#no. that's a lie. he pinned me against the wall barely months ago | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

moonlightazriel · 6 months

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Mask Off /// Ghostface!Azriel X F!Reader

Summary: "can i please request one where azriel is ghostface and he terrorizes bad people, and he has a rival ghostface who interrupts his missions/steal his targets and it pisses him off so he plans to kill the rival, he has the ghostface pinned and takes the mask off, plotwist it’s his mate who is just as confused as him."

Warnings: Mentions of murder and blood.

Word Count: 2,2K

Notes: I'm completely obsessed with Scream for a really long time, so this request was so fun to do. Also, thank you @fieldofdaisiies for this amazing little Moodboard for this fic. Happy Halloween guys!

Main Masterlist

The lights flickered, and the sound of his boots against the wet floor contributed to the eerie atmosphere, the slight splash of water whenever he stepped on a puddle. Azriel felt his blood run hotter as anger spread throughout his being, pinned against a wall, throat slit open, was his target, a well-known rapist, the male he was supposed to kill tonight.

On the wall behind him, written with the man’s blood:

“Too late, Mr.Ghostface! Maybe next time..”

Consumed by rage, Azriel let his fist connect with the corpse’s face, the impact breaking the nose, but he wouldn’t mind, would he?

He walked away, removing his mask and the cloak, revealing equally black pants and a t-shirt. He shoved everything inside his backpack and walked to where he had his motorcycle parked. He sat on top of it, mind still rushing with anger as yet another target was getting killed before he had the chance to do the job.

Azriel knew that he was wrong on a certain level, but Velaris needed him, needed this. He was paid by someone named R to get rid of the bad people in the city, corrupt politicians, rapists, murderers, drug dealers, and all the scum that composed the underworld of Velaris.

It was Cassian, his ex-military best friend who had suggested this to him, R paid well, and he was unemployed for a whole year, depending solely on the income from his wonderful mate, Y/N was the sweetest woman alive, she always helped him a and she was the light of his life.

But her work in an office was barely enough for her to finish her college degree and for them to get going, with the Increasing of their rent, and everything else. He had to watch her work hard while his applications were denied, one after the other. So in a desperate measure, he accepted. And as much as he hated it and hated to lie to her even more, he was happy to be helping and keeping her safe from people who would harm her.

At least like that, soon enough he would have enough for her to drop that awful job of hers, her boss would hit on her and make her life hell whenever she denied him, Azriel had to contain himself many times, how he wanted to get rid of him, for even thinking about laying a finger on his mate.

He headed home, where Y/N was resting, trying to forget about his rival that was trying really hard to get him pissed. About two months ago he started to get where his targets were supposed to be, just to find them killed, dripping in blood and with their throats open. Pretty much like he did whenever he got to actually finish it. He was trying really hard to find who this was, cuz not finishing a job meant not getting paid.

He slowly climbed into bed, his warm mate turning to his side, hugging him, kissing his arm in her sleep, her fresh scent as she had just walked out of the shower, relaxed him enough to fall asleep fast. The tiredness of the day weighed on him.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

“What about your trip?” Azriel asked, shoving a handful of cereals in his mouth as he watched Y/N sip on a cup of tea, her working clothes doing wonders to her body, he watched her up and down, stopping at her blushing cheeks, this woman would be the death of him.

“He got a new secretary, I pity her, but at least he left me alone and I don’t have to travel with him anymore.” She said with a relaxed smile and he nodded.

“Good, I hated when he took my mate away.” Which, to be fair, was quite often, not long trips, but often enough to annoy Azriel.

“Not anymore, love.” She said, finishing her tea, and rushing to kiss him, before getting her keys and leaving for work.

His phone buzzed on the countertop, a message from R telling him that his next target was chosen and he should be found at a party in two days.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

Y/N tapped her nails against the desk, feeling the anger creep up in the form of a cold shiver in her spine. Her boss was particularly annoying today, she closed her eyes. The image of the lifeless body, his blood warm on her made her squeeze the mouse between her left hand. She killed criminals, not really annoying men who didn’t know their places. Her phone buzzed.

“The black party. In two days. Y. Slater.” It was all that said, she sighed. The money was good, another rich person trying to get rid of their enemies, it didn’t hurt that each one of her targets were bad people, someone who had done terrible things to others for their own gain.

She had never killed before this, but as she saw the innocent hiring proposal for a bodyguard, and the really good amount of money they promised, she applied. She had a very vast knowledge of martial arts, and she could easily get rid of someone, so when the handsome male said what he really wanted, she agreed. The chance of a better life for her and her mate was beyond her morals.

Not having to struggle with rent, college debt, and everything else. The thought of not living in that crappy place anymore, not needing to count every penny at the end of the month, and wanting to take him out and shower him with gifts made all the wrong things about the job useless.

So she took a deep breath, deleted the message, and went about with her day, mind focusing on the amount of money she would have if she kept saving it. The only difficult part was to explain this to Azriel.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

Everyone wore black, and the masks also were present, so no one minded the masked figure lurking in every corner. Azriel kept a close eye on his target, the man was surrounded by people and a half-naked woman squirming on his lap.

From the corner of his eyes, another hooded figure caught his attention, same clothes and the same mask, but significantly smaller. Azriel narrowed his eyes, looking like his second target arrived just in time.

The party went on, and the other Ghostface remained rooted in place just like him, it didn’t seem like they saw him, which was good for him. The woman still squirming in the male's lap whispered something in his ear, he nodded eagerly and they got up, heading for a more secluded place in the luxurious nightclub.

Y/N had spotted her rival as soon as she arrived, but her target was the main focus, annoying them was just a bonus. Rhys would send her on missions in another city, which led her to pretend to travel a lot for work, but as her targets got killed and Velaris was on a growing spree of bad people, he moved her here.

She was always a step ahead of the other one, and this made her proud. She would linger a little longer sometimes, just to see them burning with rage, then she would rush home and pretend to be asleep, always the nice, dutiful mate.

The woman who escorted the target yelled something about getting more champagne and left the room. As she passed by Y/N, the latter tapped her shoulder and warned.

“Don’t come back.” She placed her indicator finger in the mask's mouth and the woman swallowed dryly, a shiver down her spine. She nodded, rushing away from the scene.

The room was big, a bed was placed in the center and mirrors filled the ceiling. Rich people really liked to show off. The door to the bathroom swung open and the male stepped out again, heading for the bed. Azriel opened the door, and the male jumped in his seat.

“I think you have the wrong room dude.” Azriel walked closer in silence, blade in hand, shining in the dim light, the male’s breath got stuck in his throat and a tickle of sweat ran down his forehead. “Is it money that you want?” Azriel shook his head in denial. “I can pay whatever your price is, just leave me alone.” The male tried to get up but Azriel rushed, his knife sunk in the pale skin as the man tried to dodge. “WHAT THE HELL?”

Azriel turned around, and the other Ghostface dared to show up, closing the door, only one of them would get out of this room, and most certainly would be him. He removed his knife, stabbing the man three more times before he turned to the other one, the male fell to the floor in a puddle of blood and agony, whining like a pig as he tried to crawl away from them.

He launched for them, his big body overpowering their smaller one, they were sent with their back to the door, the air getting knocked out of their lungs, Azriel threw a punch, hitting the wooden door as they spun, getting out of the way, the other one kicked his stomach, making him curl as they darted towards him, circulating him and jumping on their back.

The small arms wrapped around his neck as they tried to knock him out, the man kept crawling and agonizing towards the bathroom, his cries annoying both of the killers. Azriel stumbled backward, knocking them on the wall two times before they let go of him, he turned to them, punching them in the nose, this made Y/N dizzy and she used her knife, making an ugly slash across his forearm. Azriel hissed in pain and anger and his hands grabbed the small and very soft waist, tackling the other one to the ground.

He sat on their stomach, pinning their hands to the ground with his right hand while the other one reached for the mask. A million scenarios passed through his mind, but in neither of them, the face of his mate would be bleeding behind that damned mask.

Azriel didn’t say a thing, just watching the blood drip from her nose. From the punch he had given her. Her eyebrows scrunched in confusion as he didn’t fulfil his plans, instead, he reached for his own mask, her eyes widened as his flushed face was revealed to her.

“Well, this is new.” She said, and it felt like he was awake from a trance, blinking, he took a deep breath.

“I must say, I wasn’t expecting this.” He retorted, feeling the urge to laugh at the whole situation, while he was sneaking out to do his job, she was doing the very same. “Out of all people, I’d never thought it was you. Maybe Cassian or someone else.”

“Cassian is in this too?” She asked in disbelief.

“He introduced me to this.” He winked. “But you? Never you.”

“I’m not as sweet and innocent as you think, handsome.” She giggled and Azriel leaned in, kissing her forehead.

“I see that sweetheart.” She scrunched her face in pain.

“Can you get up? My head is pounding.” He quickly got up, pulling her with him, more blood dripping from her nose.

“I’m so sorry, love.” He apologized.

“It’s okay, we should probably see your arm, it’s pretty bad.” Azriel brushed her off. The male kept crying, trying to close the bathroom door.

“Do you want to team up instead?” She asked, knife in hand as she walked towards the bathroom, Azriel watched as she stepped on top of the man, grabbing a handful of hair, pulling his head backwards as she lowered and slashed his throat, blood splashing on the white floor. “I was planning on actually killing you but I’m glad it’s you Azzie.” She winked and Azriel laughed at the similarities.

“That’s funny, I was planning on killing you too, I’m glad I didn't do it, baby.” He pulled her closer. “We’re teaming up for sure, but only if you tell me how you tricked me last week.” He said, pulling her with him as they weren’t leaving a crime scene but rather a nice restaurant.

“Of course love, if you show me how you tackled me down to the ground.” She turned to him, winking. “It was kinda hot.”

Azriel laughed, they both got their masks back and he led the way back to his motorcycle. As they removed their clothes and masks he looked at her.

“How did you get here?” He inquired.

“Nah, got an Uber, rather easy to leave a crime scene like this.” She said with a laugh, looking at the mask in her hands before shoving it inside his backpack. “Do you think R would mind us using the uniform in bed?”

“What?” He asked, climbing the bike, she got up behind him, leaning closer to his ear.

“You look so good in that mask, it would be such a waste not to use it, Mr.Ghostface.” She purred in his ear and he shivered, smirking as she got his helmet on her head, starting to drive home.

“You’re such a temptation.” He barked and she giggled.

“Only for you, handsome.”

#acotar #azriel shadowsinger #sarahjmaas #moonlightazriel #azriel #shadowsinger #azriel x reader #night court #azriel x y/n #velaris #azriel acotar #ghostface au #azriel spymaster

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sanaserena · 23 days

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Vice Admiral Aokiji.

Why was he here?

You remembered your last encounter with him over a month ago. And what you had demanded of Castelle.

Your hand found the bandage around your waist, tied under the nightdress. In truth, even as you sat here, pumped full of painkillers and medicines that you knew not what, your arms trembled with weakness.

But you were awake because no matter what, this was enemy territory until proven otherwise. And regardless of your state, you would ultimately have to make a choice. Leave or stay.

Habit had told you that it wasn’t good to startle a sleeping dragon. Who knew how they might react? Doffy for one, did not take it lightly. Yet, you reached forward and poked Aokiji’s foot. It was all you could reach.

The foot twitched so you poked again—only to be startled by his deep voice. “Stop that, please.”

You looked at him and found that he was watching you, his head propped up on a hand. A frown pinched his brows together as his eyes swept over you.

“Where am I?” Your voice was hoarser than you expected.

“Gimby’s place.” As if that answered everything.

“Who is Gimby?”

Aokiji sat up. “The doctor who lives here,” he said, resting his elbow on his knee, and his head on his hand. He pinned you with an inscrutable gaze that prickled at the hair behind your neck. “He wasn’t too happy I moved you. But at least he was pleased I left the splinter in—”

“Are you an idiot?” you demanded breathlessly, just a little boggled by the words that he was saying. No wonder you had passed out that second time. The memory of pain you’d felt burned in your mind.

He stopped talking and looked at you, with a blank expression. Yet there was a hint of something indescribable writ on his face that might have confused with a need to not have to explain anything to you, let alone anyone.

You weren’t sure if it was because you had barely any energy to continue sitting up or because this was not Castelle’s, but neither of you seemed to be pretending. Or at least, right now, you weren’t.

“Why did you help me?” you scowled.

He tilted his head. “Why wouldn’t I help a pretty lady?”

You stared at him, incomprehensibly. “I may not have a mirror at the moment,” you said bitterly, “but right now, there’s nothing pretty about me.” You hadn’t bathed in days.

This was the moment for him to say something. Ask the most obvious question. Such as why were you covered in blood? Whose blood was it?

He didn’t.

“You were lying half dead on the beach. It would be below human morals to leave you to die.”

Somehow that felt like a lie. You pushed yourself out of the covers a moment later. “I have to go.”

Urgency forced you to the edge of the bed, even as logic was telling you sharply that this was a terrible idea.

The moment you slipped off the bed to stand on your feet, your legs collapsed under you. It was just a little humiliating that you end up in a heap of legs in the lap of this vice admiral. His hand caught your arm, steadying you with a firm grip.

“Gimby says to rest first. Your wounds need care.”

You pushed yourself to your feet, shaking off his hand while grabbing the table for support, and glimpsed your Michelozini pistols and your halberd on the table. Muted throbbing from who knew which part of your body had you clenching your jaw.

“I can rest when I’m out of here.”

The last conversation you had with Vice Admiral Aokiji rang in your head. He had suspected. And here you were, alone, far away from the ship you’d been on, far away from Castelle’s.

“You can barely walk,” he said.

You reached for your father’s pistols. “I can walk fine.”

A hand closed around your wrist, and he was there, behind you. You felt his presence, a solid wall, as he spoke his next words, far too close to your ear.

“I can’t let you go.”

“And why not?” You cocked the hammer of the Michelozini. It was a little stiffer than you liked.

“Because,” he said, his breaths cool against the back of your neck, “you’re a pirate,” his hand found your hip where the bandage sat, over a wound that hadn’t completely destroyed your Donquixote tattoo, “of the Donquixote Pirates.”

~♥~♦~♠~♣~♥~♦~♠~♣~♥~♦~♠~♣~♥~♦~♠~♣~♥~♦~♠~♣~♥~♦~♠~♣~♥~♦~♠~♣~

‘Aokiji and reader have a chat’ scene of my ongoing canon (intended) compliant fic, Doffy’s Whore, over on AO3 (Doflamingo X reader and Rosinante X reader pairing; Aokiji X reader endgame - the relationships are a little complicated, see AO3 notes, mind the warnings.)

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angst-fairygodmother · 1 year

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48 for Spotify with Joe Velasco?

A/N: I think I lost the plot a bit, but it came out quite nicely anyway, if I do say so myself.

Word Count: 500 exact

Rating: M - heavy makeout/foreplay; implied sexual content; one use of a swear

Spotify Wrapped Mini Fics

Your skin buzzed with the phantom hum of the bass that had been playing in the club. A knee pressed between your legs, and the hard plane of a muscular chest leaning in kept you pinned against the cool surface of the wall. In contrast, the lips that trailed along your neck and collarbone in your lowcut dress, seeking all the spots that made you sigh, were warm and soft.

You couldn't, and didn't really want to resist the moans that his tongue pulled from you as it danced across your skin. His breath smelled like beer in a way that was more intoxicating than nauseating and his laugh was throaty, practically a hum at your reaction. When the light grazing of his teeth entered the equation, you squirmed, thighs clenching around him and hips rolling for any friction you could find. One of his strong hands cupped your ass, sending a shiver through you as fingertips touched the bare skin where your skirt had risen. His other hand tangled into your hair, tugging on it and tilting your head back so that you looked into his green eyes, their pupils blown wide with hunger.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me sweetheart?” he muttered, words tickling across your face.

“I have a theory,” you teased back breathlessly.

"Oh yeah? Enlighten me."

You smirked and shifted your weight so that you could grind your core against his clothed erection, making him nearly whine.

"Fuck me. Not that I'm complaining, but I wasn't expecting you. What are you doing here?"

"I had a date tonight," you admitted softly, knowing it might bring the beautiful moment to a screeching halt but also that he knew you too well for you to lie to him.

"Oh?" His face remained frustratingly impassive and his hands continued to wander teasingly.

"One of the process servers that Carisi uses all the time. Nice guy. He invited me back to his place…"

"Did he now?"

"And I almost got in the uber."

Joe stopped moving, body poised on the edge of stepping back, the whole relationship teetering on a precipice. You felt cold, compared to only seconds before, but it was too late to take the words back.

"But then I realized something."

He waited, eyebrows raised.

"There was only one place I wanted to be, one person I wanted to be with: right here, with you."

Joe stayed quiet, his expression betraying his inner turmoil at your words. And if you were being honest with yourself, you couldn't blame him for it. The two of you had been hooking up since he joined SVU months ago, and you were pretty sure you'd both caught feelings by now, but neither of you would admit it and progress your relationship past semi-regular booty calls.

"If you really mean that, then I have one request."

You nodded, knowing that no matter what he asked of you, you'd give it to him.

"No more bullshit. Just stay."

#Spotify Wrapped 2022 #short fics #Joe Velasco #Joe Velasco x reader #SVU fic #spicy #and just a hint if you squint of angst

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pricemarshfield · 2 years

Text

what do you truly desire?

[Image ID: an image of a blonde woman and a man about to kiss, colorized in red and with the text what do you truly desire? | deckerstar / 28k imposed over it.]

Image Source: KissesandMartini on Instagram.

Title: what do you truly desire?

Pairing: Deckerstar

Rating: E (minors DNI).

Word Count: 3944 for this chapter, 28,651 for the full fic.

Summary: A Deckerstar romcom AU.

Warnings: Smut, mention of corrupt cops (in the context of having been investigated and caught by one of the main characters).

Created For: @anyfandomaubingo, filling out the free space, @anyfandomfluffbingo, filling out the “sharing a milkshake” square, @lgbtqbingo, filling out the “phone sex” square (they are bi4bi within this fic and are bi4implied-bi in the show), @anyfandomgoesbingo, filling out the “going to the symphony” square, @anyfandomkinkbingo, filling out the “outdoor sex” square, and @mfbingo, filling out the “inconvenience” square.

Read chapter 10 here or below the cut (or the full fic from the beginning here!).

By chance, they have the same taxi driver as last time, who looks deeply judgmental even as Lucifer gives him the address. His expression smooths out when Lucifer also throws over a wad of cash, because he can and he's feeling--generous. Maybe still a little like this is a dream.

Chloe's nestled into his side, hand in his, warm. The sentimental part of him thinks that she fits perfectly; the rest of him, usually prone to cynicism and self-loathing, quietly agrees. Lucifer's not exactly unused to feeling at ease, having made a home for himself with Maze and Amenadiel and all the people he feels worth keeping in his life ages back, but it's still nice. Soothing.

(If someone had told him six months ago that he'd feel soothed while actively going home with someone he'd pined after for weeks, he'd have laughed in their face.)

When they pull up to the same complex as before, there's a lot less fumbling, and they get inside with the door locked behind them quicker than Lucifer's managed in years. He's got Chloe against the door not long after, too, only stopping when she puts a hand at his chest.

"Is Maze working tonight?"

"No, but she told me she won't be home, something with E--mmf."

Chloe interrupts him with a kiss, pulling back to say, "Sorry, not to interrupt you, I just--I've been waiting."

Rather than tell her it's fine, don't worry, he just kisses her, because he gets that. Feels it more strongly when Chloe doesn't just lie back against the wall, actually gets her hands under his jacket to pull him in until she's well-and-truly pinned (though he's sure she could throw him across the room if she needed to, and--actually, that sounds quite fun).

Almost as if reading his train of thought, Chloe bites his bottom lip, and he groans into the kiss, pulling back just enough to lean his forehead against hers. The angle's awkward, and his neck is already starting to hurt, but he's hardly inclined to stop. Still, when Chloe whispers "you know, the bedroom's upstairs", he's barely even had to consider heading up before he's doing it, Chloe in his arms.

She gets a hand on either of his shoulders, looking at him with wide, impressed eyes. "You're, uh, stronger than I realized."

"Benefit of being friends with Maze," Lucifer says, mostly focused on getting her up the stairs without dropping her or hurting himself.

"I'll have to thank her," Chloe says, tone far-away. Her eyes are dark when he glances at her, and he almost stumbles. From her smirk, she notices, but she's kind enough not to mention it, especially when he finds the bed and throws her on it. (It's her room, if only because there's no lovingly-displayed knife collection, or the sex swing Lucifer knows Maze wouldn't part with at gunpoint.)

Chloe beckons him closer with a come-hither expression that he's absolutely helpless to resist. He crawls on top of her and kisses her again, quickly getting distracted by the single-minded determination Chloe brings to undoing the buttons of his shirt. She has it almost completely open before a whole minute's passed; that's better than some of the tailors he's worked with.

Once she's gotten the last button, Lucifer sits up to pull it and his jacket off all-at-once. Chloe puts her hands on his stomach without an ounce of shyness, bold and exploratory. Part of him just wants to look down at her expression as she does whatever she wants with him, but that would mean stopping kissing her, which is completely unacceptable, so they'll have to save that for next time.

Impatient, Chloe pulls him closer, and he hisses at the pressure. He's half-hard, has been since they walked in the front door given that he's abstained from doing this with anyone but himself since the wedding. She doesn't let go of him, though, arches up and makes everything worse and overwhelming and better than his imagination, the warmth of her incredible even through all the layers of clothes.

Clothes he'd actually rather they be rid of, now that he thinks about it, hand on her waist and fingers brushing under her top, waiting for her to show she's fine with it. She's so soft. He's had sex before, plenty of it, he's not sure why little things like that are sticking with him, but they are.

Chloe sits up and pulls her shirt off, leaving her in a practical black bra that has him more desperate than any lingerie he's seen women in before. He wants his mouth on her five minutes ago, settles for kissing the hollow of her throat since her jeans are covering his actual goal. She tilts her head to give him better access, pulling off her bra as best she can with him on top of her.

As soon as it's off, she tosses it into the corner, takes his wrist and guides his hand to her chest. He mostly follows where she guides him, paying attention to what he does that makes her shiver, shake, whine into his mouth. When he puts it all to use, she fully jerks against him and rolls them over.

"Okay, Jesus, you're good at that," she says, hands on his wrists, held above his head in a loose grip he doesn't even slightly want to pull out of.

"If you think I'm good at that, you should see what I can do with my mouth. Hands tied behind my back, if you like."

Chloe looks down at him with her mouth open, just slightly; he grins up at her. "That, maybe next time. The second part. The first--oh, whatever, you're better at being smooth than I am." She's getting her jeans undone and off as she says it, though, making Lucifer feel less suave and more like a lovestruck idiot. Normally he'd hate feeling like this, out-of-rhythm, but how could he hate anything that ends like this?

He mostly-swallows back a satisfied noise when she finally settles down on top of him, more determined to do a good job than he was during UCAS, his loan application for Lux, or any of the other things that could change his life. All of them pale in comparison to her, the noises she makes music to his ears.

When she pulls back, he frowns up at her. "You alright?"

"Better than alright," she says, leaning down with both hands resting on his chest to quickly kiss him on the corner of his mouth. "I just don't want you to have to do all the work."

"I'm certainly not complaining," he says, though when she gets a hand on him, he has to hold back from thrusting into the pressure even through two layers. "Though--ah--I'm not opposed to that."

She laughs at him, not unkindly. "You're cute."

No one's called him that in years. Even Eve had favored other, less-PG compliments. His cheeks feel too-warm, and the muscles of his face hurt from smiling and also probably at least a bit from eating Chloe out. He rolls them over again to make it easier to get everything off, including his shoes which he'd frankly forgotten he had on in the rush to see and touch as much of Chloe as possible. Right now, she's lying back against the pillows, hair fanning out behind her like a halo.

Chloe reaches over to her nightstand and fiddles in the drawer, pulling out a box of condoms and handing him one. "Not that I don't trust you or anything but, you know."

"No, of course," he says, rolling the latex over himself. "It's just safe, not a matter of trust. We can always get tested if we want to to do this differently in the future."

She smiles up at him. "Planning ahead, huh?"

"Of course," he says. "Are you--"

"On the same page," she says, pushing herself back a little on the bed to give him more room to work. "Just glad to see you still are, too."

"Chloe Decker, I doubt there's anything you could do to get me off that page."

With the far-too-sappy sentimentality out of the way, he slides into her in one long, slow movement, waiting to give her time to adjust and him time to get used to the warmth of her. He keeps his movements slow at first, leisurely and deep until Chloe digs her nails in and says, "Faster."

Lucifer listens, kisses her, gets a hand between them and on her clit and swallows the noise she makes. The pace of his thrusts gets quicker, more frantic as Chloe's moans get louder. When she comes, it's quiet; all he notices is her head falling back against the pillow, eyes shut. It's less obvious an O face than most of his previous partners; he could look at it forever.

He follows her off the edge not soon after, pulling out and rolling off of her once he's finished shuddering out his release. Previous experience has shown him the longer he waits, the exponentially more uncomfortable it gets. She shifts so that they're still side-to-side, practically cuddling, and he throws his arm around her.

"So," Chloe says, after a few minutes of silence.

"So."

"Are you tired?"

"Not particularly."

"How hungry are you?"

Chaffin's turns out to be a 24/7 diner, and much less busy at midnight than it is at noon. The waiter smells more skunky than a frathouse's living room, but they have fries and a milkshake out in front of them less than five minutes after they order, so Lucifer tips handsomely.

"Do you just carry thousands in cash on you each night?" Chloe asks brightly. Her hair's a mess, and he's pretty sure her shirt's on backwards. He's sure he looks just as ruffled, and certainly feels as happy as she looks.

"Not each night. You caught me at Lux, I practically live there. Actually, I do live in the penthouse above it, so."

Chloe tilts her head thoughtfully. "You know, if it weren't for the crowd, we'd probably have been doing this for months. I mean, it's a good thing we didn't, since, you know, corrupt cops aren't exactly a great thing to be investigating while in a new relationship, but."

"What, like they'd kill me?"

Chloe shrugs, dipping a fry in her milkshake. "I mean, it was a non-zero possibility. Maze would've moved out a year ago if not to protect me and Trixie."

"That's horrifying, I hope you know. And I mean what you're doing to that fry, not your noble quest to weed out the bad apples."

"What? Have you not tried this before?"

Lucifer shakes his head. She reaches across the table to offer it to him, and feeling only a little like a child, he lets her feed it to him. "That's actually not bad."

"See! Told you."

His milkshake--cherry cheesecake, which he'd gotten out of curiosity and finds he enjoys quite a bit--doesn't taste quite as good with the fry as her chocolate, so he mostly steals hers, who pushes it closer even as she complains about his lack of table etiquette. It's light-hearted, playful, like their normal lunch dates except actually a date this time.

"I really do like this place," Lucifer says. "First diner I've been to in years, but...I do."

"Really?" Chloe says. "They're a staple of my diet. I rarely go out to fancier places than this."

Lucifer laughs. "I can't say I do that, but I'm not going out to Michelin-rated restaurants or anything. Maze's taste tends towards the expensive. When I want fancier things, I usually just make it myself."

"Ooh, I should've let us sleep and you could've cooked in the morning, then."

"We can still do that," Lucifer points out.

"I doubt you'll be able to make anything fancy with what I have in my fridge. I have bacon and eggs, though, that's good for me. So--no to fancy restaurants, and I doubt you go out clubbing since you own your own. What do you do with your free time?"

Lucifer shrugs. "I honestly don't go out much. I used to, but it stopped being so appealing when I turned--I don't know, 35? Unless it's something Maze wants to do, I tend to stay at my place. Read something."

Chloe nods. "I get that. Would you want to go out with me, sometime?"

"Of course. Did you have something specific in mind?"

"I'm not sure it'd be your thing, but I saw this flyer for a piano concerto at one of the universities in town, I forget which. I know you play, we could go. If you want."

"When did we talk about--oh, the wedding. You remembered?"

Chloe nods. "Of course I did."

He can't say anything to that, but manages a smile. She smiles back.

The next morning, Lucifer cooks her bacon and egg. (There was only one in the tin.) He brings it to her in bed, regales her with tales about the things he and Amenadiel and Maze have gotten up to since moving to LA, heartened when Chloe doesn't show any sign of pulling away, even at the less-than-legal ones.

Everything's perfect, for awhile. At least, until he thinks to check his phone and finds several angry messages from one of their suppliers who's annoyed that Lucifer's missed some planned call about rates. (The only one who refuses to meet with Maze, because of a little thing like her threatening to stab them. Once.)

Lucifer messages back, a quick "something came up, will respond once I'm free" and then brings his attention back to Chloe. "So when was that symphony?"

"Oh, in about a week. Why, is that okay?"

"I'll make it work," he says. Frankly, a lot of what he does at Lux isn't business-critical, so unless there's some sort of event planned that he's forgetting about, it should be fine. "Now, last night you mentioned being interested in the tyin--"

His phone rings, incessant, the way it should only do if someone calls twice in the span of a minute. He'd turned it on in case of emergency, having been prone to panic after his nephew was born that he'd miss something. Unsurprisingly, it's the supplier from before, so Lucifer picks up and says, "I'm not currently available to talk. Please wait until I reach out to you."

The man immediately refuses and demands an in-person meeting. This would've been annoying if the man didn't live two states over, too long to drive and just short enough to be a deeply, deeply annoying flight. Lucifer rolls his eyes; Chloe makes a sympathetic expression. "Can we simply do business as usual and not do the meeting? Is there something that requires my attention?"

A hell of a lot of words come out of the man's mouth, which Lucifer's pretty sure all end up meaning no, but I'm not going to do business unless you do the meeting, because I'm a petty, self-righteous asshole. While he'd love nothing more than to spend the rest of his day or week with Chloe, he's pretty sure that he has to get this out of the way if he wants Lux to keep running as usual. Inconvenient, obnoxious, and infuriating, but he hardly wants his business to stop running, so. "I'll be there."

As soon as the call ends, Chloe says, "You know, I'm glad I've never had to do customer service."

"He's not even a customer. But you're not wrong." Lucifer sighs and leans down to press a quick kiss to her cheek. "I'm sorry, Detective. Could we postpone all of the things we were going to do until I can get this sorted out?"

Chloe reaches up and pulls him down into another kiss; she still tastes a little too morning-breath, just with a hint of bacon. "All of it might take more than a day, you know."

He laughs. "Well, I'm not going anywhere."

The flight out to Eastern Utah, of all places, is quick but dull, sitting next to a kind woman who's typing like she's got sixteen articles due yesterday and a man breaking all social norms and basic decency to hold hands with the person in the next aisle seat over. (It's all he could get for a same-day ticket; first-class had been completely booked. He'd paid $700 for it, which he could obviously afford, but the principle of the thing still has him furious.)

Unsurprisingly, there had been absolutely nothing that couldn't have been resolved over a phone call, and only one or two things that couldn't have been resolved with a text. He'd spent more time in TSA than actually talking to the person who demanded his attention.

If the universe were willing to work with him here, there'd be a flight back to LAX the same day. There are, but they're all booked, and the earliest he can get home is apparently 9am the next day.

He messages Maze, Patrick, and Chloe to let them know, the former two because of workplace etiquette, the latter because he wants her to know he'd really like to be back as soon as possible, and that he's not avoiding her. Maze dislikes the message but then texts a picture of the outside of Lux, showing she's there and covering for him, Patrick says "got it".

Chloe sends, about twenty minutes later:

Do you want to call?

Of course

Lucifer barely lets the phone get through the first ring before he picks up. "Detective!"

"Lucifer," she says brightly. "How was the--uh, what was he again? Supplier?"

"Oh, he was an arse, but I was hardly expecting anything different."

Chloe laughs. "Yeah, I bet. Sorry about the late reply, by the way! Dan needed my help with something, nervous about a date with one of the new DAs."

Lucifer's first instinct is to doubt who would date the man, but it seems bad form given that he's clearly not trying to be Lucifer's competition. "Lucky him. What's their name? My aunt might have mentioned them."

"Charlotte Richards?"

"Yes, that's my aunt?"

Chloe laughs. "Sorry, it's just...I ran into you so many times. Charlotte recommended that Japanese place to me, and I thought I recognized her at the wedding, but she'd just started with us, so I wasn't sure. I guess we have her to thank."

Huh. Lucifer'll have to send her whatever wine she likes. "Small world."

"Makes a little more sense than just running into each other everywhere," Chloe says. "As romcom as it is."

"Not a fan?"

"Eh. I mean, I'm not against them. But I'm more a scifi fan."

"Really?"

They talk about books for awhile, Chloe surprised by Lucifer's taste for the classics and Lucifer teasing Chloe's taste in YA even as he's endeared by it. They talk the whole way to his hotel, up to his room, for hours and hours. When he yawns, it's with surprise that time has passed, though the sun's long-set. The hours felt like--well, still like hours, but hours he'd enjoyed enough that he never got bored.

"Wow, I'm sorry, I didn't realize I'd kept you for so long," Chloe says. He can just picture her making the same embarrassed face she had trying to put all her notes away in the diner. "Do you need to go?"

"No, I'm fine," Lucifer rushes to reassure her. "I've quite enjoyed talking to you."

"Yeah," Chloe says. There's the sound of rustling or something over the line. "Me too."

"What was that noise?"

"Oh, just--lying back in bed."

"Ah."

Lucifer doesn't ask further, isn't sure if it'd be appropriate, but Chloe clearly has no such qualms. "Where, uh, are you?"

"Also in bed," Lucifer says. "And certainly not opposed to this line of questioning, if you're up for it."

There's a beat of silence, where Lucifer worries that he's pushed too far, then Chloe asks, "Is it cliche if I ask what you're wearing?"

Lucifer huffs out a laugh. "Yes, but that can be fun. I'm--actually, wearing the same suit I wore to your place last night."

Chloe's smiling; he can tell from her tone even if he can't see her. "Do you still look as messed up as you did at the diner?"

Cheeks just a little warm with embarrassment, he says, "God, I hope so."

Lucifer gets back to LA and spends most of his time with Chloe, to the point where Maze corners him in her kitchen one morning and ever-so-politely asks him to take her to lunch, twirling one of her sharpest knives as she does. He agrees, and they go to another fancy place Maze picks.

"I don't know why I'm surprised you're the type of person to get in a relationship and immediately forget everything else exists," Maze huffs.

"Oh, like you've not been spending all your time with Eve?"

Maze glares at him, even as their server sets down their food. (Lucifer had paid almost as much on this meal as he had on his ticket home. He wishes he was at the diner; there'd be a table full of food for that price.) "Not all of it. I see Linda. And you."

"Alright, alright, point taken," Lucifer says, holding up his hands in defeat and apology.

"Good," Maze says. "Anyway, I'm not allowed at Knott's Berry Farm anymore."

"Why the hell would you break in there?"

Maze shrugs. "Eve heard it was haunted and wanted to fight a ghost."

That--actually does sound like her. "Did you?"

Maze frowns. "No. I'm pretty sure ghosts are bullshit, anyway, I just wanted to practice breaking into places. You never know, right?"

Lucifer laughs. "Only you, Maze."

The symphony is beautiful. He feels the music in his chest, loud and rumbling and probably a matter of the acoustics being off in general admission but still profound. Lucifer'll admit he's prone to pretentiousness, but he'd be hard-pressed to describe this without resorting to cliche. Virtuosity, personality, the poetry of the music--it all sticks with him, and Chloe sits with him as most of the people file out around them.

"I thought you'd like it," she says. "I'm glad."

"I did," he says. "I'm lucky you spotted the flyer. And that there were seats available so recently."

Chloe coughs. "Oh, I booked them, uh, awhile back. The case was months ago. I just--I don't know. I couldn't stop thinking of you."

"...really?"

"Yeah. A little weird, but--"

Lucifer interrupts her with a kiss; rude but who could blame him? "I don't--I thought you hated me."

"You? No, I just--everything with the case, and no one willing to be my partner, and that's not even getting into--I don't do stuff like this often. I haven't seen anyone since Dan, not really. You're just--God, you're fantastic."

Lucifer laughs. "Funny, I'd say the same to you."

Chloe kisses him again and pulls back with a quiet, dissatisfied noise. "It's a half-hour drive to either of our places. That's too long."

"I actually have a place nearby," Lucifer says, and then, at Chloe's disbelieving expression, says, "What? Sometimes you want to look at the sunset. And the views in the Hills--"

"--gorgeous," Chloe agrees. "Alright. Let's go."

The house is as opulent as he remembers it; he really doesn't come here enough. The view's fantastic, and the privacy even better; Chloe straddles him on one of the deck chairs, entirely hidden even with the stars above them. Not that he can see them, with the light pollution, but it doesn't matter. He's otherwise occupied.

Hopefully, he stays that way.

#lucifer fanfiction #anyfandomaubingo #anyfandomfluffbingo #lgbtqbingo #anyfandomgoesbingo #anyfandomkinkbingo #mfbingo #alright rest of the tags are for my organizing. anyway #my fics #fic: what do you truly desire?#fox lucifer #deckerstar #chloe decker #lucifer morningstar #dc #nsft

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haikyuuhoo · 3 years

Text

Burn

Pairing: Atsumu x Reader

Words: 1.5k

Warnings: ANGST. Cheating, hurt/no comfort, swearing, crude mentions of sex.

A/N: FRIENDLY REMINDER THAT I LOVE ATSUMU WITH MY WHOLE HEART AND I AM SO SORRY. He’s so easy to write angst for and part of me hates it but I only write angst for the characters I love the most bc I know I’ll feel okay in the end. Anyway please enjoy my first writing in months :)

You hated Twitter.

You absolutely fucking hated Twitter.

On a day which was supposed to be happy and filled with hugs and cuddles and kisses, a simple @ on Twitter had ruined the high you’d felt only hours ago and left a burning behind your eyes instead.

Normally you’d look at the pictures for far too long, admiring the way he looked in his blazer and turtleneck, dressed up like he’d just come from a fancy dinner. But instead of adoration all you felt was anger, and you wanted someone to blame.

You supposed you couldn’t hold it against the person who’d tagged you in the photos, nor could you hold it against the person who’d taken them in the first place.

No, in the midst of your tears you could only find it in yourself to blame Atsumu—your Atsumu—who had his arm wrapped around some girl’s waist, who had his lips pressed against her cheek far too close to her lips, who was leading her into the hotel the team was staying at for their away games.

The sight made a pit form in your stomach and you clutched it with one hand, the other coming up to cover your mouth when a particularly loud sob clambered from your lips as tears left hot trails on your skin.

Too soon, you heard the telltale sound of Atsumu’s keys jingling outside your front door and you quickly snapped your laptop shut. Your gaze was locked on the door when you stood up, but you were frozen in place as it swung open and Atsumu stepped inside, dropping his bag in the entryway.

His eyes met yours and a smile formed on his face, but it quickly faltered when he took in your tearstained cheeks.

You had half a mind to lie. To pretend you’d never seen the pictures, to go back to your happy life and what was supposed to be a happy future, to pretend you didn’t know that he had cheated on you.

But that thought hardly had enough time to linger in your head before you knew that it would do you no good.

He knew that you knew, you could tell by the look in his eyes.

The sun shining through the large windows of your home suddenly made you feel too hot, like it would suffocate you. Your mouth tasted like ash.

“Baby,” he began gently, approaching you as if he were coming face-to-face with a caged animal.

“Don’t,” you snapped, but your voice betrayed you and the word came out far less harsh and much more broken than you intended. “Don’t take another step.”

He gulped, honeyed eyes wide and swimming with a mixture of emotions you couldn’t discern—not with the way your gaze was so clouded by your own. “Baby—” he tried again, but you took a step back.

“What the fuck, Atsumu?” You could barely choke out a whisper with the way your throat was closing up, and you didn’t miss the way he cringed at the sound of his full name coming from your mouth. “You’re gone for two weeks and suddenly I’m not good enough anymore?”

“No! No, I—”

“Stop,” you whimpered, hands coming up to cover your face—to hide your tears, to muffle the brokenness of your voice, anything. “I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want you to tell me I was too boring or she was too pretty not to or you just couldn’t go a couple weeks without getting your goddamn dick wet. I’m not letting you sweet-talk your way out of this.”

It was silent for a few moments, and then you heard the click of the front door finally closing. You didn’t have to peak through your fingers to know Atsumu was still there because he spoke shortly after. “PR is working to get the pictures taken down.”

Your hands fell and your eyes snapped to him, gaze full of what he could only describe as a fiery rage that pinned him to the wall. “That’s what you think the issue is?” you seethed.

“No!” he said again, hands coming up to run through his hair as he finally looked away from you. You could see the way his Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed whatever words were trying to bubble out of him. “I-I just—it’s the first step.”

“To what?” you scoffed.

“To trying to make it so I didn’t completely ruin our lives.”

You had to fight back another wave of tears, lifting your chin in an attempt to do so, so that you wouldn’t break in front of him. “It’s too late for that.”

Atsumu reluctantly looked back at you. He could tell you were trying to be strong, but he knew you all too well, knew from the wobble in the corners of your lips and the way your fingers gripped the hem of your shirt that you were absolutely broken inside. And he’d done that. And you were right—it was because he couldn’t go two weeks without getting his fucking dick wet and all he wanted to do was go back in time and never do it in the first place.

But he couldn’t.

And he’d done it.

And it didn’t matter that he was drunk. It didn’t matter that he imagined it was you the entire time. It didn’t matter that he’d kicked her out before either of them finished. It didn’t matter that he was overcome with guilt the moment his eyes fixated on the gold band on his finger pressing into the bare skin of her waist. None of that mattered, because he did it, and you knew that he did it, and he knew that nothing would fix it now.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, and that only made it worse, because you knew he was, but he’d done it anyway.

“I know.”

“I’m so sorry.” There was no use in attempting to explain himself, Atsumu knew that, so he didn’t waste his time trying.

You squeezed your eyes shut. “Are you going to make a statement?”

“PR’s working on it.”

You nodded, and your eyes didn’t meet his when you opened them. No, instead, they fell on the ring on your left hand, the large diamond glinting so brightly in the light you felt like it might blind you. Shaky fingers removed it and you leaned down to place it on the coffee table. “Tell them to add that to your statement.” You stood up straight and put your shoulders back. “Hopefully it won’t ruin your life.”

Atsumu wanted to reach for you, wanted to call after you as he watched you retreat from the room, but he felt like he was nailed to his spot. Tears clouded his vision, and the way the light caught on the ring made it seem like the whole room went white. It wasn’t just the ring that sat on the coffee table in a living room that suddenly felt far too big, it was everything—his future with you, the promises he’d made, the memories you’d yet to create. It was all there, encompassed in a tiny metal circle and capped off by a rock, and it felt like he’d just ground it to dust with the heel of his boot.

It was only after you’d locked yourself in the bathroom that you let yourself cry again. You slid down the wall and clutched your knees to your chest, burying your face in the fabric of your sweatpants in an attempt to muffle your sobs. You knew you would have to leave eventually, but for now you would just let yourself cry.

Part of you wanted to blame yourself. You should have known this would happen—Atsumu’d had girls throwing themselves at his feet since high school for Christ’s sake. You had to see the way beautiful girls crowded him after every game and every press conference, had to endure girls coming up to him every time the two of you would go out for date night.

Maybe it was always bound to happen.

You should have heeded the warnings of your friends, should have listened when they recounted the stories they’d heard of him in college. But instead, you convinced yourself that he was ready to settle down, that he loved you.

Maybe you’d been blinded by the sweet ways he would talk to you, the promises he would make, the lingering touches and fond gazes.

Maybe you’d been consumed by his warmth, lulled into a false sense of security that you didn’t feel until you were burning.

Maybe you’d loved him like Icarus loved the sun—too close, too much.

And he would be fine, just as the sun had been while Icarus fell and long after he’d crashed. He was Atsumu Miya, pro volleyball player, and he would be fine.

But as you sat on the bathroom floor, back pressed to the cold wall that did nothing to soothe your hot skin and hand clutching your stomach which ached from the way you were sobbing, you wondered if you would ever be fine again. And when you heard the sound of the front door opening and closing echo through your empty house—a house you’d hoped to fill one day with the sound of little feet running across the floors and laughter bouncing off the walls—you wondered if it would have been better if you really were Icarus after all.

#atsumu x reader #atsumu x reader angst #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu angst #atsumu miya #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x reader angst #tw cheating

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astralkoo · 3 years

Text

The Snack Thief (M)

Pairing: Jungkook / Reader

Genre: neighbors au, smut

Rating: 18+

Words: 6.4k

Summary: in which your annoying, younger neighbor has a nasty habit of breaking into your apartment late at night and stealing your food.

Warnings: strong language, technically breaking & entering, broke college student struggles, older!reader, Jungkook saying noona, explicit sexual content; sub!jungkook, dom!reader, blowjob, kitty gets ate, sixty-nine, very mild degrading (jk gets called a slut like once), needy jk, fingering (m. receiving)

— author’s note; it’s been a minute, hasn’t it? i’ve been trying to get back into my groove so hopefully this is the start of a very active and productive summer for my writing. also! this is cross posted on my new wattpad account bckupbabies so if you see it on there, that’s me don’t worry!

You woke with a start, heart pounding, skin drenched in cold sweat, fear gripping at your chest.

There's someone in your apartment.

It was a split second realization, one that ripped you violently from the gentle thralls of sleep and had thick, stifling terror settling like heavy stones in your gut. Sucking your lips into your mouth to prevent your breath from coming out too audibly, you strained your ears, listening carefully. At first, all you could make out was the soft whirring of the fan above your head. But then—

Thud.

In an instant, you were out from beneath the covers, a shiver rushing down your spine as the cold night air nipped at the exposed skin of your arms and legs. Instinctively, your hand shot to the nightstand, rushing over the smooth wood surface, seeking out your phone. Only— it wasn't there. Shit. You must've accidentally left it on the counter last night. Shit.

Gritting your teeth, you stumbled through the darkness, bracing a steadying palm against the wall to guide yourself across the bedroom.

"Where is it, where is it, where is it?" You hissed, searching blindly for the item you're always sure to keep near your bedside in case of a situation just like this. It didn't take long before your fingers grazed the smooth rubber grip of your old-reliable baseball bat. You let out a cautious exhale and moved silently towards the door, careful to avoid the floorboards that squeak.

Keeping your back against the wall, you stepped into the short hall. You could hear more clearly without the separation of your bedroom door; the heavy footsteps and low grumbling voice. It wasn't just your sleep hazed mind playing a nasty trick; there was someone in your goddamn apartment. A combination of fear and rage heated the blood currently rushing through your veins, the thundering of your pulse almost deafening in your ears.

Another loud bang sounded through your apartment and your shoulders tensed.

Were they even trying to be quiet? What a shitty burglar. They should've done their research before busting in. You were a broke college student working at a freaking campus cafe just barely able to afford paying your rent every month. The most valuable thing in your apartment was probably the ultra soft two ply toilet paper you'd splurged on last time you went shopping for basic necessities.

And you'd be sure to bash the bastard's head in before he could lay his greedy fingers on your precious two ply.

Letting out your fiercest battle cry, you swung your bat over your head and launched yourself out from behind the wall, poised for the attack. The man in your kitchen, who was elbow deep in your snack cabinet, shrieked (incredibly un-burglar-like, you might add). The sound was so high pitched and sharp that you flinched, startled as he whirled around clumsily, not only banging his elbows but tripping over his own feet in the process. You were barely able to catch a glimpse of his face before he fell, disappearing behind the counter.

But something about that scream was vaguely... familiar?

"Jungkook?"

The top of his head peeked out from behind the countertop, familiar doe eyes blinking back at you sheepishly. "Hi, noona."

The tension in your shoulders immediately melted upon realizing that you in fact not being robbed by an armed lunatic— rather, you were being robbed by your annoying next door neighbor. Again.

"Are you out of your mind?!" You hissed sharply, frustration flaring, "it's fucking three in the morning! Why the hell are you in my apartment?"

"I was hungry!"

"That doesn't explain why you're here!"

"I was craving ramyeon but I ran out! And– and you always have extra anyway so I thought you wouldn't mind!"

"Ha! You thought I wouldn't mind—" You gritted your teeth, on the verge of seething when you noticed he was still ducked behind the counter. "Why are you still hiding? Get over here." So I can beat your ramyeon stealing ass, you added in your head.

"Drop the bat— then we can talk." He bargained, nodding pointedly towards your weapon, still poised for attack.

Grunting, you reluctantly released the handle, letting it fall to the floor with a sharp clang.

Jungkook let out a low breath of relief, before meekly stepping out from his position behind the counter. Your eyes immediately dropped to his hands, still desperately clutching onto two packets of ramyeon.

Pinning him with a glare meant to reprimand, you crossed your arms firmly over your chest. "Jungkook, you can not keep—" your scolding was abruptly interrupted by a low, thunderous rumbling, your gaze jumping in surprise to the younger boy's face, which was now donning an embarrassed blush. "W– was that your stomach?"

Sucking his lips into his mouth, he nodded, head dropping in shame.

A wave of sympathy washed over you upon realizing just how hungry he must be. Any anger at having your sleep ever so rudely disrupted quickly fizzled out, the tension in your shoulders dissipating as he shuffled his feet shyly.

"Geez, this brat." You muttered under your breath, trudging over to where he stood and snatching the ramyeon packets from his grasp. He looked up at you with wide, pitiful eyes, and you could tell he thought that you were going to kick him to the curb. Instead, you jerked your chin into the direction of the couch and said, "go sit down while I make these. Don't need you hovering over my damn shoulder."

It would be a lie to say your heart didn't flutter a little at the sheer amount of excitement that lit up his face, pink lips breaking into a wide, uncontainable grin. Deciding not to push his luck, he quickly bobbed his head and scampered over to the couch, tossing a bubbly, "thank you, noona!" over his shoulder as he went.

You scoffed, though the corners of your mouth tipped upwards in spite of yourself.

The kid was cute. You'd give him that much. With those big shiny eyes and that stupid bucktoothed grin. Even if he was a perpetual trespasser and a food thief to boot, you'd let his little indiscretions slide... for now.

The ramyeon didn't take long to make, but, even all the way across the room, you could practically hear Jungkook's stomach growling up a storm by the time you were pouring it into two separate bowls. He was squirming on the couch, peaking over the back of it with wide, wanting eyes, damn near drooling at the mere smell of the sodium soaked noodles.

"Don't spill," you warned with a click of your tongue as made your way to the couch, handing him one of the bowls, "eat this, then go home, alright?"

Jungkook was already stuffing his cheeks before you'd even finished speaking, but he paused to pout over at you upon processing your words. "Noona..." he gurgled in soft whine around his mouth full of noodles, making sure to swallow before he finished, "why do you want me to leave so badly? You're hurting my feelings."

You scoffed as he pressed a large hand to his chest, wincing dramatically as if your words had somehow truly wounded him. "Do I have to remind you that it's 3am? I was sleeping. I would like to go back to sleep. I was having a very good dream before you fucking broke in to my apartment and tried to rob me." You hissed, plopping down on the couch beside him and shoveling your ramyeon into your own mouth.

Damn. That shit was good.

"I wasn't robbing you." He protested weakly. You raised an unconvinced brow. "Just... borrowing."

You barked out a laugh. "Oh? So you were planning to return all the snacks you were about to steal?" His eyes lowered, a guilty pout turning the corners of his mouth downwards. "Yeah, didn't think so."

"Still..." he grumbled bitterly, looking up at you through his thick lashes. "I'm much more fun than sleep."

You snorted. "I beg to differ."

There was an uncharacteristic lull of silence, and you spared a questioning glance in Jungkook's direction, not expected to be greeted by the astonished expression painted across his face.

He looked... genuinely offended.

"Noona," he sounded rather distraught as he set his half eaten bowl down on the coffee table before turning his body fully towards you, "how could you say that?"

Your brows lifted expectantly, confusion swimming in your gaze. "What?" You laughed lightly, not understanding why he suddenly seemed upset. You were just joking around... had you accidentally hit a nerve?

"You have fun with me." He insisted once more, a certain desperation to his words.

"Yeah... when it's not 3am."

"Liar." He scowled, gaze dropping to where his fingers were tracing miscellaneous shapes on the fabric of your couch. "That's when you have the most fun with me."

His voice had dropped into a low whisper at that last part, so you had to strain your ears a bit to make out exactly what it was he was saying. At first, you were confused. The most fun...? But then you saw the faint blush coating his cheeks, the shy fluttering of his lashes, the nervous fidgeting of his fingers...

And it clicked.

A few weeks ago, you did something stupid. Something you shouldn't have done. You'd given into urges that should have remained buried deep, deep inside of you.

"Jungkook." Your voice held a warning pitch as you growled his name. He shuddered ever so faintly at the shift in your tone and quickly turned away from you, snagging his lower lip tightly between his teeth.

"It's true..." he grumbled petulantly, kicking his foot lightly against the leg of your coffee table.

You stared at his profile through furrowed brows, gaze hard and unwavering as you set your own bowl onto the table. "We talked about this, Jungkook. We agreed not to bring it up again!"

"No, you— you made that decision all on your own." He protested quickly, thrusting an accusing finger in your direction. "I made no such promise."

"Jungkook," you sighed heavily, squeezing your eyes shut and pressing your fingers into your temples as they throbbed, "what I did—"

"We," he corrected, leveling you with a stubborn glare, "what we did. Stop acting like I wasn't a willing participant."

"You're a kid—"

"I'm nineteen! I can make my own decisions!"

"No. You can't."

At that, his expression hardened, lips pursing, fingers curling into tight fists, eyes flaring with determination.

"Watch me."

In the next second he was on top of you, straddling your lap, large hands cradling your jaw as he pressed his warm lips purposefully to yours.

Startled, your hands leapt to hold his waist, instinctively steadying him. The rest of your body remained stiff and unresponsive, frozen in shock from the sheer unexpectedness of the kiss. It wasn't until Jungkook let out a soft, pleading whine against your unmoving mouth that you were kickstarted back into motion.

"Jungkook," you gasped out his name, somewhat more breathlessly than you intended, hands rushing between your bodies to push him away by the swells of his firm chest, "w–what are you—"

"You want me." The younger boy swiftly interrupted, his warm breath caressing your lips as his fingers gripped gently at the back of your neck. "You want me. You can't deny it. You said so."

You were goddamn dizzy. "When did I—"

"Fuck, Jungkook. You have no idea how long I've wanted this. How long I've wanted you." It took you an extra second to realize that he was quoting back your words from that night. Word for fucking word. Heat rushed to your face, your hand gripping harder at the thin fabric of his top.

"How do you even remember that." You grumbled bitterly, embarrassed at having been called out.

The corner of his mouth curled into a small, teasing smile. "I have a pretty good memory."

"Bullshit," you scoffed, "I can't count the number of times you've forgotten to bring back the shit that you 'borrowed' from me. I bet you have a fucking closet full of my sweatshirts."

"I didn't forget... I just didn't want to give them back." He informed you in a soft, lilting hum, running his thumb over the smooth cut of your jaw.

"Thief." You spat, but the word lacked any real fire. It sounded weak on your tongue, a soft fluttering of breath that easily could have been mistaken for a moan. You saw his eyes drop to your mouth, desire pooling within them, so thick and dark that you felt it polluting the air around you, polluting your lungs with every jagged inhale.

He shifted on top of you, strong thighs squeezing around your hips. You tried to pretend that you didn't feel the press of something hot and hard against the top of your leg, but the tremble of your eyes and the clench of your fingers were not easily mistaken.

Jungkook sunk his teeth into the delicate flesh of his lower lip, and your gaze followed the motion unconsciously. You didn't even realize you were staring at his mouth until he spoke in that low, hoarse whisper, ripping you violently from your trance.

"Can I take a little more?"

Your brain was screaming at you to say no, screaming at you to not be selfish, to not be greedy. To not want something so terribly that you felt it trembling through your very bones. You shouldn't want this. Shouldn't want him. He was too young, too naive, too sensitive. You'd break the poor boy before he even realized what happened.

You should say no.

Mind made up, you opened your mouth, fully prepared to reject the boy and put a stop to whatever the hell this had become, right then and there. You were prepared to be the responsible senior that you needed to be, for both his sake and yours.

But what actually came out was something entirely different.

"Yes."

Jungkook barely had time to let out a happy whimper before his mouth was back on yours. A soft groan rumbled in your chest as your arms curled around his slim waist, tugging him ever closer. Long fingers tangled in your hair, he gently tugged your head back, leaning himself over you in order to deepen the kiss. You permitted him to do so without resistance, lips parting to allow his eager tongue to invade your mouth.

His body was hot and heavy above yours, but you didn't mind the added weight, the pressure on your thigh probably the only thing keeping you grounded. Because the heat between your legs was a anything but grounding. Sticky and wet, an accumulation of unspoken need and neglected lust that refused to be ignored for even a moment longer. A bleary haze fell over your mind, all the blood in your head suddenly rushing downwards to feed the growing flames in your groin.

The first roll of his hips was so minute, so slight that you would have missed it completely had it not been for the soft, airy moan that escaped his throat. The second was less than subtle, a hard, deliberate grind that rocked his already half-hard erection against your stomach. You felt it there, where your shirt had ridden up to expose a thin strip of skin, the front of his sweatpants growing thick and damp with his steadily increasing arousal. Your grip around him tightened, nails biting into his clothed hips hard enough to have crimson flowers blossoming across his golden flesh.

The sting coaxed a strained moan from Jungkook's inflamed lips, the rolling of his hips growing more frantic. You were quick to steady them, not wanting him to overexcite himself too soon.

"Calm down." Even in your own ears, you voice sounded thick and unstable, and you silently cursed yourself for having gotten so worked up by a mere kiss. But, in your defense, it was one hell of a kiss.

"I'm calm." He insisted unconvincingly through harsh pants, fighting for oxygen but not willing to pull away from you lips long enough to actually breathe. Quite the dilemma.

You chuckled softly, sliding a hand up to grip his jaw, preventing his mouth from finding yours for just long enough to soothe the fierce burn in your lungs. He took that opportunity to strip himself of his top, tossing it haphazardly to the floor.

You felt your stomach tighten, taken off guard by the unexpectedly display of glowing, sun-kissed skin you found before you, stretched across thick, toned muscle that flexed and tightened with even the most minuscule of movements. Subconsciously, your tongue slipped out of your suddenly dry mouth, dragging over your swollen lips.

Jungkook mimicked the motion, reaching down with ink embroidered hands to grip your wrists, gently guiding them up the length of his fit torso. "Touch me." It was a plea, the low whimper lacing the words a dead giveaway of his unyielding desperation.

You didn't hesitate to comply.

Pushing forward, you set vengeful teeth upon his prominent collarbone, biting down just hard enough to leave your mark. He moaned loudly, head falling back as your nails raked over his sensitive nipples. A violent shiver transversed his body, goosebumps rippling across his exposed skin that was set on fire by your greedy touch. He found the back of your head and neck with trembling hands, urging you closer without use of words. You kissed up the length of his taut throat, sucking and licking until you were content with the colorful array of bruises you'd left in your wake.

"Kiss me." You whispered against the defined curve of his jaw, wanting another taste of those pretty little lips. His head dropped forward obediently, mouth open and ready to be received by you. Fuck, he looked so hot from that angle; dark, hooded eyes pooling with lust so deep you could drown it it, kissable, rose petal lips glistening and swollen and just begging for attention, full cheeks flushed a dangerous shade of red that only enticed you further.

How could he look so ruined? You hadn't even touched his dick yet.

The thought roused a scoff in the back of your throat, and Jungkook pulled back slightly at the sound. "What?" He asked, the tip of his nose brushing yours.

"Nothing..." you grinned lazily, before kissing him slowly, deeply, lustfully; kissing him in such a way that the poor boy was trembling in your lap, gasping and whining by the time you pulled away with a lewd smack, lips wet and stained an erotic crimson. You chuckled as he swallowed, pupils blow and unfocused. Reaching up, you cupped his chin, rolling your thumb over his lower lip. He sighed, eyes fluttering as he teased the tip of the digit with his tongue.

"... just wanna put your dick in my mouth."

At that, his shimmering doe eyes popped open wide, shocked— then excited.

"Don't tease me." He pleaded weakly, hips stuttering over your thighs.

You reach between your bodies, taking the time to revere the fine-tuned slopes and edges of his ridged abdomen, before finally finding the hard outline of his flushed, angry cock straining against the thick fabric of his sweats. He gasped brokenly at the contact, forehead falling against your shoulder as he gripped desperately onto your arms, dull nails digging into your biceps. You turned, smirking lips feathering over the shell of his pink tinted ear.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

And then, he was on his back.

Jungkook let out a squeak of surprise, chest heaving as he attempted to process the sudden change in position. But you didn't give him the chance, slotting yourself between his spread thighs

"W– we didn't do this last time." He stuttered clumsily, staring up at you with those wide, dangerously innocent eyes that made you want to absolutely wreck him.

"No, we didn't." You confirmed, nipping lightly at one of his pert brown nipples. He jolted, letting out a low, unsteady moan of your name, a cry for your attention.

"S– sensitive, noona."

God, he is so fucking cute.

"I'll be gentle." The reassurance did little to soothe the violent thundering of his heart, the heavy thrum of it setting his every limb to shaking.

He was nervous. You could tell. Understandably.

Truth is— Jungkook was a virgin.

Key word: was.

As in, before he broke into your apartment at 3am on that fateful morning where you lost your cool because damn did you he look good in that skin tight black t-shirt that showed off those sexy tattoos and those thigh hugging black skinny jeans that squeezed his cute butt in all the right places. Of course, you didn't discover that until after the deed was done (seeing as he hadn't had the mind to tell you while your tongue was shoved halfway down his throat).

But god, you felt so guilty. You'd never taken anyone's virginity before. And you weren't so sure fucking on a kitchen counter was the most... romantic way of losing it. It had been quick, messy, all sweat and teeth and nails, the blunt edge of the cold counter digging into your ass.

Sure, it felt fucking amazing, and you'd received no complaints from Jungkook's end. But still. Had you known, you would've been... gentler. Or, at the very least, you would have had the tact to take him to bed.

You hadn't even blown him for fucks sake.

So, if you were doing this —and, as it appeared, you were most definitely doing this— then goddamnit, you were going to do it right and make up for all the things you hadn't done his first time.

You descended his body slowly, taking your sweet time licking and nibbling over all his lovely curves and sharp edges, marking the places you'd been with pink, flowering bruises. His head kicked back, mouth falling open around an onslaught of heady moans as he reveled in your unrelenting affections. Distracted, he didn't even notice you slipping his pants down his legs until the cool air hit the sensitive tip of his weeping cock.

"N– noona!" He propped himself up on his elbows, desperate to see you, to find your eyes through the disorienting cloud of lust he found himself engulfed in. Arousal spun his brain into useless mush inside of his skull at the sight of you between his legs, looking right back up at him, pretty mouth hovering just above his hard need, soft breath caressing the feverish skin.

"Relax, Jungkook. It'll feel good." You chuckled, pressing a soothing kiss to his hip.

"I– I know," he swallowed, and you didn't miss the dark blush creeping into his cheeks as his eyes fluttered shyly, "I just— I want to make you feel good... too... b- because last time you didn't..."

Last time you didn't...?

Oh.

"Okay," you hummed simply, pushing yourself up with an easy smile, "I can think of a solution."

Jungkook watched with bated breath as you stood, damn near choking on his own spit when you abruptly shoved your pajama shorts down your legs. "N- no underwear?" He whispered, voice hoarse and strained as he stared unabashedly at the bare expanse of smooth skin between your thighs, glistening with sticky wetness.

You smirked faintly, appreciating the reverence glistening in his melting brown eyes. "For convenience sake," you teased.

He flopped down on the couch with a dramatic groan. "Fuck, you're killing me."

Leaning over the younger boy, you pressed a deep, purposeful kiss to his delicate, lovely lips, eliciting an appreciative moan from his burning chest.

"Don't worry..." you pulled back, breathing the words into his open mouth, "I'll do it slow."

"Fuck..." he squeaked.

Laughing softly, you dropped your knees to the edge of the sofa and splayed a hand over his toned stomach. He was hard and warm to the touch, and you liked the way his muscles flinched and fluttered beneath your palm.

"I'll tell you what I'm gonna do," you pressed your lips to his throat, feeling the way it bobbed as he swallowed, "I'm gonna get on top of you..." you walked your fingers down towards where his dick lay, red and leaking across his belly, "and you're going to eat me out," he moaned shakily against your cheek, hands lifting to grip your arms, "while I suck your pretty little cock. How's that sound?"

"S– so good. Fuck, that sounds so fucking good." He pulled at you greedily, begging you with wide, wanting eyes.

You caved to him all too easily, carefully maneuvering your body until you were situated above him, knees planted on the cushion on either side of his head. Hot breath rushed over your exposed core, sending shivers ricocheting down your spine. Hands gripped at your thighs, rough and calloused against your skin. He was pulling again, whining out soft, shuddering "please, please, please" as he tugged at your hips, trying to get you closer. Closer.

Teasingly, you kept your hips raised, just out of reach of his ravenous mouth, so eager to steal a taste. "Noona," he whined petulantly, "don't be cruel."

Cruel? You nearly scoffed. You haven't even begun.

Regardless, you decided to end the torture there, lowering your hips until you were within his reach. He didn't let a moment pass before his tongue was on you, lapping eagerly at your wet slit. You gasped, clutching tightly onto the thick muscles of his thighs, your own legs growing weak under his relentless ministrations.

Holy shit. You didn't expect it to feel that good.

It was only when Jungkook's hips bucked beneath you, a pleading whimper vibrating through your center, that you realized you weren't fulfilling your end of the deal. Stuttering back into motion, you encircled his hard length in an unsteady hand, feeling the raw heat of it throbbing angrily within your grasp.

"You're good with your tongue, baby." You chuckled breathlessly, pumping him slowly with the help of his spilling precum. He moaned in response to the praise, long fingers digging in hard to the flesh of your ass. Another, more violent tremble wracked your body as his tongue dragged over your sensitive clit, the responding rush of pleasure pulling a low groan from your chest.

Shit, if he kept that up—

Feeling that you'd given him enough of a head start, you dipped down, swiftly engulfing his glistening tip in your lips. Jungkook gasped against you, and you could almost picture his eyes snapping wide open, jaw going slack. The blissful pressure of his tongue gave way to cold air as he tensed and shuddered beneath you, all those hard, rigid muscles turning to jelly as he processed the mind numbing sensation of your mouth around his cock. It was an unwelcome absence, and you quickly found yourself growing impatient and —shamefully enough— needy, your aching core craving attention.

But Jungkook was a mess beneath you, moaning and whining pathetically as his hips bucked and spasmed, entirely overwhelmed. His arms were wrapped around your waist, holding you so tightly you were certain you'd be feeling it tomorrow. You felt his tongue, sloppy and uncoordinated lapping at your folds with a desperation that set your blood to flames. The vibrations of his sounds resonated through your clit, and you hastened your own movement, feeling yourself clench and throb with your impending release.

You pulled off of him with a lewd pop, a thin string of saliva connecting his swollen tip to your lower lip, before sliding your hands beneath his ample thighs and tugging.

"Lift your legs for me, baby."

He obeyed immediately, feet rising from the cushion, too lost in your intoxicating taste to second guess what you were planning. At least, not until he felt your touch shifting from his thighs to his ass, and a warm, wet dribble of saliva sliding over his hole. He flinched violently, a gasp shooting from his lips at the unfamiliar sensation.

"Ah–! N- Noona, where are you touching—" he yelped, trying to sit up and catch a glimpse around the shape of your body. Swinging your ankles up to rest against his shoulders, you forced him back down, looking back at him from over your shoulder with a cocked brow and a seductive grin.

"Where do you think?" You chuckling teasingly. "Are you clean?"

"Yeah..." he whispered shyly, and you could practically feel the heat of his blush radiating against your skin as he confessed, "I– I showered before coming over..."

"Good." You slid a single finger over the ring of muscle, watching in amusement as it fluttered and clenched in response to the unsubstantial caress. "Tell me if you need me to stop, alright?"

At first he only nodded, but choked out a soft "okay" when you pinched his thigh, urging him to use his words.

Purring out a low praise, you returned to his cock, licking a thick strip from base to tip as your index slowly circled his entrance. Jungkook whined and squirmed, still trying his best to keep up with pleasuring you. It was cute, feeling and hearing him struggle.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you wondered what kind of face he was making beneath your dripping cunt. Were his eyes rolling to the back of his head? Was his tongue hanging out of his mouth? Was his feverish skin glistening with a mixture of his sweat and your arousal? Fuck, you were so curious.

In an attempt to stifle your frustration over not getting to see what kind of fucked out expression he wore, you sunk the tip of your digit into his hole, down to the first knuckle. Jungkook gasped at the unexpected intrusion, his already hard grip on your thighs tightening further. Even with just the tip in, he was clenching hard, and you allowed him a handful of moments to adjust to the sensation. You hummed around his length, swirling your tongue expertly over his sensitive tip to distract from any momentary discomfort he might've been feeling.

It seemed to work well enough, his body gradually relaxing around you as he let out soft, airy moans, delicate whispers of your name fluttering from his lips. "You can—" he whimpered as you licked his slit, "you can put it in deeper."

Heat coiled in your gut, a wicked smirk spreading across your face. "You want it deeper, kookie?" There was a taunting pitch to your words that had the boy curling in on himself, skin hot with embarrassment. When he made no effort to respond, you squeezed your free hand around the thick base of his dick, wrenching a cry from his throat. "If you want it deeper, you have to ask nicely."

"You're so mean, Noona." He whined hoarsely, the muscles in his legs tensing sporadically from the effort it was taking to not fuck himself into your closed fist.

"That didn't sound like a question..."

Jungkook groaned weakly, head tossed back in a mixture of embarrassment and frustration. There was a beat, and then you felt the shy press of his lips against your clit accompanied by a light flick of his tongue.

"P– please put it in deeper, Noona..."

"Mmm, good boy," you emphasized the praise by slipping the rest of your finger into his tight heat, spitting once more to ensure substantial lubrications.

"Ngh— oh f– fuck—"

"Does it hurt?"

"No it just..." he swallowed thickly, "feels a little weird."

"This should help with that," you murmured, more so to yourself than him, curling your finger in search of that small bundle of nerves that would make him—

"Ah! Oh fuck!"

A smug grin settled across your lips. Found it.

Jungkook moaned loudly, tossing his head back, hips bucking violently as you rolled your finger against his prostate, sending tendrils of white hot pleasure bursting through his body. That's more like it.

"Feel good?"

"Yes! Yes! Feels– ah! Feels so good, noona," he sobbed brokenly, clutching onto your legs. You thrust your finger into him slowly, making sure to ease him into the feeling of having something inside of him. If you played this right, perhaps he'd let you do more than just finger him. You had toys sitting in your closet that you were just dying to use. Who better on than the cute snack thief next door?

"Think you can take another?" You asked, a bit eager to stretch him out, to see how much he could handle.

He nodded quickly, grinding his hips greedily down onto your finger, wanting it deeper, harder, faster. "Please. Please. I want more."

"Needy little slut." You laughed dryly, nudging your middle finger against the rim of his wet hole. You sure as hell didn't miss the way his pretty cock twitched in response to the degrading words, and a whole new round of excitement festered inside of you.

You were going to have so much fun with him.

It took a bit of careful prodding before you managed to press the length of your second digit inside of him, his tight walls clamping down around the invading appendages.

"Please move." He begged pathetically.

You planted a steadying palm to his hips as they began to buck, holding them down against the cushion. "You're too tight, sweetheart."

"I– I can't help it." He whined, a distressed cry breaking from his heaving chest.

Sympathy swirled in your belly. You could damn near feel the desperation radiating from his body in thick, hot waves. Dipping your head, you pressed a light kiss to the swollen, red head of his shuddering cock.

"Then let me help you relax."

Jungkook sobbed as you took him into your mouth, the warmth of your skilled tongue tracing a slow ring around the underside of his tip sending his head into a tailspin. It wasn't long before you felt the tension in his muscles melting away, quickly snatching the opportunity to start fucking your fingers into him. The pace you set was slow and steady, but you made sure that with every thrust you were brushing against his prostate.

The amount of pleasure rushing through his body at that point was overwhelming, and he'd been reduced to a moaning, crying mess beneath you. Any words he managed to choke out between his sounds of bliss was broken and unintelligible on swollen lips. A small corner of your mind was concerned about your neighbors, wondering if they could hear his wailing through the dangerously thin walls.

"N– Noona— it's so good, oh my god feels so fucking good—"

Fuck. To hell with the neighbors. They should be goddamn grateful.

You sped up the pace of your fingers, burying them down to the knuckle with each thrust. He was writhing now, unable to control his body let alone keep still as he was engulfed in a mind numbing heat. It wrapped itself around his every limb, his every sense overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of his impending release.

"I– I think I'm gonna—" he couldn't even make it through his warning before he was cut off by his own whimpers. Luckily, you didn't need him to finish his sentence to know what he was trying to say. The signs were obvious enough, especially with the way his wall were throbbing around your fingers, the way he was pulsing between your lips, lathering the back of your tongue with an onslaught his salty pre-cum.

You hastened your ministrations, taking him off guard as your plunged down on his cock, stopping only when your lips met the sweat-slick skin of his pelvis. Jungkook cried out a shattered version of your name, unable to stop his hips from jerking up violently at the feeling of your throat constricting around him as you swallowed.

That seemed to be the last push he needed, because within the next second he was writhing and spilling hot cum down your throat, walls clamping down so hard around your fingers you worried they might break.

It was like nothing he'd every experienced before, he could feel it in every single part of his body. From his curled toes to his trembling finger tips, every last inch of him was devastated by the hurricane of erotic bliss. And unlike every other orgasms he'd experienced in the past, the high of it last way longer than just a few seconds. By the time it finally began to fade, he was still shaking.

You pulled your fingers out of him as gently as you could, but he still whimpered at the sensitivity, quivering legs squeezing shut. Maneuvering around so that you were draped over his chest, you whispered soft apologies against his throat and jaw, spilling soothing kisses across the flushed, perspiring skin. Jungkook curled into you, nuzzling his cheek against the top of your head.

For a while you stayed like that, letting him bask in the post-orgasmic bliss as you bathed him in the kind of tender affection that he wasn't used to receiving from you. But, you'd always considered aftercare a vital part of a good sexual experience so, even if it was a bit out of character, you were more than happy to tell him just how good he'd been for you. And he was more than happy to relish in your praise.

"Noona?" He called for your attention suddenly, after his breathing had finally evened out and the deep crimson coating his cheeks had faded into an endearing pink.

"Yes?"

Against your lips, you felt him swallow.

"You didn't cum, did you?"

"I didn't." You admitted after a beat, suddenly reminded of the ache between your legs. You'd managed to be distracted from it, entirely too focused on breaking Jungkook in all the best ways to be concerned with receiving any pleasure. But now, you found yourself very much aware of just how badly you were craving your own release. Subconsciously, you squeezed your legs together.

There was a pause.

"Noona."

"Hm?"

"Sit on my face."

The demand had your hooded eyes flying wide open, mouth freezing mid-kiss.

"... please." He remedied in a bashful whisper.

For a moment, your brain went blank, not fully processing the request. But when it finally did, there were only two words that flooded into your mind and rushed from your lips in a breathless, excited murmur.

Fuck yes.

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newtonsheffield · 2 years

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I have no doubt that you will be able to salvage an HEA for "Through the Wire"... but, boy oh boy, are your snippets giving me anxiety cuz Anthony's life seems to be in absolute shambles after he fucks up with Kate. Like, it's to the point where I am morbidly happy that the accident happened (though I'm obviously glad it wasn't fatal) because I truly don't know how long Anthony would go on living if he lost Kate (which he did) and his family (some of which he did).

Oooof I'm not going to lie to you: Anthony's life hasn't been good since Kate left.

He knew when he broke up with her that he'd never love anyone else, and he also knew that he seemed to be the kind of person that clung to grief, while others slowly let it go. It sat with him forever, slowly tearing tiny pieces off him until he was red raw and bleeding all over the carpet.

He couldn't bring himself to change anything that she had left, though edwina had come and taken most of her things, occasionally tossing him a snide Is this Kate's?! when she couldn't be sure. But he couldn't touch anything else. Left everything just the way it had been. He'd left her shampoo and conditioner in the shower, kept using it actually, so it felt like she was still there. So her pillow still smelled a little bit like her.

He came home from work, sat at the kitchen counter and stared into space mostly, his fingers drumming occasionally on the tabletop. Then he'd slowly, even though he knew how wrong it was, go back through Kate's social media, looking at the pictures of them together, their lips brushing, their fingers intertwined. He watched the videos of her, perched on his back as he piggy backed her around on holiday, her chin perched on his head. and he can almost feel it, the love she felt for him, still in the room, still pressed against his chest. Until one day he can't see her profile anymore.

He gets new bobby pins, new hair ties and leaves them in the dresser in the bathroom, keeps buying the brand of orange juice Kate liked even though he never drinks it. He barely drinks anything these days. Barely eats. Properly grows out his beard, and eventually stops caring for himself at all.

Even when his mother stands in front of him and basically begs him, begs him to just try he can't. Or won't.

"Anthony, this is hurting me. Seeing you like this is hurting me, do you understand that?"

And it stings at his chest, of course it does. Cuts him open again until there's nothing left.

But still, he just stares at the wall. Where the picture she took of him hangs.

"So stop looking then."

He sits there, all night, with his fist around the necklace she'd ripped off her neck the night she'd left, thrown it at him while she screamed.

I hate you, Anthony. I fucking hate you!

The word scrawled in cursive that had been a joke between them, a joke when he'd given it to her if he was honest. Two months ago at Valentine's day.

Wifey

But Kate had laughed, putting it around her neck before she'd disappeared into the bathroom, returning stripped down to black lace, and the way she'd moved above him with that necklace hanging around her neck would be branded in his mind forever.

She'd never taken it off again.

And every moment lived in his mind, torturing him forever. Right up until his car gets hit, rolling across the street until he's hanging upside down, pain shooting through his body his last words before he closes his eyes

You deserve this

And Finally, he knows peace.

#through the wire #kathony #anthony x kate #kate sharma #kate sheffield #anthony bridgerton #molly’s asks and answers

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chans-bad-girl · 3 years

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Hey I was wondering if you could do a fic with channie about if you have a vagina with hair? cause, you know, it’s such a pain to shave/wax down there and it makes me insecure sometimes thinking boys won’t like it. thank you!

ahh I feel you on the part where it's a pain lol shaving is so annoying (in east asian culture I've actually picked up that they don't shave down there anyway so I think the real Chan or just most Korean celebrities wouldn't really bat an eyelash at it (?) lol)

PS: this kinda made me understand I'm not that good at hurt/comfort 😬 but enjoy

Closer

pairing: soft long distance bf! chris x afab yn

warnings: actually pretty soft ngl, creampie, penetrative sex, clitoral stimulation, a bunch of random touching, nipple play when you really hone in on the details, maybe one pet/nickname and also dirty talk but what is a smut fic without dirty talk?

chris' close friend hyunjin got married eight hours ago. he'd never met you, but as his best friend's plus one, you were treated like family: grand buffet packed with traditional korean dishes, unlimited champagne and wine, and the family-lounge away from all the third-cousins his parents invited for formality's sake.

hyunjin's 7-year-old niece caught the bridal bouquet, all stomaches were filled, and everybody sang their hearts out on the poor karaoke machine. in short: you had fun.

but after 4am, you arrive at the hotel, high-heeled shoes the first thing to come off, and you remove all the layers: hair pins, make up, dress, spanx.

chris takes off your necklace, fingers cold against your neck, and whispers, "haven't really had any one-on-one moments today, hm?"

you know where this is going but there’s a minor problem: you had to rush getting ready for the wedding because your flight was late, so you only shaved what the dress exposes.

you two haven’t seen each other in a month and during that time, between lectures and finals, you couldn’t have bothered less about your pubic hair. one less thing to do in the shower.

but now you regret it. because his leg presses between your hips from behind you, and his kisses have gotten wet.

“sorry, channie, but I haven’t shaved in…a bit. I can help you, and tomorrow I'll shave properly.”

“but I don’t care about that stuff, just want you close.”

"tomorrow, yea?" you sit on the bed and put your necklace on the nightstand.

he follows you like a lost puppy, keeping enough distance.

"I wouldn't judge you. especially not for something as small as that. hair is normal and I'm also not always shaved."

"I know...just wanna look good for you."

"alright selena gomez, can I love my girlfriend now?"

"what if I like it like that? a bit unruly?"

"yea?" you tilt your head and stare at his lips. maybe it really doesn't matter.

"yea. I like you in every single way." he trails a wet path of kisses down your neck, down to your collarbone. "and I also want to take you in every single way so if you won't let me love you I might have to kiss you until you're soaking and begging for me." now he comes closer, gaining confidence from the inquiry of your stare. maybe he should fuck that insecurity out of you.

"what if I want you to?"

"oh?" the smirk on his face only grows bigger when you shift to sit on his lap.

because he's right. you can trust him. you want and love each other and that's the only thing that matters right now.

"let me make you feel good, baby, huh?"

his forehead finds yours, and he swallows your little gasps and sighs that you respond to his touch with.

his hands trail up your thighs, then squeeze your waist. and when you tug at his shirt, he flips you onto your back.

"gosh, all night I couldn't wait. it's been way too long." he whispers in your ear, kisses your neck, tickles your cheeks with his curls.

slowly, he takes your shirt off. it tickles when cold air hits hair around your nipples, but chris is quick to replace that feeling with pleasure by twirling his tongue. and you wrap your legs around him.

it doesn't take long for the both of you to lie bare in front of each other, uncomfort long forgotten as the pulse between your legs allows no other thoughts than those of chris inside of you.

"please." your back archs as you close your eyes.

"please what, baby?" his lips brush against yours as he mumbles.

"please fuck me. now." you grab his girth and pump him a few times before aligning.

"so wet and demanding."

"already losing your mind, chan?"

"sight's too pretty." he winks with a smirk that turns into a drawn out hum when he enters your walls.

he's right. it's really been too long.

the second he starts thrusting, your hands are all over him: pressing on his back, sliding down his chest, massaging between his thighs.

he moves at a slow pace and fills you with only his tip, then with his whole shaft over and over.

and when he speeds up, he starts kissing you.

"you're gorgeous," he hushes against your lips. "don't shave just for me. if you want to, do it for yourself. but I shouldn't be the reason, yea?" his lips leave yours so he can look you in the eye at which a wave of warm tingles travels through your body.

the raised eyebrows and soft smile, his deep brown stare and the slow thrusts that have your bodies sticking in sweat: the man in your arms loves you and it's the best thing you've ever learned.

you don't give him an answer to his little question, but connect your lips instead, circling your hip in his rhythm. because you love him too with the same amount of care.

"besides, I think it's cute." chris trails a finger down your body - between your breasts down to your core - to circle it around your clit.

a moan escapes your lips and he drinks it right up.

but you don't last long with the double stimulation and the realization that you've built up way too much of this desire for the past months.

truth is, only he can make you feel this way.

"chan, I'm gonna cum." and even though he could already tell from your strong grip on his back and the loud moans, he finds it hard to control his own orgasm when you whimper out like that.

"then don't hold back. cum with me, y/n." his low whispers push you over the edge and the violent clenching of your core has you squeezing your eyes in bliss.

as a response to your spasms and whimpers, chris fills you with his cum as his whole shaft pushes into you.

but it isn't enough for him.

he hasn't seen you real fucked out since that one night out in that abandoned beach parking lot where he gave you seven orgasms four months ago, and right now he doesn't care who hears. he just wants to make you feel good. make up for the lost time.

"wanna find out just how good it can get?"

"yes, please."

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sirthisisa-wendys · 3 years

Note

hi. can i request something angsty i absolutely love your angst works! so being in a long term relationship with mr ran haitani that's kind of already having fallouts. then reader cheated and confesses to ran about it but he still kind of didn't expect reader would do something like that. thank you very much! pls ignore if you want <3

This hurt to write. But it hurt so damn good.

King of Sorrow: Ran Haitani x Fem!Reader

wc: 1.6k

tw: A N G S T

masterlist

song recommendation:

Things had been going downhill for a while.

Ran noticed the way you stayed out late, the way you no longer cuddled him in bed at night, the way your eyes wandered when you two were at the club...

But he never says anything.

You two had been together since he had become part of Bonten - and that was five years ago. FIve years of bliss, love, and happiness.

But that all started to fall apart last month.

He can't recall what he did - if anything. Ran tried his best to show you that he loved you, even when he was away. But lately, it'd been met with a half-hearted "thanks" or "I love you, too". Ran knew you weren't saying it because it was inherently true. You were saying it because you felt obligated to.

But he didn't feel obligated.

No, he's convinced he loves you, even if you're falling out of love with him. It's a hard thought for him to grasp, but he does somehow - that you might just have fallen out of love with him.

So he ups his gestures of love in an attempt to stave off the routine. This week, he's taken you on a trip to Italy. No meetings, no calls, nothing that has to do with work. It's just you and him on a cruise ship, sailing from port to port.

"This is amazing," he beams, cutting into the steak with gusto. "I've never had steak like this before."

"It's Wagyu," you mention, looking more somber in the dim lighting of the restaurant than when you both entered. Come to think of it, the moment you stepped onto the boat, you seemed downcast, even more so than when you were at home. You couldn't even look Ran in the eye anymore, and even though he'd made love to you the previous night, it seemed like that didn't have any effect on how you felt today. Usually, you'd be excited and full of life, but...

"Babe," Ran whispers, putting his fork down. "What's wrong?" Your bottom lip quivers and Ran stiffens. No, he thinks. Don't cry. But he also wants to get to the bottom of things, so he continues cautiously. "Things have been really strange for some time now, and I brought you here so maybe we could fix whatever's wrong."

"Nothing's wrong," you lie, wiping your eyes quickly. "Everything's fine."

"No," Ran tuts. "It's not. My love, you've been distant. I'm worried about us." He reaches across the table and touches your hand, and gesture he hasn't tried in a long time. "I'm worried about you." You snatch your hand away, standing and throwing your napkin over your barely touched food.

"It's fine, Ran," you snap, then walk away from the table quickly, rubbing at your eyes furiously as you leave the ship's dining room. Ran sighs, motioning for the waiter as he cuts his losses with the dinner.

"Just send the bill to the room, please."

Ran finds you in your shared suite, sitting in the chair facing the balcony with your head in your hands. You're sobbing, and for a moment, he replays the interaction between the two of you before approaching, holding your purse in one hand.

"Love," he begins, kneeling beside the chair and placing your purse in the other seat beside him. "I need you to talk to me."

"I just..." you start but break off, tears flowing down your fingers. "It's not your fault." You reveal your reddened face, eyes rimmed with smeared mascara. "I didn't mean to..."

"Whatever it is, it's fine," Ran whispers, taking your wet hands in his. "It'll be okay. Just tell me what's wrong." His heart is aching to know why you're so heartbroken, but you inhale shakily, then exhale before opening your eyes.

"Ran, I want to start off by apologizing." Ran shakes his head, his violet eyes unsure, but you stop him, squeezing his hands once. "Just listen to me all the way through, okay?"

"Done," he affirms, shoulders relaxing now that you're finally telling him what's wrong.

"A month ago... I went to Takada's bachelorette party, right?"

"Mmm-hmm." He remembers that night. You looked so stunning in your tight mini-dress and pinned-up hair. He thought about railing you over the side of the banister before you left and was a little disappointed that you came home around eight in the morning instead of that same night.

"I..." You shakily inhale again, shaking your head rapidly. "I got so drunk. I don't know what was wrong with me, I..." You sniff, then remove your hands from Ran's, wiping at a stray tear. "I ended up sleeping with someone. I don't know who they are, I don't know where they came from. But I just remember waking up in the bed, naked, and seeing him there."

Ran stares at you, face empty, still not fully processing what you've said. He is still for a while as the cogs in his mind turn around and around and around and around and around and then

stop.

His mouth dries up, and his violet eyes look away from you, at the wallpaper, at the mirror, at the corner of the room, at the ceiling.

"I've felt so guilty since then," you mumble. "I couldn't tell you because I felt so ashamed, I--"

Ran stands, letting out a soft "oh", wavering a little on his feet. He blinks a few times, still not looking at you, then cocks his head to the left, like he's hearing something. But he's just processing. His mind flits from one day to the next, trying to pinpoint any signs, any clues... How could he have been so stupid?

No, you couldn't have cheated. It was a mistake. You'd gotten undressed, the man was drunk and also fell asleep in your bed... No, you couldn't do that. Not to him. Not to Ran Haitani.

But your guilt is written all over your face.

"Oh," Ran mutters again, jaw clenching. His breaths come quick like he'd been running for hours, and he can barely think as he sees red cloud his vision. He can't understand what he's doing when he breaks the table in the conjoined living room, or swipes the vases onto the floor, shattering them and depositing the flowers among them. He can't think about anything as you shout for him to stop, trying to reach him past his haze of red, but he's too far gone.

And the thing that frightens you the most is that he isn't yelling or screaming.

He's quiet.

He's not cursing at you, he's just destroying anything that looks whole, tossing it to the ground and rendering it unusable. You slide down against the wall, tears coursing down your cheeks again as he huffs, standing in the middle of the wreckage, gasping for air.

And then, the clearest thought Ran's had in almost an hour comes to him.

"Let me get you your own room."

"Ran," you plead, stumbling over your feet to get to him as he marches over to the phone. "Ran, please."

"Hello? I need a new suite for Mrs. Haitani. Do you have one available?"

"Ran!" you beg, pulling at his sleeve, but he doesn't move from the phone, gripping the receiver as the person on the other line tries to find an open room for you. You try to reach the button that will hang up the call, reaching past Ran's frame in earnest. He's blocking it, but there's just enough room for your pointer finger to tap the button, ending the call.

Ran doesn't even move. The phone is still up to his ear as if the call is still going on, but no voice is on the other line.

Fat tears roll down from his eyes, and he's frozen there, standing with the phone in his hands as if he were paused in time. But he lets the phone slip from his grasp, walking like a zombie over to the chair by the balcony, and sliding into it slowly.

And he doesn't get up, staring out at the sea with an empty, forlorn look.

"Ran," you whisper, crouching next to him. He doesn't answer, tears running freely down his face. "Ran..." Again, there's no answer, so you hang your head next to his leg, touching his thigh with your right hand. He doesn't move, even when you get up to prepare for bed, the door leading to the carnage of his temper still open.

He doesn't move from that chair all night, and you don't sleep, staring at him as his tears dry. You even succumb to sleep for a brief moment, waking to see him still in that same chair, still trying to think.

But eventually, he moves, walking into the bathroom and staying in there for a while. You wait patiently for him, sitting on the edge of the bed as he emerges, wiping his face with a towel before he inhales sharply.

"As soon as they dock this ship at the next port, we're heading home. Couples counseling or a divorce, it's your choice." You look down at your hands, nodding. You understand the need to cut the trip short. It's for the best.

When you arrive back home two days later, Ran immediately grabs a new bag of things, loading it up with clothing and toiletries, choosing to take residence at Rindou's home instead of sleeping in the same bed as you.

And that hurt the worst, his cold violet eyes not even glancing over at you as he left the master bedroom without any words.

#ran haitani x reader #ran haitani #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers #tw angst

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lostinwildflowers · 3 years

Text

Ushijima Wakatoshi x Reader

Summary: Prince Ushijima can have anything he wants; the finest foods and drinks, butlers at every call, and beautiful princesses in a heartbeat. But somehow all he wants is you.

Word Count: 1.6K

Warnings: FLUFF<3

A/N: Hey y'all! Here is yet ANOTHER submission for The Royal Rodeo collab!! I hope my Ushiwaka simps out there appreciate this one :) -Birch<3

A prince can have whatever they want. They have wealth, servants, plentiful food, and many women at their disposal. This is true for Prince Ushijima Wakatoshi, the smart, well-loved, and quiet ruler of Shiratorizawa.

He was much nicer than his father had been, who had passed away only a few years ago, leaving his mother, the queen, to rule on her own. The brown-haired prince did his best to pick up the slack around the palace, and that’s one of the reasons why everyone loved him so much.

You were no different from everyone else, drawn in by his quiet humor and kind demeanor. You were one of his maids, who was efficient, patient, and always ready to help out wherever needed.

You knew that you were a good worker, you tried to be honest and precise in everything you did, but it was still a bit of a surprise to be assigned to Prince Ushijima to be his personal maid.

The thing with Prince Ushijima was that he never seemed to like any of the butlers he’d ever had. That was all except for his close friend, Tendou, but Ushijima preferred a maid, and that’s why you were to begin working under his watch.

Ushijima loved the way you worked silently, never forcing him to talk or even acting fake in front of him. You would clean his laundry, make his bed, and even tidy up his desk without a sigh or hum, you were just content to be working so close to someone who was so well-loved.

Although you did many menial and tedious cleaning tasks, you also did many other simple chores like grabbing him a glass of water before going into a meeting or warming up a cup of milk before bed.

Your favorite thing about working with Ushijima was the fact that he always thanked you after everything you did for him. He would thank you for straightening his tie, handing him a folder, and even wishing him well in an important meeting.

Ushijima was kind to you for a specific reason though, and he wanted to make sure that you had everything you needed to be under his service. He thought you could’ve been doing a lot better of things rather than serving him in the palace, so he liked to keep an eye on you.

Over the shared months of soft and kind gestures, Ushijima begins to open up to you with small conversations. It was when you were grabbing him his suit for the day, or he would ask you small things like what your favorite flavor of coffee is whenever you brought him his cup in the morning.

These small and sweet conversations escalated, and Ushijima found himself craving your presence like a sweet candy. He wanted nothing more than to hear you gush on about your favorite arts or the small bed of flowers you saw outside the castle that day.

That’s why he offers for you to accompany him on casual strolls throughout the palace. To everyone else, you were simply there to run off and grab something the second he asked for it, but for him, he enjoyed your talks and company, so no one suspected anything.

These casual strolls go on for a few months as summer drifts into winter, and the kingdom ices over. The two of you have both grown fond of each other in the quiet moments you steal away from everyone else, even though it was harder to get away with it being so frigid outside.

On this day in particular, the two of you managed to sneak away for a walk through the palace, down on the lower floors near the basement where you wouldn’t be bothered as much.

Your (colored) eyes scan the corridor in front of you as you walk slowly next to the crowned prince of Shiratorizawa. The two of you were quiet, the only sounds ringing out in the long hallway was that of footsteps and the rustling of your skirts with every step you took.

Hands pushing on your waist and the wall slamming into your back causes the air to get knocked out of your lungs in an instant, and your eyes struggle to focus on the face of Ushijima. His green eyes stare down at you with an unspoken intensity, but he breaks contact to glance over his shoulder.

Ushijima had pushed you into a small nook carved into the walls, a space that usually would store small things that would later be moved. He resumes looking at you and his features soften a little as he murmurs, “I’m sorry for being so rough with you, I didn’t mean to be.”

Your hands are splayed out against the marbled wall behind you and your mouth is slightly parted open as you try to catch your breath. Your brain can barely register Ushijima’s proximity, let alone the feeling of his hands on your sides.

You end up just giving him a simple nod, and when you go to ask him what he was doing, he beats you to it. “I like you, my dear Y/n. I am very eager for our walks and am always wishing for time to move faster so I can be with you. I was wondering if you felt the same way.”

Wide (colored) eyes blink up at him, and your mouth gapes open and closed a few times before you clear your throat and whisper, “Yes.”

You shake your head at your simple response and stutter out, “W-what I mean to say is that I’ve liked you for a while now too, I just didn’t think you would ever feel the same way about me.”

Ushijima hums at your confirmation, and he leans closer to you, his green eyes had grown dark from being in the small nook in the wall. His hips press flush up against your own, pinning you down with his superior body weight.

Your breath hitches in your throat as his nose brushes against your own and he whispers against your lips, “I suppose you won’t mind if I do this then?”

At that, Ushijima leans down to close the gap between the two of you, tenderly pressing his lips to your own before allowing his mouth to move against yours. Your hands move away from the wall to slide up and onto his chest, allowing them to rest on his shoulders as he kisses you.

Ushijima moves his hands from your waist, letting one push up against the wall behind you to brace his body, and then the other gently guides your chin upwards, repeatedly allowing himself to kiss you as much as he likes.

Footsteps sound out from down the hallway, but Ushijima doesn’t pull away from you. In fact, he pushes you deeper into the nook with two large steps, completely caging you in. He continues to kiss you though, his hand moving from your chin the whole way down to your waist.

As greedy as his kiss is, Ushijima is nothing but respectful in the way he holds you. His grip is firm but warm, and you can’t help but melt in his touch as sparks seem to fly around you.

Ushijima’s hands grow slightly rougher when you gasp into his mouth, and the footsteps are right outside of the nook at this point. You take the hint at needing to be quieter, so you link your arms around his neck, and hold yourself closer to him while playing with the hair at the base of his neck.

The footsteps fade away after a minute or two, and Ushijima slowly pulls away from you. Both of your chests are heaving as he rests his forehead against your own, his eyes half-lidded as he looks down at you.

Your eyes are dopey and hazed over, a faraway look residing in them while your lips are bruised and pink from the vigor of his kiss. Ushijima moves his hand from the wall to brush a strand of hair out of your eyes with a kind smile.

He lets his hand linger on the side of your head before he murmurs lowly, “I would like to court you, my dear. In private, of course. I would never want to subject you to the monstrosity that is the royal family.”

Your eyes flutter closed for a second as you regain your breath but then you sigh out quietly, “I’m no princess, Ushijima. I’m not suitable for someone of your status, we shouldn’t even be here right-” “I want you.”

His words are blunt, and when you regain eye contact with him, you can’t see any hints of a lie or any sliver of dishonesty in him. Ushijima shuffles on his feet for a second before continuing, “You’re the one that I want. You make me feel like no one else ever has. You give me butterflies, you make me nervous, you made me fall in love with you.”

Ushijima glances down toward his feet and mutters, “Look, I know this is a peculiar situation, but I want nothing more than to be with you.” At the end of his words, he resumes eye contact with you, and you can see a soft blush painting his cheeks at the honesty of his confession.

You feel your heart swell at his words and you just nod in response before rushing out, “Okay, but-” You are quite rudely interrupted as Ushijima pushes you into another kiss, as your affirmation was enough for him.

No one questioned it when the two of you both appeared later that evening, slightly disheveled as you moved your separate ways. You might not have been a princess, but you were suitable enough for him.

Tag list: @xxdragonwriterxx @tejxswini @mysterystarz @mortedeveles @vs-redemption @kal0psi-a @gin-no-g @starstruckkittensweets @kitacharm @babieweeb @shirari @animated-moon @mitzwinchester @kitsune-in-a-flowercrown @elitparadox @yumeyooa

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sambvcks · 3 years

Text

crawl home to her, b.b. x reader

chapter one // body’s working on empty

summary: bucky isn’t as receptive to this new life of his as everyone had hoped. he’s cold, sharp-tongued, and closed off. except to the tenant across the hallway from him, who always wears pajamas and bakes a dozen too many of his favorite cookies

warnings: food, nothing too bad this chapter!

word count: 1.5k-ish

author’s note: i thought my marvel phase ended five years ago...here we are again. i haven’t written in awhile so please be kind! title and chapter titles taken from hozier’s ‘work song’.

[ read on ao3 | series masterlist | inbox | join my taglist! ]

[ NEXT ]

Five minutes into their first session, Bucky decided he was going to make Dr. Raynor’s job as difficult as he possibly could.

It wouldn’t be an impossible task, seeing how this whole ordeal depended on him opening up and talking, two things that he had abandoned decades ago. Her unwavering stare was nothing more than a challenge, these fifty-minute sessions once a week were nothing more than a slight inconvenience to his lackluster day to day routine. He would play along, do whatever exercises she asked, and feign stability until he never had to see her again.

“Since this is our first session together, we’ll take it easy.” She promised with a forced upturn of her lips before whipping out her notebook.

Suddenly, it felt like he was encased in bulletproof glass in Berlin again. He remembered that the last time he had been forced into receiving psychiatric help, it hadn’t exactly gone to plan. His chin fell to his chest, hands wringing together as he thought of any excuse to request a different doctor.

“Let’s begin.”

It was already getting too hot to wear leather gloves and his heavy jacket. New York’s heatwave was supposed to be the highest on record this year and while kids popped open fire hydrants in the street, Bucky would be settled on the hardwood floor in the back corner of his apartment, waiting.

Waiting for what, he wasn’t quite sure.

It was a fairly nice apartment, newly renovated and practically barren. Government issued and funded, of course, and he had spent the first night pulling the furniture from the walls to the center of the room in search of bugs and cameras. He found thirty-four, destroyed them under a rolling pin, and they hadn’t come to replace them. Message received.

The one thing he really liked about the apartment building were his neighbors. The price tag for a one bedroom was substantial to say the least and only older couples could really afford it. No children, no dogs, no outsiders. The only break from his undisturbed routine would be occasionally helping Mrs. Johnson down the hall carry her groceries as she struggled to get the door unlocked with her brittle hands.

They affectionately called him James and the older women were quick to get a hold of his arms, saying things like “They don’t make them like you anymore, James!”. He swallowed the bile prickling at the back of his throat as he nodded, and they moved on to telling him about their single granddaughters.

It was almost nice, his routine. Almost.

Outside of those small encounters, he spent most of his waking hours jogging in the park and cooking the same three meals. He had his appointment every Wednesday with Dr. Raynor, but that was it. He’d take two trains back to his apartment and wouldn’t emerge again until he needed groceries two days later.

It was when he was returning from one of his biweekly grocery trips, a paper bag settled on his hips, that he spotted you outside his door.

He stilled in the hallway, taking a quick step back to peek around the corner without being spotted. His breath stalled, his ears picking up your soft humming and the crinkle of plastic as you set a bundle of cookies at his doorstep, the only one without a mat. His eyes flicked to the other doors, where identical bags of cookies sat propped up, tied with blood red ribbons.

His shoulders relaxed. No threat.

The bottom of his grocery bag suddenly gave way, fruit rolling in every direction. Bucky fell to his knees, glove clad hands snatching up everything he could reach as quickly as he could manage. You were faster, though, and scooped up a plum that had rolled your way, offering it over as he tried to balance the rest of his groceries in his arms.

“Thanks.” He was quick to sweep past you, hand digging in his pockets for his key.

“James, right? Ms. Robinson downstairs is like, in love with you.”

“Yeah, but, uh-“ Dr. Raynor’s instructions from their last session rang in his head, as much as he tried to tune her out: make connections. “You can call me Bucky.” He cleared his throat. “And Mrs. Robinson is far too good for me.”

“Bucky it is then.” You trailed him down the hallway, “Y/N.”

Bucky tried to sneak a glance at you from the corner of his eyes, which was harder to inconspicuously do now that he had gotten a haircut and couldn’t hide his wandering eyes behind long tresses. Young was Bucky’s first thought. much younger than the other renters in the building. Bright was next, followed by much too smiley for a Tuesday morning.

Pretty, he admitted as he turned his back to unlock his door. Maybe in another life he would have lingered in the hall, his so-called effortless charm seeping through as you swooned at the very thought of a date with James Buchanan Barnes. But that life was long gone, and instead he rushed to retreat.

“Oh, don’t forget these.” You swooped down to collect the bundle of cookies you had left at his door, handing them to the hand that wasn’t delicately balancing the pile of groceries he still held against his impossibly broad shoulders. “Oatmeal raisin, super-secret family recipe.”

He was back in the doorway of his ma’s kitchen, watching his little sister balance on a wobbling stool as she struggled to crack and egg with her little fingers. He can so distinctly see the pale green of the cabinets, remember the fight his parents had when she begged for that shade of green while his dad had wanted white. Of course, she won.

“These are your brother’s favorite.” His ma whispered to his sister; her flour covered hands reaching for the age faded index card with their grandmother’s script detailing the ingredients. “Our family’s recipe. One day, you will make these for your children. And your children’s children.”

Rebecca, still so young and with a hatred for smelly boys deep in her bones, giggled at the mere thought as her fingers fished out the bits of eggshell that snuck their way into the bowl. She wiped it away on the spare apron tied twice around her waist, much too big for her.

Bucky would never see her grow into it. He would be drafted only a few months later.

In the meantime, he would bundle half a dozen of them in a tea towel and split them with Steve on the walk to the movie theater. Steve would begrudgingly admit that Buck’s ma made the best cookies, but his made the best brisket. They’d sneak in through the back door and do it all again the next weekend, until they ran out of weekends together.

“Oatmeal raisin are my favorite.” He admitted, accepting your offering like a stray cat does to the first scrap of food from a stranger.

“I think you’re the only person under the age on one hundred to ever say that.” You teased, backing away to the door adjacent to his, “Anyway, don’t tell me things like that. I’m a stress baker and with finals coming up…” You winced at the image of the dozens of batches you would surely be whipping up in the coming weeks.

“Finals?”

“Law school, one semester left.” You fished your own keys from your back pocket. Bucky barely held in the scoff at the shiny Spider-Man keychain that dangled from your fingers. “You?”

“Oh, no. I haven’t been in school in what feels like…a century.”

“Well, I’m all alone here and as much as I would love to, I can’t eat everything that I bake. So, expect a few dozen muffins and cookies every few days.”

“No arguing from me, doll.”

You both lingered in the small hallway, only a few steps apart, each leaning against your respective doors. Keys in each hand, with no intention of using them any time soon.

“Law school, you said? How do you afford a place like this?” Bucky was sure he was the only recently pardoned fugitive under this room.

“Well, this used to be my grandma’s apartment and it was handed down to me in a maybe no so legal way. If the landlord asks, I’m an eighty-year-old woman who doesn’t know how to work her answering machine.”

He huffed a laugh, mostly because that wasn’t particularly far from how he felt with today’s tech. The flip phone that Dr. Raynor had described as archaic sat heavy in his back pocket with only three names programed into his contacts. Don’t get him started on his television.

“Nice to meet you, Bucky.”

With that, you each stepping into your respective apartments. Bucky stalled at his door for a moment, listening as you locked and dead bolted your door behind you. He sighed, dumping his half-ruined groceries on his barren kitchen island.

The next day, he’d have another appointment with Dr. Raynor. This time when he’d say I’m trying, as he did each week, it wouldn’t be a complete lie. His phone buzzed in his back pocket.

2 New Messages

From: Sam

You coming up this weekend?

Don’t ignore me this time. He’s getting worse, Buck.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x you #marvel imagine #tfatws imagine #crawl home to her #sab writes

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nessaxc · 3 years

Text

___________________________________

Romance Me || Gojo Satoru

You break up with Gojo because he isn't giving you what you need in the relationship. And when you get a rebound, Gojo isn't too happy about that.

~ Words: 3.7k

~ NSFW 18+

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You broke up with Gojo months ago simply because you weren't getting what you needed from the relationship. It was lacking heavily in the romance department, like was it so much to ask for him to be romantic once in a while? Maybe a candle lit dinner? For him to send you flowers and chocolates? Though, you shouldn't have been surprised, this was Satoru Gojo we were talking about, romance wasn't in his vocabulary.

At first your relationship with him was fun and exciting, and the sex was amazing and he was so adventurous in the bedroom, there was literally nothing he wasn't willing to try, which was one of the many things you adored about him. You just felt like the relationship wasn't going anywhere, and sure fighting curses in the city was exhilarating and having sex in his car was thrilling but you wanted more than just being destructive with one another. Maybe a relationship with Gojo was doomed to fail from the start, but you still hoped that maybe he would have a change of heart and start treating you the way you deserved to be treated.

He didn't take the breakup very well, you knew he wouldn't, and he was quick to flip the situation around and act like he was the one that broke it off when that clearly wasn't what happened. When you explained why you were choosing to break up with him, he didn't understand, he believed because you were a Jujutsu Sorcerer, a word like romance wasn't in your vocabulary either, but there was a lot more to you than being a fellow sorcerer.

Because you wanted to show Gojo what he was missing, you found yourself a rebound and started flaunting him off to the rest of the Jujutsu Sorcerers, making sure to hold hands with him and kiss one another while Gojo was in the same room, just to provoke him. The sorcerer welcomed your new boyfriend with open arms, allowing you to invite him over whenever you wanted as long as he followed orders of course, which got under Gojo’s skin even more, because not only did he have to hear you talk about him all day, but he had to see you two together being all lovey-dovey with one another. Gojo knew that you couldn't care less about this new rebound of yours, that you were just keeping him around merely to make him jealous, and he found that he loathed seeing another man touch you and be in the same proximity as you. You were supposed to be his, and only his, and the thought of someone else in your bed made him feel sick, it made Gojo want to tear this guy limb from limb, and he would do just that after he got you back.

One night after you and your new boyfriend were spending some heated alone time together (and you two were sure to make a ton of noise so Gojo could hear everything) you went downstairs with him to open the door for him and to exchange sappy goodbyes before he left the building. You closed the door with a loud bang before you made your way back upstairs to your room. When you returned to your room, you saw Gojo sitting comfortably on your bed, sitting cross legged, humming away a tune as he waited for you to come back.

"Satoru, what are you doing here?" you asked with narrowed eyes, annoyance evident in your tone. "You know me and my boyfriend just had sex on that bed, right?" you added with a snort.

"So you replace me for that piece of shit?" he rasped, his nose wrinkling in distaste.

"I guess so, he's so much more romantic and sweet, and he knows exactly how to make me happy," you said as you dreamily sighed, taking a seat on a chair across the bed as you looked at him.

"Tell me you didn't let him come inside you," he replied gruffly, his tone threatening and dripping with venom as the mental image crossed his mind.

"You have no business knowing that, so I don't need to answer any of your invasive questions," you told him before you added with a wide smile, "but what I can tell you is that he has a bigger dick than you, and he's way better in bed than you, he's got more experience," you lied, shrugging your shoulders, relishing in the fact how overwrought he was with jealousy.

He merely laughed at your response, knowing that you weren't being honest with him or yourself, "Oh Y/N, don't lie to me and yourself, I bet he can't even make you come," he said with a forced smile stretched across his face in attempt to hide some of his anger. "C'mon, we both know you're just using him because you're not with me anymore, it's so obvious it's pathetic, and there's no way in hell that shithead can really make you happy."

"Oh of course he does, like I said he has a ton of experience and he knows exactly how I like it," you lied again with a smug smile stuck on your face. "Someone sounds jealous," you taunted in a sing-song tone.

"Oh yeah? Sure he does," he spat as he sneered, and in one quick motion he removed himself from his position on the bed and you stood up from the chair as well when he stepped towards you, standing face to face with you. "What makes you think I'm jealous anyway? I don't give a shit if he fucked you," he continued in a harsh tone, each word laced with acrimony.

"Really now? Sure sounds like it," you mocked with a curl of your lip, "I didn't think you were the jealous type."

"That's cause I'm not, your little boy toy just fucking vexes me," he snarled as he took another step towards you, so close now that his hot breath was fanning over your mouth, sending a tingle down your spine as your gaze remained unwavering upon his. You could see every twitch of his features, he was sick with envy, that much was clear. His hands were at his sides, clenching and unclenching in frustration as you continued to look at him with that self-satisfied smile.

"Tell me then, why does he vex you?" you asked, playing dumb, tilting your head to the side as you waited for his answer. You expected him to start cursing you out but instead he grabbed a fistful of your hair until you were both looking each other directly in the eye, barely a distance between you two. He crashed his lips into yours, devouring you in the ruthless kiss you had come to know so well. When you felt his tongue retract to plunge further, you bit down hard on his lower lip. You heard him intake a sharp breath, a low, guttural growl vibrating deep as you crushed your lips upon his, without a care if you hurt him or not, teeth knocking and noses bumping from the rush of the kiss. His hands groped around your hips, his fingers digging hard under your skirt and into your pantyhose, tearing the fabric as he lifted you by your ass, slamming you back against the wall, forcing your legs apart and hooking them around his waist.

"I fucking hate it when people touch what's mine," he breathed heavily against your mouth, "you're mine, Y/N, you don't belong to anyone else," his tone was raspy and threatening as he growled possessively.

"Now that sounded romantic," you hummed, and he smirked against your lips as he continued to press his pair insistently upon yours.

Your nails started to scratch and dig into his back, leaving streaks of pale, pink lines, making him groan into your mouth. You bit his lower lip hard and held him close to you as you ground against him feverishly. He panted hard against your mouth before turning his attention to your neck, biting and sucking hard, making you yelp out from the stinging sensations that spread across your whole body. It wasn't long until you got your revenge and started to bite and pull on his jaw, lips and chin, continuing the assault on his neck and shoulder.

You could feel his member hardening as he pinned you with his body. He was suffocating you, and every time you attempted to come up for air, he denied you. You were tasting blood, and you couldn't tell if it was his or your own.

Finally managing to grab a fistful of his hair, you pulled him back as you both gasped for air. Fresh blood was smeared across his mouth, it was blended with your lip-gloss like a stain. It was rough and perfect, just the way you liked it. He knew exactly how to suck you right back in. You both remained this way for what might have been mere minutes, but it felt like an eternity. His bright blue eyes were burning and intense, a wry grin playing in between each breath.

His tongue languidly licked the blood from his lower lip before he leaned in just beneath your jaw, biting hard into the sensitive skin of your neck, his teeth piercing it. You emitted a loud moan, bucking and grinding down into his hips as you felt him sucking and pulling you tighter to him, crushing your breasts against him. You were convinced he was trying to tear your flesh from your bone, until he finally released his seal with a loud pop.

"If I have to keep branding you until you remember who you belong to," he started, his voice gravelly against the bruise already forming and blending into your neck as you felt his hand drawing down your thigh, tearing the skirt off along the way. "I will."

"That's more like it," you purred. You were both tearing off the other's clothes in a frenzy, tossing aside the articles of clothing across the room in your haste. When you were both completely bare, he hoisted you up by your ass, and you clung to him before he dropped you down on the bed. He was quick to crawl atop you, and he pushed your legs aside with a hand, seeking out the scorching heat between your thighs.

Your breath hitched as his thumb dipped between your dripping folds, parting you as he spread the wetness gathered there, your hips jutting out impatiently against his touch for more contact, "so wet for me, and only for me, you're not allowed to be like this for anyone else," he cursed hoarsely, his voice raw with his need for you. His fingers danced against your sex, palm pressing into your engorged clit, earning him a mewl of pleasure.

You threw your head back against the bed, your body arching into his touch to give him better access to the place you needed him most. You released a sharp intake of breath when he sunk two of his long fingers into your tight wet heat, his palm brushing against your clit as his lips dropped to your heaving bosom while his fingers worked over you at a maddening pace, turning you into a whimpering wanton mess beneath him.

You were putty in his hands, your body molding itself to his talented fingers with a drawn out moan. Gojo groaned at the feeling of your slick walls wrapping so deliciously against his digits, and his hard member was throbbing as he thought about how all he wanted was to take you the way he used to. You rocked your hips against his probing fingers, your eyes squeezing shut with pleasure, body begging him to pick up his pace within you. He was quick to comply, his fingers meeting your thrusts before curving them inside of you, making you cry out as you called his name in unadulterated praise.

His fingers surged into you as he rolled his wrist repeatedly against your clit, bringing his forehead to your own, his nose brushing upon your own, lips inches from yours as he groaned, "Come for me, baby, I want you to come for me, just like you used to."

He sucked your swollen lip into his mouth, leading with his chin as he listened to your strangled plea for mercy, making him chuckle in amusement.

"Come on, come for me, Y/N," he drawled out, scissoring his fingers inside of you as you moaned shamelessly, your toes curling in anticipation for the release you so desperately craved. "Come for me," he repeated, his gaze flitting to your closed lids as he watched you fall apart from his ministrations. With one more rapid and harsh thrust of his skilled fingers, you moaned his name out as you came, completely soaking them with your juices.

He smirked proudly, slipping his fingers from your quivering walls which instantly made you whimper in protest. He lifted his hand to his mouth, sucking his drenched fingers between his lips to taste your sweet essence. Your body heaved against the mattress, watching intently as he tasted you, licking your lips as you heard his moan of approval, his pupils blown wide with lust.

"Mmm, it's just like I remembered it," he purred.

He released his fingers after he was sure he got every last drop, there was a wicked gleam in his eye before he lowered his lips to your nipple, taking it greedily within his hot mouth. He tortured the flesh with his tongue and mouth, alternating between nipping and sucking as his hand worked at the other, pinching and twisting. He smirked against your bud as you moaned encouragingly, spurring him on. He released you, his hand and mouth switching places, sucking upon one and thumbing the other, making you emit moan after moan.

"Only I get to touch you now, no other fucker touches what's mine, you hear me?" he rasped, growling deep from his throat, the vibrations shooting straight to your core as he once again wrapped his mouth around your nipple, sinking his teeth into it and making your whole body tremble with the harsh treatment.

You rocked your hips desperately against him which made him let out a strangled sound around your nipple. "Satoru," you whispered breathlessly, your head thrashing about against the sheets, his mouth and fingers completely relentless. "Please fuck me, already, stop wasting time, fuck I need you."

"That's the spirit baby," he cooed before he asked in a taunting tone, "and where do you need me exactly?"

His eyes were dark and hooded as he looked upon your flushed face, red coloring your cheeks, his warm breath hitting your tender, wet flesh, making you whimper and keen. "You miss me, don't you? You miss me filling you up, fucking you senseless into this mattress like I used to, huh? Tell me Y/N, you need to tell me," he demanded as he bumped his hips against yours, teasing you mercilessly.

"Yes, yes I miss you, I miss us, I just want to feel you inside me again," you admitted through a ragged breath. His lips curled into a smug, amused smirk, his eyes shining with dark intent. You couldn't wait any longer, you just wanted to feel him inside of you again like before.

"Of course you miss me, I knew that shithead was doing a shit job pleasing you," he taunted, "now get on your hands and knees for me," he ordered huskily.

You were quick to comply, positioning yourself on your hands and knees before him, his mouth watering at the sight. He dipped his head down beside yours, his lips pressing against your ear as he whispered, "That's a good girl, fuck, I missed seeing you like this," he told you, moving to take his position behind you. His length was digging deliciously against the curve of your backside, and you curved your spine, wiggling your ass impatiently in his direction, bracing yourself on your forearms and elbows.

"Just like that, you're fucking beautiful," he purred, expressing his approval, his voice dripping with sin. He worked his hand over his rigid shaft in a few jerky movements with his fist, swiping the head of his member against your dripping sex.

"Satoru, oh fuck," you whimpered as your fingers clawed at the sheets beneath you, grabbing and pulling at them in your desperation. He bit back a groan as he felt your wetness come in contact with his head. His hand wrapped around your hip with a bruising grip as he finally thrust into you, sheathing himself into your wet heat with a grunt.

You gasped loudly, eyes shutting instantly and your walls closing in on him the second he slipped inside of you. You buried your head into the sheets as he stretched your inner walls in a way the man you were with never could. "Fuck," he groaned as he started rocking his hips against yours, slamming into you with a brutal, relentless force that had you bucking back up into him.

He gripped your hips tighter as he withdrew, then slowly plunged his member back in, pumping himself in and out at a frantic pace as you writhed and squirmed underneath him.

"So beautiful, who has the bigger dick? That little shithead, or me? And don't lie this time," he taunted through a drawl.

"Satoru! Yours is the biggest," you replied in a moan, mouth open wide as another cry emitted from your lips after a particularly harsh thrust, his way of expressing how much those words pleased him. "You make me feel so good, I can't get enough of your big cock," you whined as you matched the rhythm he set, though you were having trouble keeping up with him, and your hips were stuttering against his as you continued to squeeze his member greedily between your silken walls.

"That's right, and you're mine, all mine, no one's going to take you from me," he whispered as he rammed himself into your quivering, soaked entrance, the slapping of skin ringing in both of your ears. He sighed in relief when he pulled out only to surge right back in, his nails digging harshly into your hips as he yanked them closer, making sure that your whole body would be sore and aching tomorrow and that you wouldn't ever forget how he made you feel.

You moaned into the mattress as he continued to fill you, pounding you into the bed and his balls clapping against your flushed cheeks as you writhed about, fisting the sheets in your hands as tight as you possibly could. You were trembling with each heavy, rapid thrust, and you felt like you were going to combust from the heat that spread across your whole taut body. You breathed heavily as your head tilted to press your cheek against the bed, "Oh, I can't-"

Your words were swallowed by a soft cry, and you felt your walls clamp around his length, your climax threatening to burst within you.

"That's it, I want you to come for me again, come on," he urged, picking his pace up to push you over the edge. He drove himself into you over and over again, his thrusts sloppy and hips stuttering, knowing that his own release wasn't far behind. He was hitting that sweet spot with every single deep plunge, and it had you yelping out his name breathlessly as you trailed your quivering hand down until you found the spot right above where you two were joined to stimulate your engorged clit.

"That's it, touch yourself for me, baby, oh, just like that," he encouraged through a groan.

You rolled your clit around feverishly with shaking fingers as you sought release, pressing into it relentlessly and never ceasing in your movements, flicking and rubbing until you couldn't take it anymore.

With one final harsh thrust, you came with a shout, his name pouring out of your lips as your walls clenched all around his member. You bucked your hips wildly against him, and your release sparked his. He shot his thick seed up within you, filling you up with his warmth, just like he used to, his head falling against your backside as he rode out the intense waves of pleasure, drawing it out until you fell boneless against the mattress, your arms giving out on you.

He allowed himself to remain sheathed inside of you until he softened, pulling out very slowly, making you hiss between gritted teeth at the sensation. He was quick to roll you around so that you were on your back now as he joined your side, both of you panting heavily and sucking in air desperately after the intensity of your orgasms. You two laid there on the disheveled sheets, silence thick in the air, chests heaving, bodies slick with sweat as you stared up at the ceiling.

All of a sudden, Gojo whipped out a dark red rose, twirling the stem between his fingers before he handed it to you with a smile on his lips.

"Thought you would like it," he told you, his voice hoarse. You smiled as you took it, a warm and fuzzy feeling swelling in your chest at the romantic gesture. Perhaps there was more to Gojo than you originally thought. You took a whiff of its aroma before you turned to him and gave him a chaste kiss on his cheek.

"Thank you, I will give it some water," you replied with a chortle before you placed it on your bedside table.

"You're mine. And I'm yours. Understand?" he told you breathlessly. He reached his hand out to grab yours, entwining his fingers through it as he held it up to his mouth, placing a quick peck on it before he pulled away.

You sighed dreamily as you nuzzled your head underneath the crook of his neck, curling up into his body before you replied, soft laughs spilling through small pants, "You so love me, it's official."

He merely laughed in response as he held you close to the warmth of his body, snuggling up to you as you hummed appreciatively. He didn't need to say it for you to know it.

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msmarvelouswinchester · 3 years

Text

Call You Mine

Summary - When Y/N meets Jensen on the set of Supernatural, her life takes an unexpected turn. Never in her wildest dreams, Y/N thought that their casual friendship will change into something sinful after they shoot a risqué scene together one night.

Pairing - Jensen x Y/N, Jensen x OFC!Millie

Warnings - Angst, infidelity, mentions of guilt and despair, explicit mention of extramarital affairs, SMUT 18+ minors DNI (p in v, fingering, dirty talk), slight mention of Dom!Jensen (it's very slight), fluff, a happy ending.

WC - 3052

Square Filled - Free Space ( @supernatural-jackles' Tell Me A Story Bingo); Song Based Fic ( @spnmixedbingo )

A/N 1 - This is a submission for @tvdspngirl314's challenge. My prompt was "I met a girl, we talked, it was epic."

Also this is a submission for @negans-lucille-tblr's "7Ks of the Week Challenge" (Congratulations on your 7k)

@deangirl93's 500 followers challenge (congrats on your 500). My prompt was the song "I Can't Quit You Baby". All prompts are in bold.

A/N 2 - This is a work of pure fiction and irl I absolutely do not support the act of cheating in a relationship. No hate towards the Ackles fam. I love Danneel and for the sake of the fic, Jensen is married to an OFC and not Dee.

Beta'd by @miss-nerd95 (Thanks, hon <33)

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

I can't quit you baby

So I'm gonna put you down for awhile

I said I can't quit you baby

I guess I gotta put you down for awhile

“Jensen...” The name rolled off her tongue effortlessly as the man’s fingers danced across her bare skin, his electrifying touch leaving Y/N breathless, panting and begging for more. The very touch of his that had started it all.

Everyone always expressed how being in love was the most exhilarating feeling in the world, but no one ever spoke about the perils of being in love with a person who already belonged to someone else. The ring on Jensen's finger served as a wistful and painful reminder of that.

As soon as the doors had closed, the actor had backed up Y/N against the elevator, letting her see the need in his eyes. His hands had sneaked behind her, his fingers entangling with the strands of her hair, completely messing the hairstyle she had pulled off for the m&g panel in the evening. Her hands landed on his biceps, trying to steady herself. Their lips moulded together so perfectly as if they were made for each other, but it pained Y/N to think that she was nothing but his dirty mistress.

Their relationship, if she could even call it one, was all about clandestine meets, stolen stares and subtle touches. Jensen was like a drug for her and she was high on the thrill of being with him even if he was gone in the morning, leaving her behind with nothing but guilt.

Jensen had closed the door of the suite behind him as they stepped into Y/N’s room together. With lips swollen from their heavy makeout in the elevator, he wasted no time as she found herself pinned to the wall by the actor's strong hands. In the fairly lit room, she noticed his wedding band was now missing. Y/N knew Jensen and his wife's relationship was on the rocks even before she had started to work on the SPN set. Which was also the reason why few months ago, the hide-and-seek between them and the hungry paps with cameras had started.

Hands on her hips, Jensen had pulled her close on the set, more than the director demanded it. That night, he had found himself standing inside her trailer, after the fated shot. The heart wants what it wants and just as the saying went, they had given in to their burning desires. In a moment of weakness, Jensen had broken off every single one of his vows and destroyed any hope of salvaging his relationship with his estranged wife.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Jensen ripped her blouse off, unhooking her bra quickly, barely containing his eagerness before stepping out of his own jacket. Y/N clutched at the ends of the counter, knocking off the magazines lying on top of it and draping her other arm around Jensen's firm body. He delicately cupped her face as his mouth devoured hers. She could taste the mint and coffee on his lips feeling his teeth graze roughly against her, making her moan into him. The actor pushed her legs apart with his knees and stood close between her thighs as his tongue explored every inch of her mouth.

In desperate need of air, they momentarily separated before Jensen dipped his head down again, leaving a trail of sloppy kisses down her neck. Y/N’s legs buckled under his hypnotic touch when his mouth found her pulse point and she supported herself against his body. Jensen's hands moved down to her breasts, kneading them. His fingers caressed her hard nipples before his mouth latched onto one sensitive bud.

“Jay, please-” Y/N could only form two words as Jensen flicked her nipple while his fingers worked on the other one, spurring her on. Words weren't quite necessary, cause the man knew exactly what she needed. He knew her every tic, her every emotion like the back of his hand and Y/N was aware of that fact as well. No one could ever worship her body like he did.

Jensen was still wearing the black polo shirt, his noticeable bulge painfully straining in his jeans. She felt her wetness dampening the fabric of her panties as she thrusted her hips forward in need of some friction, her heated core brushing against his bulge.

Pulling apart for a second, Jensen’s viridian eyes studied her as his hands sneaked under her skirt. He watched her intently as she sucked on her bottom lip, closing her eyes when his fingers grazed past her soakedpanties.

A moan escaped her wet lips when Jensen's fingers hooked themselves with the waistband and in one swift pull, got rid of the panties. It quickly glided down her legs, pooling at her feet. He teased her by flicking at her bundle of nerves, making her lean her head back against the wall.

Y/N swayed on her feet a little, her hold on his shoulders tightening as she finally felt her legs give away when his fingers rubbed circles on her clit.

“Fuck-” she panted as he pushed a single finger inside her.

“Have you been thinkin’ about me all day?” Jensen leaned towards her ears, his scruff grazing across her neck. Y/N nodded, not trusting her voice, eyes still squeezed shut in sheer ecstasy.

“Sweetheart, use your words.” He ordered as his finger curled inside her.

“Yeah-fuck, yes.” Jensen kissed below her ear, smirking against her skin when she obediently answered him.

“I have been thinkin’ about you too, counting down the hours till I could get you alone.” He whispered against her neck. She mewled at the feeling of him adding another finger, his thick digits stretching her out as they curled inside her. “That little dress wasn't helping either.”

“Uh-huh,” she could feel the coil inside her tightening as his finger worked their way inside her, his thumb rubbing at her folds and clit, edging her on.

“I have thinkin’ all day about you clenching around my fingers and then my cock-” his words had an immediate effect as she clenched around his fingers as he kept pumping into her, “you've thinkin’ about that too, huh?” Y/N nodded again.

“What did I say? Words.” His other hand travelled down her body, stopping at her stomach and he pinched at her waist. “Words, baby.”

“I-I have been thinki-” Y/N panted when she realised she was close to her climax. Jensen picked up his pace and pumped his fingers faster into her, brushing past her g-spot over and over again.

When you hear me moaning and groaning, baby,

You know it hurts me deep down inside

When you hear me moaning and groaning, baby,

You know it hurts me deep down inside

Oh, when you hear me, honey, baby,

You know you're my one desire

“Lemme say it, sweetheart. I know you've been thinking how I would make you come on my fingers, how my dick is gonna fill you up, make you come all over me. Don't lie.” Jensen's every assumption was right to the dot. She had been thinking of everything to the last detail since the moment she watched him get out of his car, right outside of the convention building. But there was another thought on her mind, the image of him pushing her against one of the counters of his empty brewery a few weeks ago with him buried deep inside her.

That was the last she had seen Jensen before the convention as he had gone back home to his wife.

His wife.

The one woman he had promised to be with in sickness and health, till death do them apart. Guilt clouded Y/N’s mind but all rational thoughts flew out of the window when he lowered his head, kissing the neck and the coil inside her finally snapped.

With a cry of his name, she came undone on his fingers, her legs finally giving away but Jensen's hold prevented her from toppling over. He pulled his fingers out as she whimpered at the feeling. His digits still covered in her juices, Jensen pulled his shirt over his head, throwing it somewhere in the room. Y/N panted, trying to come down from the high but she wanted more. She needed to feel him.

“Y/N-” Jensen rasped, looking right at her with lust blown eyes. Y/N smacked her lips at the sight of his freckled, toned body.

“Like what you see, sweetheart?” He smirked as Y/N eagerly reached out for his belt buckle.

“Uh-huh.” She agreed. Jensen bit back a moan when she reached out to palm his bulge. He threw his head back at the feeling of her hand on his erection through his jeans.

“It has been weeks-” Jensen said, clearly hinting at their last time together at the brewery. He quickly unbuckled his belt, pushing down his jeans along with his boxers, his erection springing free from its confines.

“Baby, it has been weeks since I felt your tight pussy wrapped around me. Fuck.” Y/N looked at him with hooded eyes and wrapped her fingers around his length, running her palm along its shaft and her thumb rubbed the tip of his cock, already lined with beads of precum. Jensen hiked her skirt up, pushing her hands away and gave his hard cock a few slow strokes. He nudged her sensitive core with his swollen tip, all while pulling out sweet, sinful noises out of her.

“Jay,” he loved hearing her needy moans, her voice raspy when she called out his name. His hands grabbed her ass and picked her up. Hooking her legs and arms behind him, with her back still firmly pushed up against the wall, Jensen lined himself with at her entrance.

Grunting, he pushed himself into her and wrapped his arms around her body. Y/N’s mouth fell open with an inaudible moan at the feeling of his cock stretching her out. Jensen placed a chaste kiss on her lips as he let her adjust to his size before slowly pulling out of her, leaving only the tip of his engorged cock inside, and pushed back in again, much deeper than before.

Her legs tightened around his waist, pulling him close as she bucked up her hips to match his rhythm. “Fuck, baby, you feel so good.” Jensen grunted as he started to thrust faster.

Y/N whimpered, her eyes fluttering close as Jensen snapped his hips forward before slowly drawing them back. With every thrust, she inched closer to her release as their breathing became ragged. The actor’s skin was flushed, his cheeks turning a bright red with beads of sweat lining his forehead as he felt her clench around her. Her nails dug into his back as the coil inside her tightened.

“‘M so close,” she whispered, as he continued to mercilessly pound into her.

“Cum around my cock, baby. I wanna feel you all over me-” Jensen growled into her ears, tugging on her earlobes with his teeth and his breath tickled her neck, making her quiver. Jensen had an effect on her that no one ever had. Sometimes, she would say to herself that Millie was a really lucky woman who got to have Jensen all the time and not just on convention weekends and sneaky nights spent in his empty brewery or a trailer park.

And Y/N was the one who was ruining their relationship. A home-wrecker. The tabloids would rightfully call her that if they ever found out about their twisted relationship.

“Jensen, fuck-” a cry of pure ecstasy left her lips as the coil inside her snapped once more and she felt herself coming undone for the second time that night. Jensen's thrust had become sloppy. He rocked his hips forward, thrusting a few more times. Burying his face in the crook of her neck a muffled scream of her name escaped his lips as he spilled into her, his white, hot seed coating her walls.

He lazily circled his hips a few times, his cock becoming soft inside her before he pulled out of her. His cum trickled down her leg, when he set her down, Y/N felt herself go weak in her knees when she tried to stand.

“Hi,” Jensen smiled, their eyes meeting, before he leaned forward.

“Hi.” Y/N whispered back. They stood together, holding each other closely with their foreheads touching. Guilt seeped into her and so did despair but she didn't regret any moment they spent together.

“Let me clean up the mess,” Jensen said.

“I'm gonna hop into the shower.” She said, holding out the hope that he would join her but he didn't.

“Alright.” It was all he said. Dejected, she pulled away from him and made her way towards the shower. All she wanted was to spend every single minute with him before he went back to his room to keep up the facade of his happily married life.

In the shower, Y/N thought about the day she had first met Jensen when she was a newbie on the set and reflected back on their rollercoaster of a relationship. There was an instant connection between them. Jensen was always such a gentleman. He truly cared for her, but love... she didn't know if even the idea of love existed between them or if she was just an affair.

She stepped out of the bathroom and saw that Jensen was now In his boxers. He gave her a nod and moved past her into the bathroom. A sad smile formed on her lips as she watched him walk away. She put on a comfortable pair of pjs and crawled into the bed, under the covers, waiting for the exact moment when Jensen stepped out of the bathroom and put on his clothes. And just like every other time, she would watch him leave after he kissed her forehead and told her he doesn't have a choice.

This time though, it was going to be different.

Y/N didn't want Jensen to leave, neither did she want to watch him go so she squeezed her eyes shut, adamant of not responding when he walked up to her.

She flinched when he heard the bathroom door shut. She counted down the minutes till the goodbye kiss but instead she felt the other side of the bed dip down with a familiar weight. Opening her eyes, she felt his hand wrapping around her waist. Jensen was in her bed. She turned to face him.

He was breathing slowly. His long lashes rested against his cheek and his freckled face reflected the look of absolute contentment.

Said you know I love you baby

My love for you I could never hide

Oh, you know I love you baby

My love for you I could never hide

Oh when I feel you near me little girl

I know you are my one desire

“You're staring.” He whispered.

“You're staying.” She replied back, making his beautiful eyes flutter open.

Pursing his lips together, he said, “Do you not want me to?”

“No-I mean, yes. Stay…But, what about Jared?”

“What about him?” He scrunched up his face in confusion.

“What if he finds out about us?” Y/N asked as she panicked. Hiding this relationship from Jared was the hardest task. He was like a brother to Jensen so he didn't want to lie to him but it was important to keep him in the shadows.

“Let him find out. I don't care anymore-”

“Jensen!” Y/N exclaimed. She didn't understand what was going on in his mind.

“It's okay, Y/N.” He said.

“How is it okay?”

“Millie and I are over. I finally ended it.”

Her mouth fell open in complete surprise. Of everything she had expected, this was the last thing she was anticipating to hear. “Our relationship was long dead anyway. We have separated. I'm filing for a divorce once I go back home this week.” Y/N would lie if she said that the thought of him choosing her over his wife had never crossed her mind.

“It's all because of me, isn't it-”

“No. No, sweetheart. We were already over even before I met you. I was just too scared to admit it to myself but then I met a girl, we talked. It was epic and the thought of losing her scared me more than anything else.” Jensen caressed her cheek, a gentle smile gracing his lips. He felt a burden being lifted from his shoulders. He could finally be with the woman he truly loved.

“Does this mean no more hiding?” She said, tears pooled in her eyes. Y/N needed to hear him say it now that she could shout it from the rooftops Jensen belonged to her, and she to him.

“Being with you made me realise what I was missing. All this while, I wasted my time trying to work on a dead relationship when I should have realised sooner that it was a lost case. That you are the one I want 'cause baby, I can't quit you. Millie and I would have never worked out no matter how many couple’s therapy we went to….I have never regretted a single moment I have spent with you. I love what we have. I love you.” Her breath hitched in her throat as she took in everything he said. Her mind was reeling from his sudden declaration. A single tear rolled down her cheek, as the corners of her lips tugged up, forming a smile but she was too overwhelmed to say anything, which Jensen took the wrong way and it scared him.

“Y/N-” his smile disappeared as his hand dropped from her cheeks, “I want you to be mine. Will you be mine?” Y/N immediately moved towards him. Her hands raked through his soft hair before she pulled him in for a longing kiss.

“I didn't even realise when I became yours but I know it happened at some point, Jay. I love you so much.” Y/N said. With smiles and their eyes sparkling with newfound happiness, they stayed in bed as Y/N nuzzled into his side. Jensen's warm hands were wrapped around her and she smiled against his chest. For the first time, the fear of losing Jensen didn't cross her mind because she knew he would stay with her that night and all that would follow. She was going to wake up with him by her side and didn't have to sneak behind anyone's back anymore.

She was happy and in love and so was Jensen.

Feedback is highly appreciated!

#jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles #jensen x reader #jensen ackles x you #SPNMixedBingo #bees7ksoftheweekchallenge #allyswritingevent #deangirl93s500followerscelebration #TellMeaStoryBingo #jensen x you #jensen ackles x y/n #jensen x y/n #jensen ackles smut #jensen ackles fluff #jensen ackles angst

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mypoisonedvine · 3 years

Text

Time After Time | dark!Neil (Tenet) x reader

summary: it’s tricky when feelings get involved in an organization like tenet. still, you’ve never been happier than you are with your boyfriend Neil, even if he’s a bit elusive and a very erratic coworker. for all his secrets, you never expected what he would tell you the day he finally proposed.

word count: 5.5k

warnings: smut!! (dub con, for extremely complex reasons), almost kinda stockholm syndrome?, yandere/soft!dark neil, breeding kink, confusing time travel stuff

"What are we doing here?” you asked as you looked around the safehouse— like any secret Tenet hideaway, it was sleek but sterile, nestled in a historic neighborhood in southeastern Moscow. It was sort of how you remembered from the last time you’d been here for work, but somebody had rearranged the living room and changed out the rug. (Knowing the nature of your business, you were pretty confident you knew why the rug was replaced.)

Neil had made it clear that you weren’t coming here for a mission, but never said what you were here for, and had kept up the veil of secrecy all week long. At first, you had assumed that since tomorrow was your four-year dating anniversary, it must have something to do with that, but the more you pondered the potential options, the more you were unsure.

You turned to look at him and found him wearing his signature smirk, the one that made you sure he was up to something— but you still didn’t know what.

“Seriously, Neil, just tell me!” you pleaded with a laugh, shoving him playfully.

“We’re here,” he explained slowly, “because I need to ask you something.”

He sank down onto one knee, clutching your hand in his, as you looked down at him with wide eyes. "Oh— oh my god,” you barely managed to stammer, entirely breathless.

“As soon as I met you, I knew you were the love of my life,” Neil began with that smile of his that always melted your heart. “I knew that I had to do everything in my power to make you as happy as you make me, to have you with me until the end of time— whenever that actually comes.”

You laughed a little, but it fell into a sob of joy as he reached into his jacket and pulled a ring out of his pocket, brandishing it to you.

“Darling, will you be my wife?” he asked, almost sounding like he was a little nervous that you’d say ‘no’, for some reason.

“Neil,” you whispered, “of course— yes, yes!”

He popped up and kissed you, smiling too hard for it to be a very effective kiss, though it was a perfect one nonetheless. You felt him slip the ring on your finger and you felt like you were floating on air. It was even more surreal than the first time you were inverted.

“I’m so glad you said yes,” he admitted with a sigh of relief against your lips. You pulled back from the kiss and looked up at him, bewildered but overjoyed.

“Were you really worried I’d say no?” you scoffed incredulously.

“Terrified,” he laughed, and you laughed too, kissing him again quickly before launching into the first of so many questions you wanted to ask.

“When did you— how did you—?”

“I got the ring last month,” he explained. “I thought about waiting longer but I was so tired of hiding it from you. Then it was just a matter of getting you here.”

“Don’t take this as me criticizing your proposal,” you giggled, “but I have to ask: why here?”

He sighed a little, smirking slightly, and looked away before catching your gaze again. “You’re gonna think I’m a bit crazy—”

“Already do, continue,” you winked.

“But this is where we first met.”

He was right; you did think he was crazy. You furrowed your brow and laughed nervously. “Neil, we met at a coffee shop, the one by my old apartment. I didn’t work here then, you recruited me yourself.”

He chuckled slightly, turning your confusion into an eerie sense of nervousness. “Sometimes you amaze me with your naivete, darling. This is where we first met, the first time.”

Gingerly, you pulled your hands away from his.

“I didn’t recruit you, originally. I was here, working, when a close friend of mine came in and introduced me to the newest member of the team. It was you… and you captured my heart, instantly. Only problem was…" he trailed off, chewing his lip as he glanced away.

“Tell me, Neil,” you demanded quietly.

“You’d captured someone else’s heart, too. And he had already married you.”

You stood up instantly, walking away a little before turning back to stare at him in bewilderment. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing; you could hardly stand on your wobbly legs anymore. “I… I had a husband?”

“Yeah, met him once; seemed like a nice guy,” he shrugged. “But he wasn’t right for you.”

“And how’s that?”

“Because he wasn’t me.”

You shook your head, terrified to imagine the ways Neil had tampered with the flow of time for something as trivial as an infatuation with you.

“I tried to hide my feelings for you, darling, really; we were just coworkers for a long time, I kept it strictly professional. But the more I got to know you, the more I grew to love you. I knew I couldn’t be happy just being your friend— you’re my everything. I tried to tell you— but you wouldn’t listen,” he shook his head. “You told me you loved your husband. You told me you had just found out you were pregnant.”

His words hit you like a train and you stumbled back slightly, bracing yourself against a credenza to try to keep from falling to the floor.

“I realized I had to go back,” he continued, becoming a bit more passionate as he explained his plan. “You couldn’t be convinced if you were pregnant with his child. But if I was going to invert myself to try to confess my love for you sooner, I figured it would be easiest if I took it a step further and avoided the whole marriage itself. You had told me once about the day you met him. So, I went and found you in that coffeeshop, the day before. And I recruited you to Tenet. Truth was, we could’ve used you a lot sooner, so it was advantageous to the organization as well— which is why I got approved to be inverted by the boss himself.”

That hurt. He was Neil’s friend, but he was your friend, too. Had he known that when Neil went back to recruit you, he would irreparably alter the course of your life? Or had he only realized later and decided not to try to correct it?

“Don’t look so heartbroken, darling,” he pouted, stepping forward and reaching out to gently rub your shoulder. “We’re finally together. Things are finally the way they should’ve been from the very beginning.”

You pushed his hand away and averted your gaze, unable to look at him anymore. "I'm sorry, Neil, I can't do this— I can't live a lie," you shook your head, beginning to step away.

“No, you can’t go,” he breathed, desperation apparent in his tone along with his expression. “You can’t go! I finally got it right this time!”

“Is that why you were afraid I’d say no?” you realized with wide, watery eyes. “Because I said it before?”

“Yes,” he admitted, faster than you expected. “But—”

“How many times?”

There came the silence, his nostrils flaring as he crossed his arms and looked away.

“How many times did I reject your proposal, Neil?”

“...Fourteen.”

“Oh my god,” you sobbed, “Neil, you— you never gave me a choice, did you? From the beginning? Every time I tried to get away from you—”

“You always knew you belonged with me,” he posited fiercely. “You always knew, it was why you kissed me that night, a year from now, on the bridge in Oslo.”

“That wasn’t me!” you cried. “I was never married, Neil, I was never pregnant, I never kissed you on any godforsaken bridge! You undid it all, and now you’re holding what I never did against me?”

“Even then you knew we were meant to be together,” he explained, stepping a little closer; out of love for the man you thought he was, you had a moment of sympathy for the man he had become, and let him pull you closer and cradle your face in his hands. He wiped a stray tear from your cheek as he smiled down at you.

It almost felt right for a moment, but you couldn’t trick yourself into believing this was anything but wrong. "I'm sorry, god, I'm so sorry," you whispered hoarsely as you turned to walk away— but he chased you and spun you back around, overpowering you as you tried to wriggle from his grasp.

“After everything I did for you,” he growled, grabbing your wrists tightly when you tried to get away, “you can’t just walk away from me.”

“You didn’t do any of this for me, Neil,” you spat as you struggled, “you did this for yourself. You stole my life!”

“I saw your life, it was shit without me, okay?”

"But at least it was mine!"

He grabbed you by the shoulders and pinned you to the wall, making you yelp as he glared at you, eyes wild and teeth bared. “I’ll just go back and do it again. I’ll do it a million times until you stay with me forever, I swear. So what’s the use in fighting me? You’ll say yes, eventually. Why don’t you save us both some time— in a sense— and just accept it now?”

This was a side of Neil you hadn’t seen before. He wasn’t livid, he wasn’t violent (at least, not to the level you knew he could be), but he was undoubtedly threatening you… and you knew that he was right. More than ever you were sure that he was going to keep doing this, keep taking you through the same loop until he got the outcome he wanted. It was horrifying to imagine, but at least this way you could know the truth. Maybe you could even find a way to escape him someday— you couldn’t even imagine how, but you might come up with something later. You had all the time in the world, after all.

He softened slightly as he must have realized you were considering it, reaching down to pull your hands into his. You glanced over at the sparkling diamond on your ring finger, remembering how ecstatic you had been to wear it just a few minutes ago. Now it was a tiny gold shackle, each glimmer of the stone like a silent taunt.

Devastated, but with nowhere else to turn, you began to sob and allowed him to embrace you and pull you into him. He held you close as you cried into his shoulder, terrified and confused and seeking comfort even if it was from the man who had imprisoned you in time.

“Shh,” he soothed gently, “it’s going to be alright, darling, take some deep breaths for me. Can you do that? In—” he inflated his chest, guiding you to breathe with him, which you did to the best of your ability—” and out…”

Smooth breaths were difficult with sobs vibrating your lungs, but you eventually managed to stabilize yourself as he guided you through a few more. You resented that he knew you so well to be able to calm you down; you resented that your body trusted him enough for it to actually work.

“That’s it,” he praised softly, “you’re okay, it’s okay…”

You stared at yourself in the mirror, contemplating the way your face looked through the lacy white veil. Silently, you wondered if this was how you looked at your first wedding; the one that never really happened, to the man you never got the chance to meet. You liked to imagine that you looked happier than this, that your eyes were filled with excitement rather than resignation.

A knock at the door didn’t even tear you from your trance, nor did the sound of it opening; only Neil’s reflection appearing beside yours in the mirror made you snap back into reality, if only slightly.

“You look beautiful,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing your ear.

“Bad luck…” you mumbled. “It’s bad luck,” you began again, “for the groom to see the bride before the wedding.”

“I think we’ve had enough bad luck for a lifetime already,” he joked, making you furrow your brow and turn around, looking up at him.

He bore a startling resemblance to the man you’d fallen in love with, to the man you’d been ecstatic to marry when he got down on one knee for you in a nearly-abandoned safehouse in Moscow. Even the way he smiled at you, his gaze so gentle as it scanned your face, was exactly the way he’d looked at you a thousand times— when you first met, as well. The first time for you, at least. He’d known you for years then; it was no wonder that he looked at you with such love, struck up a conversation that perfectly targeted your interests. He must’ve spent years practicing to be your perfect man, until he finally got tired of the lie and trapped you in his twisted idea of the truth.

It made you question his motives for appearing suddenly and spoiling the surprise of you in your wedding gown— a sight he must have been dreaming of for years.

“Did I leave you at the altar?” you asked, below your breath. “Is that why you’re here? You came back to stop me?”

He chuckled lightly and brushed his fingers over your face. “I don’t know yet. This is the first time.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “How can I trust you? How can I know you haven’t said that every time?”

He didn’t answer, instead leaning in to kiss you gently. You closed your eyes, accepting that you could never really know the truth anymore. Maybe someday you would become comfortable with unknowing, or at least complacent enough to tolerate it.

Walking down the aisle felt sort of like walking toward the gallows, but instead of death waiting for you at the end, there was a life of futility, an existence guided not by destiny or decision but by derangement: one man’s fight, against God and nature, to keep you to himself and steal you from the life you were once meant for.

You managed to keep your footsteps steady, glancing briefly to the pews scattered with parse friends and family— wasn’t much time for either of those with the kind of work you did. All the time in the world, but not enough time for a real life. That was why it had been so easy to fall for Neil, since he was one of a few people you spent significant time with. Had that always been the nature of the job? Or an orchestration by Neil himself, separating you from others until you couldn’t choose anyone but him?

Thankfully, you managed to get through the wedding without crying more than was appropriate or screaming at him or trying to run away. You exchanged the vows and the rings, you kissed each other, the whole shebang. Occasionally you actually managed to enjoy yourself, in those moments that you forgot this was all a hollow facade, greeting guests and listening to toasts and dancing with Neil— your new husband.

You forced yourself to keep up the image of a happy bride for the sake of your friends, and everyone who came here in expectation of a fun wedding. It was what they deserved, even if it was costing you everything.

But once they were gone, you didn’t know how to play the part anymore. You didn’t know how to swallow down the sick rising in your throat as Neil led you to the honeymoon suite, how to smile back at him when he looked at you with so much joy.

You didn’t know how to prepare yourself for what you knew he expected.

“I… should change out of this dress,” you realized once you were alone in the hotel room together, and he nodded his approval. You knew if you looked at yourself in the mirror, you would cry, so instead you focused on getting out of your uncomfortable gown. The lacy white lingerie underneath was intimidating, not for what it was but for what it symbolized. You couldn’t go back out there like this, obviously— so you grabbed one of the puffy white robes, the hotel’s logo stitched onto the breast pocket, and you threw it on as you stormed out of the bathroom and directly to the balcony.

Tears threatened to burn your eyes as you looked out over the London skyline. It was stunning, and it made you appreciate that you should be thankful for the freedoms you did have. There was a big, beautiful world out there and you had the means and the motive to explore it all, if you wanted— you’d already seen more than most.

But you still mourned for the life you never lived. Some would argue that in an infinite number of alternate universes, you had the choice to leave him if you wanted to; and apparently, from what Neil had implied, you usually took it. Yet, that was useless to you now. The irony was not lost on you that you would be so spoiled as to hate your life when you were standing on the balcony of a luxurious hotel, in a gown that cost more than your first degree, with a gorgeous new husband and more money than either of you would ever have any use for. You knew you were being petulant. But something deeper longed for freedom, with everything it cost. Does it matter how decadent a cage is, if you are still trapped in it?

The balcony door opened behind you, and you defiantly sniffled, quickly wiping a stray tear from your cheek.

“Darling?” Neil gently called to you. “Is everything alright?”

You didn’t answer, fearing the waver in your voice would give you away.

“I know it’s all a little… overwhelming,” he relented, his voice coming closer along with his footsteps. “But you really have nothing to worry about. I think you’ll rather like it.”

“Like what?”

He paused for a bit before he replied. And when he did, he said it like it was obvious: “Being my wife.”

You turned to face him, expecting rage in your voice but hearing only sadness. “And if I don’t? You’ll just… go back, and do it again until I do?”

He sighed a little, seeming hurt by the question. “Please, darling, it’s our wedding night,” he cooed, “you can’t hate me. Let me remind you how good we are together…”

His touch was distantly familiar, and against your better judgement you relaxed a bit and let him pull you closer, his cheek brushing against yours as he spoke beside your ear.

“I never inverted for this,” he explained with a whisper, fingertips grazing over your arm. “I didn’t learn your kinks, memorize your body and then go back to impress you from the beginning. The first time we were together… it was the first time for both of us. And it was perfect. Do you remember?”

You nodded.

“Tell me,” he instructed, lifting your chin to tenderly kiss your neck.

“Paris,” you sighed. “We were posing as lovers to check in to a hotel without arousing suspicion. I’d been enamored with you since I first met you and I thought maybe you felt the same way, but I told you we couldn’t be together because of Tenet…”

“But I kissed you anyway,” he reminded you.

“And I didn’t care about Tenet anymore,” you remembered. “I just needed to feel you. And we made love for hours— nearly missed our signal to get out of the building.”

He chuckled lightly against your skin, his fingers leaving goosebumps where they travelled across your back. “It was worth it,” he decided. “It was beautiful.”

You pulled back and looked up at him, finding so much love in his eyes, and you searched desperately within yourself for a way to love him in return again after what he’d done.

Swallowing, you slid your fingers into his hair and examined his face one more time, illuminated in the faintly bluish glow of the city lights.

“Go back,” you whispered.

“What?”

“I need you to go back,” you repeated. “To the day you proposed. Don’t tell me the truth this time.”

Realization dawned on his face, somber but calm.

“I’ll be yours, Neil,” you promised, “forever, like you wanted. But I can’t live like this. I can’t live knowing what you’ve done. And I can’t live with myself if I know that I gave in to you.”

“I hate to leave you on our wedding night,” he argued, turning away slightly— but you held his face and pulled him back to look at you.

“Do this for me,” you pleaded. “Consider it a wedding present.”

He gave you a small, sad smile before he embraced you again. "Anything for you," he whispered as he kissed you on the top of your head.

Neil all but kicked the door down as he carried you in his arms, unable to break the kiss even for a moment to open the door properly.

He stumbled around the room a bit before he finally tossed you onto the bed, eliciting a girlish squeal as the puffy layers of your wedding gown's elaborate skirt flipped up over your head. Growling playfully as he climbed atop you and slotted himself between your legs, you pushed your dress out of the way to look up at him.

As your laughter died down and you examined his face, you were compelled to reach up and hold his jaw in your hand; he turned his face slightly to kiss your palm as you caressed his cheek.

"I love you," you sighed as you brushed a stray strand of hair back out of his face.

"I love you too," he smiled, "more than you could ever know."

You rolled your eyes. "There goes my husband with his crypticness again."

He hummed at the title, kissing you again. You figured you were lucky he didn’t rip the dress as he got you out of it, growling when he saw your lacy white lingerie underneath. “You really are too good to me, darling,” he purred, leaning down to capture a nipple between his teeth through the fabric until your back arched. “All wrapped up for me like a pretty little present…”

You whined when he slipped his fingers down between your legs, toying with you and refusing to just pull the panties aside and get on with it. Of course he had to draw it out, savor every inch of you, but did he have to drive you so crazy along the way?

"Neil, please," you whimpered, "need you…"

"I know," he soothed between heavy breaths, kissing down your chest and stomach until he reached where you'd nearly soaked through your flimsy lace. He kissed your swollen clit right through the fabric— damn him that just that little touch made you moan and grab his hair. He loved seeing the effect he had on you, it was clear by the way he grinned and did it again, a little firmer, relishing in the way you squirmed.

Finally, he pulled your panties aside; although of course he did it tantalizingly slow before sliding his tongue through your folds, moaning lowly when you accidentally pulled his hair a bit.

He looked so damn good with his face between your thighs, staring up at you and holding you in place with his petrifying gaze. His eyes were always uncharacteristically dark when he did this to you, like he'd been waiting all his life for this moment. Like the taste of you drove him wild.

You shuddered when he pushed his tongue inside you, instantly putting pressure against the most delicate places inside you. When the pleasure threatened to become too intense and you instinctively tried to squirm away, his strong hands gripped your thighs and held you down nearly effortlessly, likely leaving marks on your skin for you to notice tomorrow, to remind you that you were his. As if the ring wasn’t enough.

“Fuck,” you groaned, “please— please let me come.”

You didn’t always ask him for permission, but he always gave it when you did. So you weren’t expecting him to grin and stop his task to suck a hickey onto your thigh. “Not quite yet,” he purred. “I need you to ask really, really nicely…”

“Um,” you stalled, distracted by watching him leave a trail of marks along your skin with his teeth, “please… don’t stop, Neil, please let me come… I’ll do anything, you know I will.”

“That’s already true,” he reminded you, snarling as he gave your pussy a sudden spank; you yelped and jolted from the impact, but it ended with a moan and more wetness gathering at your hole. “You can’t be so obedient all the time and try to use it as a bargaining tool, darling. You know better than that. Offer me something I don’t have.”

“If you let me come,” you pondered your potential options as you bit your lip and rocked your hips up in hopes of friction, “I’ll… make dinner, every night, for a week—”

He quirked an eyebrow.

“A month!” you blurted out instead.

“You’re negotiating against yourself,” he chuckled, slapping you right on your clit and making you cry out. “And you’re not much of a cook.”

You were teetering on the edge, desperate for any leverage you could grapple onto, keening for just a touch more stimulation to bring you the rest of the way— and you were so fucking close. You could only think of one thing Neil wanted, that he didn’t have, that you could give. And it was a stupid idea, but you needed to offer him something fast before those dreaded spanks between your thighs made you come before he’d given permission.

“We can fuck on a mission,” you announced through your teeth. Finally, you felt like you had his attention. The only time that had ever happened was the one time you let it happen— the first time. The next day you’d had a long conversation about how you weren’t going to let feelings interfere with the job; he agreed, and since then the two of you had done a pretty good job of separating business and pleasure. Although he did occasionally get irritated with your work in the field and take it out on you that night in bed, but that doesn’t count, right?

“Really?” he mused. “Whatever happened to boundaries? What happened to ‘respecting the other team members’?”

“They don’t need to know,” you explained. “Please, Neil, I really really need to cum.”

He pressed a thumb to your clit and drew slow, relaxed circles— just slow and relaxed enough to make sure you couldn’t come from it. You sobbed and let your head fall back, exhausted of his teasing. “How can you be sure you’ll be discreet enough? You’re not exactly… subtle,” he smirked, your moans now exactly proving his point.

“Can’t be loud with my mouth full,” you countered, and his smile finally fell. You finally had a bit of power back.

“You’d really suck me off on a mission?”

“If you can promise to keep quiet,” you chuckled.

He growled a bit as he dove back in, the sudden pleasure forcing a deep moan from your lips. “Fuck,” he mumbled against you, “so dirty for me, huh?”

“Yeah,” you agreed as you bit down on your lip. “God, I’m close, just don’t stop…”

“As long as you keep up your end of the deal,” he smirked, and you nearly forced his head back down between your legs but thankfully, he kept his mouth shut after that— well not quite shut, just busy, and before you knew it the pressure that built in your gut finally flowed over and you sobbed his name at the peak of your orgasm.

He kept going for just a moment too long, sending white hot shocks up your spine from the overstimulation, but thankfully he slowed down and pulled back, licking his lips and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

With that out of the way, and you nearly melted into the bed at this point, he sat up and hastily opened his belt and fly while he gazed down upon you with a burning hot stare.

"I should return the favor," you offered, sitting up slightly and reaching to wrap your hand around his length, but he shook his head.

"I’ll get my chance, but right now I just need to be inside you,” he explained gruffly. “Can’t spend another moment without being buried in this gorgeous cunt of yours; I might die if I can’t have you now.”

"Well, if it's a matter of life and death," you grinned, poorly faking indifference as he shoved you back and caged you in, guiding his cock to your dripping wet entrance.

“Ready, darling?” he prompted quietly as you felt the head of him prodding at you. You nodded, and yet you still gasped and clutched his forearms when he pushed into you. It was like the first time every time, with the way his thick length speared into you and stretched you open, but you craved it regardless; by now it wasn’t even pain, just raw sensation that pushed your limits in all the right ways. He sighed a bit when his hips met yours, already pulling back and setting the pace of his thrusts.

Even with how wet you were, there was friction just from the size of him, but it was the right kind of friction— a smooth, slow drag against your walls that compelled you to wrap your legs around his hips and hold him deep inside you.

“Is that how you want it?” he interrogated. “Deep?” You nodded and he chuckled a little. “I can do that.”

He stopped moving only for a moment to grab your legs and push them up, such that when he thrusted again, the tip of his cock hit the furthest places inside you and you choked on your own moan. "Fuck!" you croaked, eyes shooting open and hands reaching out to clutch his shoulders.

"How deep am I inside you?" he asked coyly, well aware of the answer already.

"So deep,” you slurred, barely able to form words with a heavy tongue and empty lungs, “all the way…"

"Good." He leaned down and growled against your ear. "I hope I knock you up tonight."

His words shocked you, in the best possible way. You surprised even yourself with the way your body reacted, and your hands were almost moving of their own accord as they grabbed his face and pulled him into a deep, needy kiss.

“Neil,” you mumbled as you broke it just enough to look up at him, “put a baby in me.”

“Fuck,” he hissed, thrusting into you faster than ever, “I will, darling…”

He was unstoppably filthy after that, relentlessly pounding into you, claiming your entire body as he whispered unimaginably dirty things in your ear.

"I know you want it so badly, darling, I know you need to be filled with my seed… can't wait to see you all round and glowing with my baby in you."

You didn't understand his emphasis on the word "my,” as if it could ever be anyone else's! But you didn't really notice that very much, too busy crying out at the feeling of him stretching you out and reaching the deepest places inside of you. “Neil, please— I’m so close, want you to come with me,” you whimpered.

“Yeah? Wanna squeeze my cock with this pretty little cunt while I fill you up, darling?”

“Please,” you sobbed, and you were sure you’d never needed him this bad; never needed anything this bad.

Deep little growls coming from between his teeth signified that he was close, and you felt your body tightening around him as you reached your peak one more time, much more intense than before and so much louder than you meant for it to be. He finally spilled inside of you, painting your walls with his spend as you whimpered and began to descend from your high. His body relaxed atop yours, though his arms wrapped around you to hold you close. After a few moments of that, he fell onto his back and you laid your head on his chest, humming happily at the feeling of his warmth seeping out of you. You were confident you’d be sore all over tomorrow, but you couldn’t feel it now as the afterglow served as a painkiller, keeping you numb and happy while you cuddled into him.

His arm around your shoulders pulled you closer so he could kiss your forehead. You looked up at him, admiring the way he looked horribly disheveled and yet entirely perfect; he looked back at you, smiling softly.

"Can't believe you're finally mine," he sighed wistfully, "forever."

#tenet fanfic #neil tenet x reader #dark!neil tenet x reader #neil tenet dark fic #robert pattinson x reader #robert pattinson dark fic

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captainrexforever · 3 years

Text

Solace

Rating: T

Word count: ~4.5k

Summary: After a nightmare, the reader and Din have a heart-to-heart, and realize they are not as different as they might think.

Warnings: angst, fluff, Din w/o beskar, intense fear?? (basically reader has a nightmare) makeout at the end

Note: Fair warning, this is the first fic I have ever written. I was having some pretty intense inspiration, and once I began typing, the words just began to flow out. With that said, I welcome any constructive criticism; any hate received will be reported and blocked.

It's not late when you slip beneath the blanket that decorates your humble cot. In fact, you're not sure what time it is. Days spent in hyperspace have left you without the ability to recall which hours differentiate day and night. At this point, you sleep once you're exhausted, and wake up once you hear the kid begin to squeal for your company.

Mando doesn't seem to sleep at all. You often wonder if he is even human beneath the beskar. Perhaps, he is some humanoid species that doesn't require sleep.

That's silly, your mind whispers.

Oh, that's right.

Once Mando had returned with a bounty, blood dripping onto the durasteel panels of the hull, and a jagged tear in the visible duraweave below his left pauldron. Red blood and tanned fleshed were exposed to your eyes for the space of a minute. He had steered the oblivious bounty towards the carbonite freezing unit, and with a shove and a hiss of the machinery, the zabrak had been encased in a carbonite slab.

You hadn't moved, rooted to the spot, until Mando brushed past you, a jerk of his helmet the only recognition you received. He headed straight towards the ladder to the cockpit, his hand already moving to the cauterizer on his belt. It wasn't your job to distract him with unnecessary questions, so you had rolled your shoulders, cracked your neck, and then walked towards the kid who bobbed silently in his cradle.

It's been months since that particular incident. Months since you were tortured with the sight of his skin. It was only a sliver of his bare skin, but it had set your heart racing. These days, you two spoke more often, usually about the kid. Well to clarify, 'more often' meant a few sentences a day. The Mandalorian was still so quiet. It was strange to you. As a child, your household was always bustling with life, loud and busy. To be honest, you were the most introverted member of your family, and found yourself seeking out peace and quiet more often than not. Now though, it was too quiet, days on end spent spiraling through space. Mando never told you your destination, not that it would have mattered anyways. You weren't very knowledgeable about the geography of the outer rim.

As you lie on your cot, you wonder if you will ever earn the chance to know who he really is. You know that he hides his emotions beneath a stoic personality almost as impenetrable as the beskar he wears. There’s a thought that festers in your heart every night as you lay in bed. Does the Mandalorian have any feelings for you beyond that of an employer and their employee?

You sigh.

You are being foolish and immature.

The Mandalorian is a good man, and he owes you nothing. He pays you fairly and treats you as an equal. Your mind is satisfied with that answer, but your heart protests the idea, holding out hope that he might think of you in the same way that you think of him. That is, with a fondness that you shouldn't be allowed to feel. Sometimes, you sit in the cockpit just to watch him fly. He seems more at ease there, as if he too belongs among the stars. It's a breathtaking view, watching streaks of light blur past the viewport, but somehow your gaze always falls upon him instead.

Sleep now, think later, you tell yourself.

And you do, sleep finally consuming you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There is a flash of light, a blinding presence beside you. It's a struggle to grasp a sense of your surroundings, your mind struggling to stay aware. Something is not right. You move to sit up, panic overtaking you when your limbs fail to comply, as if they are weighed down with lead.

Then you hear it.

The clink of beskar on beskar.

It's alright, he's here, he is going to protect you. But you couldn't be more wrong. The being that steps out of the blinding light and into the dimly lit area surrounding your cot is terrifying. It certainly looks like Mando, the armor is the same, but his helmet is wrong. It's all wrong! Two eyes of pure crimson shine through the visor of the helmet, a sickening laugh escaping the figure, and then it's advancing on your prone form. You realize with a start how exposed you are, only a long tunic covers your form, and your blaster is hanging on the wall behind the figure. It reaches out, it's touch burning your skin, first your cheek then down your neck. It speaks suddenly, the voice twisted and warped.

"What a pretty prize. All mine, and so submissive, not that you could run from me anyways." Then there is a blaster pressed underneath your chin.

"No, stop! Leave me alone!"

It only chuckles darkly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Mandalorian sighs deeply in the cockpit. You had disappeared behind the curtain that separated your cot from the main hold some time ago, the child already asleep. How you are able to coax him into slumber so easily Din will never comprehend. At least the quiet allows him some private time to clear his troubled mind. There was too much on his mind as of late. No, that was a lie. There was just one thing on his mind.

You.

You are a mystery, so caring and understanding. Too caring, he muses quietly. You are smart too, incredibly so, he was lucky to be able to recruit you into his service. But that's not what bothers him right now.

No…

Something else is troubling him. He is sure you possess some sort of magic, like the kid. It’s the only explanation. Why else does his heartbeat thud loudly in his chest at the sight of you? His skin feels as if it’s on fire, his mouth suddenly dry whenever your gaze lingers on him for a moment too long. Sorcery, as the armorer had said. But, he doesn't know how to confront you about the topic. He doesn't want to frighten you away.

He will approach you in the morning, he tells himself. Din chuckles for a moment, he doesn't really know when morning will come, with the length of time you three have spent in hyperspace. He just bases his schedule off of the inclinations of his female companion. When you sleep, so does he, when you are awake, so is he. Din always ensures he is awake before you. The child is fussy in the mornings, demanding attention as soon as he is awake, so he tries to keep the kid entertained as long as possible to you allow you a few extra scraps of sleep.

The hair on the back of his neck suddenly stands on end, a sense of unease consuming his thoughts. He taps his helmet, the infrared vision within his helmet prompting the grey ship to burst into color. Nothing seems out of place in the cockpit, but he can't ignore his instincts, so after rising from his chair Din moves towards the ladder, intending to check the rest of the ship from possible threats. He pauses at the top of the ladder, his whole body shocked into a rigid cast.

Your cries reach his ears, desperate and pleading, and every instinct screams at him to protect you. In retrospect, he’s not sure how he clears the ladder so quickly, because one second he’s standing in the cockpit, and in the next he’s at your side, hands hovering over you as uncertainty soars to the top of his mind. You are obviously in the throws of a nightmare, your body curling in on itself, sweat beading on your forehead, and your limbs thrashing about in an attempt at self-preservation. Din reaches out to grasp your wrist, but you tear it out of his hand, your cries becoming louder. He curses, both hands reaching out to pin yours to the cot, then he is settling his body over yours, using his weight to still your frantic movements.

"No, stop! Leave me alone! Stop! Please!" It's the first coherent thing you have said, and it squeezes at his heart. It feels like it is being crushed by the vice that he often saw the armorer use at the forge.

"Y/N!"

"No, please!"

"Y/N! Listen to me, you need to wake up."

"Stop, Stop!"

"Y/N!"

Your eyes finally snap open, and it's as if all the air has been pumped back into his lungs. You're alright, you're safe.

Oh, how wrong he was.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You gasp for air, feeling as though you're drowning.

It was just a dream.

But then your eyes open, only to come face-to-face with a beskar helmet. A startled cry escapes you and you're squeezing your eyes shut, turning your face into the pillow behind you to block your line of sight. The air is tense and strained and you feel suffocated by the weight resting on the lower half of your body. As your panic rises you attempt to wriggle free, another rush of fear flooding your body when you realize you're pinned down. Your movements become frantic, a sense of desperation overtaking you as your hands fight against the hold on your wrists. You're practically sobbing as you fight him, your body recoiling in fear just from the sight of his armor. Through the haze of panic, you think he's saying something but you can’t bring yourself to care. Every molecule in your body is screaming to be free.

With a burst of strength you rip your arms from his grip and frantically shove at his chest plate. Sithspit, you can’t even bear to look at him. The shoving becomes more frantic and finally you're free. Your body curls in on itself, finding solace in the tattered blanket and pillow that furnish your cot. You don't realize your crying until your sobs register in your ears. You are thoroughly humiliated, wishing that the floor would swallow you whole so that you never have to face the consequences of this situation.

You take a few heaving breaths, trying to gain your bearings, and when you hear a modulated voice you recoil further into your cot.

"Y/N, talk to me, are you alright?" You think he sounds concerned, but you can’t bring yourself to concentrate clearly enough to discern what emotions are placed on those words.

"Please, leave me alone." You manage, trying to gather your frazzled emotions.

"What happened?" You're cringing all over again at the sound of his voice, flashbacks from the nightmare plaguing your mind.

There's a hiss, then "I'm turning the lights off". Your head whips around. That wasn't Mando's voice. The hull is plunged into darkness before you even turn halfway, and you swallow nervously.

"It's ok, I'm right here."

"Mando?"

"Yes."

"You sound…different."

"I know, I'm not wearing my helmet." That knocks the breath right out of your lungs.

"Are you ok?" There is real concern there and it calms your erratic heartbeat.

"I…I think so."

"Nightmare?"

"….yes."

His footsteps echo in the durasteel hull as he moves towards you. You're sitting up now, and a hand reaches out to touch your arm. It startles you, your body recoiling on instinct. You can hear him sigh heavily.

"It was about me, wasn't it?" He sounds tired, weary, so unlike the Mandalorian you have come to know over the past several months. You can't lie to him. You have never been able to lie to him.

"Yes."

"Is there anything I can do?..."

You pause before you speak. A thought comes to mind immediately. It's too forward. You shouldn't ask, you can't.

"Will you stay with me?"

There is a sharp intake of breath, and you curse yourself. This is the longest conversation you have ever been able to hold with Mando, and now you've just embarrassed yourself with your lack of a brain-to-mouth filter.

"Ok."

That made sense, you dumb imbecile…Wait…What?!

You must have heard wrong, that was the only explanation.

"Just a moment."

Was there a problem with how fast your heart-rate just spiked? You must be having physical complications from the nightmare, or maybe you hit your head while you were struggling. A clang echoes through the hull, then another. You hold your breath for a second, then realize that he is probably removing his boots. Your cot is by no means spotless, but you appreciate the sentiment. He moves towards the cot again, and you slide over to make room for him. Unfortunately, you severely overestimate the amount of space on your cot, and approximately one millisecond later you are experiencing the weightless feeling of doom that always precedes an inevitable fall.

An arm curls around your waist at the last second, and you can't hold back your gasp of surprise. Mando hauls you back up onto the cot, and it's not until the entirety of your back comes into contact with the duraweave covering his warm chest that you realize he is not wearing a single scrap of beskar. Your breath exits your body in a shudder as you bask in the comforting warmth of his body.

It’s several minutes later when Mando finally breaks the silence. "Do you feel any better?"

There is no way he is being serious. If he was blind and deaf, he still wouldn't be able to miss how you practically melted into his touch. Why, that little...The light chuckle against your ear confirms your suspicions, and if this was any other situation you would be fuming at the insinuation. But this is Mando, your Mando, some traitorous part of your mind whispers. Despite your les than pleasant mood, you find yourself enjoying this tiny glimpse into the playful side of his personality.

"Much better, thank you Mando. You really don't have to stay if you don't want to." Why in farrik did you say that?!

"It's alright, I don't mind." Even if he is still teasing you, you don't care. You wouldn't give this up for all the credits on Coruscant.

"Y/n?"

"Yes, Mando."

He lets out a troubled sigh at your response, and you want to take back whatever you did, if only to hear him tease you one more time before he reverts back to his reserved, silent persona.

“I hope you feel...safe when you travel with me.”

“Of course I do.”

“You don’t have to lie to me.”

“I am telling the truth, really I am. I feel safer on this ship, with you, than I do anywhere else.”

"I…there is something I want to tell you."

"Alright."

"My name, my name isn't Mando." He chuckles a little, as if enjoying a private joke. "If it was, it would get a little bit confusing back at the covert." Then he takes a deep breath, as if to gather himself. You move your hand to rest over his arm, which is still draped across your waist, offering what little comfort you can. "My birth name is Din Djarin."

"Din." You test the word on your tongue, and you decide that it suits him well. Simple and straightforward, just like him. "I like it." He releases a hum in response and the way it rumbles through your back, tingles spreading to the top of your head and into your fingertips, has you feeling a pleasant buzz.

You dare to roll over in his arms, nuzzling further into his chest, and your heart swells when he accommodates your change in position by moving one hand to the small of your back, the other cradling your head gently. This moment is so precious, so delicate, and you refrain from speaking or moving, in the hopes of prolonging it for as long as possible.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You must have fallen asleep, because when you wake up there is a shrill beeping coming from the cockpit. With a groan you nuzzle further into your pillow, the arm that’s slung over the pillow flexes to draw it closer to your body. You idly wonder if Mando finally decided to activate the heating system since there is a pleasant warmth engulfing your body.

What's taking him so long? Normally, he spends most of his time in the cockpit, so it seems odd that he hasn't yet attended to the issue.

"Are you gonna get that or am I?" The question is spoken by your ear.

You swear you have never been more awake in your entire life. You shoot straight up but you don’t get very far, a warm hand on your back coaxing you back down against an equally warm body.

"Did you sleep well?"

Osik. Now you remember. The nightmare, Mando holding you gently while you lay on your cot in shock. Oh, wait. You mean Din.

Your eyes finally open and you realize that the artificial lighting is still shut off. That's right, Din isn't wearing his helmet either. As you catalog your surroundings, a blush rises to your cheeks. During the night, you seem to have become very…cuddly. Your head is resting on his very firm chest, an arm slung across his upper body with your hand on his shoulder. One of your legs is thrown over his waist, and your face burns when you register his hand resting innocently on your thigh. It wouldn't be so bad if you were actually wearing pants, but your lazy ass had crawled into bed last night with only a threadbare tunic to cover your form. Suddenly you are even more thankful for the darkness shrouding your figures, all too aware that the tunic had ridden up over your ass during the night. Din's other hand is still nestled around the back of your head, his fingers occasionally massaging at the base of your scalp since your hair is tied up into a haphazard bun.

You have yet to answer him, and your brain sputters as it attempts to think up a witty response.

"Yes, still a little tired though." What kind of answer was that, Y/N? Wow, such a charmer. What you really wanted to say was better than ever.

"That’s to be expected." Kriff, you are hearing his morning voice. You think you might just die on the spot. Hey, at least you'll be ending on a high note.

The beeping still echoes loudly through the hull. "You should get that before the kid wakes up." You nudge softly. He just grunts.

"You can get it, I'm sure it's nothing pressing." He finally responds.

"Hey, this is your ship, you get it." You've always been grumpy in the morning, never an early riser. You shove at him gently to enforce your request but it doesn't even phase him. "Din, come on." Then you're shoving a little harder, feeling victorious when you feel his body move across the cot slightly. You remove the leg from across his waist, using both your feet to assist in shoving him off of the cot. He just chuckles at your efforts, seemingly amused with your irritation. All of a sudden, there is a loud thud and a groan followed by utter silence. Your heart jumps into your throat, you didn't mean to hurt him! You shimmy to the edge of the cot, looking over even though you can't see a thing, hoping that he's not injured from the fall. Stupid, stupid, stupid, you chastise yourself. And then your worry turns to anger when you hear a hearty laugh bubbling up from the floor. How dare he laugh at you.

In any other situation you would be overjoyed at the sound of his laughter, but for some reason you feel incredibly cross this morning. You huff at his mirth, swing your legs over the edge of the cot and stand, intending to investigate the problem in the cockpit yourself. However, the moment you are on your feet you are suddenly plowed into by a warm, firm chest. Din muffles a curse as he catches you, tugging you upright before you slam into the unforgiving durasteel floor.

"What are you doing?" You demand, feeling like a fool. Your emotions are still frazzled after the restless night, and you know you're being unreasonably cross but you can't help yourself.

"Just checking on the cockpit, verd'ika."

The word is unfamiliar, but before you can question the meaning he's moving past you towards the ladder. Now that he's gone, you hang your head, ashamed of your behavior. He was being far too kind to receive such harsh treatment from you. He did laugh at me though. Without his presence, you feel a little silly standing in the hull by yourself, so you decide to crawl back into your cot. You turn, fumbling a little in the dark, and hold a hand out to feel your way around. The tip of your fingertips finally brush the cot, and you surge forward, eager to slide underneath your blanket.

Your foot ricochets off something round and extremely solid, and in the next second you’re hopping around on one foot as curses spill from your lips. Stupid helmet, damned Mandalorian, kriffing alarm, frikking nightmares. If this isn't a cursed day you didn't know what to say. You finally set your foot back down and feel around for the position of the helmet as cautiously as you can with your injured foot. Then you give it a solid kick with your, as of yet, uninjured foot. The clang that echoes through the hull is extremely satisfying, and there's a smug smirk tugging at the corners of your lips.

"Are you done abusing my helmet?"

You let out a surprised yelp when he catches you by surprise, but you can't even bring yourself to feel ashamed.

"Just checking to make sure it was still up to snuff. I don't want you to sustain an injury to your head while collecting a bounty."

"Somehow I find that hard to believe."

"Well, I can’t imagine why."

There is a long pause, and you are worried you’ve made him uncomfortable with your banter.

"Do you want to talk about last night?"

As a matter of fact, you do not want to talk about last night. You never want to talk about last night. You just hope that the memory of the nightmare will fade away as soon as you throw yourself into your work.

"I know it can be difficult to share a painful experience. If you ever need to talk about it, I'm here."

"Maybe later?"

"Of course. Now if you don't mind, I am going to need my helmet back."

"Oh, right." You blush as you bend down to retrieve it from the durasteel floor. "Here you go." You try not to hyper-fixate on the brush of skin against skin that accompanies the action of handing over his helmet.

"I am going to turn the lights on now if that's ok."

"That's fine."

You blink your eyes a little when he activates the lights. The first thing you realize is that you are much closer than you expected. In fact you have to crane your neck to meet the visor of his helmet. All of a sudden your throat is dry and you are all too aware of your state of undress. Then you notice that his duraweave suit is extremely form-fitting. Now, when you say form-fitting, you mean he is probably wearing the same suit he wore as a teenager. Every curve of his body, every muscle, is visible to your eyes. You suck in a breath. If you let your gaze wander down just a little. Kriffing hell, you need to get your heart rate checked. Does he know that you are looking at him? He must. Wait...does he like it? You sidle a little closer, and your ego soars when you hear his breath hitch through the modulator. Another step and you're separated by a millimeter of air. You crane your neck back further, gazing into the visor.

"You think you could turn the lights off again, just for a second?"

He doesn't respond verbally, but his hand moves to the side of his helmet and you're surrounded by darkness once again.

You stretch out a hand, breath catching when your fingertips graze the duraweave over his chest. Not wanting to alarm him, you press down gently at first, then his hand is settling over yours, urging you to open your palm and splay your fingers across his chest. You dare to repeat the action with your other hand, basking in the feel of his warmth beneath your palms. Then you’re sliding them up, higher, higher, until they curve around the slopes of his shoulders. You breathe once, twice. You swear you can feel his pulse thrumming beneath your fingers.

"Din." His name escapes your lips like a sigh.

Both his hands move to cover yours, guiding them the rest of the way up, until they settle on the sides of his helmet. He's shaking, you note. His hands are trembling as they cover yours. Then you realize that you are shaking too.

"Is it ok if I….Can I….I don't want to…" You exhale shakily. "Can I lift it just a little?" Your heartbeat is roaring loudly in your ears, you're not sure you'll be able to hear him, even if he does respond.

"Please." He whispers.

You are not sure who moves first, but you will never forget how gentle he is in the moment. His thumbs caress the back of your knuckles, the action so tender, so unlike the hunter he claims to be. There is a pause as he bends down to accommodate your shorter height, his hands guiding yours as he tilts the helmet upwards until his breath is fanning across your lips. It’s absolutely sinful how soft his lips are, how gently he kisses you. The kiss itself is a little clumsy, the lack of experience apparent in both of your actions. But after a few seconds you develop a rhythm.

His hands abandon yours to curl around your waist and neck, and you learn that if you tilt your head just a little, your lips will slot into place like two pieces of a puzzle. You only pull away once your legs begin burning, taxed from standing on your toes the whole time. But Din is having none of that, he bends down further, your back bowing slightly at the change of position, and then he’s kissing you so thoroughly that you’re certain you might pass out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eventually, you two separate, the cries of the child finally demanding your attention. Din pulls away first, planting a kiss on your forehead before he lets the helmet fall back into place over his lips. The lights are switched back on, and after a longing glance you both move to resume your duties as usual.

When Din turns to collect his armor from the floor, you stand next to your cot with the ploy of folding the blanket and retrieving your day clothes. You feel a little bit ashamed of your devious thought process until he bends over. His firm backside is completely exposed to your eyes, and you can't help but admire the curve of his-

"So am I allowed to stare at your ass too?"

"Din!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Verd’ika: little warrior

#the mandalorian x reader #mando reader fluff #the mandalorian fanfiction #mandalorian x you #reader insert #din dijarin x reader #pedro pascal x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin fluff #star wars imagine #i'm actually really proud of this #first fic

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