#giant assholes or barely there at all?

[slightlytoastedbagel]

ough I should. not be awake right now.

#have a fucking. mock exam first thing i need the sleep but i can't go back to bed #then ofc my mind has also started to wander to how poorly i went about cutting off a friend over a year ago #yay!! love when i feel guilty for putting myself first instead of constantly prioritising another person #who needed someone i couldn't be at that point #gonna sleep!! or try to anyway i just hate this i hate myself i hate that person even though they don't deserve it #everyone else seems to get on just fine with other people so why is it that all of my 'friends' had to either turn out to be #giant assholes or barely there at all? #i'm doing better now i'm getting better i need to stop thinking about this it hurts too much

[neopuppy]

Gooner (M)

pairing. Jisung x female reader ft Jeno

genre. fubu AU(alternatively ‘I was half a virgin when I met you!’ AU), Jisung as Jeno’s younger brother/Jeno’s not the best sibling, M/F, filth.. yay👹

warnings. profanity, eavesdropping, incel vibes, y/n’s a bit mean, smut warnings under cut. minors DNI.

wc. 6.5k+

now playing. treat me like a slut//Kim Petras

smut warnings. masturbation, Jisung’s addicted to porn, switching, oral, hair pulling, choking, overstimulation, rough sex, unprotected sex

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

Sweet high-pitched moans resonate through the walls, loud enough to cancel out the ones emitting from overpriced computer speakers.

So loud. So God damn loud.

Jisung sighs, he’d heard your flirty giggles about an hour ago before his brother dragged you through the hallway and into his bedroom across from his. You’ve been here 3? 4 times? This week alone already. He tries to tune out the cracked whine in your tone, raise the volume on the video he’s been watching for five minutes, not really paying attention to what’s happening. How can he when you scream like your lifes being ripped from your body, crying out louder than a woman being chased to her death. 

He blinks to focus his gaze on the computer screen, reaching for the energy drink sat on his desk to sip at. This used to be more enjoyable, time to relax and unwind after school or work. That was before Jeno started hooking up with you. You’re just around all the damn time, always sprawled out on the couch, coming out of their shared bathroom with wet hair and one of his brothers oversized t-shirts. He doesn’t make an effort to talk to you at all, never has tried to get to know any of the random girls that come in and out of his brother's revolving bedroom door. 

Not that you make that easy, always greeting him when you run into each other, smiling and waving, even pinching his cheek when you stumbled out of his brother's room inebriated. You called him cute, a baby, a cute giant baby. It makes his skin crawl to think about it, softly petting his cheek with the back of his hand where you had tugged on his cheek roughly. He spent the rest of the day locked up in his room scouring the internet for videos showcasing girls that looked somewhat like you, your hair or lips, any minuscule feature close enough to yours to stroke himself to.

‘Look at you Sungie, you’re growing up right before my eyes.’ You said drunkenly, staggering back and forth on your feet as you trapped him in the hallway on his way to the bathroom. He didn’t know what to do or say, flinching away from your touch too slowly, he had to stand there gulping thick wads of saliva while you tugged on his cheek and reached up to smack the other side of his face. ‘What a cute giant baby.’

The fantasies brewing in his mind for the last few weeks spilled over as you tiptoed closer and blinked up at him blearily, a flirty smile pulling at your lips. 

He wanted to grip your wrists until they hurt, leave his fingerprints permanently etched on your daint limbs. One of his favorite videos came to mind, wishing to throw you down on all fours and shove the oversized band shirt up to unveil your bare ass, knowing damn well you walk around without bothering to cover yourself up after Jeno fucks your brain dry. He’s so lucky, always manages to pull girls like you, shameless easy sluts desperate to cry on his cock. 

That could be him if he had the balls to even look you in the eye and act out the various ways he imagines plowing through you. He was ready to say something, barely parting his lips open until Jeno blew his chances and dragged you back to his bedroom.

‘Your little brother’s so cute.’ You teased, poking at the olders chest. He scoffed and glared at you, slowly dragging his gaze over to Jisung standing frozen in the hallway before slamming his door shut.

‘Probably made his week talking to you, loser never leaves his room.’ 

Jeno’s such an asshole. He’s not wrong, but he doesn’t have to tell you shit about his younger brother’s life. He does leave his room, he has to eat, meet up with his friends every once in a while.

That’s not the worst part, the worst part is that you seem curious about him. Always subtly mentioning him when he’s in the living room or kitchen. His brother scoffs and mutters under his breath usually, snapping at you to quit asking about that virgin.

He’s not a fucking virgin.. technically. 

It doesn’t matter anyway, you’d probably never give him a chance. Not that he wants a chance, he’s just horny, just needs to actually leave his room and interact with real women like Jeno always says. 

But why would he do that when a few clicks can numb his brain without any hassle, without any effort or convincing. Why would he do that when he can mute the video, get up to press his ear against the door and watch a point of view shot of some whore getting her back blown out while listening to you beg for more.

Harder. Faster. More more more. 

You sound like such a slut, such a cock hungry eager slut. It’s easy to picture your face getting wrecked, he knows how rough Jeno can get after years of listening to the squeals and cries coming out of his room. Girls limping their way out with shame written across their face, they never lasted long, got their fill and moved on to the next. You stuck around, further cementing what a whore you must really be..

Jisung sighs, head dropping back against his door, sliding down to his knees to shove his hand past the waistband of his shorts. He hasn’t left his room today, only once to act like he needed to use the bathroom. He wanted to see you, wanted to catch a glimpse of your outfit and makeup before Jeno ruined everything. The amount of shirts and sweaters you’ve probably stolen by now must be taking up space in your closet. 

You’d look good in some of his clothes too, better than you look in his brothers. You’d look better naked though, laid out on his bed with your legs spread open. He’s been hard from the moment he caught a hint of your signature perfume in the air on his way to the bathroom, it’s enough to make his dick twitch. Enough to lick at his lips and imagine what your skin must taste like. He hates perfume, but you always smell so clean, so feminine and fresh..

“Fuck.” Lotion, he needs lotion. His palm feels extra rough today, calloused up from beating his meat relentlessly over the last few weeks. He can’t keep track anymore, losing count of how many times he’s tugged on his cock everyday, drowning out any hint of guilt that tells him that this is wrong. Besides, how wrong can it be when he cums within minutes picturing your face turning to look back at him as he pulls out to make a mess all over your ass.

“Hey, dipshit!” A loud bang against his door has him choking on his spit, coughing and yanking his hand out of his pants as if he’s been burnt. “Mom called, said to buy dinner.”

Jeno knocks again, throwing out another rude name until he gets up and races to turn off his computer, flustered as he wipes his sweaty palms on his shirt and opens the door. 

You’re standing behind him of course, slouching on his brother's back, peering over his bicep when the door opens. “What'dya want?”

His brother always looks annoyed, he can’t understand why, they’re not that different. 

“Pizza.” You whisper, dragging out your request cutely, fingernails running up and down Jeno’s sides. “Pizzzzzzzzzza.”

He chuckles, grabbing your hands to loop your fingers together and tighten your hold around him. “I could go for some pizza.”

Jisung nods, ducking his head to avoid the way you bat your eyes at him behind Jeno’s back. It’s probably all in his head anyway, the small things you do when his brother can’t see you..

“Alright, I have a package coming in soon. Make yourself useful and bring it in for me before someone snatches it, will you?” Jeno says, shoving at his shoulder before turning away with you still attached to his back. “Told you he was probably jerking off.”

The way you laugh at that comment makes his chest tingle, lifting his gaze to steal one more look at you before shutting his door. To his surprise, you’re already looking back, the corners of your mouth lifting up slightly before you step out of view and the front door shuts.

Whatever. He really isn’t hungry, not for food anyway, not when he can still pick up the lingering scent of your body wash permeating off your warm damp skin. He shoves that thought aside before pulling on some sweats, gingerly placing his length between the elastic waistband and his stomach. 

The door rings not even 5 minutes after the two of you have left, groaning as he opens it and finds a large box that looks too heavy to carry to Jeno’s bedroom. “Asshole.” He knew damn well Jisung wouldn’t want to lift this shit, and he told him to anyway. Fuming for a minute, he rolls his eyes and squats to hoist the package up against one of his thighs, grunting as he kicks the door shut and drops it haphazardly to kick down the hall. That’s what Jeno would do with his deliveries, he’s sure.

He contemplates for a moment on whether or not to leave the box outside of his brother's door, shifting back and noticing he didn’t close it all the way. Probably wants him to leave it inside of his room like some lacky, better he assumes that and does it to avoid hearing shit later. Pointing his toes, he nudges the door open lightly, kicking the box inside only to pause when the warm air touches his face. It still reeks of sex inside of here, it still reeks of you. It’s strong, hot, thick on his tongue. 

Jeno’s room faces the street, catching most of the sunlights heat while Jisung’s window has towering trees to keep that out. He glances to his brother’s bed, it’s still messy, the top blanket wrinkled in places you must have been fisting, damp streaks where your lower half must have been resting. 

He shouldn’t itch to touch, to get a closer look, to lower his face and drag his tongue across the wet patch, but he has to. This—this is what he’s been missing out on, this is what his videos can’t replicate. The smell of your arousal, the warmth rolling off your feverish flesh, the taste of your cunt pouring down his lips. 

Jeno would fucking kill him if he found out about this, he thinks, grazing the tips of his fingers over the bundled up chunks of fabric, dragging over a damp spot between. He probably had you on all fours, face down ass up. Jisung salivates picturing it, the exact way he always imagines you looking back at him over your shoulder as he mercilessly slams inside of you. The blanket pinched between your teeth, cunt dripping out past his plummeting length making a sloppy mess all over his bed. 

This is why you sound so muffled sometimes, making his ears strain to hear all of your sweet begging. He bets you look unreal in this light, always imagining you illuminated under the low blue and purple lights in his room, hair tousled on his black sheets. 

He has to drag his nose against the topper, has to clench it between his fist as he lowers to the spot that undoubtedly rivered down from between your thighs. It’s so raw, so real, instantly bolting electric nerves through his length as his lips lightly meet the half-dried area. There’s still too many hints of Jeno’s deeper musk entwined in the other areas, but this is all you. This is all your fucked open pussy, jerking his hips against the edge of his brother’s bed the more he wraps his lips around the material. Fuck, what he’d give to sit between your thighs for a day like a pathetic dog with his mouth hung open pleading for a taste.

He should stop, get out of here before he gets too worked up, circling his hips faster as his chest tightens and his breath comes out faster. He ruts harder, pulling at the blanket and burying his face in deeper. How wet must you get to leave a mess like this behind? Can you squirt? Do your legs shake when you cum? Each drag of his tongue opens up a new possibility, reinventing the ways he’s dreamt of fucking you. He really shouldn’t have done this, now he’ll never be able to stop his mind from running wild.

“Fuck, does that feel good? Pussy so damn tight for me.” He repeats the same shit he hears Jeno spewing while fucking you. The envy he feels nearly outweighs how pathetic he feels. It’d be harder to swallow if he wasn’t so God damn bricked up at the mere thought of you.

“All that bullshit about men being the worst—“ Jeno’s voice echoes down the hall, the front door slamming shut. “When you’re worse than me.”

Giggles play out loud, only halted by lips smacking together. Jisung sits up in a panic, pushing the blanket back to cover most of the mattress. Cursing under his breath he peers around fast, losing his balance as steps ascend down the hall heading his direction.

Shitshitshit, what the fuck! He can’t move fast enough, stumbling to the floor with his painfully erect cock aching as he drags across. 

“It’s your fault, can’t keep your hands to yourself for a minute!” You squeal, thumping against the bedroom door setting him off in a scurry toward the closet. Jeno will chew his head off if he finds him in here, he doesn’t even want to think about it. Why the fuck would the two of you come back in here so soon?! What about the food?!

“You like it.” Jeno murmurs, pushing open the door to his bedroom right as Jisung manages to shut the closet door as quietly as possible. It’s a mess in here, clothes thrown around everywhere. He has to crawl back on his knees slowly to make sure he doesn’t make a sound, taking long quiet breaths to not be heard.

There’s no way he’ll get caught in here, you’ll have to leave eventually, right? The shutter door does nothing to help his confidence, scooting back into what he hopes is too dark to be visible from the other side if either of you were to look over for some reason(like him breathing too loud). Of course you fall to your knees in front of the closet, his brother’s hand shoving you down by your shoulder as his other works to unbutton his jeans. 

“You look best on your knees.” He says, probably smirking judging off the way you smile up at him and reach for the tops of his thighs. “Let’s make this quick though, don’t want the food to get cold.”

“Pftt, I don’t have to suck your dick.” You bite back, digging your fingers into his jeans. “I’m sure your little brother wouldn’t give a fuck about eating if he had me like this.”

Jisung gulps, willing himself to look away when you reach inside of Jeno’s pants to draw his length free. He doesn’t want to see that, well, he does want to. He doesn’t want to watch you touch his brother though. Doesn’t want to ruin the fantasy world he’s built in his head with the harsh reality.

“You seriously wanna fuck him, don’t you?” Jeno sneers, fisting your hair as you begin to glide the tip of his length across your lips. “You never shut up about him, he wouldn’t even know what to do with you.”

Jisung wishes he could tell him off, glaring between the shutters at him. His lips twitch annoyed, fisting at the dirty pile of clothes under his ass. He’d know what to do with you, all he does is think about it, if only you’d let him practice..

“It’s cute, he always looks away when I catch him staring.” You tease, flicking your tongue out. “Never fucked brother’s before, bet it’d be fun.”

A gasp nearly gets sucked out of his throat, tightening his fist around the piles as a tremor runs up his spine. There’s no way you’re serious, right? Probably just messing with Jeno to piss him off. It works too, because he’s telling you to ‘shut the fuck up’ within the next second, probbing his dick past your lips until you’re forced to take it. 

You hardly even gag, making a quiet little sound as his cock disappears. Jisung can feel his thighs shaking before he realizes his hands are too, his bottom lip quivering. The way your lips stretch, the eye contact you manage to maintain despite his brother’s huge thick size struggling to fill your throat. It’s better than watching porn, you are better than watching porn. You’re the nasty perverse wet dream that’s made him wake up with sticky cum coated boxers come to life. 

He knows this is despicable, down right humiliating to watch you blow his older brother off and enjoy it, but between the cuts of vision he can pretend Jeno’s not there. Your lips are pulled back on his size, only he’d cup the back of your head and make you really gag, make your eyes well up with tears. He’d make sure to ruin your throat, have you raspy for days, making excuses for your scratchy voice. Nothing would please him more than knowing his cock punching your tonsils repeatedly had you sounding sick, clearing your throat and coughing. 

Instinctively his hand reaches for the prominent bulge tenting out from his groin. The tip of his cock wet enough to leak through his boxers making him grateful that he threw on sweats before leaving his room. Watching is one thing, but rubbing his cock to this would be too much, wouldn’t it? Does he even care at this point? 

The groans Jeno’s letting out are loud and throaty as usual, thick cock muffling your wet moans vibrating around his length. Jisung reaches inside of his underwear to stroke the precum pouring from his slit up and down his shaft. He curses under his breath, gripping the base tight as a moan rises up his chest.

With a wet pop you pull off, lips plump and debauched already, turning your gaze up as you take a firm hold on his length and expertly fist him. Jisung bites down on his tongue, pulling the small fabric tangled in his fingers up with his mouth to bite down on. A choked gasp breaks when he sees it, lacey red panties still stained along the seat with a creamy white film.

Fuck, these have to be yours. You’re the only girl that’s been around lately. They have to be the ones you had on today too. 

This couldn’t possibly get any nastier, not the typical scenario he imagines. Jeno’s never involved in those, it usually started in the hallway after you’ve showered. Dropping your towel with a sultry gaze locked on him, that’s how he knows this has to be real. You’re still dressed in one of his brother's shirts, and the panties he immediately shoves to his nose still smell ripe. Couldn’t have been stripped off your body longer than two hours ago. Between the wet sloppy sounds emitting from your throat and his hand stroking faster to match the pace, he takes deeper inhales. It’s stupid, envisioning a field covered in your used dirty underwear, falling from the sky even. 

“That’s it, get my balls too.” Jeno grunts, finally grabbing onto your head the way he would. He holds you in place and fucks against your pretty face, bursting tears out of your eyes that are working overtime to stay open. He’s full on fucking your face now, making Jisung’s hand sting from the burn of his slimey palm dragging against his throbbing cock again. He can’t cum like this, that would be mortifying. Especially because he never wants to forget this.

“Fuck, ah shit, swallow it.” Jeno demands, spilling down your throat and reaching down to pinch your nose. Make you choke and gag like a pro. He won’t cum from this, he’s seen this happen so many times, beat his cock to compilations, but it’s the lewd gargled moan you let out. It’s the way his brother rips his cock free from your lips and wads of spit soar out, painting your chin with the most disgusting vile mixture of thick nut and drool.

“Fuck!” Jisung shouts, wrapping your panties around his length as he tugs himself to completion.

“What the fuck?!” The closet doors flying open before he can even finish climaxing, furrowing his eyebrows and grabbing at another piece of clothing to cover his groin. “What the hell are you doing in here?!”

“Oh my God!” You squeak, scurrying to stand up and clean off your face. “You were in there the whole time!”

“Were you seriously fucking jerking off?!” Jeno shrieks, grabbing the younger by his arm to drag him out of the closet. “The hell is your problem pervert?!”

“N-no! I wasn’t!” Jisung panics, lifting his hands to defend himself.

“My panties!” You screech, bending over to snatch them away from his crotch, accidentally brushing his still sensitive twitching length.

“Ahh!” His hips chase your fleeting touch, face burning up as you scream again and drop your freshly soiled underwear.

“Oh my God, he came in them!”

“Ugh, told you he’s a fucking virgin that wouldn’t know what to do with you.” Jeno sneers annoyed, motioning at the younger. “Stand up man! You’re embarrassing me!”

“I’m not a virgin!” Jisung snaps, face on fire the longer he stays on his knees listening to this with two sets of judging eyes on him. 

“You came after only putting in the tip dude! That doesn’t count!” Jeno shouts, groaning and grabbing him to get up. “Why can’t you be normal!”

“You’re a virgin?” You interrupt, seeming intrigued, shyly lifting your thumb to your mouth to bite on.

“No!” He corrects, shoving at the older. 

“Don’t lie.” Jeno shoves him back. They go back and forth for a minute, Jisung frustratedly balling up his fists and standing straight.

“Fine! I’m like—half a virgin.” He says regretfully, lowering his gaze.

“He jerks off too much that’s why.” Jeno announces, spilling all his business. “Can’t hold his shit inside a real pussy, horny bastard.”

“Dude!”

“I’ve never been with a virgin.” You add, bouncing on your tiptoes. 

“He couldn’t handle you, I’ve already told you.” Jeno repeats, flicking your chin. “He doesn’t deserve a pity fuck from you anyway.”

Jisung wants to disagree, ready to grovel for a pity fuck if you’re really down for that. Keeping his gaze lowered, he tries to ignore the way his dick still reacts to the idea. He’d perform magic to erase that almost first time from his memory if it meant he’d have an actual chance to be inside of you.

“Wouldn’t be a pity fuck.” You mumble demurely, tucking your chin to your chest. “He’s cute.”

Jeno throws his hands up, breaking into a laugh. “He won’t last more than 3 minutes inside of you, you’re still tight even after I fuck you.”

Jisung swallows hard, gnawing at his bottom lip anxiously. “Bet I could..”

“Yeah!” You agree, smacking Jeno’s chest. “How much do you want to bet?”

Jeno laughs sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “Just say you wanna fuck him, we don’t need to bet shit.”

“Fine.” You respond, shrugging, trailing your gaze from Jeno to Jisung. He stares back wide-eyed in disbelief.. now this has to be a dream.

“Pittttttttty fuck.” Jeno sings, slapping your ass as he passes you on the way out. “Don’t forget who fucks you right just because you’re into this helpless loser shit my brother has going on.”

He shouts something about eating all of the pizza if the two of you take too long, leaving you to stand awkwardly shuffling across from Jisung. Clearing his throat, he nods and motions for you to exit the room. “Are you sure about this?”

“Are you not? I mean, you ruined my panties, I think you owe me one..” you say coyly, bumping into his side making red hues rise up the back of his neck. Jisung nods much too fast, leading you to his bedroom which is much different from Jeno’s. A lot more cluttered, dark, less of an inviting scent.

He scrambles to light a candle, spraying a bit of cologne when you step in and suck a long breath in through your nose. “Smells like..”

You trail off, dragging your fingers down his computer desk and eyeing the small trash can full of tissues underneath. “Fresh cum.”

Jisung pretends to laugh, shaking his head and waving his hands ‘no’, adding a few more sprays. “I guess it’s true, I mean you are always alone whenever I come over..”

Eyeing him suspiciously, you sit down on his bed, adjusting the shirt you borrowed from Jeno to cover your upper thighs. “But you like me, right?”

He wants to fall to his knees, grovel and perch his chin on your knee and beg you to stop making this even more humiliating for him. “Y-yes..”

“I know Sungie, you’re not good at hiding it..” you grin, leaning back and patting the space beside you. “Come here.”

Jisung listens, sitting down stiffly next to you. His nerves feel insane, burning through his veins, face on fire. He can’t even look at you, can’t even think about having to touch you.

“Look at me.”

You say that like it’s so easy, as if it’s simple enough to turn his face a centimeter to face you. He gulps, scratching at the cotton material stretched over his thighs, mentally pepping himself up to turn. “Ji, I said look at me.” 

And he has to now, with your fingers pinching his chin, sitting closer to him until your lips are only a breath away from his. The same mouth he just watched suck cock like a professional whore, lips still swollen from taking Jeno’s monstrous size. “You seem nervous.”

Shaking his head, he reaches for your throat, that’s usually how it goes in porn. Those girls always liked to be choked, get manhandled and fucked into the floor. Judging by the way you let Jeno treat you, he doubts you’re any different. His hand can practically wrap around your neck, surging a rush a thrill through his gut as he pushes you down on his bed and traps you with his fingers stretched around choking you. “Not nervous.” He grits, kicking your thighs open with his knees to mount you. 

“Are y-you sure—“ you struggle to ask, tugging on his wrist. 

“Shut the fuck up.” His brother had been stern with you before, you seemed to like it. Even now with wide surprised eyes he leans in and nips at your upper lip, hands beginning to tremble. “I should use a condom with an easy slut like you..” he whispers, pouty pink lips dragging against yours. “You let anyone fuck you.”

Confidence, he has to stay confident. Has to steer the control his way, make sure you know that he’s the one in charge here. His cocks thrumming incessantly, screaming to be set free, begging him to finally fuck something other than his poor useless hand. 

Gripping onto your jaw, he licks across your lips, digging his knee higher to prod your bare middle. Fuck, you’re soaking through the cotton material of his sweats. He knew it, you really are the most erotic dream, ripped straight from the most lust crazed filled thoughts. “You need to beg.”

His knee rubs against your core to emphasize his request, cupping your jaw and chin firmly to assault your mouth further. It’s all too good, stirring his aroused heat into a rapid inescapable fire. Every inch of his skin burns, desperate to remove his clothes and draw you into the depths of hell with him. He can’t stop licking between your lips, can’t stop nibbling on your juicy pout long enough to take anything off.

“Ji—s-slow down,” you whine, gripping his narrow hips to drag your cunt up his thigh. “You’re g-getting too worked u-up.”

He should listen, this is exactly what happened last time. Kissing felt too good to stop, dragging his free hand over your perky breasts shot off too many sparks of electricity throughout his system to slow down. The warmth spreading over his thigh just too damn good to do anything other than pull his length out quickly.

“C-can’t.” He mumbles breathily, wrapping around your neck again for leverage. Pushing your thigh open to direct the tip of his aching cock inside of you. He looks devastated, anguished by the pain visibly throbbing his size. He’s so hard, the tip of his length so red and ready to burst. Biting down on his lip he practically lets out a scream as his cockhead finally drags between your sticky wet folds. “A-ahh!”

“D-don’t!” You cough, slapping his hips. “D-don’t you d-dare cum!”

Fuck. Just listening to you angrily reprimand him makes his balls tighten up even more if possible. Tip not even penetrating your tight hole yet, he takes a few deep breaths, head hung between his shoulders watching his length dangle above your pussy. There’s no way he can let go this easily, too scared to even plunge an inch inside of you the more he psyches himself out and stares between your lower halves drunkenly. 

“‘Mm sorry, s-sorry.” He curses, jerking his hips lower until the fat cockhead gets sucked inside of your warm cunt. Chubbed velvety folds wrap around him as if to draw more in, twitching violently where he struggles to not move and keep control of this moment.

“N-no! You can’t, not y-yet!” You exclaim, reaching a hand up to ball up a chunk of his hair up and pull his head back. “Pull out! D-don’t you dare cum!” 

With all the force you can find, you push his hips hard enough to make him slip out, earning a loud guttural shout as he falls out to the side. Even the two inches he managed to get in leave your hole open, hungrily clenching to be fed again. “G-god.” Whining, you sit up and rip off Jeno’s shirt, stradling Jisung’s sturdy thighs.

“You seriously have to be beating off 10 times a day to be cumming from that.” You half-joke, pushing his shirt up to scratch your nails down his chest and slowly bring him back down. His cheeks light up in flames, ruddy bright even in the dark of his bedroom.

“S-sorry, I really wanted to.. make it good for you.” He says pathetically, sniffling and hiding his face in his shoulder.

“It’ll be good for me if you last longer than a minute baby.” You jeer lightly, scooting back to remove his sweats and get a real good look at the size of his long lean figure. Surprisingly fit for someone who hardly ever leaves his bedroom. “Forget all that shit you watch in porn for a second. Just focus on me, okay?”

It’s evident by the state of his trembling figure and sad wet eyes how badly he wants this. How badly he needs this. Slowly lowering your middle down on his hips, you gently position his girthy length between your wet folds, hands smoothing up his trim waist to his chest to hold on to. “S-slow, like this.”

The small amount of willpower you have helps you ease up and down his length to coat him in your wet slick. Jisung bares his teeth, reaching to circle your waist with his big hands, anything to feel your smooth skin. He has to shut his eyes for now, especially when he first looks up and sees your chest bouncing up and down almost like slow-motion.

This- this is better than porn. God, this is better than anything, the smell of desire clinging to the roof of his mouth, your sweaty bodies rubbing together. How the fuck is he not supposed to cum like this? How the fuck does he stop himself from the humiliation of premature ejaculation? He can go for hours falling down a hole of pornographic content, abusing his fleshlight until the batteries run dry. But this is too much, too good to squeeze the fleshy meat lining your hips, too fucking good to drag his hands back up and follow the shape leading up to your tight waist and heavy breasts.

“You’re doing so good.” You manage to say, losing yourself to the pleasure with each passing rub of your clit grinding against the lifted ridge of his cockhead. “Can you take more?”

Jisung nods rapidly, screaming for more, digging his fingers into your hips for more. He can’t, he really can’t, but he wants to so fucking bad. He wants to be inside of you already, wants to feel the tight clamp of your cunt gripping around him until he’s near death.

“Yes yes, p-please.” He has no idea how obscene he looks begging from your point of view above him, thick lips parting open dribbling saliva from the corners. He’s even prettier like this, helpless and powerless to your word.

“Stay put.” You say sternly, lifting your hips to wrap around the middle of his cock. “Let me move slow, okay?”

He can do nothing besides nod again, eyes blinking open needing to watch as you rub the tip against your hole and bite down to suppress a cry. He’s just as thick as Jeno, you think, maybe a little less, still long enough to leave your cervix bruised. “F-fuck you’re.. big.”

It’s the hardest test of strength to not slam his hips upward, to stay in place the way you told him to. His teeth clench as the last inch of his size disappears inside of you, the heat from your inner walls gripped around him makes his lower back arch, tears well up in his eyes.

You try to move slowly, try to circle your hips and stretch yourself open on his length. 

“F-fuck I’m—I can’t do it.” He cries, scratching your hips and upper thighs roughly. “Too wet, too warm.”

“You c-can baby,” linking your fingers through his, you move his hands to his chest and roll your hips faster. Keeping your hands held together as you build up speed and lift up and down a little faster until a burn scorches up your thighs. “You’re doing so good.”

“Ahh, p-please!” He begs, eyes and nose scrunching up the faster you ride his length. “N-need to!” 

“Do it,” encouraging him, you grab onto his neck firmly with both hands, forcing his face to look at you. “Fuck me.”

Jisung’s chest rises steadily, shoulders stiffening as his teeth grit and he reaches for your waist to toss you down on his bed. Without sliding out more than a few inches he thrusts erratically to chase after the release that’s been begging to be let out from the second he got an inch inside of you. Hard thrust rock your back up higher, still clawing at his neck and shoulders even as his weight drops down on you faster and faster. The entire floor feels like it’s shaking with each powerful collision of his hips clapping against the back of your thighs and ass.

“Y-yes yes!” You moan prettily, the same moans that have gotten him through 5 rounds of fisting his cock like no tomorrow. The same moans he wished would be for him finally singing from your lips for him, only him.

“My n-name,” he stutters, face red and sweaty, lips covered with spit. “P-please say m-my name.”

“Jisung,” you whine, that seductive sweet whine that can make him lose his mind. High-pitched and shattered, sending his hips into a furious pace the more you continue to repeat it. “Sungie, Jisung.. p-please don’t, d-don’t stop! Jisung!”

“Ahh f-fuckkk!” He can barely control his hips as he pulls out with the wettest pop, dripping wet cock slapping down on your stomach. It already hurts too much to even bother with stroking himself to finish, hips writhing forward leaving a slimy path of your own arousal lined up the middle of your stomach.

“Jisu—“ your palms swipes up from the base of his size, cock still fat and long even beneath your stretched fingers. It’s enough to empty his balls until they literally ache. Having to hunch forward and whimper through it. Forcing himself to tear his eyes away from the sight of your abdomen painted in the milky white cream jumping in rivulets out of his twitching dick.

“Holy shit..” you sigh out, catching your breath under the sticky weight of warm cum beginning to dry on your skin. “That’s— you came so much..”

“S-sorry..” he murmurs, moving to your side to lie down, head spinning too much as he blinks at the ceiling. “For all of that.”

“Why? It’s cute..” you say shyly, somehow pulling that soft shy tone out of some hidden bag of tricks you must have after all that. “Never a bad thing to like fucking that much..”

“Think I just like you that much.” He admits, eyes shifting to the side to gauge your reaction. He shouldn’t say that, given the reason you’re even here to begin with, but how can he not?

“I can tell,” you smirk, dragging two fingers through the mess painted on your stomach. “I’m sure we can figure something out.. I know how to work your brother if you haven’t noticed.”

Jisung hums, sitting up feeling strung out and exhausted. “I should clean you, right?”

“That’d be nice.” You nod, watching him get up to find a clean towel.

“How was it? I mean, like, how did I do?” He asks, sitting down and lightly dragging a small towel from your chest to your stomach.

A sneaky smile pulls at your lips, sighing and relaxing. “Not bad for a gooner.”

Jisung blows out a breath nervously, scratching his cheek and shrugging. “I don’t know you’re talking about.”

Sitting up, you reach for his right hand, lifting it up to your face to trace over all the rough calluses lined up and down his palm. “By the time I’m through with you, you’ll forget how your hand even felt.”

“What?”

“Jeno’s not my only fuck buddy.” You wink, shoving his hand away. “Let’s get dressed before he eats through everything.”

Jisung helps you get up, not wanting to further question what you mean by that. Instead he finds a clean shirt to hand you, confirming that he’s right, you do look better in his clothes.

“You’re not getting this shirt back by the way.” You say, pinching his cheek exactly the same way you had weeks ago. “Cutie.”

Dabbing at his blushing cheeks he watches you head out before following after you. Needing to calm himself for a minute. 

You can keep it.

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

#jisung smut #park jisung smut #nct smut #nct dream smut #neopuppy fics #jisung fanfic #park jisung fanfic #nct fanfic #nct dream fanfic #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #jisung x you #nct dream x you

[tarjapearce]

Like Me Pt. 2

Tarzan! Miguel O'Hara x Scientist ! Reader

Art by Rendraws21 on X

WARNINGS: Mildly suggestive, power dynamics, emotional distress, endangering situations, Kraven being an asshole.

Summary: Your savior proves himself to be very much real.

A|N: Hope you like! I know you're waiting smut. Just bare with it! ;w; Reblogs and feedback are always welcome ❤️

Previous Miguelverse Main Masterlist

Kraven didn't dally and ordered the camp to be settled. The spot was rather good. A prime source of water and food next to you all, soil sturdy and perfect for withstanding the hard hammering of the tools that nailed the bases for the tents.

And after hours of bickering, russian cursing, more work and the crew doctor patching your arm up, the camp was settled and food served.

Each bite not only felt heavenly, but was scarfed down. You couldn't care less if Peter looked your way, mildly disgusted and surprised of your manners, or rather the lack of them while eating.

It was the least you deserved after surviving a ship sinking, getting lost in the jungle, being chased by a giant Jaguar and a man that left more questions than answers.

Who was he? More important, How had he survived all these years on his own?

After a second plate and extra slices of bread, one of the men approached and announced the readiness of your tent. One of the things you asked in your contract. To have your own, cause as much as you trusted Peter, there was nothing better than to have your own space and privacy in the midst of an unhealthy amount of testosterone surrounding you.

"We've eaten, replenished, and blah blah. What happened?" Peter mumbled while picking his and your plate together.

You shook your head softly as another crew member passed by. You didn't trust them, and Kraven had proved to be unpredictable.

One minute he cared for his crew and the other he was leaving you to fend for yourselves. But as long as you did your job, you wouldn't be part of the russian's guessing dangerous games.

"Kraven said we'd have to make do with the little tools we have. He spent a good time of the day trying to get some signal for the radio."

"Any luck?"

"None so far." Peter mumbled as he took your things inside your tent.

A hammock was the bed, a few boxes and other storage things were placed in a corner. A chalkboard and your investigation books in another corner and against all odds, a little broken mirror that acted as a poor attempt of a vanity ontop of another wooden box. Your hairbrush rested next to it. Whoever arranged it, at least had the consideration to make it as comfortable looking as possible.

In total, you had a couple of shirts and skirts left to use. The rest remained on the sea, floating and drifting away with unknown course.

Peter excused to go change himself and you seized the chance to do the same. Catching a cold in the jungle wasn't in your priorities list. Not with reduced medicine and victuals.

You put on a dry set and combed your hair out as much as you could. Peter joined you a couple of minutes later.

The fire cracked and sparked alive as the crew surrounded it. The day had been chaotic at best and everyone tried to soothe the nerves in their own way. Some drank, others sang, others talked and soon Kraven joined.

Others simply went to sleep. Too tired to keep up after a well deserved meal.

"So..." Peter started while sitting before you, a rag and some tubs on his hands. He was cleaning the remaining pieces of your equipment.

"Promise me you won't talk to anyone about this. And I mean it, Parker."

"I'm a geologist, not a snitch."

"I'm... kinda scared of what might happen if Kraven finds out"

"Now you're scaring me.  What happened back there?"

"I know... who killed the beast Kraven is skinning." A gulp rolled down your throat upon remembering the lurid scene displaying before your eyes

"Wait... you said, who?"

A nod from you and Peter paled.

"We're not alone, that's for sure."

Peter rubbed his hands against his face, an exasperated groan escaped him.

"He's taller than Kraven."

"Bullshit." Peter mumbled almost immediate, surprised at your words.

"I'm not bullshittin' you Parker!" You had to hush your voice and soon grabbed a sketch notebook and begun tracing and drawing.

"He's freaking tall, long hair and he's naked. Well, not naked but a loincloth is everything but clothes if you think about it."

Peter frowned suspiciously as his hand pressed on your skin, to see if your body temperature had increased. Jungle fever was one of the worst things a human could suffer when away from their homeland. Cause he refused to believe anything of the nonsense that came out of your mouth was true.

A man taller than Sergei? Impossible. He was tall, but Sergei had been one of the tallest and well built men he had ever came across with.

"What are you doing?" You pushed his hands away and frowned.

"I'm sorry, I do want to believe you but.."

"I'm telling you the truth, Pete! He had... This... red hue on his eyes and fangs!"

"Fangs?" The incredulity in Peter couldn't be hidden the more he listened to your apparent rave.

"He's fucking strong, Pete. He was holding that beast by his tail! and then fought body to body against it! and He's so damn touchy. No respect for personal space!."

"And what? He smashed the jaguar to death and then kissed you?"

"Yes!" You nodded but quickly frowned when Peter tittered on his seat, unable to keep the mirth away.

"Why are you laughing?!"

"I'm sorry. You know we've been friends since college, but you seriously can't expect me to believe that, Dally."

A short for Dalhberg. The surname that put your name out in the researcher's map in London, upon discovering and naming another type of daisy and named it after you. The Dalhberg Daisy.

"You believe in the freaking Queen but refuse to believe in this?"

"I believe in the Queen's acquisitive power, nothing else. Cause I've seen it!" He explained, skeptical.

You showed him the sketch and shoved it to his hands.

"Look at that! That's exactly how he looks like!"

Peter sighed and raked over his eyes on the semi-crumpled paper sheet. Sharp features, a strong jaw and deep eyes.

"Yeah, a haircut would make him look better though." he chuckled, "Look, I know it's been a long day for us... let's rest, ok? We've got another tomorrow."

With a frown you removed the sketchbook away and tossed it on the makeshift vanity.

"He's real." you pointed at the sketchbook

"Okay, okay. He's real. We can discuss it all tomorrow when we're less tired, alright?"  He held your shoulders, trying to ease your rising anger.

But you quickly removed his hands from you, hurt that your best friend didn't believe you. "Whatever. Goodnight."

Peter left with a defeated sigh and soon you cuddled in your hammock.

"I know he's real." With a huff, you pushed the pillow closer to your face, letting the day's weight to finally crash on you.

-----

The loud bangs of a gunshot echoed through the bright blue skies, frightening any local fauna that rested comfortably, like you, that nearly fell out the hammock from the initial jumpscare.

With a heavy exhale, and rub of your eyes you geared up for the day.

This time Kraven was thoughtful enough to give you a weapon. A small knife with enough sharp to slice and dice through anything weak enough to perish under the blade.

And soon everyone gathered to the morning structions. Kraven split up the crew in three parts. The first group of men would go to the beach to recover as much equipment as they could. The second group would be in charge to set up traps and hunt down for food. And the third one, meaning Peter, you, two more men and himself would go explore and study the jungle in order to gain any sort of information of new potential species.

You carried a small backpack, filled with your sketchbook, pencils, some essay and sample tubes and some snacks in case Kraven decided to return until dinner time.

And after a quick breakfast of oatmeal and fruits, everyone left.

Peter walked behind Sergei, guiding the group whenever the mercenary asked him to. You were in the middle as the other two men trailed with their guns behind.

Morning slowly poured into hours. Tortuous, running at the speed of a snail. Each breathing felt like adding more to the waiting, bringing your nerves to a much annoyed stance.

But it quickly melted away upon finding your first discovery.

The grass laid pressed in a circular pattern on the ground. The leaves were placed strategically, as if used as cushions in great amounts. A couple of fruit carcasses laid next to them. Discarded and forgotten.

"Look at that" The excitement in your voice beyond evident. You crouched to see if there was any other clues to your growing suspicion.

Kraven and Peter stopped upon you crouching to the floor.

"What is it?" Kraven pulled his gun from it's holster and walked over you.

"These are nests!"

"Nests?" His brow quirked and you nodded vigorously, to then count the spots. Around six in total.

"You know what that means? They live in packs! Gorillas live in packs!"

"About damn time we found something." Kraven nodded, pleased as he helped you up to then mark a spot in his map.

"Good job, Dalhberg."

Praised the mercenary before moving.

--

When the sun got high enough and Peter discovered some other findings like rare minerals, the group decided to take a break nearby a lake.

The five of you sat down and ate whatever thing you got left from breakfast.

Once you were done, you took your backpack, pencil and sketchbook with you.

"Where are you going?" Kraven grumbled after gulping down the water from his canteen.

"Saw some specimens of plants Id like to register. Won't take long."

"You better return as soon as possible, understood?"

The mercenary warned and you nodded while walking away from the tree. Excited to partake in the things you were brought and paid to do.

Your first specimen was a moss plant, then a new type of orchid. A fish, some birds and more plants. Even though you studied everything alive, the plants were your speciality.

You put the little backpack in a a nearby trunk as you sat down to draw yet another orchid. The place seemed flooding with them.

Engrossed beyond wits to notice you had drifted off a bit too far from the group and a little too late a baboon sniffing and ransacking your backpack.

"H-Hey! Hey! -The baboon took the backpack away, excited and driven by the tinkling within "Get back here!"

The animal hopped on the trees before you could catch it, with graceful and effortless agility, to finally stop to a sturdy looking and serpent-like shaped trunk above the middle of a swamp.

As much as you wanted to let the monkey get away with it all, you didn't want to face Kraven's anger for losing the last bit of equipment and delay the investigation. You didn't know when the next ship would arrive. None did actually.

It's hoots and chirping only increased the more things he pulled out of your backpack. The tubs shattered as they fell off.

"Stop it!" you shrieked while hopping onto the trunk with wobbly and uneven steps.

The monkey hooted louder until it started shrieking, as if mocking you whenever your balance failed and you were forced to crawl over the top.

"God, I swear... if I catch you, I'm so making an article on how annoying you are!"

The baboon just screeched at your silly threat once more before leaving your backpack pending from a twig as he jumped way through the stretched branches that favored him like open arms, with your bag of seeds.

Your breath hitched when the trunk creaked and some cracking around the base perked up your ears.

Shit.

You couldn't stop and return crawling from where you came from, not when the backpack was oh so close to be reached and your nightmare to be over.

With a deep breath, you crawled closer and closer. Paused breaths turned controlled, but quickly grunted when the hem of your skirt stuck in a jagged branch.

"No, no" You whined and pulled away, the trunk creaked harder and you immediately hugged the trunk.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck-" with a firm yet calculated yank, you ripped the fabric away, freeing yourself although losing a good chunk of front coverage.

A thunderous crack made your breath hitch and you moved forward as the trunk stuttered midair. It was then your eyes actually considered the generous and dangerous distance from your position to the murky water. But the backpack dangling before you, edged you to take a risky decision.

Or you took the backpack and threw it on land, hoping to take the least damage as possible or jumping to that other branch to avoid falling to the water.

None of them happened as the tree dipped forward, and with a dying groan, the cracks widened, tearing the feeble base of the trunk, unable to support your weight any longer.

As in slow motion, you saw the murky water closer and closer and closer, until nothing but darkness swallowed you whole. Cold and muddy water hit you, suffocating your body with enraged water that fought hard to drown you.

Your hands were the only thing that made it out as they failed. The sub aquatic flora begun their tangling in your boots and legs, pulling you down.

Your lungs burned as some water seeped through, the backpack sunk deeper and deeper. Like a sacrifice in exchange of your life. Because a strong pair of tanned hands pulled you with a powerful yank by the forearm, out of the water before death and crocodiles owned it.

Your head too dizzy to actually understand what was happening. Your eyes could only see the landscape sliding smoothy underneath your feet, like if you were flying.

Am I dead? Dead people don't fly, do they?

You shrieked as soon as your eyes looked upwards. Powerful and solid thighs held tightly on the growing vines, that spurted from underneath the gigantic trees, as one of his hand took your arm gently to suddenly pull you up in the air and catch you in his arms.

Your instincts told you to hold onto him as the other survival mode blared with danger alarms. The massive wall of solid muscles he had for a body was warm, full of scars and plush hair that did nothing but welcome your dizzy head on his chest.

The man quirked a brow at your sudden state. He frowned and quickly got over the foliage of a tree, before the pouring rain trapped you both.

You were put with ease against the solid and definitely not rotting trunk, and your body lurched to the side to expell away the swallowed water, clearing your airways.

A firm slap from his hand made your lungs to finally get some air as you gasped and coughed, all the while he watched you curiously.

You were drenched, against a tree, clothes sticking way too intimately against your shivering body, breathing like you were a first born, raged and fast. Lungs burned less.

Eyes finally widened when recognizing the man before you. Some fresh scars littered his Greek-god type physique.

"T-Thank you." You mumbled through clattering teeth and forced yourself to take a deep inhale to control the rising anxiety.

He grunted and approached. One of his hands slid gently under your chin to take a hold of your cheek. Your head instinctively melted into his heavenly body heat, and your eyes dared to shut for a minute. Relishing in the irradiating warmth his calloused hands provided.

He's so warm.

As if sensing the good deed, the man rubbed his hands on your cold arms, mindful of the patches around your arm, a couple of times before going back up to your cheeks and neck.

You gasped as soon as his hands were placed on your chest. His hands gently palming your breast but quickly let them go upon feeling your hardened nipples. You quickly covered your chest

He watched his hands, as if inspecting them for any damage when he felt the hardened nub, to then return to your arms, prying them away from your chest.

"Wait!"

You shrieked and he took both of your wrists with one hand and hovered them above your head, squishing them against the tree, softly. His eyes raked and took in every feature of you, before stopping at your chest again.

Your breath hitched as he slid the other hand inside your shirt. Cheeks turned impossibly warmer when he took one of your breasts and pulled it out of their confinements.

He examinated the perky mound with puppy wonder-like curiosity and then looked down his own chest. He frowned. His didn't swell like yours did.

"Wh-What are you doi-" you bit your lip as he poked your nipple, sniffed it and licked it. Earning a short mewl from you.

The sound startled him and he let you go.

"T- That's not a polite thing to do!" 

You quickly put the breast back and swung your hand to slap him. You had to admit his reflexes were something else cause it caught it before it collided against his face.

"How dare you?!" You struggled to let your hand go, but stopped your outburst when his eyes watched your hands and brought them before his ever curious face.

His own hand reached up, and placed itself before yours, comparing the stretched and long digits against your smaller ones. They weren't the same size, that was much true, but the texture and lines he had were the same on yours.

His eyes shone brighter than any  bewilderment. His mind had finally clicked together at the sudden epiphany that flooded his brain.

You were like him.

He pursed his lips before letting out an excited grunt. He backed away to create enough space for his arms to move freely.

He pointed to himself and spoke with the deepest yet excited voice he could manage.

"Miguel."

Your eyes went wide and you approached. He tried again while pointing at his chest.

"Mi guel."

"Miguel." His nose flared proudly and his throat grunted happily.

"Oh! I see!"

His ears perked up upon hearing your name.

"OhIsee!" He repeated.

But you quickly corrected him, with your name as you pointed to yourself and then called his name as you pointed at him.

A buttery crawl rolled down your spine as he mumbled your name.

"Exactly." you smiled.

He cupped your face again and mumbled your name once more. However, the sound of a gunshot tearing through the skies disrupted his attention from you and stood at the edge of the branch.

"Kraven" You gasped. Completely forgetting about him and the group.

Oh no...

Trouble was a tiny word of the deep neck shit you were into. Another shot rippled through, frightening the birds in the ratio.

"Kraven!" He repeated, excited.

Extraordinary. There wasn't any word to describe him better. He took you back, trapping you in between his muscular thighs and swinging through vines.

The more you approached the camp, the clearer you saw this massive black and brown spots moving away from the settlement.

Your hearth thumped with violence upon finally standing before a small group of gorillas, sniffing and hooting softly upon seeing Miguel.

Your savior wasted no time in pulling you closer to them. You shook your head, rightfully frightened.

"No, no, no wait!"

The gorillas huffed to then sniff your head, your clothes. Some even pulled at your hair softly, others examinated the clothes you were in.

Another gunshot echoed closely this time and it was loud enough to spook out the beasts out that pulled Miguel with them. You could only watch him, wide eyed, expectant. But he left.

"Miguel..."

----

Kraven wasn't one for losing his temper with women. But you, had the annoying ability to make his patiece turn to dust in the least opportunes of moments.

"I asked you, where the fuck have you been?!"

He dragged you to the center of the crew and threw you on the floor.

"I told you, I almost drowned! Why do you think I'm like this?!"

Kraven spat a few words in his native language under his breath and grunted

"You lost your equipment, didn't you?"

"I... I tried to get it back but I almost drown in the swamp, Sergei!" you explained with nothing but the truth

"You can't swim, don't you bullshit me.!"

"I'm telling you the truth!"

"Then how you survived!?"

Peter frowned as he looked at you.

"I was saved. Ok? A man saved me!"

"A man?"

"He's... Not like us. He's taller than you and he saved me!" you kept pressing, hoping the angered mercenary understood that you didn't do anything in purpose to upset him.

"He knows how to swing through the vines! And dropped me here! His name is Miguel. "

Everyone stared with derision at you and Peter seemed concerned you stuck with your story so bad to the point of risking your own neck and reputation.

Kraven' brows furrowed into a scowl and soon he pulled his revolver out and pointed at you.

Your face turned to panic, as your hands rose shakily.

"A savage named Miguel helped you?"

"He did! Otherwise you'd still be looking for me."

Kraven snorted without removing the gun's aim from your body.

"Funny you think I'd waste my resources to look up for a stupid woman like you."

"Please, you have to believe me! I saw gorillas around the camp!"

Kraven removed the safety pin from the revolver, as if peeved you'd waste his time and resources into being an idiot and not doing your work as he required.

Time was ticking and he still had no news, and for you to be fantasizing about savages and doing stupid things such as endangering yourself had proved you weren't reliable.

"You're not reliable, anymore, Dahlberg."

"No! Sergei listen to me-"

He pointed the gun once more to you "I can't keep unreliable people within my crew."

"I'm not lying!" You pleaded with all your might and tears in your eyes, "Miguel is-"

Before Sergei could push the tip of his revolver on your head and shoot, the earth underneath rumbled, as Miguel fell in between you.

Real.

Kraven stepped back as the imaginary savage was now fully standing before him. His head had to crane up to meet his burning ember eyes.

Miguel's lips snarled at him, showing his fangs and beating his chest. A clear challenge for him to fight him.

A collective round of gasps echoed through the men, but when Miguel bared his teeth, they all pulled their guns and pointed at him

"Stop!" You yelled and quickly scrambled to your feet to take Miguel's hand and shake your head with determination.

"Don't hurt him!"

Peter immediately got himself before you and rose his arms, showing he was no armed.

"I'm sure we can reach an agreement here without filling eachother with bullets, gentlemen"

"Shut up, Parker!" Sergei seethed and with a deep flare of his nose, pointed the gun at Miguel again, but Peter grabbed the weapon and the shot tore through the air again.

"Kraven" Miguel grumbled at the gun shot sound.

Said mercenary could only watch him, nonplussed for a moment. While you, again, stood your ground before the behemoth of a man. Attempting your best at protecting him.

"Have... we met before?" Kravinoff spoke confused.

"I told you he could speak! And he is real!"

Miguel remained glued at your side. Everyone slowly put their weapons down as Kraven approached to take a proper look at Miguel, fascinated by his sheer size and build.

Peter had to admit, that it was the last time he'd ever doubt your words.

"You said you had seen gorillas?"

Again, you nodded and Miguel repeated the word.

"Miguel knows them. He could help us."

"Help us? The man barely understand us, but... It's better than nothing I suppose."

Sergei scrunched his face in confusion as Miguel took strands of your hair and sniffed them, his senses awakening in pure adrenaline. Throat grunted approvingly.

"Yeah... kind of understand the personal space thing now." Peter cleared his throat behind you. The rest kept looking to see but quickly were dismissed by their leader.

"Oh, shut up." You grumbled nervously as Miguel pulled your head to his chest once more, to listen to his powerful heartbeats.

"Yeah, it's very very nice." You chuckled nervously with a soft flush creeping your cheek.

"Nice." He repeated.

Kraven could only watch but if he was the link towards the gorillas, he'd seize the chance in every way he could.

"He's way smarter than you think."

"We're running against time, how would he understand us, Dhalberg?"

Miguel moved to inspect Kraven, mimicking his gestures effortlessly. Earning a giggle from you.

"Leave that to me."

-------

Taglist:

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@del-ightfulling @angel-of-the-moons

#t writes✨ #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #Miguelverse #tarzan au

[gremlingottoosilly]

Your Loser! König × Krueger's Sister had me feral. Like, I genuinely think König would visit him just to catch a glimpse of you, always pretending to get a bit lost around the house he's visited for so long to "accidentally" catch you in the shower or in your room.

Unfortunately, your shared apartment with Krueger is small. It doesn't feel this scrawny and dirty when you're on your own - when your asshole of a brother is away on missions(you hope he won't come back) and you can finally breathe freely. But this place certainly feel crowded when he is at home - and when his friends are with him. This kitchen wasn't built to accommodate a man as giant as Konig. He looks awkward, crouching over your tiny fridge so he could, probably, get another beer or steal some of your food. You're the only one to cook here - thankfully, Sebastian chips in for food and utilities, his crazy military paycheck finally coming in handy...if only he didn't spend so fucking much on alcohol and weapons, you maybe could move out. Still, you kinda don't like the way Konig would always try to flaunt his wealth. Making you feel embarrassed that a man in this shiny uniform, with cool new phone and some expensive fucking watches is drinking beer on your old couch, in your old and somewhat dirty flat. Then again, he enjoys hanging out with your brother - so he isn't all high and mighty, you think. Still, he will always laugh so so condescendingly when you comment about new thing he bought for himself - and then Krueger would accuse him of being a "fucking show-off" and that the just wants to take you to his bed. You never thought he did - but Konig does look just a tad bit embarrassed of the accusation. He is always trying to touch you, too. Was shy and reserved at first, only barely grazing the open skin when he passed by you on a way to the other room - but he became much more greedy once drunk and with your brother too tired to do anything. Konig is dragging you to his lap and you, shy little thing, can only whimper softly as he touches you everywhere. Promises to be gentle and nice if you're nice to him. That he will take you away once you agree to be his - and you'd trust him if it weren't for the crazed look in his eyes. You liked him more as a shy loser, not the man who pounds your pussy with vigor that makes you cry, and then drags you to his car so you won't have to explain anything to your brother. Krueger probably wouldn't even care that much.

#cod #konig x reader #konig #cod x reader #yandere konig

[bigwishes]

Tummy Trouble

Connor flexed at himself in the mirror, he'd been lifting for years but still was no where near as big as he dreamed to be. He looked at some of his buddies in the gym that had gotten bigger than him taking roids but Connor didn't want any of that crap, he wanted to get as big as he could naturally, without risking his health.

Still he couldn't help but wish he was so much bigger.

Connor was on his way out of the gym when someone stopped him.

"Hey bro," the man grabbed Connor by the arm

Connor turned to see a unbelievable tall man who was insanely muscular. The straps to his tank top where barely visable between his shoulders and traps, the length of his tank top wasn't quite long enough to cover up his entire torso and his gym shorts looked more like spandex underwear. Connor was both turned on by the sheer size of the guy and turned off, he was clearly a roid head.

"eer, hey man"

"hey bro you look real fit, are you training to get bigger?"

"yeah man, as big as I NATURALLY can" Connor made sure to pretty much shout naturally at the guy, he'd had too many roid heads try and sell him gear in the locker room before but never had one brave enough to try it out the front of the gym

"aw yeah man, nice nice, look I got a sample for you"

"sorry man, Im not into enhancements or roids or whatever"

"you got me all wrong bro, no roids, its free gym gear we are giving out some clothing samples and asking for feedback for payment"

Connor's face turned bright red with embarrassment, now he seemed like some entitled asshole who thought he was too good to even talk to anyone not natural.

"bro I'm so sorry, I just, normally when a guy like you asks me if I want a sample in the gym" Connor began to stumble over his words trying to back peddle realising he basically just called this guy a roidhead without proof

"a guy like me?"

"yeah, eerrrrr, ya know big and..."

The giant man began to laugh and slapped Connor on the back "I'm just fucking with you mate"

Connor let out a sigh of relief

"but hey mate, so you're all about the natural look yeah? but you also wanna be a massive tank?"

"yeah man, look I know I might be dreaming but I wanna be fucking huge, like you, I just don't wanna take any enhancements"

"I think I got something for you mate, here"

The giant handed Connor a small carboard box with the words "Big and Bulky" written in bold black letters and a gift card for $100 Food delivery service stapled to the top.

"Free of charge mate, put em on when you get home and I'm sure you'll be feelin like a freak in no time" The giant man winked.

Connor took the gift and continued to thank him multiple times trying to make up for the fool he'd made of himself just moments before. He got in his car and sank in his chair. He opened the box seeing a pair of briefs, he couldn't exactly try them on in his car, he thought it'd be better to just come back with some feedback tomorrow.

----------------

Connor stepped out of the shower and dried himself off, he began his normal flexing routine in his mirror but thoughts about being staying lean and small invaded his mind fairly quickly. He contemplated if staying natural was worth it if it meant he'll never get his dream body. Pushing the thoughts to the back of his mind Connor slipped on the briefs he was gifted earlier and......they felt like normal briefs. He couldn't work out how these were made special for athletes but at least he got a food gift card out of it.

Connor picked up his phone going to take a photo whilst he looked good in the light when suddenly a golden light began to shine off the waist band of the briefs. It was like sunlight was coming out of the fabric itself. He saw the letters B....I.....G slowly appear and he watched in the mirror as his body began to swell. His shoulders broadened, chest expanded with every breath, his arms began to swell up and soon his pecs and arms were competing for space. His thighs became tree trunks and he had to readjust his package so it didn't get crushed between them, even his feet began to grow outwards. Soon it all slowed down and all Connor could do was stare at himself in amazement.

Somehow, by literally magic he had swollen up into the size of his dreams. he couldn't help but start flexing and even licking his own bicep. A small noise, like a shop bell interrupted his self worship as a tiny slip of paper was ejected from the top of the box. Connor picked it up...

"Thank you for choosing Djinn.co transformative clothing, the transformative clothes you have chosen will permanently change your body, no need to workout to stay in shape never loose muscle keep the body of your dreams... NOTE: Your attendant for the day was Big Guy Bob he has added extra command words to your transformative clothing, we here at Djinn.co only print two command words on our clothing however your interaction with Bob had him convinced you deserved more"

Connor was amazed, surely this was a dream, there was no way he had stumbled into a pair of magic transforming clothes. As Connor was caught up in this thoughts light began to shine out of the other side of the waist band, the Connor felt his body start to get bigger. A part of him thought he should take the underwear off but he wanted to get bigger, he wanted to be a giant like the guy he met today. Another light began to shine from begin but Connor couldn't see. He flexxed in the mirror looking at the letters B...U....L....K....Y appear on the waist band. He flexed as hard as he could expecting to see his muscles to double in size again.

Connor's muscles became slightly large but nothing really changed. He dropped his arms to his side hearing his stomach make a slight gargling noise.

"awww, is that it, nothing even hap-"

*FWOOOMP

Connor almost fell forward as suddenly his six pack expanded into a loose gut. Hair quickly coated his entire body and he started sweating worse than he normally would at the gym.

"WHA...M...MY ABS...MY SIX PACK WHAT THE FUCK"

Connor rubbed his new tummy on the verge of tears.

"oh god...what the fuck do I do with this thing"

His stomach let out a loud hungry growl as if almost to respond to him.

He picked up his phone and used the gift card to order some food, as if on auto pilot he spent the entire $100 instantly and even dropped another $100 from his own bank account on food.

Connor just stood in the mirror staring at his new belly disgusted. He had all the muscle he had dreamed of but felt his gut, pecs and ass wobble as he flexed. Soon the doorbell rang and Connor went to go grab his bags of food.

Bringing the bags in from inside and placing them on his kitchen bench his hands instantly dove in grabbed a handful of fries out the box without even taking the box from the bag, without realising he had stuff half the box of fries in his mouth, salt fell from his lips into his new forest of chest hair and he simply wiped his salt covered hand on his brief whilst opening a bottle of off the shelf protein shake. He began chugging it down and could feel little bits slips from his lips and into his new beard. Connor picked up all the bags and moved to his couch.

Connor blinked awake as if from a trance, all around him were empty plasic bottles from protein shakes and soft drinks, multiple empty fry boxes littered the look around him and he noticed his chest hair was tangled with salt, some burger lettuce and dried protein shake, his briefs were also covered in stain from where he had wiped his hands. He slid his briefs off noticing 3 words painted on the ass he didn't notice appear. "SWEATY, HAIRY, SLOB". Connor rubbed his new gut and tossed the briefs to the side.

His stomach began to gurgle and it sounded like a water cooler. He watched as his loose gut started to become firm.

"oh...god...whats happeneing now"

each time Connor inhaled his stomach felt worse

"I....god what the fuck"

A small ding noise interrupted Conners panting and panicing as another small slip of paper magically was printed out of the top of a closed chip box. Conner leant forward and read it.

"Hey man, Big Guy Bob here, today you expressed wanting to become a natural tank, so I made sure you got a pair to turn you into an absolute unit but I know you were worried about people thinking you might be on roids, just look at today you were so quick to think I was on them, so I added some key words to not only turn you into a huge tank but to turn you into a huge slob, enjoy the size bro"

Connor groaned as he tossed the note to the ground.

"FUUUUUUUCKKK IM SO.......BUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPPP"

the pain subsided and his stomach went soft again. Connor stared at his enormous body in the reflection of the black glass of his TV.

"mm...mmaybe i can cut?" Conner said aloud, completely unaware of the cupcake he was stuffing into his mouth as he spoke...

-----------------------------------

I hope everyone who wanted me to write a weight gain story is happy with this one, this is probably as far as Ill every go with this kinda stuff but yall voted on it and I was happy to write it.

#male transformation #muscle #muscle transformation #male tf #gay transformation #tf story #transformation #reality change

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

lowkey..just lowkey.. thinkin about waking up one day and seeing dragon! bakugou in your house…accompanied by a giant hole in your wall.

you’re so confused you can barely process it. there’s a handsome man passed out on your floor and from what you can see (which is basically everything since his shirt is torn to shreds) he looks injured. you also live on the third floor so you have no idea how he landed here, but you think the huge sprawled out wings on his back, his tail and those huge reddish horns that scream “ i’m a mythical being !!” might be the reason.

but there is one thing you’re able to think about and that’s how much money will it cost to fix your damn wall??

you call off work. you call it a family emergency because you don’t think “a shirtless man i think might be a demon just blasted through my wall and he looks injured” is gonna fly over well with your boss.

he seems to be able to heal himself because his wounds look better than when you first laid eyes on him and you can see that his skin looks like it’s restitching itself almost, you decide to help him out a bit and at least dress his wounds up the best you can with the little you know about doctor..stuff.

when he comes to though, he acts like you’re the one who knocked him out. he’s snarling and scowling at you, sharp teeth on display while he growls at you from the comfort of your fucking couch. he spits out all types of curses at you, you’re shocked because they come out so naturally. you’d honestly expected him to speak like some type of caveman and for a second you think this is just a very rude man in very convincing cosplay.

he keeps insulting you and he’s a little too good at it, so much so that it actually hurts your feelings a little. he keeps yapping about how if you didn’t let him out this instant he’ll have you grilled and barbecued or how he’d make quick work of you and have you sold to some merchants for a good amount of gold, since you “look like you’re not worth that much.” you’re a little pissed now. you scowl at him and you feel silly for calling off work and not pushing this huge asshole out of your flat and leaving whatever knocked him out to deal with him.

“you’re the one who blasted a hole in my wall, you jerk ! i say i’m the one who should have you sold if you can’t reimburse me for this, asshole ! and if you wanna walk out without a shirt on and get arrested like a creep, the door’s right there.” you don’t care to see him, because you would’ve seen how his eyes widened to the size of saucers at your retorts. you’ve never been more irritated in your entire life when you stalk to your room to get some much needed rest and to fight off the headache you can already feel slamming against your skull. “even demon men are insufferable.” you mutter bitterly before slamming the door.

you somehow managed to fall back asleep because when you open your eyes again it’s about 10 am. you’re frantic for a moment because you think this was somehow just a very vivid dream and you’re so late for work now. you slam your door open wide eyed and your wall is intact.

shit, your boss was gonna let you have it—

you catch something from the corner of your eye. the insufferable demon man is staring..glaring(?) at you but it’s not as intense as earlier,though. and he’s very much still seated on your couch.

“m-my wall..” you trail off. he clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes at you “i fixed it” he gruffs out.

you like how his voice sounds when he isn’t screaming and threatening you, you immediately scold yourself for thinking like that. he stares and keeps staring at you and you can’t decipher what he’s thinking

“oh..” you gasp “thank you.” he clicks his tongue again and looks away from you. just as much of an ass, but you guessed he felt a little bad about your wall, enough to fix it..somehow. you won’t ask for details.

you can’t will yourself to move past your doorframe so you decide to lean on it a little bit, rubbing your fuzzy socked foot against your calf, you catch him staring at the sudden movement before he looks back up at you. “so are you…a demon or something?” he scoffs for what feels like the umpteenth time today “don’t insult me, human.” he snarls then his face relaxes just slightly “m’ a dragon.” he grumbles.

“oh, wow” the little amount of fantasy manga you’ve read could never have prepared you for this.

you thank him for fixing your wall and he glares at you like he’s mad about it. but then he says he owes it to you for healing him. pointing towards his bandage covered chest. you feel your cheeks burn a little and you’re waving him off, telling him it’s no big deal and somehow his brows furrow even harder. “..so ? what do you want from me?” he growls when you tilt your head at him in confusion “don’t play dumb with me, filthy human ! what do you want in exchange for saving me ?”

“ohh…” you moan. then you shrug “i mean, you already fixed my wall, so i don’t really need anything from you, unless you can make my boss give me a promotion.” you giggle at your own joke and you wave him off again when he looks at you questioningly “nevermind.” you giggle.

he ignores you “you don’t want anything..nothing ?” he speaks apprehensively like he expects you to trick him, you shake your head. he looks bothered by it. he lowers his head and his eyebrows furrow in frustration then he growls.

you think maybe, maybe, he’s the type to feel bad whenever they feel like they can’t repay some type of service. you hadn’t noticed he was apparently on death’s door when you bandaged him up before and it makes you sweat drop a little bit, you try your best to shake it off. he stands up to leave, but he glances at you and suddenly his feet have stopped moving like he’s stuck there and he stares. he doesn’t even look mad like you’ve gotten used to him being for the short amount of time you’ve known him, he just looks confused. he stares at you and you stare at him and for a reason that you cannot understand you don’t want him to leave.

“ um !” you shrink into yourself, embarrassed from his gaze and the fact you were suddenly so loud. “well..you can’t exactly go out like this, it’ll be bad for you i think..it might attract attention to see a wounded shirtless guy walking around, people might take you for..i dunno—” you stumble “a crazy, dangerous person ! yeah, and if that happens they might take you away..so..that’d be bad for you, right ?” you hope he doesn’t realize how much you’re bullshitting around for an excuse but he almost seems to humor you when he crosses his arms across his toned chest.

“what do you suggest i do then, human ?” he growls lowly. he stalks towards you slowly, never breaking eye contact. you will yourself to stay with your feet planted firmly to the ground and head held up somewhat high as you stare up at him, damn he’s tall.

“ you stay here until you’re fully healed, if you wanna make it up to me. it would honestly save me so much trouble” it’s the truth. you can’t help but feel bad when the thought of him getting captured or experimented on crosses your mind, even if he is an asshole, but you don’t say that. you hold out your hand for him to shake “deal ?”

he squints at you and stares and you stare back. usually he would’ve stayed true to his threat and burned you alive by now, the trivial lives of humans are none of his concern. and yet for some reason he himself doesn’t know the answer to he stayed, even fixed up your damn wall you were whining about and even considered apologizing to you..which he absolutely never does !

there’s something different about you and he wants to find out what that something is. so, not so begrudgingly he slowly grasps your hand and squeezes lightly. he ignores the tiny voice in his head that tells him how soft and perfect your hand feels in his.

“deal.”

#lowkey tho just lowkey #i might just make this a series #wippee first maybe series yall #not proofread #ill fix later #i dreamed about this yesterday and i had to write about it #bakugou imagine #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugo fluff #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou katuski x reader #katsuki x you #bakugou drabble #bakugou fluff #I always end up writing way more than i mean to w him lmfaoo

[norrisleclercf1]

He’s An A**H***

Pairing: Charles x bestfriend!reader, Lando x reader

Rating: R

Request: Yes/No

Warnings: SMUT, threesome, slight dom!charles, slight dom!reader, slight sub!lando, public nudity?, sex club mentioned, pining Lando

Synopsis: After the race Charles can’t help but call Lando an asshole, but you have been planning something between you three without the drivers knowing and finally get what you wanted.

"He's a dick, a fucking dick; I mean, god fucking dammit, how did he not see me!" Charles yells in his hotel room, slamming his Ferrari hat down onto the bedside table. You can't help but roll your eyes at your best friend, knowing he didn't mean it; he was just pissed he couldn't get some more points, and now he had to battle it out in Abu Dabhi. You lay on the bed, letting him rave as you decide what to wear to dinner tonight. Maybe the red silk dress with giant x stitching across, showing off the skin from the side boob to mid-thigh, or the silver dress that was flowy, and you wouldn't wear a bra or panties wanting to get laid. "Y/n? Are you even listening to me?" Charles groans, picking out his outfit for the night as you look up, biting your lip.

You and Charles have known each other for years, but recently after getting jealous about Pierre, did he decide to fuck your brains out. Ever since then, you both couldn't help but fuck like bunnies, and right now, you wanted him bad. "No, I'm not listening; I'm thinking," you grumble, making him roll his eyes at you now. "About what?" He asks, grabbing a white button-up and dark jeans. "Me riding your face." You say it so casually that Charles about chokes on his spit as he whips around to face you. "Really?" His voice changes; that slight gravel tone he gets when he's angry or turned on makes you smirk to yourself; you felt like playing a game tonight, one he had no idea he'd be a part of. "Mhm, maybe you have me choking your cock." You giggle as he moves closer, bending down to kiss you, but you stand up quickly, making him fall on the bed. "But we have a party, so let's get dressed and go." You shrug, grabbing the silver dress, knowing it'll be easy to access. Charles groans but nods as he tries hard to get the mental images of you riding his face and then shutting you up with his cock out of his head. Charles smiles at you as you make your way to the door and leave for the party. Charles can't help but stare at you the entire ride in the elevator. The way he wanted to hit the emergency button, stop the elevator and lift that dress up, and just fuck you deep and hard, making sure to leave his mark on you the rest of the night, was almost too much to bare. The familiar ping of the elevator stopping has his eyes peeling off you and hardening at the sight of his anger. Lando. "Hey, guys." The younger driver smiles, not acknowledging how Charles wished for him to burst into flames at this very moment. "Lando, you look......gorgeous." Choosing your words carefully, having a goal for the night neither boy knew about. Lando turns red under your compliment. It was known in the paddock that Lando had a school's girl crush on you and always shined under your praise. You smirk, seeing the blush on his cheeks, and reach up, your perfectly manicured nails scraping the back of his neck as you lean over, kissing his cheek. Charles seethes seeing how you were so openly affectionate with the Mclaren driver, who shivers under the slight scrape of your nails. You slice your eyes at Charles, almost screaming with joy from how his jaw was clenched and how rigid he was standing. Just a little bit more. Is all you think about getting that goal of the night and also dealing with two problems at the same time. The elevator doors ping again and open them to the lobby floor of the hotel. You exit first, walking slightly ahead of the drivers. You look down, noticing that your black heels strap is undone on one of them, and smirk at the opportunity. Your dress was short enough that Charles and Lando got a perfect shot of your assets when you bent over. "Fucking Christ." Lando gasps, turning bright red, trying to look anywhere but at you while Charles openly stares at you until he snaps back to reality at Lando staring. "Look away or even fucking touch her, and I'll bury your goddamn ass." Charles seethes in Lando's ear, nodding his head and looking down as you straighten back up and turn, giving them both a sly smile. "Are you two coming or not?" You ask as they both walk up to you, Lando mumbles softly about it being in his hand later, but you act as if you didn't hear him. "Say something, Lando?" Stepping closer to him and moving your arm into his locking them together. Charles raises an eyebrow at this, you were up to something, but he couldn't figure it out. He was aware of the driver's feelings for you and knew that you were aware of this, but you were playing with him like a damn toy. "Let's get going; I want to dance." You whine, locking your other arm with Charles's, dragging them to the car outside, and climbing into the back, waiting for them. Charles looks at Lando and motions for him to get in; while he wishes for his death, he is curious about where you are taking this. Lando slides into the car as Charles follows after him. The car ride to the club is silent, but you fill the silence with soft touches to both boys. Charles is used to this; when it was quiet, you just let your hands run wild, but Lando wasn't. Lando moves and grabs your hand; stilling it, he tangles your fingers with his own and lays it on his lap. But you move free of the hold and place it on his thigh. You cast a look his way, not wanting to make him uncomfortable, and would stop when he said or did something that indicated this, but Lando arches into your touch. Nails dig into his thigh, making him bite his lip and look away so he wouldn't jump you in front of your boyfriend. Charles watches the whole thing and rolls his eyes, but he can't help but watch Lando's reactions to you. Charles knew this side of you, the side that wanted control over a pretty boy and made him beg for you; he's been in this situation once or twice, and god, he loved it. The car stops pulling all 3 of you as the door swings open, revealing Pierre. "Oi, come on, the party is already started, and I'm missing the dances." He whines, pulling Charles out of the car. "What dances?" You ask, having never told Lando or Charles this club was famous for the female dancers and private rooms. "Don't worry about it, Y/N," Pierre smirks and leans over, kissing your cheek before practically dragging your boyfriend away from you and Lando. "Well, care to escort me in, Lando?" You ask, pressing your body into his. Lando nods his head dumbly at you as you giggle and drag him into the booming music and pulsing lights. Time ceased to move as you and Lando had drinks before Charles found you both on the dance floor. Your bodies are pressed into one another. It'd look like Lando was in charge to an outsider, but that wasn't true. You controlled every movement, spreading your legs so Lando could move his leg between them as you ground against them. Charles moves and presses himself against your back, jolting you, but a lazy smile spreads against your lips seeing Charles. His hands move from your hips ghosting all the way up to your tits and groping them tight, a hiss of breath leaving your lips. "Having fun, baby?" He whispers in your ear, making you nod your head, whimpering when Lando presses you into his thigh. Lando looks up, makes eye contact with Charles, and just gives a tipsy smile as he moves his focus back on you. You three dance for a while until you feel fingers lift your dress up slightly, seeing Lando get antsy. With a grip on his wrist, he stops. "Upstairs, now please fuck; I need you both," you beg the boys, and they both stop and have unsaid words pass between them. The trip up the stairs was a mess of touches and words of promises to do to one another. But Charles walks behind the two of you, watching as you pull out a key card and shove Lando into the room. "Charles, come here." You whisper as Charles moves, winds his right hand into your hair, and yanks it hard, making you whine and curse. "Are you wanting to fuck him, baby? Hmm? Was that your grand scheme? I could practically smell you in the car with how much you want him." Charles groans, his left hand under your dress, feeling how wet and needy you are. "Yes, please, please, Daddy, I need it, just once. Let me have him just once." You beg Charles, who smirks and moves you back into the room as Lando lays on the bed, breathing heavily, his pants undone as he feels himself up. You lick your lips and drop your dress as Charles groans, eyes racking over your naked body. Walking towards Lando, you push his hands away and get him to sit up and you on your knees. "Let me take care of you, baby boy." You whisper, making Lando nod quickly as he frees himself from his boxers. Lando was average size length-wise, but he was on the girthy side as it rests heavy in your palm. Charles moves and sits down in a chair, only admiring your ass and head as it leans down and takes the Mclaren driver's cock into your mouth. Lando whines and his head is thrown back from the warmth of your mouth, wrapping around the head of his cock. Lando twitches as you slowly tease him, your tongue lapping at him like a lollipop as you pull off the head, a pretty cherry red as precum leaks drawing your lips to lick it off him as you admire how pretty he looks in the low lights, with flushed cheeks and relaxed. Taking a breath, you lean down and take him in one go that has him moaning so loud the sound makes your pussy clench around nothing but air. Charles squirms, his pants growing tight as he moves, undoing them, and lazily starts to stroke himself as he watches the two in front of him. "wait, stop; if you keep going I'mma cum." Lando whimpers as you pull off and stand up, towering over him. Grabbing his chin, you have him look up at you and kiss him in a slow tease before pulling away and looking at Charles. "Fine, but I want Daddy to eat me before the main course." You whisper; Charles stands up and grabs your hips pulling you against him and feeling his cock press into your folds. Lando swallows thickly as he watches Charles toss you onto the bed like nothing before grabbing your knees and spreading you wide open, the cool air making you arch up. Lando moves to stare at your hole, the way it almost begs for the attention of some kind, and the way Charles moves, kissing your stomach and whispering soft words in your ear before nodding, and he dives in. Charles was precise; he knew you inside and out, what you liked and how to get you so close you would cry to cum for him. Charles licks you up and down as his thumb rubs your clit, making you whimper and reach out, pulling Charles's hair, having it become that gorgeous mess that causes girls to go crazy. He groans and rubs harder as his tongue dives, making you curse and writhe against his mouth. Charles pulls away and looks right at Lando, who moans at the shiny mess around his friend's lips and chin. "That's how you do something, asshole. Let's see if you could make her cum." Charles tuts, and Lando feels this burning rage fill his chest at the insult. "Please, the only reason she wants to fuck me so bad is probably that you can't get the job done anymore." Lando snaps, making you giggle and sit up and straddle his lap rolling your hips against his dick. "Now, boys, let me remind you that I'm in charge here." You whisper, reducing Lando into a whimpering mess again. "Yes, ma'am," Lando whines, his hands on your hips, making you grind faster on him. You can't help but stop and kiss him when he calls you that. It's a mess of tongue and spits before sliding him into you with one feel grind of your hips. Lando groans into the kiss and moves to lay you down so he's on top as he moves his hips in and out slowly. You whimper, nails scraping down his back as Lando buries his head into your neck, loving how you smell like your perfume. "Fuck, faster, Lando, please; god, I ache for you so bad." You whimper, your hands trailing down to his ass and digging your nails into him. Lando groans and starts rocking his hips in and out fast as you cry out, but it's soon muffled when Charles shoves his cock down your hole. "I'll die before I hear you moan like that for another man." He growls as you nod, quickly maneuvering your tongue around him as he fucks your throat. Lando groans, feeling you tighten around him. "Jesus, fuck, y/n. God, you feel like goddamn heaven." Lando cusses, driving into you harder as you grab his ass and spread your hips more, feeling his balls slap you with each thrust. Charles groans and pulls out of your mouth as you sputter and whine, nodding your head. "I'm gonna cum, fuck Lando right there." You whimper as Lando bounces and hits the same spot multiple times before your cry out cumming around him. Still, Lando swallows your cries with his mouth and tongue, fighting for dominance as Lando stills his cock, twitching as he pulls out fast and cums on your thigh. You both pull away as Lando kisses your cheeks and neck. "I'll be dead before Charles hears your moans as you cum for me," he grumbles, making Charles chuckle as he pulls you out from under the Mclaren driver. "You okay, baby?" Charles asks, ensuring you weren't hurt or unable to continue. "yes, I'm perfect; I want you." You whisper as Charles nods and pulls you up face to face, chests pressed against one another as he slowly slides into you. Your face pinches from the slight burn from where Lando made you sensitive. Charles freezes, but you nod your head for him to continue. It wouldn't take him long to make you or him cum as you could always hit that second orgasm after the first, and he pushed to the edge. Charles rocks his hips up slowly but deeply into you as you both forget about Lando and whisper soft words to one another as Charles fills you up with praises and himself. You whimper, feeling his pelvis hit your clit as you grind down on him in that familiar spine-tingling burn gather in both your stomachs as Charles starts to rock up into you faster, kissing you deeply as you both whine and cum together. You both gasp for air as Lando moves to the bathroom, grabbing a warm wet washcloth and handing it to Charles. "One-time thing," Lando whispers, kissing your cheek and giving the cloth to Charles. "And by the way, I win." He whispers to Charles, who rolls his eyes at the younger driver. "Bye, Lando." You whisper, body tired as you crave Charles's comfort Lando kisses you one last time before walking out of the room, leaving Charles to care for you. Oh, how Lando wished it was him instead of Charles, but it was only a one-time thing.

#lando norris #lando imagine #lando x reader #F1 Mclaren #Charles Leclerc #charles x reader #charles leclerc x reader #charles imagine #ferrari charles #smut #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc smut #lando norris smut #lando norris imagine #pining lando #boyfriend charles leclerc

[dragonnarrative-writes]

Part 7 - Date Activities

Slasher Handler Masterlist

NSFW under the cut.

CW: Non-descriptive mentions of torture, numbers and math, brief nudity, allusions to cannon-typical violence (Ghost's backstory), red herrings, bones

“Where ‘m I?” You slur around a dry tongue. Struggling to balance your weight on your hips, try to wrap your arms around yourself. Too late, you realize that there’s not enough slack on the chain to complete the motion. “Where‘re we?”

You want to scream. You want to cry and hide your face. You’re horrified to realize that you want Simon, your version of Simon, to materialize on the edge of the bed and comfort you. Unfortunately, all you can do is blink and sway.

“If you’re dizzy, you should lay back down.” Simon’s voice from that jaw-less skull is so disconcerting. In your nightmares, the skull mask sounds inhuman. Distorted, echoing. The burning bush overlap of every person who’s ever made you unsafe. Now, it’s just Simon’s measured speech.

But the rest of him is just as big and dangerous as you remember. He’s dressed like he expects to have to fight someone. His black jacket is covered by some kind of utility vest with a bunch of pockets. A handgun sits in a thigh holster, and on his other hip is the Big Knife. He’s not wearing his usual boots, these are heavier looking. If you weren’t so overwhelmed, you’d be terrified.

The masked killer on the other side of the room tilts his head and regards you for a long moment. The weird silence is such a Simon thing to do that you let yourself take your eyes off of him enough to take a quick look around the room. His chair is by the only door, a solid looking wood. To the left side of the room, there’s a bare folding table. On it, from what you can see, sit bottles of water, a bag of grapes, and some brown packaging. There’s another folding chair. At the foot of the mattress, there’s a huge, black hard case. The kind you’ve seen in action movies.

“Right now,” Simon finally answers. “You’re in the safe zone."

You blame the drugs in your system. It’s the only reason you can think of to look him in his eyes and blurt, “That’s not a fuckin’ answer, you cryptic asshole.”

You’re glad you’ve learned to read his eyes, because they’re amused when he stands. Even across the room, he towers over you. You clutch at the blanket to, what? Protect yourself? But Simon just crosses to the table and picks up a bottle of water and a sleeve of saltine crackers. He chucks both of them at your legs before returning to his seat.

“Sip the water, eat slowly,” he instructs. “And I’ll tell you the rules of the game.”

You can’t think of a reason not to, so you struggle for a moment with the bottle cap before bringing the bottle to your lips. Your mouth feels gross and fuzzy, but the water is cool. The crackers, when you finally tear the packaging, are exactly what you needed. You wish you had some ginger ale.

“You told Kyle that I’d taken you hunting,” Simon starts. “But I hadn’t really. First time was a happy coincidence. Second time, you planned the date activity and I kind of hijacked it, yeah?”

If your neck wasn’t so thick, I’d strangle you, you think. You take another sip of water.

“So I thought to myself, what parts of hunting might my sweet, clever girl be interested in? How can I make sure she’s having just as much fun as me? And I remembered your little cubes.”

You narrow your eyes at that. The Rubik’s cubes were one of the first signs that he’d been breaking into your apartment. By now, he knows that you know how to solve them. Two weeks after he’d moved in next door, though, he hadn’t figured that out. It had made your skin crawl to come home from work and see the colors in the wrong places. Now, sometimes, he’ll present the cubes for you to solve while you talk. When you hand him the completed puzzle, he scrambles it up and hands it back.

“You didn’t kidnap me to make me solve a giant Rubik’s cube,” you say.

“No,” he answers. If you could see his face, you think he’d be smirking. “But the first part of the game is a puzzle. You have to get out of the room.”

When he doesn’t say anything else, you want to scream. Instead, you slowly eat your way through the crackers and sip your water and think. The metal cuffs on your wrists are far enough apart that you can easily reach the locking mechanisms. They’re just tight enough that you can’t wiggle out, but they’re not uncomfortable. You can’t see where the chain to the ground is latched, so if there’s a clasp on that end, maybe this will be more simple than you think. You doubt it.

Daylight is streaming in through the window behind you. The shadows of the bars are very obvious, so the only way out of the room is going to be through the door. Simon’s sitting on the hinge side, but the only way you’ll get out before he blocks the way is probably if he’s on this side of the room. Facing the table, maybe. Preferably not standing.

Maybe you can strangle him with the chain.

You freeze as soon as the thought enters your mind, cracker halfway to your mouth. Wrapping the chain around the neck of that death mask only makes sense. But the idea of killing Simon makes you feel like vomiting.

When you look back at him, his eyes are as heated as they ever get. “Don’t worry, precious. I made you a promise last night. No killing, no wounds. No “Saw” puzzles. Just a little escape room. Told me you like those.”

Had you? That sounds like something you would have said, back in the beginning, to see what he would do. You take another sip to clear your mouth and settle your stomach. You’re already feeling better. “What are the rules?”

“You’ve got ninety minutes to get out of the cuffs and get into the chest. Once you’ve done both, the timer stops, and I explain the next part of the game.”

“Can I ask you questions once I get started?”

“Of course,” Simon says, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest.

You bite your lip. “When does the timer start?”

“You tell me when you start,” he says. “We’re not in any rush.”

“What’s in the chest?”

“That,” he answers, eyes crinkling with an obvious grin this time, “you’ll have to find out for yourself.”

That is not an answer you want to hear, but there’s nothing to be done about it. You rack your brain for any more questions. There are, of course, about a million. But the one that sticks out is, “Why were you so nice to me, last night? You could have just drugged me. You did, anyway.”

Simon doesn’t say anything for a long time, just looks at you. He holds eye contact, so you don’t look away. After a full thirty seconds, he hums. “You said you missed me. That you wanted to be with me. You asked me to stay. I liked it.”

The way he says it, warm voiced and slow and soft, makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. There’s a spark of something in his eyes that you don’t want to examine. You’re too afraid to look away. But then he blinks and lets his eyes drift up and away from you. The breath you didn’t know you were holding whooshes out of you.

“Guess I’d better get started,” you say.

When you stand to the side of the bed, you find that you’re wearing one of his shirts, a pair of underwear, and a pair of socks. The room isn’t unbearably cold, but it’s not comfortable. The chain to your cuffs is much longer than you expected. You think it’s long enough for you to walk all the way around the room, unimpeded. If so, it’s long enough to get out the door, with a little extra slack. It’s locked to a loop bolted into the floor with a key lock.

You walk around to the table to get a good look at everything. There’s the water. The brown packages are four MREs, which you recognize from camping trips back when you were a teenager. There’s actually a few different fruits - grapes, apples, bananas, a bowl of chopped watermelon of all things. All of that is gathered on one side of the table. The side close to the empty chair has a manila folder. A glance inside shows printouts, three pages of text and forms, with some of the information redacted.

You let the folder fall closed and walk over to the chest. There’s two combination locks, each with four dials, one with numbers and the other with letters.

That’s two wrist cuffs, the lock for the chain, and two locks on the chest. If the cuffs share a key, this might be doable. If not… “Two or three keys, and two combinations?” you ask.

“Two keys, two combinations,” Simon confirms.

You do a quick calculation in your head. “A little more than 20 minutes per puzzle. That’s pretty tight, but doable. What happens if I don’t get it done in time?”

You turn to look at Simon and catch him looking at your legs. When he meets your eyes, his are smirking again. “You lose time in the second part of the game. And you’re going to want that time.”

With a sigh and a shake of your head, you walk to the wall across from the table. There are some cracks in the paint, a couple of scattered, discolored spots. But it doesn’t seem deliberate. So you leave it and head back to the table. The folder is tempting, but obvious, so you start with the fruit.

Bag of grapes, three apples, five bananas. You open the package of watermelon and poke around in it. No keys. Not in the bag of grapes, either. The apples and bananas are whole. But one of the bananas has a series of numbers followed by Xs written on it in black ink. 11 21 32 XX. You pry it from the others, carefully, and take it over to the folder.

The metal chair is cold when you use your hand to pull it out. You turn back to the bed and grab the thin blanket to cover it, then have an idea. You shake the pillow from the pillowcase and strip the sheets from the bed. No key, but the pillow has another set of digits and Xs written on it. 7 13 26 XX. You lift the mattress to look under it, but there’s nothing else, so you let it fall.

“Can I have a pen?” you ask, absently. You’re surprised when Simon plucks one from his vest and holds it out for you. You snort as you walk over to take it. “Can I have the key to the cuffs, while you’re at it?”

Simon’s eyes do something complicated as you take the pen. Then he tilts his head, reaches up, and pulls a thin chain from under his shirt. On it dangle two keys, one a tiny cylinder of a thing, the other a proper key. He lets them both drop against his collarbones.

You dart your eyes between the keys and his eyes. “Are you serious?”

“’D prefer if you opened the folder,” he says with a shrug. “But I do have the keys. Cost you… 15 minutes for one.”

“Did you just make that number up?” You laugh. Then it hits you and you glare. “You’re distracting me and stalling.”

“You asked,” he points out, chuckling as you whirl on your heel to go back to the folder.

That is neither disputable or worth responding to, so you don’t. You drop into your seat and open the folder. The first thing you do is jot down the numbers and where you found them on the inside. None of the numbers are repeated, so you leave them for now. Then you pick up the first sheet of paper.

It’s the service record for one Simon J. Riley.

A lot of the information is redacted. Most of the page is blacked out lines. But you see that he enlisted in 2001, had some kind of redacted gap from 2003 to 2004, then resumed his service. Then it jumps out at you. 2007, KIA. You can’t help but look up at him, and find him watching you already. You scour the page for any other information, but there’s nothing. So you flip the page.

This one is some kind of tactical… memorandum? Too much is redacted for you to be able to get much information about who the report is for, so you just start reading.

Mission to Mexico. Drug cartel, name redacted. Compromised leadership. Someone got double crossed. You start feeling sick at the description of torture, but most of the details are obscured, so you push through. Then a line makes you pause, and you have to re-read it. You flip back and forth between Simon’s service record and the report.

“Simon,” you say slowly. Your stomach is really twisted in knots, now. You’re afraid to look at him, but you make yourself meet his eyes. “Were you buried alive?”

He says, “Yes.” Your heart breaks.

The next few lines are blacked out. You really don’t want to ask, but, “How did you get out?”

“Blood, sweat, and tears,” he says, vaguely. “Probably not something you want to think about, sweet thing. Don’t want to waste time.”

“I need to pause the game,” you tell him. “because I just read that you were buried alive.”

“An explanation will cost you an hour,” Simon offers. His eyes are crinkled like he’s smiling.

“Simon.” Your voice is sharp to your own ears. “What the fuck?”

“Tick tock.”

You know from past experience that getting any more information from him will be like getting blood from a stone. So you make yourself read on. There’s a confusing bit about… brainwashing? Without the full context the report is a mess. Multiple civilian casualties, then… mission objective complete? Lots of blocked out text, surrounding a single word. ROBA.

You jot that on the lower half of the folder, then skim through the documents again for any numbers. Besides the years in the service record, there’s nothing that jumps out. So you jot down 2001, 2003, 2004, and 2007.

You decide this is a good enough place to start with the puzzles. The numbers on the pillow seem simple enough. You’re not good at math, but you’re good at patterns. You eliminate a few possible addition patterns, recognize it probably isn’t pure multiplication. Considering who Simon is, you gamble that there’s probably no fractions or decimals involved, so it’s probably going to be some combination of multiplication and subtraction. And as soon as you think of that, you see it. Times two, minus one. So the last number is 49.

The the second puzzle, from the banana, tickles your brain because you know you’ve seen it before. The numbers aren’t doubling. And it’s not simple addition. Adding in sequence seems to work. Adding 10 to 11 makes 21, then adding 11 works to get to 32. Plus 12 would make the next digits 44. That seems almost too easy, but these kinds of puzzles usually are. And it is a possible answer, so you write it down.

The only other potential numbers are the dates. If you pick the last four digits, that’s 1347. Another code. Unless it’s 2222. Or 0000. Or 2020...

Now you have a few potential 4 digit codes, and a possible 4 letter code.

“Time check?”

Simon looks at his watch. “Sixty-two minutes left.”

You hum an acknowledgment, and flip the pages in the folder, and the folder itself. There’s nothing else, so you leave the papers on the table and take your notes over to the crate.

Simon makes an interested noise through his nose. “That was fast.”

“Haven’t found the keys, yet,” you answer, “Gotta get a move on.”

You start with the letters, because it seems straightforward. And then you’re a bit stumped, because the lock doesn’t have a B available in the third slot. Or an A in the first. So you’ll have to find a cypher or something before you can tackle this one. Disappointing, but you still have time. You move over to the other lock and hope you have what you need. 4944 doesn’t work. Neither does 4449, 9444, or 4494. 2222, 0000, and 1347 are all a bust. You make your way through 1374, 1437, 1473, 1734, and 1743 before you give up.

“Fuck,” you grumble.

Crouched as you are, you have a new vantage point to consider. You scuttle your way under the table without putting your knees on the ground, and look at the underside. Sure enough, there’s a doodle of two bananas with a pillow in between. The dates were most likely a red herring. Or they’re the cypher to the letters.

“I got the numbers wrong,” you grumble.

“You’re a smart girl,” Simon says. “You can figure it out. Fifty-seven minutes.”

You scoot from under the table and make to stand up, but something on your leg catches your eye. Dropping onto the now bare mattress, you lift the edge of your shirt, Simon’s shirt, and see writing on your inner thigh, upside down so you can see it easily. Four digits, 01 10, and another fucking banana.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you groan.

Simon snickers from his chair.

You grab your folder and pen and jot the new string of numbers down. 01 10 11 21 32 XX. Obviously, adding in sequence no longer works. It’s gotta have something to do with the number of 1s in the sequence, so you try to let go of math related assumptions. The first two numbers swap their digits. Then two ones. Then a two and a one. Then a three and a two. Zero plus one is one. One plus zero is one. One plus one is two. Two plus one is three. Three plus two is… five as the first digit? Sliding the tens to the ones place is one, zero, one, two… three. 53.

Banana pillow banana, then, is 5493.

Before you go to check, you stand up to lift your shirt up to look at your belly, then higher to look at the skin of your breasts. You ignore the low wolf-whistle Simon makes to do a quick inspection. Nothing jumps out, so you let the shirt drop a bit and pull your underwear away from your hips. You feel a bit silly staring at your own crotch, but it’s Simon so you figure nothing’s really off limits. And you’re rewarded with the discovery of a piece of tape with a doodle of a heart on it. The tape is garment quality, which explains why you didn’t feel it.

The heart doesn’t really give you much, but you pull it out and slap it on the folder anyways.

“Forty-nine minutes,” Simon says when you look up at him.

Back at the chest, you click the dials to the number sequence you identified and grin to yourself when the lock gives an easy snick as it opens. The other lock is still a mystery, but you’ve got one down, and still plenty of time to request the cuff key if needed.

You turn to look up at Simon from where you’re crouched. “How much does a hint cost?”

He pretends to think for a moment. “For that lock? Flash me your tits again.”

“Nasty,” you roll your eyes as you stand up. You lift the shirt up to your neck and are startled when he sits forward to rest his hands on your hips. The skull mask gets even closer, and then he’s kissing over your heart, eyes locked on yours. He leaves his lips against you through his balaclava, thumbs rubbing over the place where your hips meet your belly.

You stare down at that bone face from less than two inches away. You used to hope it was plastic. Now you know for a fact that it is not.

And then he lets you go and sits back, crossing his arms over his large chest. He looks at his watch.

“Forty-six minutes.”

You gape at him. “Where’s my clue?”

“That was your clue.”

“That’s the least helpful clue ever,” you complain.

“You found all the other ones,” Simon points out. “But I’ll tell you the solution if you let me fuck you.”

You scoff. “I don’t need you to tell me. I can figure it out.”

“I know,” Simon’s grin is easier to make out this close. “My clever girl.”

You grumble, but you can’t help but grin as you try to think of what the four letter sequence could be. On a whim, you try TITS. The letters are present, but that’s apparently not the combo. Heart has too many letters, but maybe has something to do with feelings. The lock doesn’t have the right letters for LOVE, forward or backward. Same with HATE. You try SRSK for Simon Riley the Serial Killer, but that’s not it. You’re on a date, so you try combining his initials with yours where it fits, but that’s not it either. In a fit of pique, you try TITS again.

Then you take a deep breath and think about Simon and you. Your relationship. DATE, KILL, and CARE are a bust. AMOR, EROS, HOLD, BOND. None of them work.

You’re getting antsy because you still need at least the key for your handcuffs and you're running out of time, but you make yourself take a deep, slow breath. SLOW and DEEP don’t work. And then you pause and look up at Simon’s face. At the skull.

BONE.

Nope. But it was worth a shot.

But thinking about skulls and bones makes you think of skeletons. Dead bodies. Cemeteries. Simon’s service record, breaking your heart.

BURY.

The lock clicks open.

You’re giddy as you swing the lid of the chest open. And, almost immediately, you scramble backwards, shoulders colliding painfully with Simon’s knees. Without thinking, you clamber up until you’re perched in his lap, staring in horror at the human skull grinning up at you from atop black cloth.

A piece of tape is on the right temple. In Simon’s scrawl, it simply says BRANDON.

#dragonnarrativewrites fanfiction #cod #fanfiction #simon ghost riley #dark fic #simon riley x you #slasher handler #simon riley x you smut #manic pixie dream ghost

[grippingbeskar]

cutting it close | the mandalorian

mando x fem!reader

word count: 11.4k

warnings: ADULT CONTENT MINORS DNI (oral f receiving, mxf intercourse) swearing, canon typical violence, din clubbing deserves its own warning guys.

a/n: a labour of true love. i wrote half of this so long ago, but was inspired by an incredible source to continue.we are really living up the the user name in this one bc WE ARE GRIPPING BESKAR FOR REAL. shoutout to @everybirdfellsilent​ for being the BEST person to bounce ideas off, catching all of my grammar errors (there were many) and helping me figure out how someone whispers in a helmet. you are a real one and i love you!!!!! okay enjoy goodbye. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Are you sure he’s in there?” You ask the Mandalorian, who even through his helmet looks as uncomfortable as you are. He just holds up the tracking fob and it beeps rapidly, hardly making a sound over the thumping of the bass in the club in front of you.

“Guess so.” He yells over the sound. If you can barely hear him out here, you don't even want to imagine what it's like inside. The sound vibrates through the concrete and you can hear the high pitched sound of girls singing somewhere in the back, blue and red lights flicking out underneath the door you both stand in front of.

“I’ll go. You can wait out here. Your shiny head’s gonna reflect the light too much and give me a headache.” You go to take the tracker from him but he yanks it away. Rolling your eyes, he just leans and opens the door for you, and there's no point in arguing as you walk inside, the music instantly flooding your senses.

You have been helping Mando track down a couple of syndicate members while he was out on Corellia, promising to share the credits and take you off the planet if you showed him where they might be hiding. You have no loyalties here, and if you could get a free ride while also making those assholes pay for all the people they’ve fucked over, then you’d be lying if you said you wouldn’t enjoy it.

The thump of the bass is annoying, only because you aren’t drunk. Usually you love this shit, and the packed dance floor stuffed with swaying bodies gives you a little bit of a rush as you remember all the good nights you’ve had here. Drinking till the sun comes up, meeting strangers and making them your best friends for a night, taking some lucky guy home with you only to kick him out the next morning, bored and hungover. It makes you smile to think about how your life used to be, free of responsibility, but as the Mandalorian comes up next to you, you are reminded of why you’re here.

“Where should we look?” He yells, and you pull him down by his shoulder so he can repeat it. He stiffens under your touch, but over the past couple days he’s started to get used to you putting your hands on him, you think. You think he’s probably been alone for most of his missions, so being around someone as outgoing as you; it’s probably a lot to take in

The Mandalorian has not, will not ever get used to the way you touch him. The first time you reached out for him, pulling his arm in the direction of some abandoned house, he nearly dropped to his knees at the way your fingers curled around his armor. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from your hand on him, how your skin looked against the silver beskar, how your eyes bore holes in his helmet, like you could see him through all of it. He would never admit how he went back to the ship and jacked off like he never had before, only thinking about your hand gripping him, tighter and tighter. You wave your hand in front of his face, and he has to look around to get his bearings.

“Hey! I said through here. Come.” Your hand takes his, and he lets you lead him through the crowd. Once his brain swims back into his own head, he tightens his hand on yours, coming closer behind you as you shove your way through. It gets easier as you go further, people starting to move in the presence of his giant frame.

He doesn’t notice that, he doesn’t even notice where you're leading him, all thoughts and two eyes on your hand, gripping his, and he doesn’t think he will be able to get the image out of his head.

Threading through the last of the crowd, you have to knock a few people out of the entrance to the back, a couple making out looking up and giggling as they watch you lead a giant Mandalorian into the red rooms. The soft material of the curtain sends shivers up your arm as you pass through it, and you hear Mando behind you swatting at it, and the rip of material as some of it gets caught on his armor.

“Hey darlin’. Come back for more?” You hear a familiar voice and you roll your eyes at the sound of it. Shaun was an old friend, although friend was a very loose term. You hooked up once, extremely drunk, kissing in this very room for about three seconds before his girlfriend at the time came in and smacked the shit out of him.

“More of watching you get your ass beat by a girl?” He physically winces, and being the complete push over that he is, when he sees The Mandalorian trail behind you, he swallows hard and backs up a bit. “We need to go downstairs. My friend wants to pay a visit.”

“Come on. You kn-know I can’t.” Stepping forward, you hear the click of a blaster from behind you, and The Mandalorian takes perfect aim.

“You can. You will, too. Or he will make you.” You motion your head over your shoulder, and you can see the way he’s standing without turning your head, one leg slightly bent, casually waiting to shoot.

“They’ll kill me if I do.” He whispers and looks at the floor. You kick the cheap carpet out of the way and see a tiny sliver of light, a shadow crossing over it. The fob beeps from behind you, faster than before.

“I’ll kill you if you don’t.” Mando moved closer behind you, you could only tell because his voice got louder and you could see a little glint of beskar in the corner of your eye. You just put your hand out, and the key to the tiny lock on the trap door falls into your hand, Shaun stepping back. As soon as the lock clicks he bolts.

Coward.

Not like he’ll have anything to worry about once Mando goes down. You flip up the trap door as quietly as possible, and go to take the first step when a gloved hand falls on your shoulder.

“Stay up here. Keep watch.” He goes down first, and before you lose his head down the door you whisper to him.

“Be safe, okay?”

He freezes.

He can fight twenty guys at once, unarmed, and not even think about it, but the worried look in your eyes and your hand gently running across the side of his helmet makes every muscle in his body freeze. He manages a nod and you smile, closing the door over his head, and he lets out a very long sigh, trying to contain himself. He needs to focus, and the only way he can seem to do that is if he isn’t near you, so when your face disappears from view, he slips back into the zone.

He drops and finally hits solid ground, blaster fire immediately following. He hears the door above him swing open, seeing your hair whizz past his vision as you fold yourself into the tiny gap behind the stairs, shuffling along to get a vantage point above him. While watching you one of the men throws a punch against his armor. He wouldn’t have even felt it if he wasn’t looking, and it pissed him off so much that he just picks up the guy and smashes him down into the table, breaking it in two.

Watching the Mandalorian in his element, he moves easily through the men, hardly having to look when he fires a blaster or throws a punch. You shoot a couple heading out the back, not entirely sure which one he is after, but they deserved it anyways. These guys were notorious spice runners, but it wasn’t the drugs that made them bad, it was them selling it to young kids, telling them if they sell it all they will make them rich, and then forcing them to work out the debt when they inevitably don't come through. It was a fucked up system, one that you had been trying to take down for the past couple months, but having a giant beskar bounty hunter on your team was doing things now that would have taken you years alone.

Bodies start to pile up and pretty soon you notice the Mandalorian running out of guys to kill, so you shimmy back through the ladder and drop down. By the time you reach him, he’s cracking the skull of the last guy on the wall, his body sliding down leaving green blood in a trail. The tracking fob still beeps in the quiet of the room. You reach into the Mandalorians belt and pull it out, wandering around the room trying to get a better signal.

The Mandalorian can’t move. You didn’t even think twice, just shoved your hands in his belt, so dang close to where he’s pictured ever since he saw you. You’ve ignited something in him that he thought went dormant when he took the helm, but you; your hands, your confidence - he can’t hide the reaction you cause.

You try not to make a big deal out of it, try not to smile, to acknowledge the way he froze up under you. It's not possible, you and him. Even though you have thought about it many, many times. You don't even know how it would work; would he keep his armor on? Take those gloves off, the ones that sometimes slip up his hand and you see a sliver of tanned, real skin that sends your stomach crazy, and would he put his hands on you? You drag your eyes back to the fob in your hand, and when you lift it above your head it beeps wildly.

“How did he get past us?” You shake your head, because there’s no way he did. You were behind the stairs, and no one passed through the Mandalorians' brutal assault.

“Maybe he was never down here. I don’t know what he looks like. Guy’s a ghost.” The modulator thinks out loud, and you both look up at each other in realization, and a bit of shock on your part.

“There is no way.” It makes you laugh, because it's that unbelievable. “Shaun is a pussy. No way he could pull that off. He is not the guy we’re after. No. No way.”

“Where does that door lead to?” He’s referring to the door Shaun went out of, but you just turn and start up the ladder, still in some weird state of half shock and half amazement.

“Shaun. Fucking Shaun! You know this guy burnt his own eyebrows off because he was holding a blowtorch the wrong way?” The Mandalorian says nothing, but you just can’t believe it.

Shaun - the guy who cried when you told him he probably wasn’t going to be a Jedi was helping these syndicate guys run a child spice ring. You cannot believe this shit.

You ram the door Shaun fled into, and the pumping music instantly hits your chest, a hard bass line beating through the floor. You can feel the armor looming behind you, your ears tuning into the way Mando breathes even over the volume. Both of you take in the sight in front of you, the club is somehow ten times more busy, hardly giving you room to move. You scan the wave of people, darkness covering them and hands and bodies swaying way too fast to even see a face.

“I see him.” He says, and you look up to him. His arm comes over your shoulder, armor brushing lightly over the bare skin there. His hand is easy to follow, your focus deadly on the way his chest touches your back when he breathes in. Squinting, you see the unmistakable red hair bobbing through the crowd. “Can't get a clear shot. We need to move closer.”

“Follow me.” You pull him towards the crowd, but he doesn’t move.

“We’ll go around.” You look, both to your left and right, and see no way around, bodies just as thick to the walls as they are in the middle, and Shaun is moving further into the crowd.

“It’s too slow.” You pull him again to no avail.

“I’m not going in there.” He pulls you back to him, and your hand presses against his chest. You swear you can feel his heart beating under the thick layer of armor.

The Mandalorian has never felt so out of his element. The heat signatures of all the people around him are blown out in his helmet, the loud music blaring his senses, but that isn’t what's making him nervous. It's you, your hand on his chest, eyes wide and searching. He feels your look in his bones, like you're staring right at him, the real him. He swallows, and knows you can read him like a book.

“It's gonna be fine. You’re big and scary, they’ll move.” He doesn’t do anything, just stares at your mouth as you talk. “Are you like, claustrophobic?”

“No.”

“Then what is it?”

“Not big on crowds.” You tilt your head up at him, and he knows you picked that up from him. You mirror him, the way he scans the room, the way you change your stance when you look at him, keeping one hand on your blaster whenever you're outnumbered. It makes his heart beat faster to think you notice him like that, and the blood rushes to every part of him that he needs to keep tame. Your eyes flick down quickly then back up to him.

“Hey, come on! I’ll hold your hand the whole time.” You can almost see him roll his eyes in that giant helmet.

“Not helping.” His head swivels towards Shaun who is moving fast through the crowd, his small frame allowing him to slide through easier.

“We’re gonna lose him, Mando.” You sigh. You aren’t forcing him, not pulling his arm and dragging him through the crowd, even though the guy you have been hunting for what feels like forever is escaping as you stand there.

“Fine.” The Mandalorian goes to step forward into the crowd, but hesitates. It’s something you’ve only seen him do a handful of times, and usually it means something bad - no, horrible and unexpected is about to happen, because if he hasn’t planned for something, you have no way in Hell to be ready for it- “It’s Din.”

It’s so quiet, if you weren’t so in tuned with his voice you would have missed it.

“What?” Eyes wide, you tilt your head all the way up, making an effort to stare exactly where his eyes might be.

“My name. It’s Din.” You swallow, all the words in your brain suddenly vanishing to make room for the most important one. “You’ve been around long enough. You should know it.”

Din.

Din.

Diiiiiiiin.

You go to speak, say something in reply, although you aren’t sure what words would equal the meaning of his confession. Maybe he really was claustrophobic, and you saying his name was some last ditch effort to focus elsewhere. You don’t get a chance to ask him though, it’s as if he senses you're about to speak and slips past you, entering the crowd, but not before your hand slips into his, fingers lacing in between his gloved ones.

He’s thankful for your guiding arm as all his years of training seem to vanish when you touch him for the fourth time tonight.

You weave through the bodies as best you can, trying to track Shaun’s head. The club is huge and there's people everywhere, music pounding and flashing lights only illuminating the tops of peoples bouncing heads. You can feel the gloved hand squeeze yours and you stop, the minuscule proof of reciprocation halting your movements. You can feel him step once more to come right up behind you, his helmet so close you can hear the modulator imitating his breath.

“He stopped. We’re being watched.” Your hands stay linked as you look around. The both of you were practically dead center in the crowd, and you can make out Shaun’s tiny head somewhere to your right, surrounded by significantly bigger guards. Shit. You go to move toward him, but the Mandalorian - Din - Din’s free hand grabs your hip and pulls you back, the movement catching you so surprised that you slam into him. “Guards are armed.”

“They’re gonna shoot the place up if we don't lose them.” All the guards surrounding Shaun have their hands on their blasters, and the more you look the more guards you notice.

“You know this place better. What’s our play?” He was still pressed up against you, and his hand was still on your hip. You could feel the vibration of the speaker's bass through your feet, and you tried to think of a way to lose the guards. They weren’t looking straight at you, more just in the general direction of the crowd. You were sure they knew Shaun was being chased, but with the dark lights of the club, they wouldn’t be able to make out faces. Or helmets, hopefully.

“Dance with me.”

Thank the Maker for the visor, because Din's eyes nearly popped out of his head. He was having a hard enough time concentrating on anything except the way you were so close to him, and how he was pretty sure his glove was touching a tiny part of your skin, so when you suggested moving of any kind, his first reaction was to deny, if only for his own self preservation.

“No.”

“Come on. I’m not asking you to bend me over; just, I don't know, move a little. We can get closer and lose them in the crowd. Before you know it we will be out the door with Shaun, and the guards won't even know we were there.” You were twisting slightly in his hold so you could speak in his ear, and he found himself sliding his hand further across your waist.

“Okay.” You nod up at him but don’t move for a second, waiting for him to relax. “Lead the way.”

You felt so warm. Maybe it was the nightclub, or maybe it was him. Probably him, the way you begin to sway your hips just a fraction to either side had him grinding his teeth to focus on literally anything else. You let your head come back a little to rest on his chest and your other hand was still locked with his own. He tried to think about the fifty armed guards that were going to shoot everyone in here if this plan didn’t work, but no amount of danger, no risk would pull his mind away from how your free hand came up behind his neck, and how his hand had found your opposite hip, his forearm strong and tight against your stomach.

You were more focused than you had been this entire time. Not on Shaun, or the guards, or moving towards the exit, but on grinding your hips just right so you could feel some part of Din underneath the armor. A name to the person you knew hid beneath. You pulled out your best moves, remembering every night you spent in this club before tonight. It’s like every guy was just a practice run, because none of them felt as good, as strong or as fucking big behind you as The Mandalorian. His arm was pulling you against his chest, and the way his fingers twitched every time your ass found his groin; that was all the encouragement you needed.

“You can move. I don’t mind.” You lean up to look at him before flicking your hair to the other side of your shoulder. He was stiff as a board behind you, and you presumed he didn’t do a lot of clubbing in his line of work, but if this was going to work he needed to at least pretend.

“I- I’m not sure I know how.” You smile up at him. You don’t laugh, although he thinks anyone else would, but instead your hand unwinds from his own and comes on top of the one across your stomach.

“You can do whatever you want to me.” Your eyelashes flutter up at him, and the lights flashing across your face did nothing to hide the blush spreading across your cheeks.

The music, however, covered the slight groan Din made when you said those words. His head dropped, wanting to hide his face even though you couldn’t see it.

Maker, does that work for him.

He copies you, moving in time with your hips, and every time you change direction he has to grip you tighter to make sure you don't stop. Keeping your arm over his you take a step to the right towards the target.

“This is okay?” His voice sounds deeper than usual, and it sends shivers down your spine.

“Good. It’s good.” Maker, he was going to lose his shit. All those nights he had imagined you, imagined what you might feel like against him, around him, none of that would have prepared him for the real thing. You were moving like water against him, fluid and free as you bent your knees a little, sliding down only an inch before coming back up and taking another step to the right. He sees a guard to his left, and moves before he can think, protecting you becoming a sixth sense.

He spins, switching sides with you, and as he does so his hold comes around to your back. You were now face to face, his arm still holding you just as tight against his front, and your arm was hung around his neck, pulling him down closer to your face.

“Guard moved.” He justifies, and you can’t help but smile.

“Who knew The Mandalorian had moves?” He laughs a little and you can feel him relax, the arm around your back finding a more comfortable position to rest just above your ass. “Did they teach you ballet on Mandalore, too?”

“Very funny. I told you I don’t know what I’m doing.” You roll your eyes and both of you take another step towards Shaun, dancing bodies pressing you both closer together.

“You’re doing fine.” Fine was an understatement. For someone who claims they don’t dance, he matches every one of your moves perfectly, and it even starts to feel good; better than it ever did with any of those slimy dudes you danced with before.

“Yeah?” He breathes, dropping his head next to yours to scan the crowd behind you. You lose all power for a second, only being able to focus on how he was holding you and whispering as best he could in your ear.

“Mhmm. Very fine.” He laughs against you again, and leads you another step into the crowd.

Din was putting everything he had into not losing all composure right here. The fact that he could see your heat signature through his helmet wasn’t helping. He knew what yours usually looked like, he had spent enough time staring at you to picture it, so when he dropped his eyes and could see your stomach and chest burning red ever since he pulled you against him, his hold on himself became looser and looser.

“How are we doing?” You have to constantly blink to remind yourself why you are both here. He moves his hips against you and you shiver, the feeling of him moving against you too good to hide.

“Still too far.” Your back was to the target, so he had to keep an eye on him. He didn’t want to, didn’t give a shit about the target or the money or the beeping tracking fob. All he wanted was to stay here, with you dancing on him. Your forehead drops to rest on his chest. The music starts to pick up and so does your hips, naturally swaying to the beat.

“S-slow down.” Din stutters. Actually stutters. His voice is slow and crackly when he whispers in your ear. “Can’t think.”

“Why’s that?” The energy of the club disappears, and it's just you and him, occasional blue and red flashes lighting up his helmet.

“We have to focus.” You keep dancing, not wanting this moment to end. He feels so good against you, the cool armor against your hot skin electrifying every movement.

“Worried you can’t handle it, big guy?” You smirk up at him and pull his helmet closer, linking your arms around the back of his neck.

He’s slipping. Too far gone; with your hands around his neck and your hips swaying like that, right against him, there’s no looking back now.

“I can handle it.” You swallow hard at his voice that is now full of confidence, the one he uses when he talks to a target.

“Guess we’ll find out.” His arm at the back of you tightens, and you both realize at the same time what line you are crossing. There's no doubt that either of you haven’t thought about it, it’s all he has thought about since he met you, but it was all too confusing, too much all of a sudden. He has no idea how to handle you, handle whatever it is that you made him feel, but with you in the dark atmosphere of this club and the way you were moving, he can think of nothing else.

Both moving with the music, you start to dance less and grind more, finding a better pace to feel more of him against you. Both of his hands are on you now, one drawing explorative lines up your side while the other holds you to him.

“Guards are coming through the crowd.” His tone becomes a little more serious as the danger suddenly becomes unavoidable. You sneak a quick glance, and you can see them all, pushing people out of the way clearly looking for someone in particular, the shiny head of his helmet practically a beacon. It was so dark you couldn’t make out their faces, let alone Shaun’s or even Din who stared right at you, the guards only obvious because they were the only ones not dancing.

“You need to blend in. Or hide.” You whisper, still trying to act natural and ignore the slight hardness you can feel under your movements. “They’re going to kill everyone in here if they start shooting.”

The club was packed, and syndicate members aren’t exactly known for their conflict resolution, so both of you had no doubt they would shoot their way through innocent people just to minimize risk.

The Mandalorian had two options. He either let everyone in here take the risk of getting shot in the inevitable bloodbath that was going to happen when the guards got close enough to see him, which they only would be able to do because of how reflective his armor was.

Or, he could lean into the very bad second option which had a lot less risk for everyone else, but risked everything he had built for the last 20 years.

Even in the helmet he could only see your face, the darkness blurred everyone around him except how your pretty eyes were staring up at him, letting your hair fall over your shoulders. He couldn’t help but think how soft it would feel in his fingers. He could see your mouth, and how you held your bottom lip between your teeth, eyes glancing around trying to gage how much time you have before he gets you both killed.

“We need to move. They’re going to kill them.” You say, and it’s only because you finally stopped your torturous movement that he can think clearly for a second, or maybe not so clearly considering what he was about to do.

“I have an idea.” Comes through the modulator, and you're half surprised he’s still in there considering how quiet he’s been.

“Cutting it a bit close.”

“Do you trust me?” A gloved hand comes up to your cheek and your eyes fall on him. The glint of the beskar catches the eye of a guard and you can see them coming your way to investigate, caving you in to him at all angles. You lean up on your toes, getting as close to him as possible to make sure no one can hear your answer.

“I trust you, Din.”

“Good.” The hiss of an armor seal, the sound of something hitting the floor and a flash of brown curls under blue light are the last things you remember before his lips found yours.

They were soft. Surprisingly soft. He moved slowly, as if he wasn’t quite sure what to do now that he had found you. There was something so intimate about how slowly he kissed you, nothing but his lips moving against yours, only taking what you give him. You were caught so off guard you aren’t sure you moved in the first few seconds, but as soon as the realization of what was happening washed over you, you gave him everything you had.

One of your hands found his hair, slightly damp from sweat and the other pulled at his neck as if he could get any closer to you. You deepened the kiss, sliding your tongue into his mouth to show him just how okay you are with this, and he responds immediately. All of a sudden what was once a distraction kiss becomes something much more wild, more desperate and much more fitting for the feelings you both have for each other. For a second, you break apart, and its enough for you to utter the only word, the only name you will ever think of again. “Din.” You kiss the name onto his lips before he takes over again, the two of you practically becoming one.

He thinks he’s died and gone straight to hell, hearing you whisper his name. His real name. It’s unlike anything he’s experienced before. You taste sweet, like sugar, and your mouth moves on his like it’s never done anything else. He pulls you tighter, grabs at your hip while the other holds your face to his, using it to obscure himself to everyone but you. He is very aware of how wrong this is, but your teeth bite his bottom lip ever so slightly before sliding your tongue back in his mouth and he suddenly doesn’t care. He is hidden from everyone in the club by the darkness and fog, most of them too drunk or too absorbed in their own lives to notice him, which is exactly what the guards have blended you both in with as they begin to fan out around you. Just another couple kissing in the sea of dancing bodies.

He knows the guards pass as soon as he hears the clicks of blasters in holsters behind him. The threat is eliminated, passed, so why hasn’t he put his helmet back on? Why hasn’t he ripped his mouth away from you?

Every second you kiss him back makes it harder for him to think logically, and when you moan into his hard grip on your back and arch into him he doesn’t think he will ever be able to stop.

You feel the guard brush past you, but Din is kissing you so hard, so fervently that you don’t think you could deny him anything if he asked you right now, so you make no move to pull away, to slow down.

“Fuck.” His voice is just as low out of the modulator, and you feel your legs go weak at the sound of it. You made him say that, you affected him. Just like he affects you. You can feel his skin, a slight stubble around his cheeks, his hair longer than you would have thought, and it’s curly in your hands which for some reason makes him ten times hotter. You want more than anything to pull away and stare at him, take in the image of him, knowing no one will see it but you. But you don’t, and you just let him kiss you until neither of you can breathe, and then a little longer.

When he pulls away you expect him to cover up fast, and you keep your eyes closed not wanting to betray his trust in a futile moment. However, he just rests his forehead against yours, and you can feel the slightly clammy skin of his face against yours. You are both panting for air in the small space between you, and he breaks the silence first.

“They’re gone. Shaun too.” You mentally curse, but you're having trouble being upset at all at this moment, the overwhelming feeling of him is still flooded throughout your body, leaving no room for anything or anyone else.

“That was…”

“A good distraction?” His breath is warm on your face and you are so scared to move because then you won’t be able to kiss him again.

“I was going to say ‘fucking amazing’ but yeah, that too.” He laughs for just you, and you don’t think you will ever get tired of hearing that.

“Now who can’t handle it?” You laugh as he teases you, and nearly roll your eyes until you remember you can’t open them. You put your hand over your face. “What are you doing?”

“In case I see. When you put the…” your foot nudges the beskar helmet on the ground and you feel him nod against you.

“Right.” He forgot everything, forgot the creed he committed his entire life to, and that was only a fucking kiss. He leant down and picked up the helmet, shoving it back on.

It was the first time he resented having to wear it.

Your eyes open and find the black visor staring back at you. You smile up at him and start to sway your hips, placing your hands on his side and resting your face in the crook of his neck.

“Can we pretend a little longer?” You mumble into his shirt at his neck, and he stiffens slightly. You feel a hand adjust his pants before it finds the back of your head.

“I wasn’t pretending.”

“Me either.” The lights start to slow around you, blue and red no longer coming in flashes but waves, and you look up at him.

“Come with me.” He says it half as a question, half a command and his hand intertwines with yours again.

“Where?”

“Anywhere. Everywhere.” You laugh and lean back, leading him towards the exit before you turn around and start squeezing through bodies. He follows close behind, keeping watch for any remaining guards or any ideas for where Shaun might have gotten to. Soon the cool night winds it’s way over your skin and you shiver, the Mandalorian coming right up behind you and guiding you away.

“I didn’t see where he went. Do you have anything?” You look up but he’s not focused on searching, his eyes are set in one direction.

“Track him tomorrow.”

“But what abo-“

“Do you know how many nights I’ve waited to touch you?” Your eyes widen, and you have no words. He’s stopped walking in the middle of the street, but it’s late and dark so no one else is around to witness. You shake your head. “Any idea how many nights I thought about you? Dreamt of you?” Again, you shake your head.

“What did I do? In your dreams?” You breathe, the foggy night steaming a cloud over his helmet as he leans in close.

“I’m going to show you. If you let me.” He tugs on your hand, gentle enough to let you pull away, but you grab his wrist tight and make sure the hold doesn’t break.

“Show me.” He’s too focused on getting where he wants to go that he doesn’t stop immediately. “Din. Please.” He pulls you against him and starts walking a little slower.

“You said that; in my dream.”

“What? Show me?” He shakes his head.

“Please.”

“I say that all the time. I have great manners.”

“Not the way I’m thinking, cyar’ika.” Your heart flutters at the name, and the way he says it, how it vibrates through his chest and reaches into your own. You round a corner and his ship comes into view.

“Guess you’ll have to demonstrate.” The hand on your lower back drops and rests on your ass, giving it a little squeeze that makes you jump into him.

“I plan on it.” Your breath catches in your throat and suddenly you're moving at an almost inhuman pace, jogging to try and keep up with his giant steps. You can hear the passing voices of people heading home for the night, and you wonder where you would have ended up had you not lost Shaun tonight.

Realistically, if you had told your past self you would leave without the bounty tonight, she probably would have slapped you. Right now, though, as the Razor Crest comes into view, you couldn’t imagine a more perfect ending.

Or a more anticipated one. He moves like a predator - fast, swift and with purpose, having the ramp of the Crest already opening by the time you round the corner, hand still entangled tightly with his own.

You were high on adrenaline, the events of just minutes ago still fogging your brain, but your concentration had nowhere else to be but right here, as the soft lights of Corellia disappeared behind the closing ramp. You let out a shuddering breath as Din steps toward you. You can hardly see him, going off your other senses to gauge exactly where he is.

You can smell him. You feel strange, inhaling deeply in the almost pitch black of the hull, but you think it might be your favorite smell. It reminds you of safety, a little hint of vanilla mixed with cedar wood, a result of the single, half empty bottle of all-in-one soap you once glimpsed in the corner of his refresher. You don’t hear him step behind you, but the smallest hint of air brushes over your shoulder, and the scent overwhelms you.

You turn around, exceedingly eager. Your chest practically slams into him, and it’s only when you settle your hands on his ribcage you hear how fast you were breathing.

“Relax. It’s just me.” You let out a soft laugh, trying to hide your nerves.

“That’s kind of the problem.” You say and instantly feel him move back.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.” You want to slam your head against the wall. Of course he would be sweet, and kind, exactly the kind of guy you always want but never find yourself going for. Willing some of that confidence from the club to miraculously appear, you blindly reach out, playing to pull him back to you, and yank the first part of armor you find.

You wouldn’t call it a squeak, exactly. You don’t think that it would be possible for Din to emit a sound like that, but something breathy and surprising cracks the silence in the ship as you pull him forward. Your hand had slipped right over the ridge of his breastplate, finding the one weak spot on his armor even in the dark. You could feel him swallow against the back of your knuckles.

“I want…” Two hands rest lightly on your body. One is on your hip, his thumb running small lines up and over the curve of it, and the other rests on your cheek. His skin - exposed, and against yours, is rough as his fingers begin to thread into your hair. The heel of his palm takes up most of your cheek, and a wave of warmth rushes through every part he touches.

“What do you want, cyar’ika?” Even though it’s pitch black, your eyes flutter shut at the beautiful jumble of words. You recognise the language, only because you’ve heard Din say a few words here and there during hunts, but mainly only the swear words. Now, the language sounds like a dream, and it doesn’t really matter what it means, only that he’s saying it to you, and it almost sounds like a compliment.

“I want you, Din.” You feel the hand in your hair tighten slightly, flex and thread further towards the back of your head. The hand on your hip leaves only for a second, and in the next moment a loud clang on the ground has you almost jumping into Din’s arms.

“Sorry.” He laughs, and your heart stops. His voice is perfectly clear. Handsome. Can a voice be handsome? You keep your eyes closed, afraid to break the spell of whatever magic must be enchanting you right now. “Come here.”

You don’t get a chance to fully appreciate the sound of him, without his helmet for the second time tonight, but when his lips gently press against yours, you get lost in him. You’ll have him talking soon enough. Emboldened by how tentative he moves against you, your hands slip out from underneath his breastplate and into his hair. Your eyes squeeze shut tighter at the feeling, and your fingers get tangled in the slightly damp mess of curls. It was longer than you imagined, and soft. So, so soft. Maybe that all-in-one soap needed a little more credit.

When you use the new hold you have on him to pull him closer, he groans into your mouth. The sound has you sighing in content, and you drag your fingertips over his scalp, massaging the sound out of him again. The hand on your hip slides up to your lower back, holding you against him, tight. Everything comes rushing back, the music that was flowing around you minutes ago, the energy of the club, the way Din was letting himself feel you without hesitation. You move against him, and his hands drop from your face to just under your ass, and in one go he has you up in his arms, your legs instinctively wrapping around his back.

He takes a single step and makes the distance from the center of the hull, pushing you up against the wall. The cold metal is hard against your back, but so is the unyielding hold of his armor on your front, and it immobilizes you in the best way. His hands, unrestrained by the gloves he usually wears, begin to massage just under your ass, fingers spreading out along the fabric covered skin. His teeth lightly graze on your bottom lip, and the movement has you gasping and chasing his mouth when he pulls back.

“So many people in that damn club.” He grumbles, blessing you with another light kiss before dragging the soft skin of his lips down to your jawline. His tongue darts out only slightly, tasting you. Some small part of your brain that is still able to process words reminds you of how reluctant he was when you all but forced him into the crowd.

“I didn’t mean t-to make you go in - fuck, Din.” He finds a spot just under your ear, biting and kissing while you attempt to form a sentence.

“Not what I mean.” His curls tickle the underside of your chin as he dips his head, kissing the front of your throat. Something about it feels like surrender, and you are more than happy to give in to it. “Wanted you all to myself.”

“You could of fucking had me months ago.” It comes out a little more aggressive than you planned, but it’s painfully true. All it would have taken was one word from him, and you would have given him whatever he wanted. It pissed you off to think of all the wasted time, especially when it might be coming to an end once you tracked down the final bounty. Your words make him stutter, his hair brushing your cheek before his forehead rests on your own.

“Really?” You can hear his smile through his words, and it makes your heartbeat a little faster just imagining it.

“Best bounty hunter in the galaxy, but can’t pick up a single hint, huh?” You slide your arms around his neck, one hand pulling him back to your mouth. He lets you lead, melting into your touch as your hand starts to massage the thick muscles at the base of his neck. He moans, and you can feel the effect of the small sound under your clothes, so you track it down again, repeating the motion. He was still wearing his full armor except the gloves and helmet, so you did your best to relax his neck and shoulders the best you could reach. He rewards the movement with those same sweet sounds, taking your full weight by holding you in his forearms.

“Maker, you- you feel so fucking good.” You start to roll your hips against him, and from this angle you can feel him, hard and big under that damn armor.

“Feels better without my clothes on.” You arch your neck to whisper in his ear, leaving soft kisses along his cheek before returning to his lips.

His restraint doesn’t last long, not that he really had much. He was planning to take this slow - for you as much as for himself. He knew you hadn’t gone out like you used to since you met him; bounty hunting tended to involve a whole lot of late nights and early mornings. Of course, he was glad you weren’t taking any men into your bed while he was around, but he knew it was something you were… experienced at. It had been a while for him, so when he knew the feelings he was having weren’t just physical, he was really shooting in the dark for a chance with you at the best of times.

Now it was here, he was going to make it good.

So good that you never thought about anyone, ever again. He was going to consume you, just as you had consumed him.

Everything changes suddenly. Like neither of you expect it. Din slides you out of his arms, and on your way down, his fingers hook under the flimsy material of your shirt. It sits just above your jeans, exposing a small line of skin that Din’s fingertips currently graze against. There’s nothing you can do to hide the goosebumps that prickle your skin. He seems to stop; waiting for you to shove him away. Waiting for some kind of sign that he is reading this wrong, that he must be.

You drop your hands to his own and, following your lead, he takes your shirt off and throws it somewhere in the darkness.

“Your turn.” You whisper, and your hands come up to his neck, pulling at the fabric that covers him. He still isn’t used to the way you touch him, and if this keeps up, he’s pretty sure he never will be.

It’s a meticulous process - taking off his armor. He can do it with his eyes closed, but it still takes a while. You don’t seem to mind, though. Piece by piece, he sheds the armor away, letting it clatter to the floor around you with little care. Your hands hover over the tops of his, learning, and soon you take initiative by following his actions, repeating the steps on his opposite side.

He doesn’t think he will ever want to take his armor off in any other way.

Your fingers are more delicate, where his own rip and tug at the connectors, your own untangle. Where he shrugs it off, shaking his arm to let the plate tumble to the floor, your hands are feather light as you slide the remaining beskar, and he closes his eyes, content to just feel as you complete the job. Soon enough, he’s standing in front of you in less clothes than he’s ever worn in front of another person.

Any other time, he’s fully clothed, armor only shifted in necessary places. He’s never wanted to be felt, never wanted someone’s hands on him, but after feeling you so close tonight, he doesn’t think he could go another second without it.

You blindly reach out to his face, the dark still keeping his creed intact. He lets your fingertips dance along the ridge of his nose, before you grab his face and pull, locking him into a kiss.

This one is different. Where the others have been full of sweetness, this one is needy. Hungry. Clearly, the process of removing his armor had a similar effect on you, because in the next few seconds he feels you whipping his shirt off, only disconnecting from his mouth for a moment before coming back to him, hands exploring his chest.

He felt big. Of course he was fucking huge, but having him half naked, feeling that broad chest under your palms, you almost forgot how giant he really was. It sent waves of need straight to your core, and you wasted little time tugging at the seams of his pants. If these were just as complicated as his armor was, you think you might collapse before he even-

In one pull, his pants go sliding off, and you feel how fast they drop under the weight of his armor. It makes a loud ‘clang’ as it hits the floor, and even though you can only think of what the sight in front of you must look like, you have to stifle a laugh at how easy it was to take them off.

“Easy access.” Din hums as he nuzzles his nose into the crook of your neck, bringing your attention back to him. He drags his teeth along the sensitive skin, and when you arch your back, you feel him. It’s impossible not to, the hard length pressing against your lower stomach, and it sends the butterflies already flying around in your stomach raving mad.

“Please, Din. I need you.” You hear him sigh at your words.

“You sound more perfect than I imagined.” You could feel how hot your face was, even your ears were burning. Before tonight, you could probably count the amount of words he had said on one hand. There was something about hearing him unfiltered, talking like that.

You let out a whimper at the words, and he starts to undo your jeans, finally taking the fucking hint.

“You like it when I talk like that? Tell you how sweet you sound saying my name?”

“Stars- yes. Please.” You shove your jeans down and step out of them, and Din leads you away from the pile of armor and clothes. You have lost all sense of direction, trusting him not to run you into anything. When he stops you, you feel yourself being pressed into an oddly shaped wall. A door? No - the rungs of the ladder leading up to the cockpit stripe against your bare back, and Din helps you sit up on one, taking the weight off your feet.

“Mesh’la, cyar’ika. Sit there and look pretty for me.” You were about to argue that he couldn’t see anything through the dark, but maybe his eyes were better adjusted. Maybe, from all his late nights spent hunting, he could see just a little bit better that you could in the dark. Maybe he truly couldn’t see you, and was just talking to indulge you, but the idea of him still being hidden, while he could see all of you made you start to fidget, almost whining at his lack of touch.

That was, until you heard him drop onto the floor, the wide stretch of his shoulders pushing your knees further apart, and his hands gently adjusting your calves to sit just above his collarbones.

Din could see. Years spent training to look for things no human would look for, scanning through shitty terrain and the helmet adjusting the light, his eyes had become just that much more in tune with the dark. So, while he couldn’t see every stunning curve of your hip, or the way your hair fell over your shoulders, he could see. He could see you, spread out in front of him, hands buried in his hair in anticipation, and it was too damn beautiful to deny.

“Mesh’la.” He repeats against the skin of your inner thigh, before sliding his hands up. He keeps kissing the trail his hands made, and slides his palms under either side of your panties, carefully placing them just outside of where he could see you were wanting him. “Is this okay?”

“I wanna feel you on me, Din. Please.” As much as his words sent you spinning, you knew you had that same effect on him. Din practically rips off your panties, and with a final mumble of incoherent Mando’a, he lets his tongue slide against your pussy, the first contact already having you moaning out his name.

“That’s it. Be as loud as you want. No one can hear you but me.” He never gives you rest, when he speaks he is methodical, making sure his hands keep that tortuous pace. Not so fast where you would tumble over the edge in seconds, although the way he lets his tongue work just around that sensitive bundle of nerves has you thinking he could make you finish in a moment's notice. He doesn’t, though; working you up in slow, gentle strokes that have you seeing more stars than you’ve ever seen in the galaxy.

One of his fingers slides inside of you, and you nearly jump off the ladder in pleasure.

“Oh- f-fuck Din faster.” You almost sob, the pace still so slow and grinding. He is seemingly lost in his own mind - soft vibrations sparking up your body as he hums in content against you. Occasionally, he will mumble a word or two, but they are lost in your own moans of pleasure.

Legs shaking, your hands start to pull a little harder against his scalp, and it surely hurts at least a little. Moving your hips against his face, you feel him smirk against your core, and the desperate movements of your body at least seem to encourage him. You feel like you’re in space - floating in no gravity as Din’s tongue flicks against your clit before he takes it into his mouth and he speeds up the movement of his hand all at once. It’s too much and not enough, and your thighs clamp down on either side of his head as your body is sent into overdrive.

His free arm snakes around the back of the ladder, holding you to him so you have nowhere to go,  nothing else to do except exactly what he said - sit there and look pretty. You can’t hold your head up anymore, your body starting to tense as every nerve is set alight. You know it’s coming, but as he pushes you to the edge, the intensity of the incoming pleasure was nothing like you had ever felt.

“D-Dinnn shit I think I’m- oh fu-ck!” Everything lights up as he moans against you, the sensation the last thing you can recall as your body floods with the intensity of your orgasm. Your hands scrunch up in his hair, and you could swear your bones turn to jelly as the feeling racks through your entire being. No one in the galaxy has ever - could ever make you feel like this, but Din does. Din is.

It feels like hours and seconds pass at the same time, Dins mouth slowing its assault as he starts to press sweet kisses to any other expanse of skin he can reach in this position. He coaxes you through as your body reacts to the light touches, humming against your skin and smiling every time you suck in a sharp breath as he edges closer back to your center, before heading in another direction. The game brings your body back together, and fairly soon your fidgeting on the rung of the ladder, desperate to feel more of him against you, but unable to hold anything but his soft hair.

It really was soft.

You start to massage soothing circles into the top of his head as an apology for your tight grip, and he finally relents, tongue tracing a final line over your heated core.

“Jatisyc.” You hear him growl, voice gravelly as he stands. You can feel how tall he is, looming over you even if you can’t see him. You can feel it.

He helps you stand, your legs still shaking slightly, and he guides you over to a corner of the ship before a door opens. You don’t think you’ve been in this section of the ship before, and if you’ve ever spent more than twenty four hours here, you have just slept in a pile of blankets on the floor. He continues to guide you into the room, and the back of your legs hit a metal pole before he stops.

“Lie down.” He kisses your forehead before gently nudging you, and a surprised gasp leaves your mouth at the soft comforter underneath you. A bed. Small, you realize as you slide further back, knees bending to push yourself to the wall it rested on. Clearly made for one, you try to minimize the space you take up as two thick legs box you in on either side. His warmth covers your entire body as he drops his weight down, closing the space and reconnecting his mouth to your own. On instinct, you wrap your legs around his back, pulling his hips down towards the bed, and you can finally feel him against you. Only the thin layer of his briefs separate you but it’s too much - hands creeping down his body and tugging on the waistband, the sound of Din shuddering a breath in your mouth making you act faster. Tugging and shifting on the tiny mattress, you both try your best to stay as close as possible while removing the last layer of clothes.

“Baby - wait, hold on.” He starts to laugh, and the sound is the sweetest thing you’ve ever heard. He bends down, kicking the clothes to the side somewhere, still laughing at the weird angle you’ve both somehow tangled yourselves in. It’s almost strange - the sound is so unlike the hardened bounty hunter you had tried your best to get used to over the past few months, but it suits him. Hearing him like this, you have no idea how you will be able to stand having him tucked away in that helmet again. You decide, then, that he is taking way too long, and you are not close enough.

“Din.” He turns back to you, finally repositioning so he is between your legs. As he drags his mouth up the length of your body, he lays kisses on the skin open to him, which is all of it. All of you, laid out in the darkness of what must be his room. It smells like him, and with the lack of sight you can imagine he was all around you. His hair brushes against your chest, and your breath hitches in anticipation of him getting closer. “Please.”

“Just like in my dreams.” He mumbles. He doesn’t kiss you just yet. He just hovers, watching with a hunters focus as he lines himself up with you. He could feel how wet you were - like you were just waiting for him. Waiting for him, like he had been waiting for you. Your fingers run soft lines up and down his chest, and his hands fist in the sheets. Even here, at the edge of the most intimate act he could think of, he still wasn’t used to how you touched him.

As he slowly pushed himself into you, you both mimic the sound of ultimate relief. It was achingly slow, the rock of Din’s hips measured with control only he could execute, and before he had driven into you fully, you were already moaning out his name.

“Fuck, Din.” Everytime you say his name, he groans, similar to what you’ve heard when he’s fighting. Like it’s just on that border of pleasure that it’s almost painful, and with your hands bracing on his biceps, you can feel the tense in his shoulders. It’s an entire body experience, calling him by his name, and if that’s what gets him to move fast, you would chant it like a prayer.

“Th-shit. This is okay?” He says in that same low voice you recognise from the club. Practically clinging to him, you shake your head yes in the darkness, hoping to the Maker he doesn’t stop. His forehead is pressing into your own, soft lips dragging against yours as he bottoms out, driving up into a part of yourself you aren’t sure you knew you had.

You cry out, and it’s clearly what he was looking for, because he drags his length all the way out to the tip, and then enters you again, setting a mind numbing pace. You can hear the weak legs of the bed shifting against the hard floor of the ship as he fucks you, hard and slow.

“Fuck, cyar’ika. Feel so fucking good around me.” He gets a little rougher, losing himself in you, speaking through the small gaps of silence when you suck in a breath, only to continue calling out his name in pure ecstasy. There was no boy - no shitty fuck from the club that felt like this. It’s like you were on another planet - in another realm, the sounds he made as he grinded himself into you sending you hurtling in all directions.

“Holy shit-” You gasp, feeling one of his large hands trail down to rub small, tight circles on your clit. Your back arches, pressing your skin to his, and he’s like a heater in the cold of the ship, only making you seek him out more. “Oh-my Din.”

“Yours.” It takes you a second, your eyes screwed shut and your entire body only existing for him, but he says the simple word, and everything freezes. You had said it first. ‘My Din’. Maybe it was on accident, losing the rest of the sentence in the way he was fucking you into the mattress, but you know it wasn’t. Even half lidded, on the edge of your high, you knew it wasn’t a mistake. He wasn’t either.

Yours.

Your Din.

“Mine.” You tug his mouth back to you, teeth latching on to his bottom lip while your fingernails scratch along his toned back. He chokes out a sound just desperate enough to make known that he likes it, so you do it again. You know it’s leaving marks, and he does too. He picks up speed, chasing his own high and his free hand grips onto your hip tight enough to leave the shape of his hold in its wake. You mark him. He marks you.

Yours.

Mine.

“Din please, don’t fucking stop.” Your eyes were closed so tight it screws up your whole face, and even though he hasn’t told you not to look, you can’t bring yourself to throw his trust out the window. Even if your eyes did open, you wouldn’t see him through the dark, and you are pretty sure your eyes would be crossed and glazed over with the zaps of electric pleasure shooting up into your chest.

“Never gonna- shit. Never gonna stop.” Your body shivers in response, and you can feel the coil tightening in your lower stomach. “Gonna keep you on this ship forever. Fuck you every day.”

Maybe it’s the idea of it. Maybe it’s the realization that he could. If he wanted to. It’s mainly the realization that you want him to that snaps that tight coil and sends you all the way over the edge. You feel his hand leave your hip and curl around your back, holding your weight in one strong forearm, he keeps fucking you through your high, using it to reach his own. With a loud growl of your name he follows you, and you feel him pull out at the last second, warmth spreading across your inner thigh.

You were lost in the dark, unsure of where your body started and his ended. Limbs were tangled together, and you feel him sit back on his knees, heaving deep breaths and staring at you. It almost burns, the knowledge of his gaze. Of the sight he must be looking at - of you strung out, covered in the evidence of what he just did. Of what he just did to you. It’s almost enough to make you cum again, just to please him.

You feel him lean over, quickly grabbing whatever fabric was closest and wiping you clean, before proceeding to flop his entire body weight down next to you, and half on top of you. With an exhausted ‘oof’ he almost starfishes on the tiny bed, pulling your naked body underneath one of his outstretched arms. The weight of him makes it a little hard to breathe, but you sigh in relief as you feel his head nuzzling into the crook of your neck, kissing your shoulder and hair tickling your ear.

“Mesh’la.” He mumbles into your skin, and you turn as best you could, pulling his face to press against your own.

“What does that mean?” Your voice is hoarse, hardly above a whisper, and he kisses you before he answers.

“Beautiful.”

“Mesh’la.” You whisper back, and his head dives back into you, hiding himself even though you can’t see him. “So, will you?”

“Will I what?”

“Keep me on this ship forever?” He almost stops breathing - everything goes quiet, and he tries not to react as your hand traces along the small, hot lines you carved into his back. He feels - selfish, with you. He’s not entitled to, he knows he can’t give you anything. Life with him was nothing like you were used to, this night was the first time he had ever stepped foot in a nightclub, unlike you, who did this every day. He couldn’t be selfish with you, but there was a desperate part of him that wanted to be the bad guy. Wanted to say ‘yes’. Wanted to make you his.

“I d-”

“Too late to take it back now. Or are you scared you can’t handle it?” He can hear the shit-eatng grin you are sporting as you tease him, just like before, and he wants to retort, wants to play with you, but he can’t. His brain is fried, and all he can think about is you never leaving.

“Mine.” He whispers, not meaning to say it out loud. You don’t respond right away. Instead, your nose brushes against his, and he feels your short breath kissing his cheek.

He was wrong before - this is the most intimate thing he can imagine.

“Mine.” You say back, and there's not a hint of reservation.

Your breathing starts to slow, and your head drops to his shoulder as exhaustion takes over. He shuffles, cradling your body against his and grabbing the blanket from underneath the bed frame to toss it over you. It wasn’t big enough to cover you both, but the heat of your body next to his combined with his recurring thoughts of what just happened is enough to keep him warm well into the night.

There is too much to do - his bounty hunter brain starts kicking at his conscious mind. The target is escaping, getting further and further every second he spends staring at your sleeping body. He should get up, go off and track it, make good on his promise of getting you off this planet and let you run head first into the life you were meant for.

He doesn’t move. His hand, rough against your soft skin, rubs soothing lines over your arm, and you sigh happily in your sleep. He should do those things, but he won’t. Because of you.

You said he was yours - and hell if he wouldn’t listen.

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian smut #the mandalorian fanfiction #mandalorian fanfic #mandalorian smut #mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #mando x you #mando x y/n #mandalorian x you #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #star wars #star wars fanfiction #star wars tv

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

Kinkuary Day 4

AN: Given how much this man touches people's necks, this was a given. Also, I have been experiencing a bit of Hao brainrot lately so this came up at the perfect time lol.

Synopsis: Xu Minghao is not typically what you envision when you think of the word 'fuckboy.' However, with how often you've found yourself in his bed, the term fits him to a t. Not that you're complaining.

General tags and warnings: Xu Minghao x Fem! Reader, university au, non-idol, (sort of) friend with benefits! Minghao and this is pretty much pwp.

Primary kink: Choking.

Smut tags and warnings: hair pulling (f. receiving), biting (f. receiving), mentions of clawing (both f. and m. receiving), some manhandling, overstimulation (f. receiving), mild dirty talk, choking (f. receiving), dacryphilia if you squint and piv sex with a condom (I know, who am I?).

Word count: 1.8k.

I will block you if you are a minor and/or have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

You really did intend to spend tonight catching up with your friends.

Mingyu and Seokmin have been begging you to catch up with them for ages now and, you always feel like you've kicked two giant puppies when you apologise to them and have to decline every invite to hang out. Between essays and attending lectures all in an attempt to earn your Honours, you've barely had time to be a human being these past few months.

The two of them always understood. Because of course they did. They're probably the two kindest men you've ever met and, it's all just made you feel like even more of an asshole for constantly turning them down.

It doesn't help that you've been more than happy to spend time with their other friend either.

Calling your relationship with Minghao friendship would be generous. Frankly, it's a miracle the two of you can manage to stand each other given his disposition for cynicism and fondness for mocking your taste in music. However, to put it crassly, he's hot. All seemingly never ending dark locks, masterfully applied eyeliner and chipped, black painted fingernails. Considering your past ‘relationships’ with men like Seungcheol, Chan and even Mingyu that one summer, it's safe to say your friends were more than a little surprised when they noticed you and the perpetually stoic man gravitating towards each other.

“Am I boring you?” Minghao's words cut through your momentarily guilt swiftly. Long fingers winding themselves in your hair and tugging hard enough to provide a pleasant sting.

“N–No, I ah–,” your train of thought is interrupted by an especially harsh snap of his hips, his tip brushing against the part of your walls that renders everything but, him white noise. You claw at his sheets while he continues to fuck you into his bed. The obscene sounds of his hips snapping into your ass echoing throughout his bedroom. Luckily, the music blasting outside is more than enough to drown out whatever noises the two of you typically have to muffle.

“Good to know,” he laughs breathlessly into your ear, biting down on the lobe in time with his other hand gripping one of your breasts hard enough for the slight pain of his fingernails to shoot straight to your clit. If he wasn't holding onto you so fiercely, you're sure you would've fallen face first into one of his pillows by now.

You know Minghao fucks around with other people so, you're not going to delude yourself into thinking he's especially ravenous tonight because it's been a couple of weeks since the two of you have fooled around. However, it's hard not to think that way when he sinks his teeth into your shoulder while kneading your breasts in his massive hands. It's especially hard not to think that way when he's thrusting into you so deeply that you're sure you can feel him in your lungs and you're dangerously close to cumming again.

Sometimes, Minghao's phenomenal observation skills are great. Mostly, however, he uses them to drive you closer and closer to insanity.

“Close already?” He snarks against your skin, one of his hands snaking its way down your stomach to lightly brush your swollen clit. You reaction is immediate. A broken moan ripping itself from somewhere deep inside of you while your walls clench around him like a vice. He's barely touching you but, it's still enough for the network of knots in your core to grow tighter and tighter again.

“Hao,” you pant, your eyes squeezing shut when he graces you with more pressure on your clit. The circles he's drawing are lazy and slow but, it's better than nothing. You'll happily take what you can get at this point. “Please, I'm– It's– I'm so close,” you gasp out.

You're already too far gone to really pay attention to what he's saying but, your heart does leap into your throat when you feel the familiar weight of his hand around your neck. That simple gesture alone is enough to violently shove you over the metaphorical edge. Somewhere in the distance you can hear him curse behind you but, your brain is too busy breaking into a million pieces to really pay all that much attention.

It's easy to forget how strong Minghao is sometimes. In these moments, where he keeps you from crumbling into a heap on his bed while your body is hit with wave after wave of release, you're appreciative of that fact.

“–making a mess on my sheets,” are the first words your muddled brain can make out when you start to come back to your body. Everything is still a haze (and the purple lights decorating his room definitely add to that feeling) so you just barely register him manoeuvring you on your back. Still trying to catch your breath, a sweaty, eyeliner smudged Minghao entering your line of sight isn't helping matters.

He kisses you before you can think to do or say anything else. God, you'd almost forgotten how fucking great of a kisser he is. Full, plump lips leaving no room in your mind for anything but, him while his large hands spread your sticky thighs to allow space for him to comfortably position himself between them. He smirks against your mouth when you gasp in shock at the single thrust it takes for him to fully sheath himself inside of you again.

“Always so tight,” he groans, dragging himself out slowly enough for you to feel every vein of his cock before snapping forward. All you can think to do is claw at his muscular back while he fucks you into his bed once more. You're veering dangerously close to overstimulation territory but, you know from experience that that's what Minghao is hoping for. Precise thrusts making sure to hit that spot inside of you that causes your pussy to flutter around him and tears to build in the corners of your glossy eyes.

Minghao watches every twitch in your face like a hawk. Drinking every furrow of your brow and part of your lips in as though he needs them. Typically he's better at holding off his own release but, it's been far too long since he's fucked you and the way you're gripping him like you want to milk him for every last drop shoots sparks to the very tips of his fingers. However, he has to make you cum at least one more time on his cock before he lets himself go.

Everything in you seizes up for a brief moment when Minghao wraps his hand around your neck again. Blinking your eyes open takes a great deal of effort (when did you even shut them?) but, it's worth it to see him like this. Minghao is always hot but, when he's all sweaty and his eyeliner is smudged on his handsome face, he looks out of this world.

The air in your lungs vanishes in an instantly when he tightens his hold on your neck. His fingers burn every bit of skin they touch and the lack of air is making it increasingly difficult to focus on anything that isn't Minghao and his cock.

“–so fucking beautiful,” is all you hear before his mouth crashes into yours and his fingers apply more pressure. Sometimes, you wish he'd push your limits a little more but, between his cock continuing to bully your sensitive walls and the light-headedness you feel, you can't complain too much. God, would it be so terrible to spend the rest of your days with his hand around your neck? You don't think so.

You quickly shove that insane thought aside. His muffled groans and breathy curses add to the growing wetness you can feel leaking out of you onto his sheets with every precise stroke of his cock. However, it's ultimately his thumb pressing against your pulse that makes you fracture around him all over again. Noone has ever made you squirt but, you think this is the first time you've come dangerously close to doing so.

Minghao does not let up this time. Continuing to fuck you through your release, kissing away the stray tears that roll down your face due to the all-encompassing overstimulation. You don't think you can cum again right now but, with the way he continues to choke you through this already intense orgasm, he seems to be putting all of energy into trying to get you to cum again soon.

“Ha-Hao,” you choke out, teary eyes meeting his wild ones while he chases his own release. “I–It's–I'm– To-Too mu–much,” you babble out between broken moans and watery whimpers.

You've always (sort of) joked that Minghao has a very obvious sadistic side. He's never agreed with you but, he's never outright denied it either. Now, when he moans out a string of curses along with your name, you don't think he has much of a leg to stand on. He still has the presence of mind to drop his hand from your neck before nuzzling into your neck. Mouthing at whatever skin he can while his body jerks with every rope of cum he shoots into the condom he hastily put on who knows how long ago.

It's the smart, safe option obviously but, sometimes, when you're by yourself, you wonder what it would be like for him to paint your walls white instead.

The rush of oxygen must be getting to your head.

“Fuck,” is the coherent first word he pants out before pulling out of you and rolling onto his back. The pleasant pain of a thorough, good session already starts to set into the apex of your thighs and, you're honestly tempted to just pull his blanket over your body and crash. However, you two don't do sleepovers. It's become an unspoken part of your arrangement. Plus, you really should actually go spend some time with Seokmin and Mingyu. They're probably worried sick by now.

“Where are you going?” He croaks out, watching you with one eye as you crawl to the edge of his bed. You choose to ignore the way your clit zips back to life at the scratchiness in his voice. You know better than to look back at him right now. You really might just wind up under him again.

“To clean up and get dressed?” You ask back, confusion colouring your voice. You still don't look at him.

“Relax, you don't have to be in such a hurry,” he responds, grabbing your wrist and tugging you back into his bed. Your heart leaps to your throat when he awards you with a throaty chuckle, your hand reflexively coming to rest on his sweaty chest as you slot yourself comfortably into his side.

Well, you're sure Mingyu and Seokmin will understand.

Reblogs are greatly appreciated.

Do not repost, edit, copy and/or translate my work. I do not give you my permission to do so, nor will you ever receive it.

Kinkuary Masterlist | Seventeen Masterlist | Ko-fi.

#xu minghao smut #minghao smut #the8 smut #the 8 smut #seventeen smut #xu minghao x reader smut #minghao x reader smut #the8 x reader smut #the 8 x reader smut #seventeen x reader smut

[ghouljams]

Ok so jealous König is my current obsession rn 😭 I’m so sorry for the bad english 😭😭 Bee and Cowboy!Konig going shopping for groceries and the cashier keeps flirting with her, which she doesn’t even realize and keeps talking thinking she’s just being polite

No need to apologize!!! I have a couple cowboy!König being feral asks that I'm going to work through, but this one was too good to pass up!

König can feel his teeth leaving indents in each other, his jaw clenched so tightly he thinks he might break it.

"That's funny I have a friend living in the city, maybe you know her," the cashier flirts, leaning against the register. Your groceries are already sitting bagged in your cart, this interaction should be over.

"Oh yeah because we all know each other in the city," you joke back, holding your card, waiting for the reader to pop up with your total. König knows full well that this little... boy is holding it hostage, dragging out the conversation past what's polite.

"Don't all the pretty girls have a group chat?" You laugh at his resulting smile. König's nails dig neat crescents into the palms of his balled fists.

"Stop," you bat away the compliment, "I don't think we could all fit in one chat."

He's not jealous. Not of some stupid barely twenty asshole. Not when you don't even know he's flirting. And yet...

And yet he's angry, upset, fuck. Jealous is not the right word. Possessive. That's a better fit for it. König stares down the cashier, glares under the shadow of his hat. His hand uncurling from its clenched fury to press against the small of your back, pull your attention back to your task.

You look up at him with big shining eyes, his perfect, pretty, treasure. All smiles because of a petty compliment from this nothing man. He eases up on his glare, smiling down at you with all the warmth you conjure in him.

"Is there a problem with your card Schatz?" He asks innocently. You drop your gaze to the card reader, tapping the screen with your finger.

"Did my card not go through?" You ask the cashier, König returns to his glowering as the stupid boy looks up at him. Apparently just noticing the giant shadowing you. He pales, straightening from where he'd leaned over the register, and quickly punches a few buttons to pull up your total on the machine.

"Uh, no," his voice cracks, he clears his throat, "No, I must've forgotten to finish the sale. You should be good now Mrs- uh-" he glances up at König again.

"No problem," You tap your card against the machine. Singular focus keeping you from questioning the end of the cashier's rush. At least he's smart enough to know who you belong to, not that it makes up for the way he spoke to you.

"Do you need any help to your-"

"She'll be fine," König cuts him off with a growl. The cashier nods quick enough to give himself whiplash.

"Of course Sir."

"All good to go!" You chirp, oblivious to the aggression pouring off of König. He fixes a smile for you when you turn back to him. "Ready?"

"Of course, hummelchen, lead the way." König nods, you grab the handle of your cart and push it towards the exit with a friendly wave at the cashier. He doesn't wave back.

When you get your groceries loaded in your car König stays hovering nearby, eyes fixed on the store. You frown and touch his arm to get his attention.

"You good?" You ask, his eyes snapping to you as soon as you speak.

"Of course," he reaches past you to close the trunk, "just thinking."

#me listening to jenny was a friend of mine and thinking about making an unhinged cowboy!König playlist #ive written so much today #gotta pace myself better but im rejuvinated from vacation and cant help myself #König is weighing whether or not he should commit a fucking murder #he probably wont #i'll have him kill someone else i have a good ask for ot #könig modern warfare #cowboy!könig #könig x you #könig x reader #x reader #oc: Bee #i love writing könig's pov the man is insane

[devilfic]

part five of this series dedicated to @aspenaspid​ because they asked so, so nicely

cw: 18+ mdni, implied masturbation (m), non-sexual bondage... technically. it definitely didn’t start that way, miguel’s definitely got a thing for “sir”, EXTREMELY suggestive, no explicit smut.

miguel cannot look you in the eyes right now.

you’re suspended above the crime scene in a web stronger than your own, and it’s hard to see you the same after what he’d done. it should’ve drained him, made him immune, or at least exhausted his desire for you a bit. and you’re none the wiser, of course, and he’s the only bearer of shame, but he’s watching you wriggle and writhe and he’s struggling not to turn back around and portal himself out of there before he made a mess of his suit again.

jessica had since subdued her anomaly, the one you both had come for, and found miguel standing at the far back of the scene with his mouth set in a hard line, “you might wanna take a sample of that web before we head back. villain’s webbing is double the strength of anything I’ve seen. if you can reproduce it, could be useful.”

it would be useful, yes. the synthetic webbers in the spider-society could definitely benefit. his own webs had their perks, but he imagines what he could do if he had access to something this strong. they’re strong enough to hold you captive, thin enough to look translucent. the white strings knot around your ankles, your wrists and chest, pressing deep into your flesh even as you tug and tug and tug. you keep tugging, growing winded with a fine sheen of sweat across your brow, groaning and whining for someone to just cut you out, that you’d do anything for someone to just run their talon down the axis of your chest and cut you free, catching on your suit in the process and ripping a hole for him to just tear-

you groan even louder this time, “can someone get me out, please?”

jessica laughs, pats miguel’s shoulder, “think I’ll leave this one to you.”

miguel whips his head to her, “me? you’re the one that got them in this mess. you cut ‘em out.”

but she’s already on her way, fashioning a portal out of thin air, “they’re your assistant.” and she falls through before miguel has the chance to argue.

there’s a lot less people around now. this universe’s spider had been tied up on the brooklyn bridge and someone was heading out to get them down, so it was just you and miguel and a spattering of police assessing the damage to the city. you blow a stray piece of hair out of your face and whine, “miguel.”

he swallows. maybe cutting you out sooner than later would be for the best.

you’re suspended horizontally, laid back in the bed of webs spread eagle. he uses his own webs to swing up and onto the surface, careful to keep from getting himself caught, and crawls his way over to you on all fours. he reaches your ankles first and extends a talon to snip away the webbing. it falls apart with a little effort.

as soon as your legs are free, you draw your knees to your chest and sigh and miguel has to look away before he gets any ideas. he crawls toward your wrist next, but hesitates. you’re looking up at him with such doe eyes that he feels his hand tremble a bit, “are you hurt?”

you glance away, suddenly a little irritated, “no. I barely got in on the action before that asshole webbed me up like this. he was gonna eat me.”

miguel raises an eyebrow, “eat you?”

“you should’ve seen the guy. he was huge, had fangs just like yours and six more legs.”

miguel frowns. a giant mutated spider appears in his mind, hovering over you with drooling fangs positioned over your throat, prepared to devour you whole. he was sure he didn’t look much different with a villain in his grasp. “just like mine?”

you turn back to him, eyes searching his own. it seems you both are remembering when his teeth sunk into your arm days ago. “not exactly... one fang was the size of my head,” something that big would’ve killed you with one drop of venom, “I tried picturing you as him to sweeten my imminent death, but he wasn’t nearly as good-looking.”

a comment like that would’ve usually had him cutting a hole in the web just to watch you fall to your demise, but hovering over your body (your trapped body, with nowhere to go, and a tantalizing view of your throat on display) had him thinking... other things.

he crouches on a single line of web, hunching his body over you until he blots out the light of the city above you, until his shadow overtakes you and your eyes widen. he places one hand by your head. his lips part slowly, naturally, revealing the very tips of his fangs to you. he watches your breath quicken and your throat bob with a hard swallow. if he’d had 24 hours to get over the images of you he’d conjured up to get him off, you both would’ve been back in nueva york by now.

but it’s been about an hour since he’d spilled into his hand over you for the fourth (or fifth? or sixth?) time, and none of it compared to seeing you like this.

“oh, really?” his voice rasps low.

for once, for once, he’s caught you off guard.

it was no doubt he was bigger than you. and when he wanted, he could be frightening. but even when he tried—and oh, he tried in the beginning, hoped it’d scare you away—you never wavered. it irritated him then. he’d wanted to make you shake.

and now you’re looking up at him and it’s not quite fear, but it stings like an electric current between you. you’re not quick to quip like usual. he can hear the tremor in your breathing. there are police sirens abound but it might as well be completely silent the way you zero in on him.

he’s committing it all to memory in the event his shame can’t keep his hand from finding its way back into his pants later.

you fill your chest with air and arch your back, a movement that makes his brain short-circuit, just to release your sweet breath and fall back into the webs again, “if I didn’t know any better,” you begin, eyes trailing up from his talons curling around the web by your face to his eyes, “I’d say you were trying to get me excited, mr. o’hara.”

his eyes narrow into slits, “what happened to ‘sir’?”

your face breaks out into a smile so triumphant that he realizes you’d done that on purpose, had tried out that “sir” to see if he liked it, not just to tease him. and now you had him hovering over you with his teeth bared like he had no sense. you were insufferably smug. he could feel how pleased you were, the way your body eased into the webs and each and every twist of your body traveled back to his fingers, overwhelming his senses. you’d caught him in a web of your own.

“if I call you sir, will you let me go?”

miguel doesn’t see it but he hears the sound of you stretching your fingers, making no attempts to free yourself anymore. he feels one of your knees brush his hip and wonders if the web will stay intact if he portals the both of you out like this. he needs it. to research, of course.

“I could just leave you here, let them handle you.” he nods to the people down below, forcing himself not to react.

“it would be just like you to leave right before it gets good.”

“that implies ‘it’ was ever gonna happen.”

your eyes flash with something. miguel watches your forehead wrinkle, then smooth over once more, “you’re right. maybe I should take web-slinger up on his offer when we get back, then.”

web-slinger... hit on you?

miguel’s fist clenches and before he realizes it, the webs underneath his hand snap and his arm falls through, throwing him off balance and dropping his full weight on top of you. he tries to gather his bearings but suddenly something is touching his face—you, your hand that had broken free when he’d closed his talons into a fist at the thought of patrick o’hara (oh, you’d definitely done that on purpose) and you—and holding it an inch apart from your own. he waits with bated breath, all at once at your mercy.

you tuck a stray hair behind his ear and he all but full-body shudders, “don’t worry. you’re the only o’hara for me.”

part six

taglist: @yikes-buddy​ @alexxavicry​ @theclassicvinyldragon​ @marina-and-the-memes​ @honestlystop​​ @yehet-moi-ohorat​​ @sleepdeprived-barelyalive​ @internal-soundtrack​ @joceymoo​ @x-ratedhimbo​ @themedsaintworkin​ @adamsloverboy​ @giulia2372​ @lemonrolls​ @p1nkliquor​ @syarblu​ @trished​ @serostapesweat​ @fiannee​ @quaintii​ @maki-z​  @prodyng @jaguarthecat​ @doublebunv​ @eskamybeloved @nightshxdex​ @tashames​ @meshiah @gentlemonsterjennie1​ @blue-zack​ @mynameisniya150​ @starrfruit​ @aboveasphodel​​ @daredindevil​​ @innergardentoadpony​​ @outofst1le​​ @ilovemiguelohara​​ @scarletsloveletter​​ @kuwizo @aesthetic-lyss  @kaealowri​​ @spidey-3​​ @teramjna​​ @callsignyourmom​​ @bukahbukah​​ @tsukkie-daisuke​​ @julesclues​​ @crayongirl-linz​​ @goldengoddess​​ @ohantonia @saturnknows @hummusandchips @loverofanimeboyz​​ @daddylorianisastateofmind​​ @gyaruismind

#a little bit of jealous miguel for the culture #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara scenarios #miguel o'hara imagines #miguel o'hara headcanons #miguel o'hara fic #spiderman 2099 #across the spiderverse #marvel #mjwrites

[jesterwriting]

hi hi i saw your requests are open! can i request something fluffy or angsty maybe a little spicy with law, where you tell him that “all i want is you” fem reader or gn reader i don’t mind! thank you🩷

pairing: law x gn!reader

contents: angst, hurt/comfort, jealous!law, you're both kinda tipsy, making out to heartfelt conversation, complimenting law because he needs it, probably ooc

word count: .9k words

note: i dont know why, but this gave me so much trouble to write it was crazy. literally gator wrestled these words in a pile of mud. i got death rolled. but i'm happy with the results and i hope you are too anon <33 thank you so much for the request! :3

playlist: science/visions by chvrches

Law kissed you like you were about to disappear.

Hungry lips trailed down your neck to your collarbone where he nipped and sucked at your sensitive flesh. You sighed, tangling your fingers in his hair to pull him closer. His hands were cold as they slid up your ribcage, you couldn’t stop the giggle that bubbled from your lips.

Asshole. He wouldn’t think it was very funny if you tickled him mid-makeout. To keep from jamming your hands under his armpits in retribution, you busied yourself by pressing kisses to whatever part of Law your lips could reach. He groaned when you nipped at the shell of his ear, grinding his crotch against yours.

If you knew getting Law jealous would result in something so steamy, you’d do it more often. While you didn’t classify your conversation with that friendly bar patron as flirting, judging by Law’s insistence to mark every inch of skin he could find, he certainly did. You threw your head back and moaned when his teeth met the junction where your neck and shoulder met, soothing the bite with gentle laps of his tongue.

“Jeez, what’s gotten into you,” You managed to say between gasps. “Are you trying to eat me alive?”

He didn’t look up. Not a chuckle, not a glance, not even a smirk. After leaving your throat thoroughly bruised, Law moved onto your chest.

“I’ll get to that later,” He finally answered.

There was something off about Law. He refused to meet your eyes, completely single minded in his quest of turning you into a giant bruise. It wasn’t until his hands cupped your face did you notice that they were trembling. You wasted no time prying Law from your stomach, forcing him to meet your eyes. Whatever you expected, nothing prepared you for the split second glimmer of unease before it was promptly snuffed out by a glare.

“Woah, calm down, Law, you’re acting funny.”

He snorted and sat back on his heels. There was the scent of alcohol on his breath, and while you knew you indulged as well, he wouldn’t come back smelling of it from your lips alone. “Not as funny as that guy at the bar.”

Okay, he was really jealous.

“It wasn’t like that, he was telling me about the history of the town.”

Law rolled his eyes. “You were all over him.” Before the instinctual ‘was not’ was able to leave your mouth, he looked away and stuffed his hands in his pockets. His next words were barely audible, grumbled just under his breath. “You never laugh like that when you’re with me.”

Oh.

This went a little deeper than petty jealousy.

Pulling your shirt down, you sat up to meet Law’s stare. He seemed to regret the words as soon as they left his mouth, teeth clenched so tight you could see the tendons in his jaw jump. You patted the space next to you on his bed. “Sit down, we should talk.”

Stubborn as always, Law stayed standing. “I should get going, I have work to get done before morning.”

He turned on his heel, and before he was able to exit the room, your arm shot out to grab him. Law didn’t pull away from you, only let out a heavy sigh as your thumb traced tender circles onto the inside of his wrist.

“All I want is you, you know that, right?” When he didn’t respond, you tugged him closer. Law only budged because he wanted to. No one alive could make him do what he didn’t want to do. So as he slowly made his way to the bed, boots heavy against the floor, and sat down beside you, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You took his tattooed hand in your own, gently playing with his fingers. Law still wouldn’t look at you, gaze fixed stubbornly at the far wall. “Come on, you have to know that.”

The silence was deafening. In a desperate attempt to fill it, you nudged Law with a half-hearted smile. “You make me laugh all the time.”

“Not like that.”

That wasn’t good. You trailed your fingers along his arms where they met at his face. Tugging on his chin to manually force him to look at you, you spoke your next words earnestly. “I love you, Law. Not some rando at the bar. Yeah, maybe he made me laugh a little, but he doesn’t hold a candle to you. I love your dry wit. I love your intelligence. I love how you care for everyone on this ship before anything else. You’re a good person and a good doctor, I don’t know where I’d be without you.”

You must have gotten through to him because the tips of his ears were tinged pink. With a relieved smile, you placed a small peck to the corner of his lips. They twitched upwards, though you could tell Law tried to stifle it and keep his displeased expression.

“You can stop now,” He said, face two shades darker than usual.

“Oh, I’m just getting started.”

The rest of the night was spent with you singing Law’s praises that he consistently waved off, pretending like you couldn’t tell he liked it. Every so often, you would place a chaste kiss to the back of his hand or to his cheek, a sharp contrast to the hungry mouth that was on your mere minutes earlier. If Law really wanted you to stop, you would. All he had to do was say it.

Three hours passed with Law in your arms, and not once did the word ‘stop’ leave his lips.

#one piece x reader #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law x you #trafalgar law x y/n #law x reader #law x you #law x yn #.jesterwrites

[cobaltperun]

Lost (11) - Into you

Tara Carpenter x female Reader

Summary: To anyone on the outside, and to Tara’s friends, you were Tara’s fierce protector, the MMA fighter who’d take anyone on for Tara. The Guard Dog, as Amber called you. You had no idea you’d have to protect her from people who claimed they loved her. It didn’t matter. As long as you and Tara had one another there was nothing you wouldn’t be able to survive.

Story warnings: Scream violence, family issues, trauma, angst, certain sensitive topics

Word count: 4.7k

Story masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part

-You said, "Time to tear down the walls You know not every thing's your fault-

You felt like your entire body was one giant bruise. 'I am never training like that again,' you thought bitterly, thinking of the training from hell Thomas put you through. Intense, long, with barely any rest, and painful.  What was that asshole's problem, anyway? Was he salty over not 'making history' so he wanted to push that on you instead? Ah, whatever, it was over now. You'd have to rest for at least two more days before you could handle driving for over five hours to travel from Vegas to Woodsboro, as much as that would delay seeing Tara.

Which was probably for the best because if Tara saw the state you were in, she'd probably finish you off herself. With how beaten and tired you were she probably could do it as well.

So, instead of getting up, you just turned in your bed and went back to sleep. You still groaned at the flash of pain caused by mere movement. If it was just training you probably could have taken it for a bit longer, but the fight sealed the deal.

How the mighty have fallen. Oh, if people could see you now, you likely wouldn't be able to live that down.

~X~

Luck really didn't want to cooperate with you lately. You got set back a day and were just now leaving Vegas and you'd be lucky to get to Woodsboro at five in the morning, it would be the thirteenth of December and you'd have less than a day to clear up the situation between you and Tara like a well-adjusted adult and not a kid that could only sulk and brood.

You'd go to your apartment, drop your things off, collect your thoughts and arguments, and go to Tara's place first thing in the morning. If, no when things went well, you'd be able to, maybe consider confessing sometime after this whole mess of a year ends. Maybe a bit sooner, depending on how things go when you finally see Tara again.

You should have known by now not to make plans. At half past five in the morning, you unlocked the doors to your apartment dead tired and wondering if maybe you should take a small nap so you wouldn't be a blubbering mess when you finally got to talk to Tara.

You tossed the bag to the floor and basically on autopilot went to the bathroom. You barely managed to wash your hands and face when the doors opened.

"Y/N?" Tara's voice woke you up better than any cold water. Especially since you weren't ready for her right away. She just stood there, looking as surprised as you were. For a moment, with your shirt on her, you were reminded of the night you gave her the necklace meant for her eighteenth birthday. She looked... just a bit different, with her hair covering her forehead now, you wondered when that happened. Her leg was fine now, but you saw she was leaning more of her weight on her left foot, it probably turned into a habit while her leg was broken.

More importantly, she looked sleep-deprived, as if she had been struggling with insomnia for a long time. She probably did. You approached her, forgetting all your plans in an instant, and the moment she was within arm's reach she just reached out and hugged you. "Tara," you sighed, feeling the weight of the past few months fade away as you buried your face in her neck.

"You're back," she whispered gently kissing along the scar on your face. Your body healed, for the most part, the swelling was gone, there was a bit of pain and soreness, but you were fairly fine. The kisses, damn, you've had your fair share of burns in the kitchen, but they felt hotter against your skin than any hot metal you touched by accident.

"Yeah, and I'm not leaving, okay?" you felt her nod before she pulled back, lightly touching all the spots on your face where you got hit. There was only one explanation for how she knew where to touch you. "You've seen the fight," that must have been difficult for her. You knew how much she hated seeing you fight, seeing you get hurt, so for her to watch the hardest fight of your life… you didn’t even dare to imagine how much stress she experienced.

"I had to. I took that from you," she avoided meeting your eyes after she said that.

You would have groaned two months ago. Or maybe you would have sighed. Or reacted in a similar way to that. Not today. You just caressed the side of her neck, feeling her lean into your touch despite the way she felt. Good, it wouldn't be a repeat of the last time. Slowly you moved your thumb just underneath her chin and nudged it just barely enough for Tara to register it and tilt her head up. "Please, look at me, Tara," she did, but you could see the hesitation in her eyes. "It's a bit cold, hm?" it was as if she just remembered you were in the bathroom, and it was the middle of December.

There was a hint of reluctance in Tara's eyes as she released you from the hug. If it was any other moment, you'd probably pull her back in and lift her up, but right now you were perfectly content with letting her hold your hand and lead you to the bed.

"Sorry, it's a bit of a mess," you could see the tips of her ears turning red. It was adorable and you couldn't resist pulling her back to you.

"Nah, I think it's perfect," there was some mess, mostly a bunch of your shirts on the bed as well as Tara's laptop on the nightstand. It was good that you were a bit minimalistic with your things. With Tara's things mixed in with your own, it felt almost a bit cramped, and you just mentally confirmed that this wasn't exactly an apartment meant for two people constantly living together. That was the issue for another day, now that you could properly take your apartment in you realized Tara's been living there for at least some time. "Did something happen?"

"No. Yes. I," she paused, debating whether or not she should tell you whatever happened. "It can wait," she chose not to.

You sighed and she squirmed a bit, your breath probably tickled her neck. She would have been so cute if she didn't just basically tell you that something did happen, but she'd tell you later... "Oh, you little..." You grabbed the blanket and sat down on the sofa with Tara right on your lap.

Tara placed her hands on top of yours before you could cover the two of you with the blanket. "Give me a second," she turned around, straddling your lap. "All set," she smiled, somehow looking confident and still a bit bashful at the same time.

You nodded, pulling the blanket around her and then resting your arms on the small of her back. "Right, how does talking things through sound like?" you hated how hesitant you sounded there, hated how you felt her get still in your arms.

"Yeah. You left your phone behind," at least that was an easy thing to start with.

"I did," you wanted to talk, here, you had your talk. "There was a chance I would have come back if I heard your voice," especially now that you realized something did happen while you were away.

"And not hearing me helped? Do you know how worried I was?" the fear and frustration, all the worry she felt before she likely found your phone, you felt it all, you heard it in her voice, saw it in her eyes, felt it in the way her fingertips dug into your back.

"It did and I knew you'd be. Tara, you saw my schedule, you saw the last fight. If I had gone in any less prepared, I would have lost. I couldn't afford to keep my phone with me," you explained, not for a moment taking your eyes off her own. "If I could call you, I would have. If I called you, you'd see how I was after training. You'd get worried. You'd insist on coming to see me, or worse, that I come back, and I'd agree because I'd miss you even more after hearing your voice," that was the reasoning you had even before you experienced just how grueling the training was. It only proved to be correct when the training began, and you honestly wondered if you'd survive it. It was incredibly effective, but if you never had to think back to it again, you'd be thankful for the rest of your life.

Tara paused for a moment, taking what you said in. "Was it that bad?"

"Let's just say I think I prefer being stabbed and shot," you weren't even joking, your pain tolerance was through the roof at this point. It all just caught up with you after the fight and Anya hit like a truck.

You could immediately see the concern on Tara's face as she pulled back slightly and tugged at your forearm. You got the message and moved your left hand until she could look at it. Her hands trembled as she traced the tiny scars littering your fist, barely ghosting over the more recent scrapes. There was no way she could hurt you; it was all healed for the most part, in a day or two anything that wouldn't leave a scar would be gone. The effect it had on her was obvious and you knew she now understood why you left the phone behind.

"For what it's worth, I wished I could be with you every day," you whispered, bringing your hand back to the small of her back, as she moved a bit closer to you but not as close as before.

"Me too. I'm so sorry I told you to leave," there was an intensity in her gaze you hadn't seen in a while. You felt the tension you couldn't quite explain, and you were suddenly more aware of the position you two were in, with her only in your shirt and underwear, straddling your lap.

"I would have had to leave anyway," somehow you figured she already knew that, and you were proven right when she nodded.

"I still told you to leave me. I don't want that. I don't want to imagine my life without you, Y/N," something in her words made you involuntarily jerk and push her hips forward and you saw her eyes flickering down for a moment.

Focusing on what was more important than physical contact between you two, you continued the conversation. "Why didn't you accept that I was fine with retiring?" you finally asked the question that had been on your mind ever since her reaction.

Tara bit her lower lip, pausing, probably to find the exact words she needed. "You love MMA and you retired because of me, because you had to protect me from my crazy girlfriend and her crazy boyfriend," the frustration in Tara's voice was palpable. "I felt guilty, I am guilty. I just," a tear slid down her cheek. "If you were angry, if you blamed me, that would make sense, but you were calm and it was my fault and it scared me," she hid her face in the crook of your neck.

"Easy, easy, I got you," you whispered softly as you rubbed circles on her back.

"It frightened me that you could be just telling me you were fine to protect me," she more or less told you the same thing she did before you left.

"Tara," you tried, but a finger against your lips stopped you.

"More than even that, I was afraid of you actually being fine with it," those words surprised you.

"Wouldn't that be good?" you asked despite the finger on your lips.

Tara shook her head. "No, because it means so much to you and you'd be fine with losing it for me."

You sighed, fully understanding what was going through her head that night now. "MMA was a way to bond with Zack at first. At that point, he already retired, due to his health. In a way I guess I understood on some instinctual level that he was living vicariously through me by training me."

Words you said to Sam were words you realized shortly after you learned you could be facing retirement. "Love built on guilt leads to regret. That's my MMA career, Tara, something born out of guilt, because Zack couldn't live out his dream and I had the chance to do it," you never said it, you never admitted this to anyone, not only because you didn’t want to talk about Zack, but because somehow, saying that almost felt like betraying him. But you nearly lost Tara and everything else became less important to you after that.

Tara looked you in the eyes, her own wide as the smile spread across your lips. "There's no denying that I love MMA itself, but training and making a living out of it are two entirely different things. I don't need to fight in the octagon to be passionate about my training," you raised your hand, wiping the few tears from her cheeks. "There's no way that career would ever be more important than you," there, you said it, you admitted what you've been feeling ever since you were told you'd have to retire.

"Y/N," it was your turn to press your finger against her lips.

"I mean, yes, I care about that as well, I'm proud of what I accomplished, there's a thrill in the fighting that I'd never find in training, but compared to you? It's insignificant. It's not worth losing you, Tara, there's nothing worth losing you," you could only hope she'd believe you, you could only hope that she’d accept the truth.

She placed her hand on your cheek. "Promise me you'll always tell me if you aren't fine," there was definitiveness in her voice, faith in her eyes, you just needed to reassure her of that one last thing.

"I promise I will. As long as you do the same, so, how about you start by telling me what happened?" you nudged her lightly, trying to remain relaxed, even if you were worried.

"I cut contact with mom when-" Tara didn't get to finish that sentence.

You leaned back and abruptly pumped your fists above your head. "Finally! Fucking finally!" you proclaimed and pulled Tara in, kissed her forehead, and ruffled her hair a bit. "That's my girl! Damn, that took a while!" a thought suddenly popped in your head, so you slapped your forehead and leaned back once again, grumbling. "Shit, I missed it."

Tara went from surprised, to incredulous, to amused as she shook her head. "Y/N," she jokingly slapped your biceps. She really should have known you'd react like this.

"Sorry, sorry, I'm just happy you're out of there," you smiled sheepishly.

"She cut contact with Sam, so I cut contact with her in response," Tara explained and you nodded, calm once again.

"My excitement aside, how are you feeling?" you asked, completely serious now.

Tara sighed, snuggling closer to you. "I really hoped things could be fixed, you know. I know that's naive, that things were never good between them ever since dad left, but I still hoped. I can't leave Sam, though. I don't want her to deal with things alone again," her voice didn't crack, but you could hear she was fighting back tears.

"She won't. She has you," you assured her, feeling her breath shudder against your neck.

"I know. Anyway, I moved here because I wanted you near me, and this was the closest I could get. I know you said I could stay here to Sam, but, you don't mind, do you?" she lifted her head just enough to look you in the eyes once again.

"Of course, I don't mind," with those words providing Tara with all the peace she needed the two of you just relaxed, holding each other as close as physically possible until the first hints of sunlight began seeping through the window. "Think we should move to bed? Maybe sleep for at least a couple of hours?" you suggested.

Tara just lazily nodded, letting you handle all of it. And you did just that. You lowered her down on the bed and were about to lay down next to her when an arm around your neck held you back. "Y/N," she brushed her fingers against your lower lips. "Let's just stop pretending we don't want this."

Everything else vanished, leaving only the desire burning in Tara's eyes, the desire you were sure was present in your eyes as well. You placed your hand next to Tara's head, to keep yourself from pressing too much of your weight on Tara and leaned down. She met you in the middle, eagerly pressing her lips against your own.

You let her lead, feeling her eagerness to finally kiss you with every move of her lips, feeling it in the way she moaned into the kiss as she wrapped her legs around your hips, pulling you closer. Feeling it in the way her left hand pressed against your back, or the way her right hand frantically went from your neck to your cheek, to the back of your head, then beneath the collar of your shirt. You felt it in the way she moaned into the kiss when you slid your palm down her side, all the way to her naked thigh. The oversized shirt she stole from you rising as Tara pressed her hips against you made your head spin.

You growled, deepening the kiss, and gently nibbling Tara's lower lip as your fingers made contact with the waistband of Tara's underwear. Tara leaned her head back, abruptly letting it fall back on the pillow, moaning softly when you rested your palm right against the bare small of her back and pulled her in, smiling as she rolled her hips against you.

"Y/N," she breathed out as you kissed her neck, tugging on your jacket.

That seemed to snap you out of it for a moment and you pulled back enough to look her in the eyes. "Are we going too fast? Do you want me to stop?" you just kissed for the first time and already you were making out, and given the way things were going, you likely weren’t going to stop there unless you stopped right now.

"No, please don't stop. Just, your clothes," Tara was quick to reassure you.

That almost instantly flipped the switch and you leaned in to kiss her again, taking your time and committing the feel of her lips to your memory, memorizing every twitch of her body underneath your own before letting her breathe once more. "What about my clothes?" you whispered into her ear.

"Y/N!" Tara whined, prompting a smirk from you. If your arm wasn't planted so firmly on the bed you were sure she'd try to take your jacket off herself, but as it was she'd need your help.

"What about my clothes, love?" you peppered small kisses all over her neck. "Talk to me, Tara."

"Take them off, already!" okay, less teasing, you'd have to remember that.

"As you wish," you briefly kissed her and pulled back, slipping your hand from her back and slowly getting back up.

Tara grabbed onto your back, annoyed at reduced contact, but you just grinned, pulling her arms away from your back and kissing the inside of her left forearm, kissing up to her wrist, all the way to her palm. She watched you intensely as you kissed her palm a few times, completely still as you moved her hands above her head and leaned in. "Patience, Tara," she hummed at that, relaxing, trusting you.

"I've been patient, Y/N," she complained, but this time allowed you to pull away and kneel above her, smiling widely as she watched you take your jacket off. There was no stopping this now, both of you wanted, no, needed this.

~X~

It rarely happened, but for once Tara woke up before you. There wasn't much she could do about it; mornings were evil and you somehow could function that early. Disciplined jerk. Her disciplined jerk. Officially her disciplined jerk. She smiled at that.

She untangled her body from your own and checked the time, only to be met with at least a dozen missed calls and frantic messages from Mindy and Chad telling her to call Sam. She checked your phone and found an identical situation. The last message from Mindy made her blood run cold. 'Sam is on her way to your apartment! Call her!'

Tara quickly called her sister and, unsurprisingly, had to move the phone away from her ear when Sam began yelling.

"Why aren't you picking up your phone?!" this was not how Tara wanted to start her day. Or continue her day? She wasn't entirely sure. "I'll be in your apartment in two minutes, you better have an explanation for this."

"No!" she cried out so loudly you jumped out of the bed ready to punch whatever made Tara scream. Tara wasn't sure whether to laugh at you or cry at the idea of Sam coming to your place right now. "Don't come here! Please, I'm fine! I'm sorry I overslept!" this was definitely not the moment she wanted to spend with her sister, or anyone other than you, really.

You came back to bed and hugged her, and she felt a bit better as she felt your touch against her bare skin. The realization then skyrocketed her worry because there was no way she’d have time to get decent before Sam came in. "Sam?" you whispered softly as Sam kept insisting she was almost at your door.

Tara nodded and you placed your hand on her phone, silently requesting to take it. Tara gladly gave it to you. "Sam, it's Y/N, let us sleep, see you tomorrow," for a moment Tara wondered if she ever told you how much she liked the sound of your voice immediately after you woke up.

"Sam, you're like my second favorite person in the world, but if you don't let me spend the day with Tara, I will absolutely take your spare key away," it was an empty threat, all three of you knew it. You've given Sam your spare key just in case, but you weren't going to take it away. Sam definitely knew it as she unlocked your doors. "Fuck off, Sam, we overslept, had a long night, figure the rest out yourself!" you finally snapped when not even the empty threat helped.

You hung up. Tara moved so she could hide behind you for at least some semblance of decency. The doors, however, got locked once again and you heard a muffled and embarrassed 'Sorry!'

With crisis averted Tara fell back on the bed, tugging you down with her.

"Well, this is a fun way to start our morning," you muttered into her neck as she leaned back, smiling brightly as you left kisses from her neck all the way to her lips. The kiss was soft, slow and gentle, and Tara pushed her body against you.

"It's almost two p.m. Y/N," she teased once you separated to catch your breath. She gently ran her fingers through your hair.

You paused, taking what she said in. "Sam sure was patient then," Tara laughed at that and it didn't take long for you to join in.

"I really don't want to leave bed today," she confessed, perfectly content with where she was at the moment.

You had other plans though. "Hear me out. Bathroom, breakfast, back to bed? I'll even make pancakes," how could she refuse that.

"And then?" she whispered in your ear.

"The Babadook and cuddles?" she could work with that. Oh, she could definitely work with that.

"Up you go then," you didn't move though.

"You know you have to let me go, right?" you teased, lightly poking the tip of her nose.

Begrudgingly Tara agreed to let you go. Not without a pout though, and seeing the pout on her face you gave her a peck on her lips and jumped to your feet. The pout didn’t quite vanish, but it was smaller. Everything was still so new and fresh and so long-awaited that she really didn't want to let go. She didn't even hide the grin or try to be subtle as her eyes followed your every move.

~X~

Half an hour later you were making a conscious choice to ignore the pancakes in the pan for the sake of kissing Tara again. As much as she enjoyed the kiss Tara could smell the pancake and if you didn't get back to it soon it probably wouldn't turn out to be good. "Hmm, pancake, Y/N," she laughed when you groaned and begrudgingly turned your attention back to the breakfast.

"Pancake, Y/N," you repeated, feigning annoyance as you dramatically flipped the culprit that kept you from Tara.

Who would have thought you'd be this eager for her? Tara loved it. She moved from her spot next to the sink and hugged you from behind. She had never really done that before, now that she thought about it. Not like this anyway, not with her cheek pressed against your shoulder blades, or her fingers slipping beneath your shirt to trace your abs.

You huffed a bit, trying not to laugh. "Tara, that tickles," there was definitely a difference in the way you said her name now, as opposed to the way you were saying it in the morning. It was gentler, more, she couldn't really put a finger on it, but she could hear it. "I like this," you muttered as you served the pancakes on the plates.

"Hmm?" Tara hummed.

"You hugging me like that. I dunno, it's just nice," she'd definitely keep that in mind. She let out a content sigh, enjoying the moment you two were currently having. Also, the pancakes smelled lovely.

You reached out for syrup and Tara let you go, choosing to instead stand next to you. Hugging you from behind was really nice, but like this, she could see the smile you somehow couldn't get off your face.

"You know, I've always loved making pancakes for you," Tara knew, you never told her, but she knew. It was because she would always have a huge grin on her face while you made them. They were simple, tasty, and she felt like she was never too much of a bother if she asked you to make them. Currently, however, she had something else on her mind.

"Oh yeah? Well, I can name a few things I really loved last night," and there was an adorable grin on your face, not that she was much better. You were both grinning like fools.

"Just a few?" you playfully pulled her into you side and kissed the top of her head. "Such as?"

Tara pretended to be in deep thought. "See, I'm not sure. How about we do it again, you know, just so I can give you an answer," and then her stomach growled, and she blushed and she wanted to hide her face so she did just that. Why did her stomach have to growl in such an embarrassing moment?

"Sorry, I didn't catch that last bit," you were just being mean to her right now. Not that she had a chance to retort, as you lifted her up, prompting her to instantly wrap her legs around your waist. "That's new. I like it," you grabbed the two plates with one hand, a trick she still had no idea how to do without dropping at least one, and carried her to the bed. "Breakfast in bed then round two?" you offered with a charming grin on your face and, honestly, how could she resist.

#tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x female reader #tara carpenter x you #scream #tara carpenter #jenna ortega x reader

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

it's steddiemas!! i am so excited for these prompts!!! i'm sure i'm not going to make something for each day, but there are a good few that i'm excited about; my plan is to make all the ones i do write be one story, but we'll see how that goes 😅

@steddiemas Day 1 - Deck the Halls

pairing: steddie | word count: 1,793 | rated: G

Eddie wakes up too early on November 1st. But hey, when nature calls, you answer.

He takes care of business and is turning back to the guest room he’d crashed in last night when a movement catches his eye.

Someone is awake already, and is weaving a string of artificial greenery along the bottom of the rail where the second floor is open into the living room.

Eddie takes another step forward and sees Steve's face peeking up over the floor, perfectly and completely content. The seemingly always furrowed brow he has is gone, his eyes are soft, and his lips set into a just barely there smile as he hums quietly to himself.

“Steve?” He immediately regrets interrupting Steve’s peace, as he startles at the sound of Eddie’s voice.

He looks up at Eddie briefly, then immediately relaxes back into his task. “Oh, you’re awake! Listen, I love you man,” Eddie’s stomach swoops at the words. “But I'm kinda in a groove right now, so once a couple of the others are up I’ll start making breakfast, ‘kay?”

Eddie nods in agreement despite Steve already looking away back to the garland in his hands. He really wants to ask why in the actual hell he’s hanging Christmas decorations the literal day after Halloween, but what comes out is “How are you not dying right now?”

Steve’s hands pause, and he blinks up at Eddie in confusion so he continues, “You had just as much to drink as I did last night…?”

Understanding floods the other man’s face. “Oh! I have a splitting headache right now.” Steve says, getting back to the task at hand and weaving the end of a string of lights through a gap between the banisters.

“Yet you’re awake. And putting up Christmas decorations.”

“Yes.”

The crease re-appears between Steve's brows, though not nearly as deep as usual. 

“Cool. Cool. Follow up question: why are you putting up Christmas decorations?? It’s only the day after Halloween!”

Steve stiffens at that, his brow furrowed fully now.

‘Shit, take it back asshole!’ Eddie chides himself.

“Exactly. It’s time for Christmas.” Steve sniffs, pausing before he continues in a soft voice, “I like Christmas..”

He doesn’t look back up at Eddie, and is now shoving the garland and lights through each gap in the railing, rather than slowly guiding them through.

Eddie watches him for a couple moments then says, “Alright big guy, what can I do to help?”

Steve is immediately relieved, looking back up at Eddie with a big smile (and no crease between his brows, thank you very much), “Wanna put the decorations on the mantle?”

“Sure thing Stevie,” Eddie smiles back at him, turning on his heel to trot down the steps and hang a left into the living room.

He freezes, taking in everything around him he couldn’t see from his spot in the hall upstairs.

There’s red and green tubs, boxes stacked upon boxes, loose strings of cranberries and shedded artificial pine needles absolutely everywhere.

There’s also a complete lack of any Halloween decorations left in the giant room. 

So, in the last however long Steve's been awake, he has: cleaned up from their party the night before, put away all the spooky decorations, pulled out a department store’s worth of Christmas decor, and is currently hanging garlands from atop a—holy shit!

“Steve! Why the fuck are you up so high??”

Steve twists back at Eddie's outburst, looking confused as all hell. “What do you mean, ‘Why?’? You just saw me upstairs, how else am I supposed to hang this?” he says, shaking his arm full of un-placed pine and the ladder in the process.

“You could’ve put them in from upstairs! On stable ground!” Eddie stresses, scrambling between and over boxes of holiday cheer to get to the other end of the room.

“I’m fine Eddie, I’ve been on a ladder before.” Steve snorts, going back to his lights. 

“Steve, sweetheart, you cannot be up that high on a ladder without someone holding onto the bottom!” Eddie says, finally getting over to him and grabbing onto it with both hands, leaning his weight onto it. “What if you fell? No one was awake! What if no one heard you!”

“Please.” Eddie could hear the eye roll in Steve’s voice, “I was perfectly fine.”

“Yeah, well, Wayne would kill me if I let you commit an OSHA violation.”

“What’s an OSHA?”

“Nevermind, keep working Stevie.”

He continues to work steadily, weaving and pruning the fake greenery to his liking and bunching up the end to stuff between two posts when he decides to come down.

He comes down the ladder and makes to move it when Eddie stops him.

“Oh no you don’t, you’re not going back up there.” he states, quickly letting the ladder fall together back from its extended length.

“I’m not done!”

“Didn’t say you were.” he says, leaning the ladder against the wall instead, out of the way, “You’re just going to do this from up there instead.”

For a moment, it looks like Steve is going to argue, but he gives up before he even starts, huffing petulantly and grumbling up the stairs. “And they call me ‘Mom’.”

“Thanks, Stevie!” Eddie calls after him.

“Yeah, yeah.."

Eddie snorts a quiet laugh, but goes back to his original task. He starts examining the boxes strewn out in front of him, the one labeled ‘GARLAND’ is already open, another boasts the title ‘LIGHTS’, another just says ‘KITCHEN’; after three huge tubs labeled ‘TREE’, he finds a smaller cardboard box with ‘MANTLE’ scrawled onto the side with marker.

You can’t say Steve isn’t organized.

He pulls open the top and starts to pull out the decorations. Everything in this box is colored in the few same shades of red, muted green, a handful more in bright silver. From the bottom, he pulls out a much shorter string of garland than the one Steve’s still fluffing to perfection upstairs, this one wound with a thick red, white, and green plaid ribbon.

“What?” Steve calls down after Eddie starts to laugh.

“More plaid, Steven?” Eddie grins, turning to show the garland in his hands.

This time, Steve snorts out a laugh, “Shut up, man.”

Eddie digs a little farther and comes back out with a small plastic box of thumbtacks and gets to work on the mantle. Using the ribbon to pin the length to the wood above the fireplace, he sets it in place along the edge, glancing up to fluff the fake branches out how Steve’s got the ones upstairs.

He gets into his own groove in no time, going back and forth from box to fireplace and placing the various baubles and tchotchkes how he thinks they should be. The clunky and gaudy seeming holiday themed frames at the bottom of the box throw him off for a moment, but soon there are years of awkward pictures of the shitheads leaning along the mantle.

A little red frame holds one of Max and El laughing brightly in just as brightly colored make-up and clothes, a framed polaroid of Robin and Steve in their Scoops uniforms, one of Will dressed up for Halloween; The pictures all must only be a few years old, Steve didn’t really get to know the kids until ‘84, but this little Dustin in the frame with the 3D train on it, and this one with a very disgruntled-looking Mike with his hair slicked flat in an over-the-top tree frame go right in the front.

“Nancy gave me that one of Mike, if you can believe it. He’s gonna hate that it’s up here.” Steve says from behind him now, a smile in his voice “Claudia gave me this one of Henderson. It’s actually from before their Snow Ball back in Middle school, I did his hair.”

Oh fuck, that’s adorable. Eddie’s heart squeezes in his chest. “You never told me that,” he says, accepting the last frame from Steve. A bright blue one with a Teddy Bear in each of the bottom two corners. This one has a JC Penney professional-looking shot of Erica and Lucas in matching holiday sweaters. Definitely a Mrs. Sinclair specialty.

“Erica gave me that one last Christmas, after everything happened at Starcourt.” he smiles, “They’re gonna hate that they’re all up like this.”

“Good.” Eddie grins, turning to face the other man, “What’s next, Stevie?”

They spend the next couple hours decorating; Steve tackles the tree next, working on it while he directs Eddie what to put up next, and making sure to call him back for any more ladder use at Eddie’s insistence.

At one point, Robin shuffles out from the first floor guest room she shared with Nancy, but she takes one look around and shuffles back down the hall.

Sooner than he thought, Eddie finds himself standing in the middle of a Sears catalog. The tree is huge, a fake one to fit the Harringtons’ high ceilings, covered in multicolored lights, red, green, and silver baubles, stringy silver tinsel, a sparkling star on top. 

The stair railings are lit up along both the top and bottom, the kitchen towels and utensils swapped out for holiday themed ones, even the front doormat is switched out for a Christmas themed one.

Steve is wandering around the place, vacuuming up stray glitter and pine needles, poking and prodding things until he’s satisfied, and Eddie is packing up anything unused and carting the tubs and boxes back to the garage.

After his last trip, Eddie swings back through the door to the living room under the steps at the same time Steve is coming back through the other way, both his arms filled with the last of the unused lights.

They collide, of course, and Eddie bends forward on instinct to catch any falling strings

“OOf–shit sorry, Stevie, I–” he glances up at Steve’s face for just a moment, but looks back up immediately, standing straight and keeping his eyes trained on something past Steve’s face, taped haphazardly to the underside of the doorframe.

“It’s okay, Eds, you oka–what’s wrong—?” Steve looks up as well.

Mistletoe.

“Mistletoe? How’d that–? Eddie, I didn’t– You–we don’t have to—”

Eddie’s lips find themselves brushing against the warm, soft skin of Steve’s cheek before the younger man can collect his thoughts.

He lingers there for a moment, pulling back with the lights in his arms instead. “I’ve got these, sweetheart, wanna get started on breakfast?”

Steve looks completely floored, his face flushed red and mouth agape; Eddie gives him a quick wink, then turns back toward the garage just before his own face starts to burn hot. “Holy shit,” he whispers to himself, smiling wide, “Jesus H. Christ.”

it was 100% robin that taped up the mistletoe in case you were wondering lmao

i looked up to make sure OSHA was around in '86 and it was established in 1970, enacted in 1971. if you assume wayne is a union man like i do, he would've definitely known all about proper OSHA compliance

also, i looked up old pictures of 80s era christmas trees and when abouts fake trees came into popularity (which was in the 80s :o) ) to get the descriptions right, and you just know the harringtons would've been on top of all the trends (though i think steve would prefer stringy strips of tinsel over long garlands of the stuff).

other parts! Pt. 1 (Day 1) [YOU ARE HERE] | Pt. 2 (Day 2) | Pt. 3 (Day 5) | Pt. 4 (Day 6) | Pt. 5 (Day 7) | Pt. 6 (Day 11) | Pt. 7 (Day 13) | Pt. 8 (Day 18) | Pt. 9 (Day 21) | Pt. 10 (Day 25) also on AO3! this year

#steddie #steddiemas #steve harrington #eddie munson #deck the halls #christmas #christmas decorating #stranger things #st #also i didn't mention it #but the halloween party was the just the older teens lol #jon and argyle are crashed in steve's parents' room #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddie munson x steve harrington #mutual pining #mistletoe #steveddie #eddeve #the party #dustin henderson #mike wheeler #will byers #lucas sinclair #erica sinclair #max mayfield #el hopper #noelle writes #steddie fanfic

[thatfuckinjester]

more about this because dew and phan are my favorites and i'm weak for them being soft (and also i want to write a fic about it but writer's block is messing me up so i'm writing my ideas until i could actually write)

the first time dew noticed the others leaving thw new quint out was at dinner when everyone seemed to have a place at the table but there was no place for ant and dew just saw him turning away with the saddest look ever and he just growled at everyone, took another plate putting a bit from everything on the plate before taking his own and going to phantom's room so they could eat together.

after that he noticed it much more, like when swiss growled at phantom when he sat too close to them so he pulled away from cuddling with the multi ghoul to cuddle with the quint, giving swiss the middle finger when he whined at that.

or when mountain yelled at phantom for accidentally pouring too much water to one of his plants and dew yelled at the giant that instead of yelling at the new summoned why won't he teach him how to do it right because, as he said before, phantom is just new to the topside, asshole, you can teach him instead of being fucking mean to him.

or when phantom saw cirrus braiding dew's hair and he asked her if she can teach him how to do ot and she growled at him so dew just stood up, taking phantom back to his room while promising to teach him how to braid hair (he also didn't let anyone else do it for about two months after).

he even made everyone sit through two hours of a lecture about how to be nice (and that's coming from him) to the new quint that included yelling, threatening, growling and death glaring all of the pack.

about a week later (when the rest finally got it through their thick fuckin skulls that phantom isn't at fault that aether left) the pack were at the common room watching some sea documentary that rain put on and suddenly phantom's head fell on his shoulder and he looked down to see that the bug was sleeping, mountain offered to take him to his room so dew could sit comfortably but dew growled at him and moved phantom's head gently to lay on his lap, and when swiss offered to take phantom from him (so he could cuddle with him instead that asshole) dew growled at him too, teeth bared and swiss held his hands up and sat back at his place on the sofa.

dew didn't even understood how much he actually cared for the new quint until that moment.

#ghost #the band ghost #nameless ghouls #phantom #phantom ghoul #phantom ghost #dewdrop #dewdrop ghoul #dewdrop ghost #swiss #swiss ghoul #swiss ghost #mountain #mountain ghoul #mountain ghost #cirrus #cirrus ghoulette #cirrus ghost #rain #rain ghoul #rain ghost #cumulus #cumulus ghoulette #cumulus ghost #aurora #aurora ghoulette #aurora ghost #aether #aether ghoul #aether ghost