to look, feeling too many, too contradicting, emotions at once. You hate him, but maker, how you have missed him too.

“Away.” You huff, and he let go of your wrist.

“Okay.” Is all he says, and it makes you want to scream. Why the fuck is he here, why does he suddenly want you to be around agin?!

“Won’t you at least come in and talk before you leave? You don’t have to talk to me, but at least have a word with Karga.”

“Fine.” You let out an angry huff through your nose, hating how sensible he sounds.

You step back into the cantina where Karga is sitting with the little green critter, who does look way more like a baby now that you get a better look at him. You hate the whole situation, but you’re also very desperate and after a short talk with Karga you give in even though it’s gonna be tense. Mando had been your first love after all and, as sad as it might be, the only man you’ve ever truly loved and he has really hurt you in the past…

You get up from the table for the second time this evening when everything is settled. Mando is holding the pucks of the bounties you and him have been given, twice as many as you normally would have been given.

“Why did you even say yes to this?” You finally ask Mando on the walk to the spaceport.

Mando is quiet for a moment and you have begun to think that he is ignoring you again, but then he finally speaks. Crossing his arms over his chest plate and

“I owe Karga.” He simply states, not telling you the truth, that it actually is Kargo who owes him. That he had asked Karga to be the one to take you in. Din is after all a selfish man.

“For what?”

“That’s none of your business.” His words are harsh but all the bite is lost from his voice, he just sounds tired now.

“Well, sorry I asked!” You scoff.

And the tense silence is back. The child is completely unaffected by the strained atmosphere, happy and curious to have gotten a new companion in you. You are angry and confused by the situation you have landed in, but that isn’t the child’s fault and you offer him a weak smile when he coos up at you as you reach the lot where The Crest is docked.

“He’s my foundling by the way.” Mando tells you, nodding his helmet towards the little green kid. “His name is Grogu…”

You nod at the information, as Mando lowers the ramp, pushing past him the second the ramp has hit the ground, stomping into the ship. It’s many years since you last have been onboard, but you still remember the layout of The Crest and you stomp towards the tiny spare room. You are almost sure that it is where you’re going to stay and if you’re wrong you simply don’t care, you need to be alone behind a closed door for a second. Luckily it seems like you were right, a spare bunk is set up with clean sheets and a little cabin with empty shelves to your few remaining belongings. You let out a snort as the heavy metal door closes behind you. Mando making a room ready for you in his ship is an absurd mental image.

“I’m going to get us off-world. We’re gonna hit the hyperspace route soon, you’ll have to come up in the cockpit for the jump.” His voice is sounding from the other side of the durasteel door.

You let out a sigh as you let the bag slip from your shoulder and let it land on the floor with a thud.

You’re seated in the copilot chair ten minutes later. Mando is in the pilot seat getting The Razor Crest ready for the hyperspace jump. Mando’s foundling in your lap due to lack of other seats.

The eerie silence between you is suffocating so you focus your attention on the baby instead. Bouncing his little body on your knee which makes him gurgle with laughter, he really is a cute kid, his big bright eyes are pulling on your heart strings. You are distracted by Grogu when you realise Mando is staring at you from his seat in the pilot chair, but he looks back to the control panel as soon as you meet his gaze. What is his problem?! Does he have to micromanage your every move…

“What?” You snap irritated.

“Nothing.” He says with a light shake of his head, staring out on the stars that rushes past you.

Better be nothing, you think as you sulk into the seat. Passing the baby to him the second the jump is over and retreating back to the little room.

The next days are tense, to put it mildly. You avoid Mando as much as possible and ignore him when you can’t avoid him, but you pull yourself together when you’re getting close to the planet of your first bounty. Biting the bullet and approaching Mando to talk about strategy, and it goes better than you had feared.

It is like the two of you agree on a silent truce when it comes to your hunts and it pays off. As much as you might hate each other on the ship, you are a good team in the field.

Two weeks goes by like this. You are on the way to the last planet you have left before you have to go back to Nevarro and pick up new pucks and deliver the bounties. This hunt is the one you have been dreading, it is by far the most tricky one, and you have a feeling that both the bounty and the swamp planet is gonna be giving you and Mando a run for your money. And, oh boy, were you right…

You are tired and frustrated. The humid air is feeling sweltering, and it’s making your shirt stick to your sweaty back. The fog is laying thick over the swampy landscape. You knew that this was going to be a more elaborate hunt than your previous ones, but it has taken you even longer to hunt the bounty down than you had anticipated. Despite your frustrations with Mando you have to admit, he is a damn talented hunter. You can’t help but be a little in awe when you watch him work.

The impressive shine to his new armour, he looks so broad and strong in it. You had thought that he had looked good back when you first met him, all those years ago. The armour he wore back then was a little more crude, he had not walked with the same amount of authority as now, but you had both been young, both of you had recently left your respective homes to join the guild. You had been completely captivated by him. Kriff, you had even thought that you had loved him back then, thought that he might have loved you. He had been your first… He was a skilled and lethal hunter back then, but he had at the same time been more soft, it was before he had become battle hardened.

He has, over the years, grown into the confident man and hunter he is today. The bond you had with him in your youth had been broken, completely torn to shreds, but you’re afraid that the intense attractiveness you felt for him is once again in full bloom. It annoys you, he shouldn’t have that power over you anymore, not after how he left things, but seeing him in action is so kiffin hot. The way he skillfully tracks his prey, the broadness of his shoulders and the thickness of his thighs is driving you wild. The satchel with little Grogu in it that is hung over his torso is throwing the picture of a lethal hunter off a bit, a weird contrast to Mando’s bruteness. But seeing him with his little son only makes him more attractive somehow.

You don’t like that the kid is with you on hunts, every instinct in your body screams against. You are no expert on babies, but bringing them into dangerous situations feels like a big no-no, but it’s not like you have any other options.

The hunt is long and tiresome and it’s late when you finally get back to The Crest. Grogu has fallen asleep, the satchel in which he lays is now hanging over your shoulder. The bounty is a giant of a man so you had to let Mando take care of him and instead be the one to carry Grogu.

“I’ll put Grogu to bed.” You announce.

Mando is struggling getting the bounty’s limp body carried into the ship and into the carbonite chamber before he gains consciousness again. The hunt is still close enough for the two of you to be civil with each other. You have never put Grogu to bed before, but Mando’s hands are full and the little one needs to be put down. Mando is rarely leaving him out of sight so you don’t spend a whole lot of time with the babe as you actually want to. And as much as you try to not get attached you’ve already fallen hard and fast for the little one. You still haven’t fully comprehended that Mando has a son now, you would never have imagined him as a parent before, but he seems to be doing a good job, and there is no doubt that he loves his little foundling.

Grogu opens his eyes as you lift him over in his pod, muttering a tired sigh before falling back to sleep. You tuck him into his soft blanket and before you even register what you’re doing you're leaning in to press a gentle kiss to the top of his little fussy head. You step out of the little alcove in the hold in which Grogu’s pod is located and get shocked as you almost butt heads with Mando as you turn around.

“Sorry…” He mutters. “Did Grogu make any trouble?” He asks, voice softer than you have heard it in a long time.

“No, he was great, no trouble at all.” You shake your head. “He’s a good kid.” You can’t help but add.

Mando just nods at this. A little silence settles between you. This is the closest you have been to him since you got on The Crest two weeks ago and the horrifying realisation of just how attractive you still find him is settling in. You are still feeling worked up from the mission and he is standing right there, visor trained directly on you.

“I just wanted to ask if you’re okay with waiting to take off to Nevarro till tomorrow?” He finally breaks the silence.

“Yeah, that’s fine by me.” You answer, you had not expected that you would take off tonight anyway. Mando nods but he still doesn't leave, you shuffle your feet a little. Does he feel the tension too?

Mando takes a shaky breath before adding. “You did good today, It’s… Nice to work with such a skillful hunter again.”

A compliment..? You had not expected that! You open your mouth to thank him or maybe shrug it off but instead…

“Do you wan’t to fuck me?”

The dread is washing over you the second the words have left your mouth, the kriff did you just say?! Of course he doesn’t want to do that. Dank farrik, are you really this horny.

“It’s not going to mean anything.” You quickly add, knowing he doesn’t want it to mean anything. “And I have an implant, so…”

“Do you want that?” He asks.

“Yeah, I do.” You confess, there is no take back of your words, so no reason to shy away from it now.

That is all it takes, his arms coming around your waist, hands grabbing your thighs as he picks you up, carrying you to his room. And, kriff, it’s hot. You feel your stomach clench and a convolution running through your cunt.

He is removing his armour in a frantic rush, throwing the pieces on the bunk to not let the sound of beskar hitting durasteel floor wake Grogu in the hold. Shoulder armour, thighs panels, wrist gauntlets, chest plate, all gets removed until Mando stands in front of you in only his flight suit and helmet. You’re pulling at your own clothes, stripping down to your underwear. A groan escapes through the modulator of Mando’s helmet by the sight of you.

“You’re still sure you want this..?” He asks, voice deep and husky through the modulator, you can see the hard bulge through the fabric of his flight suit, and kriff, you have never needed anything so badly.

“Yes, Mando I want this.”

“How do you want it?” He asks, stepping close to you gripping your hips with his now ungloved hands, hands you have missed so badly.

“On my knees, I want you to take me from behind and please don’t be gentle.”

He executes your request to perfection, fucking you so well and hard that you have to bite down on his pillows to drown out your screams. He had been good back then, always so attentive, making sure you always reached your peak and felt good, but he had also been young and inexperienced, just like you had been. The both of you have grown up, there is nothing inexperienced or soft about what the two of you are doing now.

The feeling of Mando’s cock filling you is so amazing it has tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. You are so worked up, the adrenalin from the hunt still running through your veins. The angle he’s hitting you with is perfection. You know that this is only sex, you are not like you had been back then, the two of you fucking the adrenaline out of your systems and nothing more.

Mando groans behind you, hissing filthy praise about how tight you are and how well you take his cock. His grip on your hips tightens as he pushes you back on himself everytime he thrusts into you.

“Dank farrik, so tight…” He hiss through the modulator of his helmet. “So, kriffin, tight around me.”

“Fuck, Mando don’t stop! Don’t you dare stop.” You whine into his pillow.

“Not planning on it, Meshla.” He groans.

Meshla… The word makes your stomach do a flip and a shiver runs down your spine. He had used to call you that so long ago, used to whisper it so lovingly into the darkness as he kissed you…

It almost throws you for a loop, but Mando’s skilled thrusts bring you back to the present. The sound of his voice and his pounding of his cock is sending you over the edge, making you soak his cock and clench down around him.

You moan into his pillow, enjoying how much it smells of him as your orgasm makes you tighten around him.

He moans loudly as he pulls out of you, letting his cum spill all over your ass. Grabbing your cheeks with his broad hands and squeezing down on the plumb skin, smearing his seed further around your ass.

And that’s it. You both take a short moment to catch your breath and compose yourself and then you leave his bunk, retreating to the fresher to get yourself cleaned up and afterwards locking yourself in your tiny room. You fall asleep almost immediately after your head lands on the pillow, the adrenaline finally gone from your system and your body warned out by the warm shower and amazing orgasm you just had.

Mando fucking your brains out becomes a thing… You continue to avoid each other as much as possible on The Crest, ignoring the other when the sparse space on the ship forces you into the same proximity. But you’re being cooperative and team players on hunts and whenever you come back from one and you have frozen the bounty in the carbonite chamber and put Grogu to bed, you follow Mando into his bunk.

You don’t let yourself dwell on it too much. Your relationship with Mando is never gonna go back to how it was, you had known a different version of him and you can not let yourself get pulled in again, but the sex is amazing.

But one hunt changes your new routine.

Mando had been sliced by one of the Trandoshan bounties vibroblade knives; it had cut him between his armour plates. He had shrugged it off as nothing, but now that you see it in the bright light of the cargo hold after coming back on the ship it’s clear that it’s deeper than you first thought, a wet spot of blood has formed on his flight suit. It is soon clear to you that this isn’t something that can be fixed by a bit of bacta spray.

“Kriff, Mando…” You huff, making him sit down on a crate. “You need stitches.”

“Mhm…” He groans, beginning to stand up.

“What are you doing?”

“Going to the fresher to sew this.” He says it matter of factly as he gestures to his side.

“Sit down, you’re not going to stitch yourself up while I’m here. It’s your face you can’t show, not your body.” You want to add that he has seen you completely naked many times, but you don’t.

“Won’t be the first time I’ve stitched myself up after a hunt…” He gruffs.

You just shake your head at his comment. “Shut up and sit down Mando.” You say as you go to get a first aid kit.

The armour that covers his torso is gone by the time you come back and he is just about to pull the flight suit down, exposing his upper body for you.

Golden muscles painted with scars of varying shape and sizes, you struggle to keep your eyes from wandering over his beautiful form. It is not like you haven’t seen a shirtless person before, far from it, but something about seeing him bare in front of you in this context makes your heartbeat a little faster. He removes pieces of his armour for you, making sure the hard metal isn’t uncomfortable when you have sex, but he doesn't strip down for it, never remove his suit. Your face is suddenly feeling warm. There is nothing sexual about this, he is not pounding into you as he groans filth in your ear, it’s just him bare and vulnerable in front of you. His broad chest slowly sinks and rises as you cleanse the cut. His exposed skin is warm under your hands and it suddenly feels like your hands are on fire, you quickly remove them from his skin.

You rummage through the first aid kit to get the sterile needle and self-dissolving threat, struggling to get the items out of their seals as your usually always steady hands now have begun to slightly shake. You place the blame for your current state on the adrenaline from the hunt which is still rummaging through your body, but the feeling of Mando’s visor on you is suddenly very overwhelming in the sharp light of the cargo hold. You get yourself under control, forcing your hands to steady before you start patching up Mando.

He doesn’t even flinch as you penetrate his skin. You work quick and precise, finishing up by sealing the wound with a bacta patch.

“Thank you.” His voice is low and slightly shaky.

Something about this feels way more intimate than the nights you come back from hunts and he fucks you and it’s throwing you off.

You decide to not follow him into his bunk tonight…

Days go by, you and Mando are way more civil towards each other, no bickering or harsh looks, but now another tension is in the air between you, one there is ambivalent and hard to describe. Something has changed between you, but you don’t know what. You have not had sex after you stitched him up that night.

Instead you lock yourself in your room after hunts and every other night for that matter. You can’t help but feel weak under the gaze of his visor. The anger you had felt for him for so many years has slowly faded away. The loss of this anger has given place for something else, and as much as you’re suppressing it, you can’t help but yearn for a future where the two of you could be what you once had been. You wish you could just talk to him.

A couple of weeks go by like this.

You’re sitting in your bunk, you have just come back from meeting with Karga. You don’t know how you feel about this new job you and Mando just have gotten, it’s not your usual mission. You’ll have to infiltrate an exclusive club on Daiyu where a lot of high profiled spice cartel members are hanging out. You really don’t want to do this, but with the pay Karga offered for this particular job done you would be able to buy a new ship, and you couldn’t say no to that. Karga had even offered to look after Grogu while you and Mando are doing the job, since there’s no way you can bring him.

You don’t like the premise of the mission,but it is too good of an opportunity to say no to. You’ll soon be back on a ship of your own alone and free to do as you please, but for some reason you’re still not happy. You just want to be alone right now but you need to climb up to the cockpit, you’ll soon reach the hyperspace route.

You sit down in the chair without saying a word, it’s weird to not have Grogu on your lap, already haven gotten so used to it. You know that he is safe with Karga, but you have begun to feel protective of him which isn’t good, you will soon be leaving and the more you bond with him the harder it’ll be to say goodbye.

You actually stay up in the cockpit after entering hyperspace this time, you have to discuss the plan for the mission with Mando.

There is no way Mando is going to be able to blend in with his armour, so you decide that you will enter the club by going undercover and he will be sneaking into the back rooms hopefully unnoticed. You have had a few clothing items that could have worked at such a place, but they had all been burned to a crisp with The Lining. Luckily it will be easy to find something for you at a place like Dinyu that will make you blend in at the fancy club. You are also not unaware that your looks have helped you out on mission’s before, many people, criminals included, seem more trusting and willing to put their guards down towards attractive women. You don’t particularly like using your ‘feminine charms’ on missions, but why not use what you got? You are not as big and strong as most of your coworkers and you know it gives results. A fancy looking dress and a little makeup and you’ll probably be able to get into that club without much trouble. In this one occasion you actually have an advantage that Mando doesn’t.

And you were right in your predictions. It goes smoothly, a bat of your eyelash and a smile and you’re in. You play your part to perfection, you quickly have a good overview of the people present and soon you have spotted the person you had been looking for, a leader of a big cartel that runs on multiple planets. Rukeé Gdaou. You and Mando are not supposed to bring him in, these cartel leaders are way too powerful to be taken down by just two bounty hunters, the entire guild would become a target. But even just the smallest information about the man is worth a lot of money. You had been surprised when you saw a glimpse of him in one of the excluded vip balconies. He is not at all looking like what you had imagined. You had expected a rufflooking mobster, but instead found out he was a gorgeously handsome Togruta, and way younger than you had expected, probably only a few years older than yourself.

You thought that it would be hard to get to him, since he is such a high profile leader, but you had underestimated how good you look in your new dress. You are being approached by a tall man in all black, giving off bodyguide vibes after only being at the club for around forty five minutes. He is telling you that Mister Gdaou had noticed you in the crowd and would like to invite you up for a drink. You are quick to accept, following the man up the stairs to the excluded area.

You play your role well, accepting his offer of a drink with a smile. Laughing at the mobsters stupid jokes and sending seductive looks while sipping on your Merenzane Gold. It goes well, you don’t have any reason to think that he has any suspension about you. You don’t get much intel since you have to be very careful with your questions, but you still get some useful information here and there. He has just placed a hand on your exposed thigh, which every instinct in your body tells you to push away but you know you have to keep up the facade, so instead you smile sweetly at him. You’re opening your mouth, getting ready to risk asking something that might lead to some information when the sound of blaster fire is suddenly heard from the dancefloor under you.

“What the…” Rukée curses under his breath going to the railing of the balcony to look down. “I’ll be back in a moment, just have to check this out.” He tells you, leaving you alone as he brings his bodyguards with him.

That is when a low cough is heard from the shadows and you turn around to see Mando half concealed in the dim light, giving you a sign that he is here and that he is looking out for you.

You know Mando is good, but damn. So much for the bodyguards and security at these places.

Rukée reappears. A smile that would have been charming if it wasn’t for the sleaziness that oozes from him, plastered on his sculpted face.

“I’m sorry about that. I promise that you have my full attention now.”

He has a sultry glimpse in his eyes that makes stomach turn with disgust.

“Thank you, I’m very grateful for your attentiveness.” You take a quick glance over at where you know Mando is hiding.

“Oh, I’m sure you are.” Rukée answers with a humorous look that makes you want to puke.

“And even though it’s nice up here, why don’t we go somewhere even more private?” He continues placing a hand on the small of your back to guide you towards a private room in the back.

You open your mouth, but you don’t know what to say. You do not really want to go with him, but it will be a good opportunity to get him to talk some more and you can’t blow your cover now. You had prepared yourself to be in this situation before going into the mission and you’re so close to getting the information you need. You are in the middle of your internal battle when Mando steps out of the shadows.

“I don’t think that will be necessary.” The tone of which Mando speaks could cut through beskar, and with that your cover is blown.

The next twenty minutes pass in a blur. A real shootout breaks out, but Mando has got an escape route ready and you manage to both get out of the club unhurt.

You made it back to The Crest in silence, Mando had turned his visor on you a couple of times but he had not said anything. He finally speaks after you have entered the ship, telling you to go directly to the cockpit since you have to leave the planet immediately. You just nod, and kick off your uncomfortable stilettos, climbing up the stairs to the cockpit ignoring how cold the durasteel floor is under your bare feet.

You are both quiet doing the take off and the time it takes till you can hit hyperdrive, but Mando finally breaks the silence when the two of you are surrounded by the safety of hyperspace.

“I’m sorry about what happened… I should have been thinking before I acted, and found a better way to deal with the situation, but he was leading you away and I got scared.”

He groans, the frustration in his voice is clear.

“Good Maker, you have no idea how scared you make me Mesh’la!” He says as he drags a hand over his helmet.

His words confuse you. “I’m scaring you..?”

“Yes, have for years…”

“That doesn’t make any sense Mando.”

“I wanted to give you everything, you know.” He sighs all anger and frustration now gone from his voice.

“What are you..?” You begin but he continues.

“You have no idea of how many times I wanted to take my helmet off in front of you, how many times I was just about to do it. I would have given up everything if you had asked me to Mesh’la. My creed, The Way, everything… You had the power to make me leave it all, and it scared me. I didn’t know how to deal with it so I left. I was selfish and I’m so sorry for hurting you… I’ve broken my creed, taken my helmet off for Grogu, I’m a child of the watch no more.”

He let out a sigh, so desperate it makes your heart clench.

“I never stopped wanting you Mesh’la.”

“Mando, I…”

“Din.” He cuts you off.

“What..?” You mutter.

“My name, my real name, it’s Din… Din Djarin.”

“Din…” You whisper, trying it out on your tongue, loving how it sounds. You feel your eyes getting stingy and your vision getting blurry from tears. You never stopped wanting him either.

A loud hiss is echoing off the durasteel walls, and before you can registire what’s happening the loud thud of beskar hitting the floor ring in your ears. And there he is in front of you, Din Djarin, the deepest, most soulful brown eyes you have ever seen staring back at you.

You let out a gasp. He's beautiful.

“I love you Mesh’la. I’m sorry it has taken me so many years to tell you, and I understand if you-”

You cut him off, crashing your lips on his, burying your fingers in his fluffy dark hair. He loves you?! You feel how your cheeks are getting wet from the tears that are now freely falling from your eyes. Din is kissing you back with a hunger that has your knees feeling weak

“I love you too Din.” You whisper against his lips when you finally pull back from his lips for a breath of air.

You feel the muscles of his arms flex around as he pulls you close against his chest.

“I’m never letting go of you again, you know? You’re stuck with me now Mesh’la.”

You inhale his scent, nuzzling your head against his broad chest plate.

“I think I can live with that.” You happily chuckle.

“You and Grogu are my everything. You’re the way for me now.”

Looks like you won’t be needing a new ship after all…

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