#so that would be my strategy too v likely

[coriosbunni]

⋆° 𐙚 ₊🕯️ೀ₊°⋆ - on to you

pairings: academy!coriolanus snow x academy!fem!reader warnings: smut, possessive + obsessive coriolanus !!! , toxic coriolanus, breeding, p in v, unprotected sex, fingering, public sex, summary: kind of a part two to " just lay there " but can be read alone ! basically corio and y/n developed a friends w benefits type relationship and they decided to go to a gala with separate dates. authors note : i personally recommend listening to haunted by beyonce during this hehehe, i just love that song sm, it makes me think of coriolanus.. also def listen to "all mine" by brent faiyaz it def suits this and "ultraviolence "by lana del rey ehehe i literally have a whole playlist dedicated to snow so im recommending them <3

you have been having this friends with benefits relationship with your best friend for months now. no one had a clue what was going on between you guys. especially you, you always wondered what it meant to have a fwb with your best friend since childhood. but of course you were always too shy to bring it up just in case it messes everything up. so you kept it safe.

after hooking up plenty of times, coriolanus has gotten pretty comfortable with your body and more secure. probably because he knows that he's the only one that has ever satisfied you. he was so relaxed and calm, while here you were thinking what this meant between yall.

with the end of the year gala coming up, you saw no reason for you two to attend together. after all, you weren't actually together. still, this reality bothered you

what you didn't know was that coriolanus had been building up the courage to ask you to the gala together. it shouldn't be a big deal, but he was hesitating so much. he had put off asking you every time he saw you. the thought of you rejecting him bothered him to no end. it would actually be the end of him.

it was two weeks before the gala that he finally gotten over himself to ask. as he walked down the halls of the academy, he spotted you at your locker talking to sejanus.

"so would you like to go with me to the gala? my mom is insisting i go and i don't want to be alone during that insufferable event with our annoying classmates" he hears you ask sejanus once he was in earshot.

he stood there a few steps behind you, a wave of anger washed over him as he processed what he had just heard. his jaw tightened, and his eyes narrowed, "how could you ask sejanus? you belong to me. and since when were you friends??" he asks himself

he couldn’t help but feel a tang of jealousy as sejanus accepts, glad to attend the gala with a close friend.

your willingness to go with someone other than him, aggravated him. how could you want someone like sejanus to the gala instead of him?a guy from district 2 thats family isn't as well-connected and affluent as the snows. but with no worry, he's quick to come up with a way to get back at you.

"y/n. sejanus. have you seen clemmie?" the boy with blonde locks asked the pair. he blatantly asked them, not even with a hi or a hello.

he refused to look at you after addressing you, solely interested in knowing where clemensia was so he could ask an important question.

of course you noticed the lack of eye contact and his odd behavior, "i believe she was headed to her strategy and tactics class" sejanus remarks. coriolanus nods and says a quick thank you before rushing to catch clemensia.

you look at coriolanus chase after clemensia, hurt and worry bubbling in you chest. you didn’t need to ask your best friend any questions, call it intuition, but you knew what coriolanus needed clemensia for.

you couldn’t help but feel a surge of jealousy at the possibility of your corio taking clemensia to the gala. even though you had already asked someone else to accompany you, it didn't sit well with you.

coriolanus couldn't stop thinking about how angry he was at y/n. he was so mad he couldn't get himself to converse with you, but he needed to be calm so as to not freak out clemensia.

two weeks had passed without y/n and coriolanus sleeping together at all. the conversation between the two people was superficial and lacked any real substance. their pettiness got the best of them, and neither ever mentioned why the other had invited another person to the gala. they both ignored the ache they felt in their hearts upon knowing the other would go to a gala with someone else.

ʚ day of the gala ɞ 🐈‍⬛ ྀི . . .

y/n enters the hallowed halls of the venue, black gate protecting the valuable and expensive statues in the estate. the academy decided to use a section of the school’s art museum to hold the event.

the entrance led to a room with a barrel-vaulted skylight, textured roman travertine marble columns, and greek inspired capitals. it’s a space so big it feels divine. excitement was slowly building up within her, she did her best not to worry about coriolanus and just enjoy the night.

sejanus and y/n walks up the white concrete stairs, arms interlocked. a white pocket square on his left pocket to match her white silky backless dress. there was no doubt in the world they looked elegant and beautiful together.

coriolanus was getting drinks for him and clemensia, when he makes eye contact with y/n as she enters the venue. his eyes watching her every move, distracted by how the dress hugs her form in all the right places. the dress is accentuating her beautiful features that he has had the luck of touching from their nights together.

not to mention your exposed back, god it made it hard for him not to just grab you and take you in front of every one right there. the time away from each other was catching up to him, filling his days with a longing that seemed to grow stronger with each passing moment.

he turned his attention back to clemensia and headed to her. she stood in her red dress, covered in gold jewels that pairs well with her styled black hair. the white rose pinned to coriolanus's lapel perfectly complemented the white dress of the girl he desired the most.

the night went by without him spending at least a moment thinking about you. when he sees you laughing at whatever sejanus said to you, he'd think about how that should be you laughing at his jokes.

upon noticing your solitude, he abruptly interrupted Clemensia mid-conversation, using it as an excuse to excuse himself. he walks straight to you, not wasting a single moment.

consumed by jealousy, he couldn't bear to let it linger any longer, feeling it overwhelm him completely.

he stands right in front of you. "y/n can we talk?" he asks, masking his anger but you could tell he had enough.

"why? what is there to talk about?" you couldn't believe him. he didn't say a single word to you during the entire night, even when you had came by him and clemensia. he couldn't possibly think you'd be okay with this treatment.

you scoff in his face and coriolanus took this chance to put his hand on your back to guide you outside. you start protesting but it was quickly shut done when he shoots you a face. his eyebrows were furrowed and his eyes had this look in them.

it reminded you of when he'd be fucking into you with all his might.

he leads you outside to a quiet corner, far from the sounds of a hundred or so academy students drunk off their ass.

his jaw clenches, a flash of jealousy darkening his expression before he speaks again. "don't play dumb, y/n. I saw you with him," his tone accusing and bitter.

your heart sinks at his words, the weight of his jealousy heavy in the air between you. "and what if you saw me with him?" you counter, your own anger rising to match his. "what right do you have to be angry?"

he scoffs, his eyes narrowing with resentment. "right? you're kidding, right?" he retorts, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "you know damn well why i'm angry."

you shake your head, frustration bubbling up inside you. "i can't believe you," you mutter, unable to comprehend his possessiveness. you feel a surge of frustration and resentment rising within you, the weight of his jealousy suffocating. "you made it pretty clear where we stand."

his eyes darken, a flash of anger crossing his features, but also a glimmer of hurt. "don't do this, y/n," he warns, his voice low and dangerous. "you know damn well I'm not the only one at fault here."

your breath catches in your throat at his words, the tension between you escalating to a fever pitch. "maybe not," you concede, your voice barely above a whisper, "but you didn't have to ignore me all night."

as the tension mounts between you, his eyes burning with intensity. "you have no idea how hard it was for me to hold myself back," he admits, his voice low and filled with desperation. "seeing you with him... it made me want to tear him apart."

you feel a surge of adrenaline coursing through your veins, the air thick with unspoken desire and pent-up frustration. "Then why didn't you?" you challenge, your body trembling with anticipation.

he closes the distance between you in an instant, his hands finding itself on your waist, his touch electric against your skin. "because I knew I had to make you understand," he murmurs, his lips brushing against yours in a feather-light caress. "you're mine, rose. and no one else's."

his words send a shiver down your spine, igniting a firestorm of longing and need deep within you. "am i?" you ask, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart. you finally ask him what you've been wanting since the beginning of your arrangement.

and then, in a rush of passion and desperation, his lips crash against yours, fierce and demanding, consuming you in a whirlwind of emotion. there's anger and frustration in the way he kisses you, a primal need to possess and claim you as his own.

he pulls away, catching his breath, "you've been mine since the day i met you bunny," his face still close to yours. his lips connect to yours, dominating you with his kisses. owning you and devouring you as his love for you soars.

he pushes you to a wall, your back against it. he bunches up your dress at your hips and his fingers find itself on your core. as he feels your wetness, he chuckles to himself, glad to still see the effect he has on you. "all this for me baby? hmm?" he asks.

you nod at him, unable to speak because of your trembling figure thats desperate for his touch. he tuts in respond, "come on princess use your words."

he moves to pull your panties to the side, now touching your bare clit, making your thighs tremble, “i need— fuck, i need you— inside.”

he kisses the sides of your neck, his aura radiating dominance and his touch was electrifying, each motion of his fingers inside you ignited a fire through your veins. you moan at the feeling of his fingers stretching you out— preparing you to take his big cock once again.

despite the amount of times you've hooked up with him, you were always enveloping his cock like a vice. he continued pumping his fingers in and out of your heat. your hands tangling in his hair as you pull him closer, lost in the heat of the moment. it's a battle of wills and desires, a collision of two souls bound together by passion and longing.

he takes his fingers out of your and leads it up to your mouth, waiting for you to suck on his fingers like the good little girl you are.

and you do. you open your mouth, and taste yourself on his fingers. you match his gaze while doing the lewd act— making his cock harden even more, if it was even possible, at the sight.

the image of you sucking his fingers was his breaking point, he positions himself between your thighs, his hands firmly grabbing both of your legs and wrapping it around him, giving him more access to your wet cunt.

he locked eyes with you, a mix of desire and possessiveness swimming in his gaze. "you're mine, bunny," he growled, his voice filled with a primal possessive drive.

he groans at the feeling of you around him. you missed the feeling of his big cock inside you, "fuck me—please fuck me hard" you repeatedly beg.

he moves closer to kiss you and thrust in you fast and hard just like you asked. he was consumed by a deep, unrelenting desire, every moment with your desperate plea for more, as if he could never get enough of you.

you match his intensity with equal fervor, tugging on his hair harder.

"missed this tight pussy so much, princess," he whispers in your ear as his thrusts faster.

your moans were a symphony of desire, each sound escaping your lips like a soft, melodic plea for more. they were raw and unrestrained, filled with a longing that resonated deep within him.

every moan seemed to vibrate through the air, a testament to the intense pleasure she was experiencing, and each one sent a shiver of exhilaration down his spine.

"you take me so well bunny— f-fuck," he lets out, his pace unrelenting, determined to make you cum on his cock. he whispers "mine" over and over again, his voice a husky, possessive murmur that sent shivers down her spine.

each repetition, timed with his thrusts, was filled with a fierce, undeniable claim, as if he was branding you with every movement.

his grip on your legs tightened, and he groaned as he felt you submit to him completely, his body driving into yours in a primal and possessive rhythm.

"is this what you want princess? taking everything i give you with such good obedience," his own desire reigniting at the sound of her moans. his pace picked up again.

coriolanus noticed the way you nod urgently at him, unable to speak from how good he was fucking you. his grin widened at this, more praises rolling off his tongue. "now say it back to me bunny."

"'m your obedient little girl" you respond with pleasure and excitement in your eyes.

he places a kiss on your neck, his tongue tracing a line up to your earlobe, "tell me who you belong to."

"i-i belong to you corio" you moan loud, his dominance and possessiveness turning you on even more.

his movements become more urgent, more forceful, the sound of your bodies slapping together just a few steps away from the gala.

"fuck! i wanna—wanna cum for you please" you begged, nearing your release

coriolanus groans lowly in response, his own body teetering on the edge as he continues to drive into you. " i know baby—i can feel you tighten around me"

"you're so close. you're going to cum for me." he breathes, his eyes lock with yours, possessing your gaze and your body. "but you're not coming until i say so." you groan in response, unable to hold it any longer and you shake your head no in response.

he grinned wickedly at your inability to contain yourself, "you can do it bunny, you can take it for me," he encourages you.

his words push you further—submitting to his cruelty, drunk at the pleasure that he's giving you. "good bunny," he praised huskily, his voiced edged with desire.

"that's my good girl. take it all for me. just a little longer. don't be too loud now, we wouldn't want anyone catching us don't we?" he asks, his pace both punishing and deliciously slow; a mixture of pleasure and edging.

coriolanus moaned at the sight of your struggle, his own body pulsating with a mix of desire and need. his gaze darkened further as he watched you fighting against the waves of pleasure. "do you wanna cum for me?"

"y-yes please i want to so badly" you begged

coriolanus couldnt hold back any longer; the sight of your begging, the sound of your moans, it was all too much. with a low groan, he gave in to your shared desire. "now, bunny. cum for me."

his body tense, and as your climax hit you both powerfully and intensely, your bodies shook with wave upon wave of blinding pleasure. coriolanus held onto you tightly, claiming you as his own. "thats my good girl," he groaned, his voice a mix of breathless satisfaction and possessive love.

coriolanus held you as your bodies rode out the waves of your climax, his touch was reverent as he traced lazy patterns along your sides, his lips placing gentle kisses on any exposed skin he could find.

"are you okay baby?" he murmured softly, his voice warm and affectionate. "more than okay," you smiled up at him. content and pleasure running your veins.

coriolanus chucked softly, his heart swelling with fondness for you. he pulls out of you and fixes both you and him up before heading back inside but not without a kiss on your forehead.

hand in hand, you walk back into the gala, the warmth and light enveloping them as you stepped inside, ready to celebrate your newfound love amidst the festive atmosphere.

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #tom blyth #coriolanus smut #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus fanfiction #tom blyth x reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus x y/n #coriolanus x you #corionalus snow smut #coriolanus snow angst #coryo snow smut #coquette #tbosas #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes smut #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #thg tbosas #thg #thg fanfiction #ballad of songbirds and snakes

[raraeavesmoriendi]

I just finished last night and I have some questions for people who have read mike bockoven’s fantasticland -

[for those who have not:

- take a climate change-charged hurricane that’s the worst noaa has seen in recent memory and the first to hit daytona beach since 1960

- throw it at a Not-Disney-World Florida theme park with major national nostalgia, where a bunch of the Not-Disney College Program kids and some adult staff have opted to get paid extra to stay inside the park through the storm to prevent looting

- watch as people trapped within the park for more than a month - still with plenty of food and water, mind you - lose their minds, fragment into factions, and begin going full battle royale/lord of the flies on each other

- tell the whole thing testimonial style with different witnesses interviewed each chapter, a la World War Z, with some insanely unreliable narrators to boot

if that sounds like your kind of horror novel, give it a go. it’s not perfect (especially when they call the factions ‘tribes,’ which. yikes.) but I tore through it in like, two days.]

okay, questions below, spoilers for the novel:

1. …is the pirate who comforted the little boy who was evacuating, in interview three with the kansas city dad, Brock Hockley? am I reading too much into that?

like. I don’t remember that we ever get a description of him, so I don’t know about the “weird beard/mustache thing” the dad describes, but just. the emphasis put on “I’d like to shake his hand. I might even give him a hug.” feels so purposeful. part of me wonders if that’s supposed to add some further hindsight horror to what happened in the park and then his prison interview. he says early that he found making little kids happy a fulfilling and rewarding part of his job as a character actor in the park, and we know other people found him charismatic enough to follow, not just because they were scared but bc he could have these moments of surface-level charm or rationality (the code, etc.)

idk, I just thought it felt a bit too one-off to read it as Just Some Guy. but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I could be wrong.

2. we never get any hint as to the identity of the warthog couple, right? I remember the FNG found their masks discarded outside the World Circus, they’re first mentioned in the book as hanging around/inside the circus, and the guy from the Dreamland Hotel interview talks about still getting postcards from them whenever he moves (scariest part of the whole book for me ngl), so we can assume they were walked out with the rest of the survivors. I just wasn’t sure if there was anything else to do with them that I missed.

I’m still thinking about the fact that they turned the Dreamland lobby into a torture theater. like… who was that for? just for them, or did they have an audience? probably not, right? since they weren’t affiliated with anyone? but still. also, who were they taking there, just people they could pick off???

hmm. I wonder if any casualties thought to be faction-related were actually theirs.

3. in Travis’s interview (the guy with the body camera), do we know who the girl is that they found in the crawlspace of the employee locker room? the one whispering “Mommy” over and over? there were enough survivors left that she could be someone we didn’t encounter before, but I just thought I’d check that there wasn’t some other interview where someone describes a girl running off to hide. the Anonymous shopgirl mentioned one of the girls disappeared during the cannon raid on Pirate turf with the Deadpool soldiers before they turned on each other, so I wondered if it could be her.

4. Brock in his interview mentions that Sam Garlieck’s people were terrorizing others during the power outage in the storm shelter, specifically mentioning an instance of sexual assault. does anyone else corroborate this in their interview? Adam Jakes sounds skeptical, saying his research would have turned that up by now, but the only people we really hear from about that period are Sam himself (obviously an unreliable narrator, like, duh) and Stuart Dietz, who mentioned that Sam definitely killed Maria Flynn. did anyone see any other mentions of this anywhere, or did we just move straight out of the storm shelters and never talk about them again once we get to the park? is this just Brock being an unreliable narrator himself to justify how things went down? (but then why would he need to be, when Bryce definitely died?? although he himself says that wasn’t as big a motivator as people writing about him want it to be, so maybe that’s moot)

5. not really a question just an observation: Stuart Dietz, the maintenance guy/Mole Man, is the only person to get two interviews in the entire novel. Not Sam, not Jill, not Brock. I don’t know, I just find that really interesting why he was selected to come back twice. I know part of it is to describe the botched demolition, but I’m also wondering what effect it has on the novel that the only person we hear from multiple times is an older dude from one of the pointedly non-aggressive factions.

6. in looking through posts already in the tag, I don’t quite follow some readers’ comments that there was an attempt at a “cell phones bad!!” message here. I feel like every time it’s come up, it’s been shown by Adam Jakes (author stand-in) to be minimizing what really happened and looking for an easy scapegoat. I don’t think that was part of the intended story at all, I think it’s just been stated over and over as people using an excuse to not think themselves capable of similar violence. just wanted to put that out there.

anyway. one of my favorite things about novels with multi-witness perspectives is finding threads that leave off in one person’s story and pick up in another, so I’m going through my digital copy and highlighting all the places two different interviews tie together (Austin’s fate, the guy who botched branding Adrienne as part of his Pirate initiation, etc.)

if anyone else has noticed anything interesting, I’m all ears 👀

#fantasticland #mike bockoven #horror novels #it’s been a while that I’ve been so taken by a book that I stop to write a post about it #especially when I have housekeeping chores looming over my shoulder #glenn guignol is my favorite to no one’s surprise #his name was a delightful reference and the character delivered on that #if I had to do the v thing the novel calls out and over-identify with a faction it would be the Freaks #bc I feel like I’ve had to build myself up to be scarier than I was to be left alone at various times when I was younger #so that would be my strategy too v likely #although then I would have to grapple with if it only spread further panic and hysteria so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[honeyhotteoks]

always only you (c.sc)

summary: the date was terrible, awful even, but you just can't call your brother to pick you up. you have to call his best friend instead.

note: hi um....... i'm back and a seventeen stan now????? don't worry, i'm still working on ateez fic, but s.coups has taken hold of my brain and i needed to get this one out there so..... pls enjoy

warnings: non idol!seungcheol, fem!reader, older brother mingyu, seungcheol is mingyus bff, reader is called a sl*t in a mean way by her shitty date, v protective cheol, reckless driving, unprotected sex (wrap it up dont be like them), reader is curvy and descriptors like full, thick, etc. are used throughout, makeouts, grinding, cheol is obsessed with pussy, i mean fr he's a bonafide wap enjoyer, an oral aficionado of the wettest kind, anyways there's oral sex f receiving, hand stuff, rough fingering, rough but passionate sex, use of baby and princess, creampies b/c lbr he's gotta, anyways they're obsessed with each other

pairings: s.coups x reader

genre: smut and more smut, childhood friends to lovers

word count: 14.2K

It was a bad date. 

Not the worst date you’ve ever had, granted, but still pretty up there in terms of terrible. He left an hour ago, the minute you interrupted his monologue to tell him that you were pretty sure things weren’t going to work out. You’ve never had someone leave in the middle of a date before, but then again, you’ve never actually told someone the date was bad in the middle either. 

Not being able to find the right guy is starting to feel embarrassing. It’s been years since your last relationship and months since you even had a second date. Naively, you had had such a good feeling about tonight and having to be proven wrong at breakneck speed before you even got your entrees feels like some kind of poetic karma for something you must have done. You just wish for once you had kept your mouth shut, but your good feeling had been infectious and your excitement about the date bubbled up out of you to your friends and your coworkers. 

You just wish you never told Mingyu. 

I have a really good feeling about him. That’s what you told your brother on the phone a few hours ago. We’ve been talking for a few weeks, I think you’ll really like him.

Stupid. 

You should have known he was on the rebound from the suspiciously large gap in photos on his Instagram. You should have known he was just trying to sleep with you from the minute he commented on your dress, from the way he touched your shoulder for too long for the first hug. You should have known on top of all of that that he would be boring from his joking non-answer when you asked about his most recent read. Sometimes it takes all of those things wrapped up tightly together and shoved directly in your face from across a dining room table to know for sure. 

You just wish you never said a word to Mingyu. You don’t want to see that look in his eyes when you tell him he wasn’t the right guy. His eyes always go soft, mouth downturned, and it kills you every time because he means it when he says - You’ll find the right guy soon, anyone would be crazy to not love you. 

Tonight you really don’t want pity, you don’t think you can handle it. 

“Are you ready for the check?” The server’s voice snaps you right out of your thoughts and you look up at his sympathetic smile. 

“Sorry,” You manage, “yes,”

“No rush,” He lies, immediately producing the leather billfold and sliding it across the tablecloth. 

The floor doesn’t start to drop out from beneath you until you open it, despite having to sit here and eat your pasta alone. This place is expensive, more expensive than you thought. 

Your eyes run through the bill. Four cocktails, two appetizers, two entrees, one slice of cherry cheesecake. The bills your date left on the table just barely covers three cocktails. You can’t afford this. The prices here were probably nothing for your date given how much he talked about his extremely smart investing strategies, but not for you. 

You do fast math, panic math. 

After paying the bill you’ll have 9,600 won in your debit account. You get paid tomorrow so it’s not the scariest number you’ve ever seen in your account, but it’s definitely not enough for a taxi home. 

Your stomach churns. 

You pay the bill quickly, quietly, the server’s hovering presence by your shoulder enough to tell you there is in fact a considerable rush. Your card is returned to you in moments, and he places a brown paper bag in front of you, “There’s an extra slice of cheesecake in there for you,” he says, “I’m sorry about your date.”

He’s gone before you can say thank you. 

You suppose you can’t really sit inside anymore if you’ve paid the bill and you’re holding a to-go bag, so you step out into the chilly night air. It’s been raining lately, but barely. It’s been cloudy more than anything, and yet here you are walking outside into the cold night air and a late autumn storm of icy rain. 

Your date was a special kind of bastard for leaving you stranded a half hour from your apartment in a storm like this. 

The comments he made about you, about your dress and the way it fits flick through your mind and your jaw draws tightly shut. If you had had the wherewithal in that moment to slap him or toss a glass of water in his face you would have, but instead you sat frozen with your stomach in knots. 

It takes you one flash of rage to scroll through your phone and delete the three dating apps installed, and then you open up your contacts and scroll for your brother’s name. He doesn’t live too far from here, and you know he’s probably out with some of his friends, but if you’re lucky maybe he’s close by. Your finger hovers over Mingyu’s contact, but you can't quite make the call. 

You’re twenty-six, you should be grown up enough to get home by yourself after a bad date and not have to call him to rescue you. Embarrassment floods you, the idea of admitting you can’t afford the taxi tonight just sinks into your bones. You love your brother so much, but the idea of seeing him look at you the way he sometimes does and then slip money into your purse for you to find at home makes you want to cry. You’d call him and you’d tell him you’re returning it and he’d play dumb - What money, y/n? I didn’t put that there, maybe it’s like when you find 50,000 won in your old jeans?

No, you can’t call him. You can’t go over to his lovely little apartment with his absolutely lovely fiance and cry about the sorry state of your romantic life. Nothing about that will make you feel better in this moment, absolutely nothing. 

You scroll away from his contact and you think about anyone else you could call, but there’s only one person who keeps coming to mind. There’s no way he’ll pick up, not when he sees your number on his phone, not after the way you’ve treated him for the past year, but his apartment really isn’t that far from here and if he doesn’t hate your guts you know he’ll at least give you a ride. 

The rain picks up, pelting you hard enough that you have to duck back under the measly lip of the restaurants roof for what cover it provides, and you don’t realize you’re well and truly crying until your cheeks feel warm and wet and you can’t get a full breath, but here you are. Stranded alone, broke, and loveless in an apparently ill fitting dress, and there’s only one person’s voice you want to hear even if it’s just his stupid voicemail box. 

Tears hiccup out of you as you dial, cold fingers shaking as you try to press the numbers you’ve had memorized by heart since you were thirteen and got your first cell phone. 

The phone rings twice before he answers, “Hey, you,” 

The easy sound of his voice makes your tears come faster. Your breath hitches in your chest, “Cheol?”

“y/n?” His voice shifts, “Are you crying?”

“I’m,” You hiccup again, “I’m sorry,”

“Hey,” He tries again, “y/n, is that you?” 

“I messed up,” Your head is starting to throb and you press your eyes closed, leaning back against the cold wall of the restaurant and hiding as much of your body under the overhang of the roof as possible, “I’m sorry to call,”

“That’s okay,” Seungcheol says, his voice sounding strained, “what happened, princess?” 

He hasn’t called you that in years, not since you were fifteen and carrying a torch for him. Not since you made Mingyu tell him to stop. 

“C-can you come get me?” You wish you could just stop crying.

“Tell me where you are,” He answers immediately, and despite the rain you hear the sound of his car keys. 

You give him the name of the restaurant, the closest cross streets, all blubbered out between fat tears and rain drops. 

“That’s…” He sounds distant suddenly and then his voice reconnects, “twenty minutes, okay? I’ll be there in twenty minutes, princess, just take a deep breath,” 

You drag in a shaky breath, “Cheol,” you scrub the tears from under your eyes, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know who else to call,” 

“Me,” He says, his car starting up in the background, “you always call me if you need me,” 

You haven’t seen him in almost a year, barely talked to him outside of sending reactions to each other's Instagram stories, but he’s coming. 

The way you fell away from him was gradual at first, and then an intentional self preservationist wall. Mingyu had introduced his best friend to a girl, and despite your high school crush being supposedly dead and buried, you weren’t prepared for what Choi Seungcheol in love would look like. You started being busier and busier until his calls went unanswered and then eventually his calls just stopped altogether. Mingyu told you later that the relationship didn’t last, but the damage was done and in the end it was just easier not to reach out first. 

You can’t believe he picked up the phone and you can’t believe the first thing he heard from you in a year was hysterical crying. Taking a set of deep, steadying breaths you wipe away the wetness from your cheeks. Your date had hurt your feelings, but you only let it last for a minute. You wouldn’t let a man with such a fragile ego get into your head, and besides, you’ve always liked this dress. 

Seungcheol makes it to you in fifteen minutes flat. He’s broken at least six traffic laws to get to you, including running a solidly red, redlight, but he really doesn’t care. 

He’s seen you cry before, plenty of times. When you skinned your knee at seven or that time he and Mingyu played a prank when you were eleven, tricking you into thinking you were home alone on Halloween night. He’s seen you cry at movies and at videos of puppies and the sound of moving music, and he remembers your eyes full of glassy tears watching Mingyu graduate college. He remembers the sound of it when your grandmother died when you were nineteen, the way your shoulders shook and your breath wheezed as you hid your face tightly in your brother's chest while he looked on feeling so, so helpless. 

Seungcheol remembers all of it, but he’s never heard you sound like you did tonight.  

Mingyu had said you had a date. Earlier in Seungcheol’s night at a bar not far from his apartment, his best friend mentioned it off hand. Mingyu said it like an afterthought as he answered one of your texts. Seungcheol tried not to notice the way his hand tightened on his beer can, enough to make the aluminum crack inwards on itself where his thumb dug into the cool metal. He tried not to think too much about what that meant, just like he’s been trying not to think too much about you at all lately. 

Now his mind is racing, threading the pieces together as the wet road whips by. The threadiness of your voice turns synonymous with panic in his mind and now all he can think about is how he’ll find you when he gets there. He goes over the facts he knows while he stops behind a small block of traffic, his knuckles white as he grips the wheel. 

A date, a bad date, a date you needed a ride away from. The kind of date you couldn’t tell your brother about, when he knows that Mingyu is always your first call. As the traffic disperses he presses the gas pedal and weaves around the slower cars, images flickering in his mind’s eye. A faceless man looking at you, making you uncomfortable, pressing into your space. His mind loops on the image of an unwanted kiss, of pushy hands finding their way under your blouse. 

By the time he’s skidding into the parking lot of the restaurant his hands are shaking and he’s ready to kill. 

When he sees you, wet and shivering on the sidewalk, he nearly falls out of the car trying to get to you. He leaves the key in the ignition, the door flung wide open with warmth pouring out into the chilly night air. 

He looks flustered, rumpled like he was having a quiet night in. Heavy gray sweatpants that hang just right on his hips and an oversized white shirt. He’s wearing socks and slides and the second you see him it dawns on you that when you called him you must have sounded hysterical because he didn’t even try to dress for the icy weather. 

“You look terrible,” You clap a hand over your lips to stop yourself from laughing, and you can’t believe that’s the first thing you manage to say to him after a year. You hate yourself for having no filter, no off switch, no ability to just be normal and say thank you for coming all this way. 

His expression runs from panic to confusion in a split second, “What?” 

“Fuck,” You laugh, shaking your head, “no, sorry, you look good, but it’s raining like hell, get in the car,” 

He blinks, “y/n,” 

“Come on,” You duck out from beneath the measly roof overhang and dart towards the passenger side door, “it’s freezing, I’ll explain in the car,” 

Your dress is wet, but not soaked through, so you hope you won’t do any damage to his seats as you slide into the warmth of his car and shut the door. It takes him at least thirty seconds to follow you, but through his confusion at your reaction you bet he finally registers the cold wetness of his socks and it snaps him back to reality. 

He leaves the car in park and turns his body to you. 

You owe him an explanation, especially given the way you cried on the phone to him twenty minutes ago, but all you can think right now is that it’s really, really nice to see his face again. His hair has gotten longer, shaggier and curled a little at the neck and it might just be the fit of his shirt, but he looks broader. It’s only been a year, but he looks so much more like a man now. All you can manage is, “Hey, Cheol,” 

“Hey,” He answers, shifting himself further in the seat so that he’s almost twisted up sideways, one leg tucked up to accommodate the position. 

The front of his shirt is damp with rain and clinging a bit to his chest and you look down. You really do not need to be having these kinds of thoughts about him again, it’s only been a minute, ninety seconds at the most.  

“y/n,” He says, his voice slow and soft, “what happened?” 

Shame floods you, heating your cheeks red. 

He stretches a hand across the center console, but he stops halfway, his fingers closing into a loose fist, “You know you can tell me anything, right?” 

“I know,” 

“I won’t tell Gyu,” He offers quietly, “just tell me what happened, and I promise, I’ll take care of it.” 

Oh. 

Your head snaps up at his serious tone, “Nothing happened, I’m fine,” 

He looks more confused than before if that’s even possible, and you can practically see him working out his next words. 

“Cheol,” You shake your head, “I’m serious, I’m completely fine, I just needed a ride,” 

“You were crying,” He says, not a question but a fact. 

“I know,” You sigh. 

“You were crying like something happened,” He draws his arm back and runs a hand through his damp hair, “and you called me?” 

“I know,” You repeat, “it was a bad date, but that’s all it was. He ditched me without a ride though and I just,” 

Seungcheol’s lips close at your words as he waits for you to finish. 

“The thought of calling Mingyu and telling him about this just,” You clear your throat to push back a little bubble of emotion, “yeah, I couldn’t do that,” 

“Oh,” His voice drops, and Seungcheol shifts in his seat, throwing the car into drive, “got it.” 

“No, Cheol,” You shake your head, “that’s not what I meant,” 

“It’s fine,” He peels out of the parking lot, “I’ll drive you home.”

He’s angry, pissed at you in that way he gets pissed. Tightened jaw, heavy sighs, his knee bouncing in irritation. If you give it five minutes he’ll tell you what’s bothering him, he’ll say it in a fast rush like he’s more disappointed than mad. You have to let him come to you when he’s like this, no amount of trying to explain will fix it, so you wait. 

The drive is silent, and you fight the urge to jump in with directions when he approaches each light and turn. He knows where your apartment is, he helped you move in four years ago when you graduated college. Mingyu and his friends lifting box after box and telling you to just relax and let the professionals handle it. You smile at the memory. 

He stays quiet until he turns off the major road and down the side streets that will take you to your apartment, but finally he says, “You can’t just call me like that and expect me to drop everything when you have a bad date,” 

“Were you busy?” You didn’t think so judging by the state of his clothes, but it’s not out of the realm of possibility. He could have had friends over, maybe a girl. You wonder idly if he’s seeing someone. 

“That’s not the point,” He glances at you, “and you know it.” 

“I’m sorry,” You tell him, and you mean it, “I really didn’t know who to call, and I just,” 

“What, y/n?” He pushes a little. 

“I just don’t want to tell Mingyu about the date,” You confess, “and I didn’t mean to call you and be such a mess, the date really was bad and I was feeling sorry for myself, and I didn’t have enough money to get home,” 

“What?” He swivels his head to the side for a moment and then refocuses on the road. 

“I would have called a taxi,” You explain, “but my fucking date left and didn’t pay after we ordered all this food and it was more than I was planning for,” 

“He didn’t pay?” He sounds disgusted and you smile. 

“No,” You tell him, “but in fairness, I did tell him in the middle of the date it wasn’t going to work out,” 

He laughs sharply, and you know he’s still irritated but at least he’s listening, “That bad?” 

“Yeah,” You sigh, “but it is what it is,” 

He glances over to you again, “So he walked out?” 

“Basically,” You nod, “he said what he needed to say, dropped twenty-thousand won on the table like that was going to cover anything and walked out. At least now I know he was an asshole, I’m not missing out on anything,” 

“What did he say to you?” His voice pops up an octave. 

You’d really rather not tell him, you’d be fine burying the comment he made deep down inside never to be unpacked again. You shake your head, “It’s fine,” 

“It doesn’t seem fine,” He starts, but you smoothly cut back in. 

“I just didn’t want Gyu to feel bad for me I guess, he knew I was looking forward to the date, and having to call for a ride like this, I don’t know. I was embarrassed,” You explain. 

“I still don’t understand why you called me, though,” He admits, and you can still feel the tension in him even though the conversation has been ebbing and flowing, “I’m not your brother.” 

Irritation sparks in you at the comment, “I know you’re not,” you turn to him, “but we’re friends, aren’t we?” 

“Friends call each other,” He says simply, “don’t they?” 

You let his comment sit in the air between you for a moment, and then you sigh, “Yeah, they do. I’m sorry I disappeared on you like that,” 

“I tried calling,” He says softly, “but you were always busy,” 

“I know,” You breathe. 

He drives further, slower now and safer that you’re in the car, and you can see him thinking through your words. Finally he slides his hand across the center console with his palm turned up, offering you his hand, “y/n,” he says, “are you doing okay? With money, I mean, after what you said?” 

“I’m good,” You tell him, “it was just shitty timing,” 

“If you need anything,” He squeezes your hand as you slide your palm across his, “I’m here, we don’t have to say anything to,” 

 “I’m okay,” You assure him, “but thank you, seriously,” 

He nods, accepting your words, but then he asks something harder, “What did that guy say to you, y/n? I know you, you weren’t crying like that over not being able to get a taxi,” 

You sigh, leaning back in the passenger seat, “Can I ask you to let it go?” 

“You can ask,” He shrugs, “but so can I.” 

You sit quietly, looking at your entwined hands resting on your knee. His thumb strokes over your knuckles slowly. 

“Fine,” You murmur, “he said he didn’t want to date me anyways, he just came to sleep with me,” 

His hand tightens on yours. 

“And if I wasn’t going to fuck him,” You do your best to clean up some of the language he used when he got up from the table, “I shouldn’t have dressed like a slut,” 

You leave out the part that really cut deep, the part that made the more form fitting dress you chose go from sexy to something sour. 

“Give me this asshole’s name,” Seungcheol skids to a stop a little too harshly at the next traffic light and turns to you. 

“No,” You shake your head, “I’m fine now, it just stung,” 

His lips close in a tight line and then he sighs, “I’m so sorry someone said that to you,” 

“Don’t apologize, Cheol,” You squeeze his hand, “you didn’t say it.” 

“I know, but still,” He holds your gaze, “it was mean, and you deserve much better from a guy you’re seeing, and you don’t look like, or I mean, you aren’t a,” 

You smile as he stumbles over his words and someone behind him gently honks the horn enough to let him know the light has gone green. 

He jolts and refocuses on the road, clearing his throat, “What I’m trying to say is that you look nice, pretty. The dress is good, and you, um, you don’t look,” 

“Thank you,” You cut him off, trying to save him from swallowing his own tongue out of embarrassment, and you ignore the way your stomach flipped over on itself hearing Seungcheol call you pretty. 

“Yeah,” He swallows, slowing down to make the final turn onto your little block, “you know what I mean,” 

“Mhm,” You laugh, breaking down any lingering tension, “Cheol, are you a little disappointed you didn’t get to punch my date? Is that it?” 

“Shut up,” He sighs. 

“Aw,” You smile as he pulls into a space by your apartment, “You were worried about me?” 

He rolls his eyes as he kills the ignition, “You were hysterical,” he says, “what was I supposed to think?” 

“Don’t worry,” You smile as he throws open the driver’s side door, “I think it’s kind of sweet that you went all knight and shining armor on me,” 

His lip twitches, “Don’t make fun,” he says, “I thought something bad happened to you,” 

“Nothing bad happened to me,” You find yourself assuring him again even though he already knows this, and you twist the moment back to a joke as quickly as you can, “unless you count listening to a guy talk about his ex for twenty minutes,” 

He grimaces, “Ugh,” 

“Exactly,” 

“Actually, you know what,” He grins, “you’re right, that is a terrible date and you were right to call me,” 

He’s out of the car and crossing to your door and relief floods your chest. Just like that, you’re back to normal. 

Seungcheol pulls open your door to let you out and says, “Do you have a towel or something?” 

“You want to come up?” 

“If you don’t mind,”

“You just swooped in and saved my night, Coups, of course I don’t mind.” He smiles at the nickname, the one mostly used by his friend group and coined by Seungcheol himself during their short lived Soundcloud music career freshman year of college. The nickname stuck, but you and Mingyu knew him before and you’ve both always, always called him Seungcheol. 

He ducks his head, smiles, and follows you up the stairs and into your apartment just like old times. 

It’s a little strange seeing him like this after so much time has passed, but no matter what has happened in your life, even when your childhood little crush on him was making your nights sleepless, he’s always been there. He’s been a constant in your life since you could form memories, and when you really think about it, you’ve never not known Seungcheol. Suddenly seeing him in your living room feels right, and it makes you wonder why you couldn’t pick up the phone and say something real to him this past year.

“It looks good in here,” He offers, toeing off his slides in the entryway and stepping into your little living room, “it looks like you,” 

“Thanks,” You’re pretty sure the floor of your bedroom is still covered in clothes from earlier, but he’s not going to see that and you’re just glad you didn’t let that chaos spillover out here. 

“So,” He clears his throat lightly. 

“Towel,” You jump, “right, hold on,” 

You disappear down the hall and Seungcheol’s chest goes fluttering fast. He doesn’t need a towel, he doesn’t need anything except a pair of dry socks and his own bed, and he can’t figure out for the life of him why he gave into the little voice that told him to come upstairs. You’ve made it pretty clear over the past year or so that you’ve grown up, you’ve made your own group of friends outside of him and your brother and the guys. He doesn’t need to be here, you don’t need him anymore, you just needed a ride. 

But he’s missed you a little. A lot if he’s being honest with himself. Sometimes he finds himself asking Mingyu about you, hoping you might drop by while he’s at his best friend’s place. Your name on his phone screen earlier in the night had stopped his heart cold. He couldn’t imagine why you were calling and not just texting, and he picked up the phone so fast he thought he might have fucked it up and accidentally pressed end. He tried to sound casual, normal, but his heart was pounding. 

Standing in your living room he feels out of place, like a forgotten childhood relic unboxed in the middle of a new home. He doesn’t know which seat to sit in, he doesn’t have his spot on your couch here like he did at your old place. He doesn’t know where you keep your glasses or which remote would switch on the television. He doesn’t know which book you’ve been reading from the little stack on the table or the name of the place you’ve been working, and there’s a man’s jacket hanging on the wall in the hallway that he doesn’t recognize. He hopes it’s Mingyu’s. 

He doesn’t know why he’s here. He should leave. He should go. 

“Okay,” Your voice comes back, and he tears his eyes away from the little details of your life he doesn’t recognize to look back at you, “I’ve got a towel, socks, and I bet I have a sweatshirt of Gyu’s around here if you’re cold,” 

“I’m good,” He recovers, taking the dry items from your hands. 

Your fingers brush along his as you pass everything off and your stomach jumps. 

“Come in,” You wave him in, “I’ll make some coffee or something and then I need to change,” 

“You should get a warm shower,” He says abruptly, “you’ll catch a cold,” 

“I’m fine,” You shake your head, “I wasn’t out there for too long,” 

“I’ll make the coffee then, you need to get out of that wet dress,” He shoos you away and points to your kitchen, “I assume you have a normal coffee machine and not some fancy Italian thing?” 

“I think you’ll be fine,” You smile, “I’ll just be a second,” 

He nods, and you dart back down the hallway to your bedroom. 

It takes you three minutes to change into something comfortable and clean and then kick all of your scattered clothes into the closet and shut the door. You run a brush through your tangled hair from the rain, and you almost forget that your childhood crush is walking freely around your apartment, but then you hear his laugh and you melt into the wall behind you. You missed the sound of it so much, and if you don’t get a handle on this right now you’re going to go out there and make a fool of yourself. 

But then he laughs again. 

You smile as you come back out into the living room, leaving your good sense behind in the bathroom, “What’s so funny?” 

“I haven’t seen these in years,” He grins, and as you come around the corner you realize he’s looking at the photos you have framed and sitting in various spots on your bookshelf. 

“Oh,” You smile, seeing the one he’s holding and studying, “yeah,” 

“This one,” He tips the frame so you can see the picture, but you already know which one, Mingyu and Seungcheol in their first year of college stand in the center of the frame, Wonwoo, Jeonghan, Dokyeom, and Hoshi with their arms thrown around each other on either side. You are crouching in the center with Jeonghan’s little sister, both of you holding out a peace sign. 

“Isn’t this the night we went to that haunted theme park?” Seungcheol asks with a smile. 

“Yeah,” You take the photo back from him and look it over for a moment, “in Daegu,” 

He nods, “I remember,” 

“Yeah,” You place the photo back in it’s assigned spot and turn towards the kitchen, “I just remember you and DK scaring the living shit out of me,” 

“God,” He runs a hand through his hair, “we did, I felt so bad about that after,” 

“Mm,” You laugh. 

“Gyu reamed us out for it later,” He follows you into the kitchen and watches as you pour two cups of freshly brewed coffee. 

“He never told me that,” Your eyes perk up in surprise. 

“He said,” Seungcheol straightens himself up to his full height and lets his face go passive for his impression, “‘If you ever make my sister cry like that again, you’ll be sorry,’” 

“Sorry?” You laugh, “Mingyu wouldn’t know how to make someone sorry if his life depended on it,” 

“I don’t know,” He shrugs, relaxing his shoulders and reaching for his cup, “it seemed pretty clear he wasn’t fucking around, we took him seriously,” 

“Wow,” You lean against the counter, “that’s actually kind of sweet,” 

“He’s always been protective of you,” Seungcheol points out, “even now, he’ll talk about you and I can see it,” 

“I’m not a kid anymore, though,” You bristle a little. 

“He knows that,” Seungcheol shakes his head, “he just worries, you know, it’s his nature,” 

“Yeah,” You nod, taking a long sip of your coffee, “I know,” 

Seungcheol hovers, not finding a place to lean or to sit in the unfamiliar place, and finally he just asks the question that’s been on his mind for the past twenty minutes, “Is that why you didn’t call him? He worries too much?” 

“I guess a little,” You move past him and back into the living room, “come sit down, you’re making me nervous,” 

He blushes and every little emotion you’ve ever had for him comes thundering back in your chest. There are at least three places for him to sit that aren’t directly next to you on the couch, but he ignores every one of them and sits next to you, barely a foot away, and turns towards you so he can put all his focus on you. 

“So,” He prompts you, “come on, it’s just me,” 

Talking to him was always easy, always. Even in the throes of your infatuation you were able to hold a conversation with him, sometimes a long one out on the balcony of your parent’s house. It’s almost irritating how quickly that familiarity and comfort comes back. 

“I just feel like I’ve been really fucking this whole dating thing up,” You confess, “and Mingyu’s been… well you know him, he’s like the number one hype man for me making all my dreams come true, and being ten out of ten happy,” 

“Yeah,” He nods, but lets you continue. 

“But I just haven’t been able to make it work with anyone in a while,” You bite down the reason why in the back of your brain, “and every time I tell him about a bad date he just looks sadder and sadder for me,” 

“Mm,” He nods, sympathetic, “I know exactly what you mean.” 

“I’m so glad you picked up, honestly,” You glance down at the edge of your cup, “you’ve never treated me like that, and I just… I guess I needed a friend and not my brother tonight,” 

He hesitates, but then his hand comes to rest on your knee and he gives you a squeeze, “I get it,” he says, “but, honestly it seems like you’re putting a lot of pressure on yourself,” 

“I know, but,” You sigh, your words dying out as you focus on his lingering hand on your knee. 

“What’s so important about getting a guy right now?” He asks, and you almost laugh at the absurdity of this man asking you that question. 

“Cheol,” You shift on the couch to reposition, pulling back your knee from his touch so you can face him and admit this without being dizzier than you are about his presence, “I don’t know, exactly, but… don’t you feel like living alone is kind of fucking lonely sometimes?”

His eyes flick over you and then he nods. 

The words keep coming as much as you don’t want them to now that you’ve started telling someone, telling him the truth of it and you grimace as you admit it, “The sick part is that I think it’s me. Tonight was the exception, he was a dick, but most of these guys are nice. They’re nice, they’re respectful, they seem to be interested in me, but none of them are what I want, none of them are,”  

You have to stop. You have to get off this topic and off this train before you say something really and truly stupid and burn this newly restored friendship down to ash. 

“Having high standards isn’t a bad thing,” He offers, “and Gyu sets the bar high for how you should treat a woman, I mean,” 

“You think I’m talking about Mingyu?” You laugh sharply. 

“He’s the best guy I know,” He starts to say and then the wheels start turning. 

It happens fast, your absolute lightning quick strike to the match, but your poor decision making usually goes something like this. It makes you mad at first, his constant reference to your perfect brother, but then it all makes sense. Seungcheol really has no idea how you feel about him, as a person or otherwise. It doesn’t enter his brain that the guy who set your standards for men so high might be him, even after he drove illegally fast on wet roads just to come get you because he heard you cry. Up until the last year of your life where you tried to install some distance, he was always there. He was always your first call, always your last call too, and you could never really see anyone else while he was towering right in front of you. He’s never let you down and he doesn’t even know it. 

“I can’t believe you,” The words slip out, and then you’re kissing him. 

He takes a sharp inhale of breath at the way you collapse onto him, holding yourself up with one hand on his chest and the other on his neck, and his mouth is so warm. You press the first kiss tentatively, and then the second a little more insistently, and then you realize he hasn’t moved an inch and isn’t kissing you back in the least. 

You fly backwards, your hand over your mouth, “Oh, god, I’m so sorry,” 

He clears his throat and shifts, shaking his head, “It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” 

“I can’t believe I just did that,” You blush scarlet, “I’m a mess, I’m so, so sorry, Cheol,” 

“Really,” He avoids your eyes, “it’s fine, it was an emotional night, and you just said it yourself, living alone is lonely. We’re good,” 

“I didn’t kiss you because I was sad,” You run a hand through your hair and slump back on the couch, “I kissed you because you were being a dumb ass,” 

“I feel like you’re insulting me a lot tonight considering I just drove across town for you,” He’s not angry, not really, but he doesn’t let you off so easily, he never has. 

“I kissed you because you’re the best guy I know,” You counter his words back, “and I’m sick of you always putting yourself down when-”

He yanks you forwards by your wrist, and this kiss is what you’ll count forever as the first one. He drags your body forwards as he leans back against the couch and kisses you hard, his tongue dipping past your lips this time, his breath mingling with yours. 

You shift for better purchase, your chest and his flush together, and you moan softly against his lips when his hand slips lower on your waist. 

He breaks the kiss, his forehead leaning against yours, “What the fuck are we doing?” 

“I think they call it making out,” You manage, your heart beating fast like a bird. 

“Jesus,” He shakes his head, “what are we doing?” 

“Cheol,” You start, but he kisses you again, hungrier and hotter as he pulls you in. 

You pant against his mouth, your brain exploding into little fireworks as his hands start to wander, and then he groans, “You feel so good,” 

This is going somewhere fast, and with your hands twisted in the fabric of his t-shirt you swing your leg over his hips and let him wrap his arms around you. 

“We should slow down,” You find yourself mumbling against his mouth, “but I don’t want to, I want you,” 

He nods against you, his hands squeezing your thighs where they rest on either side of him, “I want you too,” 

“We should talk more,” You manage as his kisses travel over your jaw. 

“Later?” He asks, his hands dragging you closer, “God, that dress,” 

“Yeah?” You’re breathless already. 

“If I knew you were going to kiss me I would have peeled it off you,” He pants. 

A moan gets caught in your throat, your hips jerking, nipples hardening against his chest as you throw yourself into another kiss. 

“God,” He shivers. 

“Cheol stay,” You can talk later, he’s absolutely right, and you beg him not to go between kisses, “please stay,” 

Logic starts to pump through him at the implications of that, so much more than kissing comes with staying for the night and he starts to shake his head, but at the way you’re touching him he can’t quite tear his hands away. 

“I should go home,” He murmurs against your mouth, fingers slipping underneath the hem of your t-shirt, “you’ve been drinking,” 

“I had two drinks,” You connect your lips with his again, tongue dipping into his mouth, “like three hours ago,” 

“Still,” He kisses you again despite his words, his hand now flat against the small of your back. 

“I’m not drunk,” You pull yourself closer using his shoulders, “if you don’t want to kiss me, don’t kiss me, but don’t use that as an excuse,” 

“I should go home,” He repeats, like saying it out loud might make his body follow his brain, but it doesn’t. All he does is tug you closer, your legs now fully splayed around his hips as he leans back against the couch and groans against your mouth. 

“I should,” He starts again, whispered thoughts against your lips, but you push back from his chest and break your mouths apart. 

“If you want to go so bad, go,” You pull your arms away from him, crossing them under your chest to hold yourself steady. Your nails press pinpricks into your palms. 

“This isn’t about what I want,” His eyes soften in that tender way you love, and his hand cups your waist, thumb brushing a line over the deep curve of your hip. 

“Why wouldn’t this be about what you want?” You press him, “Or about what I want?” 

“Mingyu is my best friend,” He says, his mouth drawn into a sullen line, “and I never want to do anything that betrays his trust or hurts him in any way,” 

“I’m not asking you to,” Your voice is small. 

“Just,” He sighs, his head tipping backwards against the cushions and his hands slipping to rest over your thighs, “tell me something, okay? Be honest,” 

“Okay,” 

“Do you want me because you’re lonely and I’m here,” He asks, his eyes locked to the ceiling, “or do you want me because you want me?” 

Your arms fall slack and you open your mouth to respond but he presses forwards. 

“Because if this is a one time thing to make us both feel better,” He shakes his head, “I can’t do that, I have to go home.” 

“Cheol,” You murmur, but he doesn’t lift his head. You reach for him, brushing a hand along his cheek and drawing his gaze back down from the ceiling to your face, “Seungcheol, look at me,” 

“Yeah,” He finally follows your gaze. 

“I love my brother, but this isn’t about him,” You tell him clearly, and you watch his lips part so he can cut in but you shake your head, “it isn’t. This is about us, and I’ve had a crush on you since I was fucking thirteen,” 

He blinks, a grin breaking across his face, “You have?” 

“Yeah,” You shuffle closer on his lap, “why do you think I disappeared? You started dating that girl and I just… it wasn’t my place to say anything, it’s not like you were mine, but,” 

He brushes the hair back from your cheek as he nods, “It hurts to see the person you want with someone else,” 

“Yeah,” 

“And you wanted me?” 

You nod, stroking his neck where your hand rests, “I just needed some space after that, I thought I could move on,” 

“I know the feeling,” He smiles, his thumb tender against your jaw, “believe me,” 

“I do,” You nod, “so believe me when I tell you I’ve wanted you for a long time and I don’t just want the one night,” 

He sits frozen, his eyes studying your expression, and then he’s moving. Seungcheol pulls you down to meet his mouth again, hands roughly threading into your hair and gripping your hip as he tugs your bodies flush together. He kisses like you hope he fucks, passionate and a little messy, like his need to be inside you and consumed by you is more important than any vanity. 

“God,” He groans against your mouth, “he’s going to kill me,” 

“Probably,” You huff a laugh against his lips, rolling your hips forwards to slot your bodies together tightly, and at the feeling of his hardening cock pressed against your sex you can’t help the breathy moan that slips out. 

He drops his hands to your hips, coaxing you into rolling them again as he presses upwards and you follow his guidance with ease. He curses softly and you roll your hips again, “Oh, fuck my fucking life,” he groans, kissing his way down your throat, “he’ll kill me, but you’re worth it,” 

“I better be,” You tease him, tugging gently on his hair as he licks a stripe along your throat. 

“Oh, you are,” He shifts back up to kiss your lips again, his mouth pillowy soft and hot against yours, “and I love Gyu, but,” 

“Seungcheol,” You push on his shoulders. 

His rarely used full name gets his attention and he leans back just enough to see your face, “What’s wrong?” 

“Can you please stop talking about my brother while you’re trying to fuck me?” You can hear the whine in your own voice, “I need you right now, we’ll deal with him later,” 

“Sorry, sorry,” He smiles, “of course, come here,” 

You melt into him as he gathers you closer, his warm, rough hands finding new expanses of skin to touch and it’s strange but delicious to know that there are still brand new things you can learn about a person even after knowing them all your life. He gets soft beneath you like butter when you touch his ears, audibly groans when you grind against him, and gets breathier every time you kiss his neck. He’s not afraid to make little noises in your ear, to curse when you do something right or softly beg you to do something again. 

With his mouth on yours and his hands exploring you, you’re just a shaky wet mess in his arms and he doesn’t even fully realize it yet, still so focused on studying your body with his lips, his tongue.

“Ch-Cheol,” You whine as his teeth nip at your pulsepoint, “baby,” 

His hands tighten, sliding to cup your backside through the thin fabric of your lounge pants, “Say that again,” 

“Baby?” 

He exhales hot air across your neck and chest, “God, I like that,” 

“You hate pet names,” You sigh, remembering how his nose always crinkled in an uncomfortable scrunch when he heard people getting too coupley. 

“No, I don’t,” His hand slides up, tucks under the waistband of your pants, and slides back down to feel your skin, “I hate cringey shit. You calling me ‘baby’ while you’re grinding on my dick isn’t cringey, it’s fucking hot,” 

“Ah,” You tug his hair just a little, rolling your hips again, “yeah? Like this?” 

His hips jolt up, pressing his cock against your clothed mound and he groans, “Say it,” he nips at your neck again and then pushes you backwards so that you’re sitting up straddling his lap, “and let me see you,” 

For a brief flickering second you feel shy, another stark moment of awareness that the man between your thighs is Mingyu’s best friend, but it flashes away the minute you see his smile. He’s looking up at you like you invented the sun and you think it just might make you dizzy enough to say yes to anything he could ever ask of you. 

“God,” His eyes rake over you, “you’re so fucking pretty,” 

Blush creeps up your chest, “Yeah, baby?” 

He swallows hard, his hands coasting up your arms and his eyes coming to rest on the heavy swell of your chest, “The prettiest.” His fingers tuck underneath the straps of your tank top and your bralette and he glances up to your face, “Can I see?” 

“Please,” You whisper. 

He moves slowly, peeling down the straps from each of your shoulders first, letting the thin fabric of your tank top droop down your arms until he’s left with just the stretchy elastic of your black bralette. His fingers trace your curves, the pad of his thumb ghosting over one of your hardening nipples until it pushes into a firm peak under the fabric. 

“Cheol, please,” If he doesn’t touch you soon you’re going to be a squirming mess. 

“Relax,” He toys with the strap, “we’ve got all night,” 

You gasp as he dips forwards, peeling the front of your top down entirely until your breasts spill out of the elastic fabric. His lips connect with your skin, tongue exploring intimate parts of you in ways you’ve never experienced quite like this with anyone else. 

“These,” He cups your full breasts in his hands, kissing along each swell, “are perfect, princess,” 

You shiver at that, whining in his grip as he traces his tongue down and ghosts it close to your nipple, but you smile and manage, “I really took you for an ass man,” 

“I’m an everything man where you’re concerned,” He flicks his tongue experimentally across the hardened bud and hums softly when you jolt in his arms, “so excuse me if I have to slow down and show my appreciation,” 

This crush is going to kill you, that’s the thought that gets instantly banished from your brain the second Seungcheol wraps his lips around one nipple while his fingers pinch the other, setting a steady pace of sucking and teasing that is sure to leave pleasured little bruises. 

“Oh,” You grip his shoulders, “oh, Jesus, Cheol,” 

“Feel good, baby?” He switches sides smoothly and sucks again. 

A jolt of pleasure rocks from your chest to your untouched clit and you rock down, trying desperately to press your aching center against anything for a little friction. 

“Yeah?” He prompts you gently. 

“So, so good,” You nod, rolling again, “but I need more, please,” 

He nods against your chest, pressing one more kiss to your breastbone before he says, “y/n, I don’t want to move too fast or anything, we’ll do whatever you want, but,” 

“But what?” You’re about a second from pushing his hand into your underwear yourself.

  “Can I eat you out?” 

Your stomach flips, “Oh, fuck yes,” 

You’re on your back practically the second you give him permission. He holds you tight to his chest as he pushes himself up off the couch and flips you around, dropping you back onto the cushions and tugging at your clothes. Normally you’d be a little self conscious, especially in the brighter light of your living room and not the dim strategic lightning of your bedroom, but Seungcheol keeps looking at every inch of your body like he’s starving for it, groaning in pleasure at every inch of you that gets revealed, and you’re starting to think he really does like everything about you. 

You help push off your pants with shaky hands, but let him loop his thumbs under the thin straps of your underwear and tug those free, a slick wet patch in the middle where you’ve been soaking through the cotton for the past half hour. You help him with your top, until finally you’re completely bare and he’s pushing you to lie back onto the extended length of the chaise while he falls to his knees before you. 

“Wow,” He breathes, his hands running along your thighs, “just… wow,” 

“Stop,” You can’t stop the blush now, and you fight the urge to reach for a blanket or cross your arms over yourself at his exacting gaze. 

“Nope,” He dips his hands to your inner thighs and pushes your legs apart little by little, “I’m going to enjoy every bit of this,” 

“Now you’re just trying to embarrass me,” You smile. 

His tongue darts out to wet hips lips and he shakes his head, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” 

Your stomach churns, flipping nervously as he looks at you so earnestly. 

“I’m serious,” He kisses your knee as he opens one of your legs wider, “I’ve thought about this a thousand times, but you’re so much better than my imagination,” 

“Cheol,” You whisper tightly. 

“Mm,” He sighs as he tips your hips back, maneuvering your legs wide and open now and shifting your hips to the very edge of the couch so he can tuck smoothly between your open legs, “I wonder if you taste as sweet as I imagined too,” 

Your fingers grip down on the cushions, your heart hammering in your chest. 

“Look at you,” He sighs pleasantly, his fingers ghosting along the edge of your lower lips, “is all this for me, baby?” 

“Uh-huh,” Your breath hitches as his finger just barely touches your seam. 

“You got this wet just from grinding on my lap?” He smiles, his teeth catching his thick bottom lip. 

“Cheol,” It’s all you can manage, you really didn’t know he was like this. 

His eyes soften up though at the sound of his name on your lips, and he kisses your thigh tenderly before looking back up to you, “Doing good? Okay?” 

“Mhm,” You’re fine, you are, except you think you might come the second he touches you and you’re a little terrified at just how intense he is from minute one.  

“y/n,” He squeezes you a little. 

“I’m good,” You breathe, “I promise,” 

“Okay,” He kisses your skin again and nods, “just relax, okay?” 

“I’m relaxed,” You answer too quickly and one of his eyebrows goes high. 

“Mhm,” He eases up on his knees a little to see your face better and smooths his hand from your leg to your hip to your stomach, “what’s going on?” 

“This is just a little surreal,” You admit, “isn’t it?” 

“Yeah,” He releases your legs and shifts up so he can lean over your body, catching your mouth again in a soft kiss, “it is, but do you trust me?” 

“Of course,” You kiss him back. 

“Then you should know,” He nuzzles your nose with his, “that all I want to do right now is make you come on my face until you can’t think, and after that if you still want to take this further we can, but baby, I really don’t care what we do tonight. I just want to be with you,”

Your mouth runs dry, and you can feel your core throbbing hard between your legs, your heart fluttering fast. 

“So, please, can I make you come?” He smiles, pressing another quick kiss to your lips, “I think you want me to,” 

“Yes,” The nervous knots in your stomach release, “please, Coups,” 

His nose scrunches as he laughs, kissing his way down your chest, “It’s Coups now?” 

“Cheol,” You whine, “you’re stalling,” 

“It’s called foreplay,” He licks a firm line between your breasts and moves lower, “have you not been getting fucked right, princess?” 

“F-fuck,” Your back arches as his lips travel down over your belly, eyes slipping closed, “Seungcheol,” 

He shakes his head, his hair brushing against your skin, “No more baby?” He makes a sulky noise with his tongue against the back of his teeth, “Come on princess, call me baby,” 

Your mind is spinning, and you gasp sharply as his fingers finally slide through your wet slit and land at the apex, pressing deliciously down over your throbbing clit, “Ch-Cheol, fuck, oh fuck, baby,” 

“There she is,” He groans, and as his fingers fall away and his lips take their place. He licks a deep stripe through your folds and groans, spreading your legs open wide with his hands anchored on the backs of your thighs, “You’re perfect,” 

You moan as he sucks the tender bud of your clit into his mouth. 

“I’m going to do this everyday,” He pants, licking another stripe, exploring every inch of your cunt with his tongue, “you’ll be my dessert every night,” 

“Ah,” Your head rocks back as pleasure lights up your spine, “baby,” 

“Mm,” He groans into your core, burying his face against you and alternating perfectly between sharp sucks and flicks of his tongue. 

You are moving fast, from nothing to desperate something in the span of a couple of hours, but honestly you’ve never felt safer and better and more held than this. His hands roam your body, seeking every soft place he can grab and squeeze and hold onto, and you just know the bruises on your hips will be worth it when he finally fucks you. 

“Come on,” He tips your hips back to get better access, wrapping his arms around your thick thighs, “don’t be shy,” 

“Oh, shit,” Your hand flies down to grip his hair and anchor your position as he manhandles you, your other hand gripping the cushions, “just like that,” 

He sucks harder and flicks the tip of his tongue against your bud again, quickening his pace and listening carefully for your sounds to know what you need. Looking down between your legs you can barely believe the sight, but there he is, Choi Seungcheol with his face glistening. His lips are puffy and red, his eyes hooded, and he grins when he sees you watching before nodding just a little and redoubling his efforts. 

Your legs are trembling now, the start of your orgasm building up through the base of your spine and flooding warmth into your belly, and if he wasn’t holding you so tightly you’re sure you’d snap. 

“Baby,” You whine, your voice sounding not quite your own as heat floods in your chest, “oh, God, please don’t stop,” 

He sucks hard, shifting to kiss your core and push the tender muscle of his tongue inside you, “I’ve got you,” he pants as he works his tongue faster, “I’ve got you,” 

He’s a mess, wet with slick across cheeks and sweat on his brow, and you think for a split second you might actually be in love with this man already, no one has ever, ever treated your body quite like this. As he shifts to tease your clit again, building the pleasure up and up higher, you grip down on his hair harder. 

“I’m,” You stammer out, your back arching and your mouth falling slack, “I’m gonna,”

He nods into you but doesn’t stop the pace of his tongue one bit. 

“I’m,” You gasp again, “coming, fuck, I’m coming,” 

It hits you all at once, punctuated with his sharp suck to your clit and your legs snap shut around his head, your body wrenching sideways as the wave takes you from conscious to that hazy middle space of pleasure. You can barely breathe, you can't even think, all you can do is feel pulse after pulse of pleasure. 

“Fuck,” He curses, and your brain connects enough to realize your legs are still snapped tightly shut around his ears but you can’t get your body to respond, “yeah, fuck, there you go,” 

Everything you are is trembling in his hands. 

“I could fucking die happy,” He says, shifting to nip your plush thigh with his teeth, his hands gripping down on your curves, “right here between your legs,” 

You make a sound, you think, and he chuckles against your skin. 

“Mm-mm,” He sighs pleasantly, his hands running from your thighs to your hips and down to cup your backside, “you’re fucking gorgeous, y/n, I love every fucking inch of you,” 

“Y-yeah?” Your eyes flutter open. 

“Mhm,” He flicks his tongue over your clit once more, eliciting a deep shudder from your hips before he says, “I can’t wait to fuck you,” 

Your legs start to relax, and you look down, “Then fuck me,”

“I want another first,” He shakes his head, “please, let me make you come again, sweetheart,” 

“Oh,” You shiver as he kisses your slit again, letting his tongue linger, “fuck,” 

He sighs, “This pussy,” 

“Cheol,” You blush hard. 

“I would do anything,” He smiles, flicking your clit again with his tongue, “for this perfect fucking pussy,” 

“Anything?” 

He goes still between your legs and then he nods, wetting his lips with his tongue, pressing a kiss to your quivering cunt, and looking up over your body to meet your eyes, “Anything.” 

“Will you come up here?” You reach for him, “Will you hold me?” 

He eases your legs down off his shoulders and shifts up, “Yeah, of course,” 

“Will you,” You nearly come again just at the sight of a sizeable wet spot on his sweats, and you tug at his shirt to try and silently communicate your need, “I want to touch you too,” 

“Mhm,” He stands up, shucking off his clothes as quickly as he can, and when he pushes down his boxer briefs your muscles clench. 

When you were younger, a teenager inexperienced with sex and boys, you imagined his cock. You saw the faint outline of it once through a pair of athletic shorts and you wondered what he might look like naked. You wondered if you would like his body. You wondered if he would like yours too. You can’t really remember what you imagined Seungcheol’s cock to look like, but you know this is better. It’s long, but not too long, like the guys who can’t fit it in all the way without smashing painfully into your cervix, but it’s thick. His cock is heavy, deserving of the word, and perfectly straight until the very end where it curls up towards his abdomen. 

You want him inside you so badly you could cry. 

“You okay?” He says as he slides up the couch next to you, your naked hip against his. 

“A little nervous,” You admit quietly, turning towards him on the cushions and drawing him closer with your hand on his shoulder. 

“Me too,” He says softly, maneuvering until one arm is wrapped around your back and your head is pillowed on his other, your chests flush against each other, his cock trapped between your stomachs. 

“God,” You shift closer to him, tangling your legs together, “you’re so hard,” 

He nods, sighing at the way your skin drags against his, “You’re making me insane,” 

“Good,” You smile, finding his lips with yours, tasting yourself on him and dipping your tongue into his mouth as you deepen the kiss.

He groans against you, and you snake a hand between your bodies to wrap around his aching cock. “Oh, fuck,” he curses as you pump your hand up and down his shaft, “easy, it’s been a while,” 

“Yeah?” You soften your grip a little, rolling your hand at the tip and feeling precum bead up and smear on your belly, “Saving yourself for me, baby?” 

He moans softly, his eyes rolling shut, “You’d like that wouldn’t you?” 

“Maybe,” You kiss the corner of his mouth and pump his cock a little harder. 

“L-let me touch you,” He pants, his hand pushing your hips back just enough so that he can fit a hand in between your thighs, “can I touch you?” 

It’s dizzying how much he begs to pleasure you, and you’re starting to think maybe this is part of what he needs, but you’re still new to each other’s bodies and learning and you suppose you’ll have time to figure all of this out. It’s not just a one night thing.

“Touch me,” You open your legs for him and he immediately slides his fingers down your slit to your aching entrance. 

“Don’t stop,” He urges you and you realize at the feeling of his fingers you stopped pumping your hand. 

You smile, kissing him again and finding a new pace with a stroke of your hand and a roll of your wrist, “You feel so good, baby,” 

“So do you,” He pants, and then he pushes two fingers inside your slick walls. 

You choke out a wine, pushing your hips forwards into his hand so he can go deeper. 

“God,” He holds you firm with his other hand, “you’re too tight,” 

“Too tight?” You huff, still working your hand over his cock, “never gotten that complaint before,” 

“Not a complaint, princess,” He teases, drawing his fingers out of your channel before thrusting back inside, “but I need to prep you a little, I don’t want to hurt you,” 

Your muscles clench down around his fingers. 

He laughs softly, “Oh, yeah, babygirl? You want me inside?” 

You nod, a whine trapped on your lips, “Cheol, please,” 

“Shh, shh,” He shifts, effectively sliding down the couch a little more while you slide up, and he rests his head on your shoulder and adjusts the angle of his arm so he can pump his fingers in and out of your channel at a steadier pace. He watches the way his fingers disappear inside you with rapt attention, cursing when he feels you grip down on him, “You want to come again?” 

“P-please,” You’re doing your best to keep working your hand, but at the way his fingers are curled inside you and pressing rhythmically against your sweet spot you think you’re about to see stars again. 

“Fuck, baby,” He sighs, “you’re so sexy,” 

All you can do is moan, grip down on his shoulder and let him have you. 

When he pushes in a third finger to stretch you, you gasp tightly at the sensation, the pleasure rocketing up your back and making your brain buzz. 

“Are you close?” He pumps his hand harder, finding your nearby nipple with his tongue and your body arches again. 

“Close,” You pant, your legs widening as you try to brace yourself, your hand falling away from his cock and gripping down on his thigh as the rolling wave of your orgasm starts to wash up over you. 

“Come for me,” He’s gripping you hard, like you belong to him and he wants only to please you, and his words combined with the way his hands lay on you leaves you coming apart at the seams. 

The sound of it is obscene, wet and filthy and pornagraphic and you’ve never in your life had sex with someone for the first time and had it be anything close to perfect. Your bodies want each other with such need. It's entirely outside your conscious brain, and you think if he can love your body like this then maybe he can love all the other parts of you, and you never want to let him go. 

Your orgasm hits you harder than the first, locking your body up in spasmodic elation, and he curls around you when you twist to make sure he works you through the crest of it, his hand only slowing down when the pulses of pleasure start to ease. 

When you come back to earth, you’re pressed face down onto the couch instead of up, your cheek against the cool fabric below you. Seungcheol is wrapped around your body like he’s glued to your back, and you feel his soft breath against your cheek and shoulder, his easy kisses on whatever part of you he can reach. His hand is still tucked underneath you and between your legs, cupping your cunt warmly and just holding you as you come down. 

“Cheol?” You murmur, your brain almost a little foggy at the heady feeling of two full body orgasms. 

“Hey, there you are,” He kisses you again, “feeling okay?” 

“Mm,” You nod, “so, so good,” 

He smiles, “Yeah? Did I get you?” 

You laugh against the cushions, shaking your head, “Babe, I just came so hard I blacked out,” your body stretches, pressing your core into the cup of his hand, “you definitely got me,” 

“Mm,” He rocks his hand and you sigh a little overstimulated sound, “should we stop here?” 

He doesn’t know, you realize it suddenly, he has no idea how badly you want him. He’s been so focused on your body, your pleasure, your wants, but you can see it now in the hesitation in voice that he still doesn’t know for sure if you want to be here with him or if you just wanted someone. 

He’s been touching you like it might be the only time, his only chance to have you and hold you in his arms. Didn’t he believe you when you said it wasn’t one night?

“Seungcheol,” You wriggle in his arms, “baby,” 

“What’s wrong?” He gives you the space to roll and you twist against him. 

You see his eyes when you turn, like he’s waiting for something and you curse yourself inside for not telling him like he was telling you. You smile, pushing his shoulder until he’s flat on his back, “What’s wrong is that you’re not inside me,” 

“O-oh,” He gasps as you hook a leg over his hips and straddle him, your body hovering over his prone cock. 

“Mhm,” You drop your body over him, your slick slit nestling directly over his cock, “but I’ve been so selfish,” 

He shakes his head to protest but you lay your fingers over his lips to stop him. 

“I want you, Cheol,” You drag your hips and find the head of his cock so you can dip and press it against your entrance, “so fucking much,” 

He’s breathing heavy against your hand, your eyes locked on eachother. 

“Do you understand what I’m saying?” You stay steady above him. 

He nods, just a little. 

“I’ve never wanted anybody like I want you,” You tell him, “never,” 

His lip quirks a little, a small smile as he presses a kiss to your fingers, “I’m all yours,” he whispers. 

You sink your hips back in one smooth flush motion, taking him inside you to the hilt without warning, and his head falls back as he moans. He’s stretching you out wide and full, his thick cock pushing into every spot inside you that you didn’t know could feel like this. 

“Oh my fuck,” Your body moves on it’s own, rocking your hips in a circle to take him deeper and roll your clit across his pubic bone, “Cheol, Cheol,” 

He blinks hard, finding your eyes at the sound of his voice, “Yeah?” 

You feel strangely like you might cry at the rush of endorphins, and you roll your hips again, whining out a need, “Hold me, please? Please, touch me,” 

Seungcheol softens, his hands unclench on the cushions below him and he coasts his warm hands over your thighs, your hips, up and down your sides, “I’m right here,” he murmurs. 

You relish in the feeling of it, and you direct them from their wandering comfort to a landing place on your hips, the perfect soft place for him to grip in with his fingers and keep you steady while you work him. He follows your lead, watching you above him with no hesitation, and his mouth falls slack when he watches you get your position right on your knees and lift up to draw his cock out of your warm, wet channel. 

“y/n,” He pants tightly. 

You sink back down hard and he groans, cursing and no doubt leaving a pretty bouquet of bruises where his fingers press down. 

“Your cock,” You moan as you bounce again, finding a steady rhythm, “you feel so perfect,” 

“Yeah?” He bounces you, teeth clenched as he tries not to come too early. 

“Made for me,” You grind down and jolt against the pleasure, “never felt something this good,” 

He groans, a hot pant of breath and then he stutters his hips upwards, “D-don’t, I’ll come,” 

“Good,” You sink down and back up, feeling him stretch you open again and again. 

“Come here,” He reaches up for you, tugging you down by your neck to get you close and you can feel him suddenly reposition and change the angle, take back control as he pins you to his chest and pumps his hips. 

The way his cock punches into you, curved and pressing directly into your g-spot, makes you choke out a moan and dig your nails into his chest. 

“Say you love my cock,” He pants suddenly in your ear, “if it feels so good, say it, tell me,” 

You moan sharply, “I fucking love your cock,” 

“Fuck yes,” His hand claps down on your ass and grips you tight as his hips piston upwards. 

“Ah, ah,” Your legs are trembling again, “I can’t,” 

“Yes, you can,” He pants, “I want to feel you come on my cock, babygirl, squeeze me,” 

Your eyes slam shut. 

“So fucking tight,” He breathes, “so wet,” 

“For you,” You choke out and hips stutter. 

“Oh, f-fuck,” He pushes up hard, but instead of thrusting he locks his hips there with your bodies pressed flush together and at the sound of his sudden moan, the way his hands lock tight on your body, the way warmth floods your belly, you know he’s coming. 

Your brain somersaults and you rock your hips, trying to keep catching the friction against your clit to help push you over the edge, “Ah,” you whine, “no, please,”  

He doesn’t go anywhere though, he just presses his hips up to keep giving you the pressure you need and holds your hips down with his broad hands, and you hear him hiss at the overstimulation but he groans and manages, “Come baby, you’re so close, there you go, there you go,” 

You’re saying something, but you can’t really hear it. All you can feel is the bubble about to burst inside you as you drag yourself fast and frantic against his body. You’re needy and seconds away, falling into trembles again.

  “So beautiful,” He mumbles, dragging your mouth up to his and locking you in a heady kiss. 

“Cheol!” You squeak against him, body cracking apart into shakes as you come, probably louder than you wanted to as you fall into the sweet space between his neck and shoulder. 

“I’ve got you,” His softening cock slides out as you come, but he slides a hand between your thighs and rubs fast circles on your swollen clit, “fuck, look at you, god, you’re such a mess,” 

Your brain is dizzy as he talks you through the edges of your orgasm. 

“So wet,” He bites down softly on your shoulder, “soaked for me and full of my cum, fuck,” 

As you collapse on his chest, your orgasm receding, his hand slows, but his fingers stay slipped between your folds in the messy mixture of your slick wetness and his release. You are a mess, but he seems to like it and if you’re benign honest so do you. 

“I’m so,” You breathe out, shaky and exhausted, “god, I don’t know,” 

“Mhm,” He sighs, and finally he slides his fingers out of you to rest on your hip, his other hand stroking a line up and down your back while you recover together. 

You need to get up, run to the bathroom and get the shower started, but you’re boneless and floating and he’s just the perfect temperature, so for a little while you don’t move. 

When he shifts his hips under yours to readjust your eyes pop open and you start to move, “Am I hurting you?” 

“Shh,” He wraps his arms around you and gathers you tight to his chest, “don’t you dare go anywhere,” 

“Yeah?” 

“You’re perfect,” He repeats and you smile against his skin, “next time I want you sitting on my face,” 

You laugh against him, “Next time?” 

He’s quiet, his fingers still dragging up and down your spine, “If you want,” 

You shift up in his arms, settling on his chest so that you can see his face, “So much,” 

He cups your cheek, brushing his thumb along your face, as he smiles, “I missed you, you know,” 

Tears prick at the back of your eyes and your throat goes thick, and you don’t trust your voice but you nod and press your lips to his, “I missed you too, all the time,” 

He gives you a moment, just staying calm and kind with his hands, and then he leans up to capture your lips once more, this kiss so much softer and more familiar from the frantic emotion a few minutes ago. His kisses travel from your lips to your forehead and then he smooths back the tangled mess of your hair, “We should get cleaned up,” he murmurs, “how are you feeling?” 

“Like I might not ever walk again,” You joke wryly. 

“I didn't hurt you, did I?” He leans to look you over, “I got a little carried away,” 

You shake your head, “No, I’m perfect, I promise,” 

“We didn’t talk much beforehand,” He notes, brushing his palm over the swell of your hip, dipping at your hip crease, and tracing up over again at the curve of your thigh, “I just want to be sure you’re feeling okay with everything,” 

“I’d tell you if I wasn’t,” You press, “you know I would,” 

“Good,” He sighs. 

You stretch on top of him, your knees aching from your curled position and you smile, “You want to get a shower? We can share the hot water,” 

“You’re insatiable,” He quirks an eyebrow at you. 

“Not for sex,” You slap his chest lightly as you climb off him, wincing at the sudden stretch of your knees, “I can barely move,” 

“I like a challenge,” He sighs, rolling off the chaise and stretching long and you catch yourself watching the strong flex of his back, the cut of his shoulders, the curve of his ass and his muscular thighs. 

Maybe you could rally. 

Seungcheol turns and his eyes flick over your body too, “Yeah,” he nods, “I think I can get one more out of you,” 

“My shower is shockingly small, so,” You reach for him, guiding him down the hall with you, “we’ll see,” 

“I said I like a challenge,” He shrugs, and all of a sudden you can’t stop laughing. 

Your shower is small, but in the end it doesn’t matter. Seungcheol ends up crouched on his knees anyways, with one of your legs hitched over his shoulder while he takes his sweet time with his tongue bringing you up to your softest, easiest orgasm of the night. You trade lazy kisses in the warmth after, the suds long gone and your fingers pruned by the time you fall into bed. 

You don’t have to ask him to stay, he just does. You talk for as long as you can keep your eyes open, stories of years ago when you saw him almost every single day. You whisper late into the night, until finally he falls asleep first, his head lolled to the side, but his hand still wrapped tightly around yours. 

You tumble into sleep right alongside him, his skin smelling of sweet peach and nectarine. 

In the morning, you wake up to something cold suddenly pressed to your cheek and you start to stitch together the world around you in quick threads. 

“Kkuma,” Seungcheol’s voice reaches you first, a hushed whisper as he tries to get his dog’s attention, “come here girl, let her sleep,” 

You groan a little, and you realize the something cold was Kkuma’s very wet nose against your cheek. Instead of listening to Seungcheol, she presses her nose to you again and follows it up with a lick, her panting excitement pushing you from laying on your side to your back as she collapses over your chest. 

“Kkuma!” He exclaims quietly, “down girl!”

Your eyes start to pop open, and this time you see his dog’s fluffy white face inches from your own, delighted that you’re awake. 

“Kkuma,” He tries to drop his voice to a lower tone to get her attention. 

“It’s okay,” You yawn, reaching up to scratch Kkuma behind the ears, “I’m awake now,” 

“I’m sorry,” Seungcheol moves into your bedroom, and you can see he’s fully dressed and has been for some time, “I didn’t think she would just jump on you like that,” 

Your brain is still a little sluggish and you rub your hand over your face, “Did you go home?”

He grins and nods at your sleepy question, the answer obvious from the dog on your chest, “Yeah, I needed to run home and take her for a walk, I hope you don’t mind I let myself back in,” 

“Not at all,” You smile up at him, “I’m just sad you’re not in the cuddle pile,” 

“We can fix that,” He tosses his beanie on your nightstand and then holds up a little carrier containing two coffees and a few little pastry bags, “and I bring gifts,” 

“From that place by your apartment?” You brighten, recognizing the stamped logos on the cups. 

“Mhm,” He passes over your cup, “sugar, no cream,” 

“You remembered,” You push yourself up in bed, Kkuma adjusting herself to snuggle into your side, and accept the cup, “thank you,” 

He lays his heavy denim jacket on the chair by your dresser and slips back into bed with you, dragging the covers back over both your legs, “Of course, I did, not that much could have changed in a year, right?” 

“Mm-mm,” Your legs slide together as you tuck under his arm and settle back into his chest. 

His fingers play with the ends of your hair while he sips his coffee, and then he sighs, “y/n,” 

Your stomach freezes and you wonder if you’re about to get let down easy. If waking up in the morning cleared his head, if a text from Mingyu changed his mind, if on the trip back to his place he worked out the right way to break your heart, if he practiced it out loud in his car with the dog. 

“What’s up?” You say, hoping you sound far more casual than you feel. 

“About Gyu,” He exhales heavy, his coffee leaning against his thigh as he gathers his words, “listen,” 

“Don’t,” You murmur, pressing your eyes closed, “please don’t go,”

“Go?” He asks. 

“I’ll tell him, and I know he’ll be fine after the shock wears off,” You twist in the bed to look up at him, “please just stay, last night was… Cheol, please just think about this,” 

His brows knit together tight in confusion and he sets his coffee on your bedside table to free up his hand and brush it along your cheek, “I was going to say, about Gyu, I’m meeting him for lunch at two. I’d like to tell him about us today,” 

“You what,” You blink. 

“I’d like to tell him that I picked you up after your date,” He says, “and that we got to talking, and that we kissed,” 

You can almost see Mingyu’s wide puppy eyes as he realizes where the story is going to go. 

“And that I asked you out on a date,” Seungcheol finishes, “and he’s going to ask me a lot of other questions which I definitely am not going to answer, except one thing,” 

You swallow nervously, your coffee almost tipping to the side forgotten in your hands until he plucks it up and sets it to the side. 

“He’s going to ask me if I’m serious about you,” He says calmly, like you’ve discussed this before, “and I’m going to say yes, but that’s the kind of thing you should know before your brother does.”

“You’re serious about me,” You say it back, your heart picking up as the words come off your tongue. 

“Yes,” He nods, unequivocal, “and I hope you feel the same way because before I drive across town and tell my best friend I’m in love with his sister, I just need to know if you feel even a tenth of that,” 

Your heart should be pounding, your stomach fluttering, your body flooding with emotion at the casual confession, but all you feel is calm. Mingyu told you once that life would fall into place, you just never thought you’d have that realization while it was happening around you. 

You try to keep a straight face when you say, “There’s only one problem,” 

“Okay,” He says, but you watch his hand fidget in his lap. 

“You never actually asked me out on a date,” You point out with a smile, “and I don’t want to lie to Mingyu about anything,” 

He grins, his tongue dragging against one side of his teeth as he shakes his head in disbelief, “You’re right,” he says, “that’s my mistake, will you go out with me?” 

“I’d love to,” You lean into him so you can press a quick kiss to his lips and take his hand in yours, lacing his anxiously twitching fingers with yours to hold him steady, “and if Gyu gives you any lip about this,” you kiss him again, “tell him I’m in love with his best friend,” 

“You are?” His fingers tighten on your hand. 

“Mhm,” You suddenly can’t keep your lips away from his, “and you tell him that if he does anything to ruin this, that I’ll make him sorry,” 

“Now that,” He laughs, “that I believe,” 

You pull him down to you and your body without another word, and with a hushed apology he pushes Kkuma off the bed so he can splay you out in the middle of the mattress. He takes you fast, hurried and full of need now that you have so much time ahead of you for slow. For now, you have a lot of catching up to do.

When you finally make it out of bed the coffee is cold and Seungcheol is late for lunch. 

#honeyhotteoks updates #honeyhotteoks fics #seventeen ff #seventeen fic #svt fanfic #svt ff #scoups x reader #seungcheol x reader #choi seungcheol #scoups #scoups fic #scoups smut #scoups ff #seungcheol smut #seungcheol fluff

[muchosbesitos]

Hey, I’m not sure if you’re open or not, but I have a request that I thought would be hot!

So Miguel x vigilante! Reader. She’s not a hero, but if Miguel needs her then she will help him (is very opposed to it but does it because they used to be friends). Sometimes the two of them will fight, but they would never somehow hurt each other badly.

But one day she gets hurt by some arrogant hero (idk who, maybe a variant of cat woman or smth) and Mig gets PISSED! Like he grabs reader and looks at the other hero as if he was about to commit mass homicide.

And he takes care of reader, but he begins to get Dark! Cause he will not let her leave his house, he treats her like a godddess, will spoil her (idk) but then he will not allow her to call anyone. She also finds out that he called into her work and said that she will no longer be working there. And one day he comes back home and straight up proposes to her, saying how he wants her to be his wife and be his forever. He also begins to start saying how he knows that she likes the thought of him torturing others for her etc etc.

Thank you so so much!!! ~ ☀️

only one you need

pairing: miguel o’hara x vigilante fem reader

contents: some yandere themes, spanking, slapping (once), choking, unprotected p in v, breeding kink, degrading, orgasm denial, smidge of lore (not too important)

author’s note: i hope you enjoy and thank you for being patient with me <33 (i hope i didn’t mess this up 😓)

word count: 3.4K

You weren't a hero by any means. You were the Robin Hood of your community, stealing from the rich and powerful to redistribute amongst yourself and your community. The only thing that motivated you to continue taking beatings regularly was the fact that you knew you would starve if you didn't. Your job paid decent, though it wasn't nearly enough to cover your expenses living in Nueva York along with the cost of food.

You were heading back home after stopping a mob deal when you heard the watch in your pocket go off. It'd been weeks of radio silence and you'd assumed that Miguel simply found someone else to work with. While the two of you constantly butted heads over what methods to deal with your opponents, he was very dedicated to his work which made him tolerable to work with. You also had a preference towards helping him given that you cherished the friendship you had with him. The text simply told you to meet him at Earth-65, that it was an urgent matter to be dealt with.

The earth wasn't too different from the other ones you've encountered, though the streets seemed to be more empty than usual. You went up to the Empire State Building, a constant meeting spot in the worlds that you visited. "Hey Spider-Man, what's up?" You asked him, seeing that he was sitting at the ledge. "Took you long enough," he told you, pressing some buttons on his gizmo and his mask dissipated. You rolled your eyes, sitting down next to him as you waited for a brief of what you'd be doing here. "I called you over because of a villain here," he told you, glancing at you through the corner of his eye. "Ask me for my help with a ‘please’ and I might consider it."

He looked around like he was worried of someone overhearing before he turned to look at you. "Pretty please help me with this," he said, though you weren't expecting him to actually comply. "Okay, what's up with this villain?" You asked him and he stayed quiet for a moment as his lips pursed. "Basically the Kingpin from this dimension wants to repeat what the one from Earth-1610 did," he finally spoke up and you couldn't help but let out a laugh.

"So why not use the same strategy as last time?" You asked him and he let out a small growl at the mention of what happened. "That ended up in more harm than good if you don't recall and this Kingpin's working with the Hand. Apparently they're skilled ninjas or something like that, right up your alley," he responded and your brows furrowed in recognition. "Doesn't Daredevil usually deal with them in every universe?" You inquired, looking up at him. "Daredevil is Kingpin here."

You and Miguel discussed some strategies on how to deal with your little problem when you felt a gush of wind zoom right past you. Before you two had a chance to attack, the two of you found yourselves tied up in a rope. Your attacker came into view, resulting in none other than Felicia Hardy, and she came in close to analyze the two of you. "Well, you're much more handsome than the usual Spider-Man," she purred, stroking Miguel's cheek as she spoke. "Kingpin wanted me to send his regards, though he doesn't appreciate you two trying to stop him," she continued, stepping back once she finished with her observations. "Seems counterintuitive to help out the man who killed your father," Miguel spoke up, letting out a scoff.

Felicia’s eyes darkened for a moment before they returned back to normal, a smirk on her face. "I don't do things that don't benefit me," she simply said, looking down at the two of you. "So, do you choose to take the warning or continue with this little strategy of yours? The Hand will never let you even two inches close to him," she inquired, tapping her foot on the floor. Miguel took the chance to unsheath his claws, the rope falling on the floor. Felicia whistled, a circle of ninjas surrounding the two of you.

The two of you split up, defending yourselves against the Hand, while Felicia watched idly by the side. You got on top of her, planning to tie her up and ended up getting punched on the nose. You recoiled, your defenses weakened when you felt a sharp sting in your stomach. You looked down to see that one of the ninjas stuck a katana in you, the blood starting to pool on the floor. Miguel pulled the ninja off you and grabbed Felicia by her neck, dangling her as he picked her up. His talons unsheathed at his sides, a small growl coming up his throat as he opened his mouth, fangs ready to attack her.

"Miguel!" You screamed, holding your stomach as you tried to control the bleeding. You looked up to see Felicia, the fear evident in her eyes even though her stoic expression didn't show it. You couldn't help but feel a bit of guilty as you saw her for what she was in that moment. She was willing to do anything to get her father back, even work with the man that scorned her. Miguel turned to look at you, his eyes softening and his talons retreating as he set down felicia. Your vision began spotting up, and the only thing you felt was Miguel's arms helping you up before you passed out.

You woke up with the sun shining in through the curtains in a unfamiliar room before the events from earlier came back to you. You looked down to your stomach and realized that the stab wound was mostly healed, minimal scarring visible. You looked over to see Miguel walking in, holding a pill with a glass of water. "You finally woke up, how are you feeling?" He asked, handing you the pill and water. "Just a little pain. How long have i been out for?" You inquired, putting the pill in your mouth before gulping down the water. "You've been out for almost a week."

"Thank you for taking care of me, but I have to get back to my universe. I'm sure my job won't let me spend me any more time off," you told him once you finished up with the water, wiping your mouth. "You don't have to worry about that anymore, I called them to tell that you wouldn't be coming in anymore," he responded eerily calm and your eyes narrowed.

"Why would you do that, Miguel?"

"Because you don't have to worry about your financial situation anymore. You'll be staying here with me and I'll be taking care of you."

"But what about the people in my neighborhood?"

"I'll take care of their necessities."

You took a couple seconds to consider what he was telling you before nodding. "Okay, sure," you responded, folding your arms awkwardly. The concept was foreign to you, of having to depend on someone else for your financial needs. You'd been working to provide for yourself since you were able to, though you lived very minimally. "Did you manage to get Kingpin?" You asked, looking over at him. "I did, I got some of the other members from the Society to help me. I'm sorry for putting you in danger. The last thing i wanted was for you to get hurt," he responds, rubbing the side of his neck.

"It was just a little cut, I’ll be fine," you tried to downplay the situation, despite the fact that you felt a pain every time you moved. "I'll take care of you while you heal, okay?" He reassured you, kissing your forehead before he walked out of the room. You sat down on the bed as you tried to wrap your head around the situation, that you'd never have to work again or have to settle for the minimum. You began to accept the idea the more you thought about it even if you weren't too sure why Miguel was doing all this for you.

"Hey, Miguel? Why're you doing all this for me?" You asked him when you came out to the kitchen, seeing that Miguel was cooking something up for the both of you. "I care about you, even if I haven't really shown it through my actions. You're the only person I can really tolerate being around for extended periods of time," he responded, looking over at you as he set down the spoon. You helped him out by chopping some of the vegetables, glancing at him through the corner of your eye. “I took the opportunity to go to your universe to bring back some of your clothes. I hope you don't mind knowing that I went through your closet," he told you as he poured in the chopped vegetables in the soup he was making. "I don't mind, thank you for that," you responded, looking through the cabinets for some spices.

You felt your breath hitch as Miguel moved behind you, reaching towards the cabinet above you. He placed his hand on your hip for a split second as he grabbed the spices, pulling them out. You missed the touch as soon as he walked away, going towards the oven once more. You watched as he cooked, pouring in the oregano and thyme, keeping his eye on the container to not pour in too much. You excused yourself from the kitchen, going back into the bedroom.

You called one of the girls you'd been helping back in your universe, hoping that she'd been doing well in your absence. "What are you doing?" You heard from behind you, Miguel coming into the room. "I'm trying to call one of the people I used to help out back home, see how she's doing," you responded, looking back at him. He grabbed the phone from you, hanging up before sticking it in his pocket. "No more of that. The only person you need to talk to is me. I'm the only person that you need," he told you, holding up your chin as he spoke. "But I’m worried about her, Miguel," you tried to defend yourself but he wasn't budging on the subject. "I'll go check up on her tomorrow if that's important to you. But you won't be talking to anyone else. Like I told you, I’m the only person that you need."

Even though you should've ran for the hills after he told you that, you didn't mind only being with him and only spending time with him. He'd even given you an Amex card, telling you to spend whatever you want to your heart's content. Needless to say, your wardrobe ended up expanding into luxurious items and you bought more expensive jewelry. Miguel often told you how much he liked seeing you spend his money, how much he liked seeing you glammed up and just because of him.

Your relationship with Miguel continued to grow throughout the following weeks, the two of you ended up having dinners together and doing activities in the house. Though you had a longing to spend time with other people, you could appreciate that Miguel let you keep the interdimensional watch.

Miguel arrived from work late at night, his eyebags prominent as he stepped out of the portal. "Hey, how'd it go today?" you asked him, walking up to him to wrap your hands around him. "It was okay. I'm gonna go change into something comfortable and I'll join you for dinner," he told you, dipping his head to kiss your forehead. He walked away, retreating back to the bedroom to get changed and you headed into the kitchen. You served a plate for you both and set them down on the table, sitting down as you waited for him to come out.

Dinner had gone as usual, mostly just talking about what you'd done inside the house and him talking about what kind of creatures he'd encountered. Though you felt some sort of longing at being able to go to the streets and fight again, you couldn't help but wonder if your efforts were all just in vain after all. That no matter how much you gave it your all in the fights that you had, it wouldn't matter in the end and that made it easier to make yourself more comfortable just staying with Miguel. You were about to head upstairs after finishing up the dishes to get ready for bed before you were stopped by him calling out your name.

You turned around to see miguel on one knee and all the air in your lungs escaped as you saw the box he was holding. "Will you marry me?" The request was simple but his face told you that everything about the gesture was not. You could see the love that he held for you as he looked up at you and you couldn't help the tears that rolled down your cheek. You nodded quickly and went over to kiss him, rubbing the tears away from your cheeks. "I'd love to marry you, Miguel."

The union was at Miguel's house and the only people present were the priest and Peter B. Parker to authenticate the wedding. You had on a beautiful floor-length white dress while Miguel had on a black tux, the material fitting him snugly. "You may now kiss the bride," the priest told the both of you after the vows were done and Miguel placed his his hands on your hips as he kissed you. The priest left a couple minutes after that and Miguel headed upstairs to get the nice whiskey out.

You took the opportunity to make conversation with Peter, wanting to know more about his close friend. You were in the middle of discussing what Miguel was like at work with him when Miguel grabbed your arm, pulling you behind him. "I think it's time for you to leave, Peter. Me and my wife have some talking to do," he told him, his voice eerily calm despite how much his back had tensed up as he spoke. Peter congratulated the two of you once more before he left the house and Miguel turned to look at you, his eyes narrowed. "Run."

You felt your heart thumping as you hid underneath the bed and the only thing you could do was listen to Miguel's taunting calls. "Where are you, conejita? Don't you wanna come out and play?" He purred, his voice echoing throughout the empty house. (bunny) Miguel came into the bedroom, his footsteps shuffling around as he opened up the closet door and peeked inside before shutting the door. You let out a sigh of relief but that relief was short lived when your legs were pulled back, forcing you out of your hiding spot.

"Do you know what you did wrong, mi amor?" He asked you, his tone condescending as he held a firm grip on your chin. "I talked to Peter when I shouldn't have, I'm sorry," you replied, your eyes drifting towards the ground in shame. "Aht, none of that. Look at me," he ordered and you complied, looking up at him. "Tell me conejita, what do you think the adequate punishment for that is?" He inquired, his voice husky as he sat down on the bed, bringing you down onto his lap. Your throat bobbed as your mind ran blank and Miguel couldn't help but let out a small chuckle. "You shouldn't have left it up to me, muñeca." (doll)

You let out a whine as his hand met the plush skin of your ass once more, the skin stinging from the amount of times he'd done this. "Count or we're starting over from zero," he told you as tears ran down your cheeks. "Ten!" You whined out, your pussy clenching against nothing as your juices coated his pant leg. "Can't even punish you because you end up liking it like the slut you are," he hissed, bringing his hand up to slap your other ass cheek. The two of you kept this up until he reached twenty and he looked down at you, his brows furrowing. "What's the color?" He asked, his voice taking on a light tone despite what he'd just done. "Green," you responded, getting up from the bed before Miguel took you in his arms with ease.

You were laid down on your back as Miguel took off his pants, the tip of his cock red as it glistened with precum. You spread your legs instinctively and he started to insert his cock in slowly, making sure to give you some time to adjust before he got started. Soon enough, his hips were snapping against yours with every thrust that he took and his hand went up to your neck, squeezing gently. "The only one you need and will ever need is me, understood?" He told you as he continued to abuse your cunt with his cock. You struggled to form words in your head so you moaned out in approval, only being met with Miguel's hand slapping across your cheek. "I need a verbal response, conejita," he told you, his hand returning back to the spot around your neck. "Y-Yes!" Your voice came out garbled as you try to conjure up the words and let out a soft hum in approval before he placed your legs against your chest.

"I think you like knowing that I would kill anyone for you. That I wouldn't let anything happen to you, mi amor," he told you, his voice coming out strained as your walls squeezed around his cock. The headboard slammed against the wall as he continued to thrust deep into you, his pace never faltering. You felt your orgasm approaching you quickly and your moans got louder, your hands gripping the bedsheets. The sweet euphoria of the orgasm never came, though, because Miguel pulled out his cock right as you were about to approach your peak. "You really think you can cum with that little stunt you just pulled?" He asked you, letting out a laugh before you had a chance to protest.

He pushed his cock inside of you once more in a swift motion, your hands gripping his forearms as he continued. "Please! Make me cum, Mig!" You pleaded, tears rolling down your cheeks. He leaned down, licking away your tears as he let out a small chuckle. "I will, princesa. You'll be begging me to stop by the time this is over," he responded, his hands on your hips as he pushed in deeper and faster. "You'll be so pretty when you're full of my cum. That's all you're meant to be, my pretty little wife and the bearer of my kids. Those tits full of milk and everybody will know just who you belong to," he told you, his hand coming down on your clit as he rubbed small, sloppy circles on your clit.

Luckily enough, he let you cum this time and your releases coated his shaft, providing him enough lubrication to slide in easily. He came soon after as he felt your walls squeeze his cock dry, his cum coating your walls completely. You'd expected him to stop right there but he continued to thrust inside of you, keeping that same pace from before. "I told you, you'd be asking me to stop by the time this is over," he told you with a smirk, bending down to kiss you as he placed your legs over his shoulders.

You were unsure of how many times you'd came by the time the night was over and all the thoughts in your brain had been turned into mush. Miguel pulled out his softening cock out of you, your plush walls stuffed with his cum after his multiple orgasms. He grabbed a cloth from the bathroom, cleaning you up gently so to not give you any more stimulation. He held you close to him as you came down from your orgasms, your breath returning back to normal. "Did I go too far?" He asked you gently, his hand rubbing small circles on your back. "No, it's okay," you assured him, pressing a small kiss on his cheek. "Te amo, esposa. Nunca te quiero perder." (i love you, wife. i never want to lose you)

#muchosbesitos #miguel o’hara spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara fic #miguel o’hara drabble #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 smut #atsv miguel #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel atsv #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara across the spider verse #miguel o’hara spiderverse #spiderman #spiderman smut #smut #miguel x y/n #miguel x you #miguel spiderman #miguel spiderverse #spiderman atsv #miguel 2099 #miguel fic #miguel fanfic #miguel x reader #miguel ohara

[itsharleystuff]

↳ 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐂𝐊𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐄

Gif not mine!

— 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Joel Miller x afab!fem reader

— 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7k

— 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Ellie finds an old chessboard somewhere in Jackson and asks you to teach her how to play. Joel joins and isn’t too happy about losing three times against you.

— 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+ content (minors dni!), age gap (reader is in her mid twenties, Joel is early fifties), sex, p in v, unprotected sex, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, use of whore (like once), pet names (darling, sweetheart, angel), multiple orgasms, they do it on the table, cum eating, bit of angst, insecure Joel, canon divergency, probably ooc Joel and Ellie, mentions of death and loss, alcohol consumption, confessing feelings. Let me know if I missed something!

a/n: this one’s a bit rushed but I wanted to post it before my birthday so I apologize if it isn’t great. Anyways, I’m writing a second Javi fic, so if you liked 𝐌Í𝐀 I’m certain you’re going to love the next one:)

no use of y/n

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

"You're cheating." Ellie rambles, standing up to get a better view of the board and analyze it from different angles. You can't help but giggle at her childish attitude, cause it truly brought a certain joy to the dynamic. "Hey! It's not funny."

"How could I cheat? You were watching my game the whole time." You defend you case, raising your hands in a sign of peace but gaining a glare from the girl.

"I don't know, you're the one who's teaching me." In that moment, you hear the crack of the front door opening, but none of you bother to stand and greet the main resident of the house, too busy in your own matters.

"Look, I'm playing fair. I am simply older and more experienced than you." Ellie grimaces and sits back on the chair, both arms crossed over her chest. "But try not to feel too bad. I've always been really good at chess."

Joel enters the dining room and walks right past you, going straight to the kitchen. You guess he's either going for a beer or to pour some whiskey into his favorite glass. Always the same routine every weekend: he would come home late with absolutely no explanations as to where he was, drink something strong and spend some time with both of you before heading to bed.

"You must be a really good strategist, then." She replies, amused. "I’ve heard this game is all about that. Strategies."

When you're about to respond, the man's heavy footsteps get closer as he comes to the room once again and leans back on the wall opposite to you, a glass of whiskey on his hand. His grayish hair is messy and his eyes seem to shine brighter under the warm light hanging over your heads when he looks at you intently. Often, he would appear exhausted after being off all day, but tonight it was different. Something about him was, but you couldn’t quite pinpoint it.

Ellie must've sensed a shift in the air, since she changed her approach in a second. "Joel, you're pretty ancient. I bet you know how to play."

You hold back your laughter at her mocking comment, reaching the board to rearrange the pieces. He cocked an eyebrow in her direction, straightening his posture nonchalantly.

"I'm more of a poker man," he retorts with a distant air, diverting his gaze to Ellie.

"Poker?" You frown as he comes your way, but doesn't take a sit just yet. "I didn't take you for a gambler, Miller."

He sets the glass down on the table, leaning over the chair next to you with a smirk. "M'not. There’s many ways of playing other than betting your money, f’you know what I mean.”

Your eyes widen at his response, taken aback. So he meant like… The one were you end up naked. “Now, I would’ve expected that from Tommy, but you? That’s a surprise.”

He shrugs, faded smile still on his lips.

You remembered what Ellie once told you, ‘he does that whenever you’re around,’ she had said in a meditative tone, ‘smile, I mean. It’s kind of creepy cause… y’know, he never does.’ Perhaps that’s why she acted differently every time you three were together.

“Yeah, whatever.” The girl grumbles. “Can you play chess or not? I need someone to take revenge for me.”

Joel takes a seat beside you, slowly, glancing over the board before sipping from his drink again. He looks back at Ellie, whose eyes were sparkling with excitement. The man sighs in defeat, well aware that he just couldn’t say no to her. A dad reflex, maybe, but it worked out in her favor and she’d take advantage of it as much as she could.

“Fine. I call black.” You nod in agreement and the younger one leans on her elbows for a better view. “Either way, I know you like making the first moves. Ain’t that right, darlin’?”

Your first reaction was almost choking on your own saliva. Honestly, how dare he say something like that in front of Ellie? Did he suddenly forget that she was fourteen and terribly clever? Had he lost his mind? Also, he never called you by anything other than your name whenever she was around, so this whole situation felt like a personal attack.

“You okay over there?” Ellie asked, slightly concerned at your incessant coughing.

“Yeah…” you give him a dirty look and press a hand to your chest, making the first move with a white pawn. “Could you bring me some water? I think my soul might’ve left my body.”

“Sure.” She quickly answers, standing up. Joel doesn’t say anything else, his mind focused only on the game now.

It had all happened last weekend.

Thinking in retrospective, your relationship with him had always been ambiguous. You couldn’t quite recall when he actually started talking to you and not just ‘bear with your presence’, nor when his invitations to come over to his place started coming from him and not Ellie.

At first, it was simply you and her. Bonding was easy, despite her sharp character. She looked up to you, for whatever reason that might be, and that smoothed things. Joel was a completely different story. He acted like you didn’t exist, as if you were merely another bug roaming his house. Though when he saw how good your friendship with Ellie was, his brusque behavior started to fade, or at least settle down somehow.

Sooner than later you started coming over to make dinner, or teach the teenager how to bake some of the recipes your grandmother had thought you -more like you’d do everything while she chatted to keep you entertained-. But truth be told, it became more of an excuse to see him.

Honestly, you were doomed since the very beginning. There was undeniably no way you would’ve been able to escape Joel Miller’s silent charm. His presence became a constant need to you, and you’d often find yourself relating certain things to him. Smoke, denim, pills, booze, watches and boots, to mention a few. To you, he was all gray and blue, merging in the best way possible.

You didn’t expect him to thank you for taking care of them. Them. Not just Ellie, him too. Or that he’d suddenly show up to places you would frequent, which made you wonder, could he possibly feel the same way? Sure, it could’ve been a simple coincidence… If it weren’t for the stolen looks you’d often share. Though his face rarely reflected any interest in you, his piercing gaze would frequently burn your skin every time you were hanging out with other men.

Two weeks ago, Maria had been held back from patrol due to her pregnancy, and you were called to fill up her place. The thing is, you were supposed to leave with Tommy, but somehow ended up with his older brother, riding at dawn in utter silence and searching for a prey to hunt. It wasn’t particularly uncomfortable, yet it allowed you to watch him more attentively: his broad shoulders and sturdy back, the dark graying hair that, in some way, made him more attractive. And then your mind, went to some… Darker places.

How would his big, manly hands feel cupping your breasts? Flashy images of his rough, calloused fingers pinching your nipples meandered your mind. His face buried between your legs, his mustache tickling your…

“You ‘kay there, sweetheart?” He had asked, abruptly taking you out of your freakish daydreaming. “You seem distracted.”

Well, that was a way of putting it. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just…” you babbled, “I hate the rifle.” Joel glanced back at you with a stiff, confused expression. “If I shoot this thing, I’ll feel the kickback on my shoulders and back for at least two weeks from now.”

The horses were stagnant, waiting by the trees while you took a stroll nearby, keeping an eye for any sort of animal that would serve for dinner.

“Show me.” He said, internally amused by your inquiring expression. “Show me how you hold it.”

“Oh…” You compeled, in spite of the anxiety his stern eyes brought upon you.

“You’re doin’ it wrong.” He grunted, coming to approach you, still holding the position.

You scowled, raising a brow to him but not daring to move a muscle. “Maybe you’re just making me nervous, did you think about that?”

Joel plants himself behind you, staying so close that you could feel the warmth of his body through the many layers of clothing. Your heartbeat races when his hand rearranges the rifle on your elbow, unintentionally wrapping his arms around you.

“You need to hold it like this.” His tone was low but still firm. “Keep it up.” You feel his chest pressed to your back and his face near yours, making it hard to breathe.

You can’t bring yourself to look at him, cause if your head turns even a little, you fear the distance between you might as well disappear. His hand holds your wrist steady, the other one going from your elbow to your waist in a tight grip that makes you gasp.

“Do I make you nervous?” He questioned, without letting you go. Paying no mind to the way your nerves buzzed and ears rang at the proximity, you slowly nodded. “Are you afraid of me?”

His doubt made your heart jump and knit your brows together. “No. I trust you.” Joel’s breath hit your temple and it took all the self control in your body not to get rid of the distance.

“You shouldn’t.” Both his hands are on your waist in a firm grasp. He definitely noticed your flushed cheeks, the ragged breathing and constant desire to look at him. Like a damn teenager in love. You gulp, trying to regain composure.

“And why is that?” He didn’t answer, and every second that passed and his hands were still on you only made it worse. You needed to get closer or your lungs would crush under the weight of expectation. “Joel?”

You finally gave in, raising your head to face him. He was already looking down at you, eyes smitten and lost. A reflection of him you’d never seen before. Your gaze goes to his lips and inevitably lick your own before going up to his deep, brown eyes again.

Fucking hell, the man was mesmerizing.

Before you even knew what you were doing, you’re leaning forward, completely forgetting about the rifle and the whole world around you. Your noses touch and your lips merely brush against each other’s. Instinctively, you close your eyes in hopes that he’d go for it.

But he didn’t.

Instead, his hand comes to arrange your posture again, murmuring a lazy ‘easy’ in your ear, that shared moment vanishing in thin air.

“When shooting a weapon this big, you gotta bring your strength from your torso and legs.” And then he acted like nothing happened; nevertheless, he was perfectly aware of the effect he had on you. “That way it won’t hurt after.”

Well shit. Now you had screwed up.

This man was like a father to Ellie and you were not only infatuated with him, but also add to the list that you had purposely tried to kiss him. You were embarrassed, to say the least. Specially since it appeared that whatever feelings you had were one-sided.

Or so you thought, up until last Saturday.

You hadn’t talked with him about it. In fact, you hadn’t even been alone with him ever since. It was probably for the best, though, that way you wouldn’t have to humiliate yourself in front of him any further. Every time you happened to cross paths, he seemed aloof, more indifferent than usual.

It was pretty late, probably past midnight and Joel hadn’t yet arrived. You had spent all day with Ellie and now you were just waiting for his return, but she was growing tired and you didn’t think it was fair for her to stay up for too long.

“Go to bed, okay? I’ll wait for him.” You told her with a smile.

“Nah, don’t worry. I’m not even…” whatever she was going to say got cut off by her yawn.

“Right. You were saying?” She rolled her eyes and snorted at your victorious air.

“Fine. But promise you won’t stay for too long. I’d hate to know you didn’t get any sleep because of me.” You agreed and said everything would be fine, that she had nothing to worry about.

So you waited there on his living room, reading old crappy magazines about celebrity gossip while facing the crackling fire that kept the house warm. It was easy to lose track of time this way, therefore, when the door opened at last, you had no idea how long you had been waiting around. You rushed to his encounter, but you were totally unprepared for what happened next.

“Jesus Christ, Joel. Are you- shit…” the man standing ahead was someone you knew, but could barely recognize. The side of his face was bleeding, a cut going from his temple to the cheekbone and there were bruises scattered around it. He was sweating and you could swear he was about to faint.

You closed the door behind him, tugging his shoulder to drag him inside, all the way to the kitchen. Despite his rumbles of protest, Joel allowed you to do it, putting up no resistance. His mind was screaming at him to tell you that you should leave and that he didn’t need any help. But he was too fucking exhausted and you were being so kind and warm… He just couldn’t bring himself to do it, ignoring the part of his brain that kept telling him ‘you’ll regret this later’. For once in a very long time, he was being irrational, letting another part of him take control; or rather lose it completely.

You sat him down on a chair and took a clean towel, wetting it with cold water to treat the wound. In addition, you also took the bottle of whiskey that he kept locked away where Ellie wouldn’t find it, pouring him a glass. He gulps it down straight away.

Joel observes your every move closely. Your steady hands going to his chin and raising his face to the light, the way your features drown in concern and your dazzling eyes examine the injury. His skin burnt there where you touched him and it was becoming hard for him to keep his mind focused, growing dizzier with pain and intoxicated by your perfume. He really shouldn’t be feeling this way, and it burdens him to know it. Your lovely, young self shouldn’t be an object of his desire; and the fact that you were what he wanted the most was killing him achingly slow.

Because, even if you did want him back, what good could it possibly come from the whole thing? He’d just hold you back. There were plenty of other men in Jackson that could offer you things he certainly couldn’t. Yeah, that was it. He was way too corrupted to be deserving of someone like you.

“Does it hurt too much?” You muttered while getting rid of the blood, careful not to be too harsh.

“S’okay, angel.” The name-calling wasn’t something you usually liked. It sounded condescending coming from other men, but when he did it, your stomach fluttered. “Were you waiting for me?”

You nod vaguely, “I was worried.” His eyes bore into yours and your heart skips a beat. “I mean we. We were worried.”

“Right…” He noticed how your fingers brushed the hair out of his face tenderly, his self-control threatening to crumble under your touch with every second that went by. His hand takes your wrist, preventing you from keeping up your work. For a moment, he says nothing, simply staring at you fixedly. “I think you should leave.” He blurts out, letting go of you.

Oh, there they were. Those mixed signs that you always seemed to misinterpret.

You groan in exasperation, leaving the bloody towel beside the bottle of alcohol. “I’m just trying to help.”

“I don’t need your pity.” Joel was being petty and his deliver managed to hurt a little. But you would not give him that much power, at least not without putting up a fight.

“It’s not about that and you know it.” You cross both arms over your chest and sit on the edge of the table, determined to get out of that agog that wouldn’t let you sleep. “Why are you pushing me away?”

He rubs a hand over his face, taking his time to retort and avoiding your eyes. “I can’t give you what you want.”

You laugh sardonically, challenging him. “And what is that?” His gaze is disdainful and rude, but you don’t let him intimidate you. “Are you afraid?”

If you were anyone else, you’d be shaking with fear. Joel was tough, to the point where some might call him cynical. But you knew he wouldn’t hurt you. His goal was to scare you off.

“Go. I don’t need you here.” You don’t move an inch, resolved to bring an end to whatever this was and ignoring his vicious glare.

“No,” you huffed.

“I told you to leave.” He was getting pissed, his voice trembling with anger and the cold words slicing the tense air.

“And I said no. I don’t take orders from you.” His lips were sealed in a fine line, eyes feisty. “Be honest with me and then I’ll see myself out.”

Silence again. A more prolonged one in which none of you had the bravery to come forward. Every second that went on and nothing happened was a torture you could not endure. That was it then, you’d made a fool of yourself yet again.

“Fine.” Your voice comes out unsteady from choking down the tears as you stand up straight, set on leaving all these feelings behind.

But right when you walk by his side, Joel’s hand grabs your arm softly. His grip wasn’t strong enough to hold you back if you really wanted to go, kind of like he was unsure about his own actions.

“Push me away.” He pleads. And it sounds desperate, as if the whole situation caused him agony. “Please, push me away.”

Your wet your lips, astonished by how guilty he appeared when practically begging you to stay away, “I can’t,” you respond, “I won’t.”

There was no turning back now. He had trapped himself on purpose and jeopardized everything the moment he laid his hand on you. The minute your eyes found each other’s, he realized he’d just lost all willpower that remained.

Joel pulled you closer and the sudden action almost made you trip, forcing you to place both hands on his chest to stay still. Something flicked in his eyes, something you couldn’t quite comprehend. But you took it as a sign to fully give in to your desires, as long as he’d permit it. You sit on his lap, solely enjoying the moment. His face, despite the beating, was ever so beautiful. It wasn’t fair. If he wanted you too, why did he have make it this difficult? Perhaps he was simply… Insecure.

“What have you done to me, sweetheart?” He asked, voice strained as he looks down at your lips. Your fingertips gently trace the edges of his face.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.” One of his hands covers your thigh and the other rests on his knee.

“Do you like playin’ around with an old man like me?” You can’t help but laugh a bit, your thumb going across his bottom lip. “Is this what you want? A sweet thing like you can do so much better.”

“I don’t care for boys, or any other men for that matter.” His chest swells at your words. “I like you, Joel. Is that so hard to believe?” The man swears you can feel his heart thumping against his ribs when he whispers a barely audible ‘yes’. His honesty moved you and grew a weird feeling in your chest that impelled you to prove him wrong.

In response, you lastly get rid of that awful distance, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips and feeling the unfamiliar tickle of his mustache. It was stubborn at first, but he caved in eventually, kissing you back slowly. He took his time to relish on your taste before deepening the kiss, manhandling you on top of him. Joel’s hands are on your lower back and the nape of your neck as his tongue explores your mouth in depth, letting go of himself. You moaned in between the kiss, drunken by every light stimulation, which only spurred him on and turned the situation hungrier, more desperate.

“Joel…” you pull back, laying your forehead against his. “I have to go.”

You feel him chuckle at your declaration. “Seriously? Now?” His tone was raspy and faint.

“I don’t want to.” You assure with a pout, “But I fear that if I stay, this won’t end in a simple kiss. And Ellie’s upstairs, remember?” He agreed it was for the best, but still couldn’t seem to keep his hands to himself, asking you to stay the night even if he had to sleep on the couch.

That was the night that started everything.

After that weekend, the way he acted changed radically. He remained with that grim, stoic exterior. Yet, he was brighter around you, more beaming. In public, he’d always find a way to touch you, even if it was merely a brief brush of skin. On bolder days, he’d pull you apart from a crown and take you somewhere darker to make out for as long as you could. Which wasn’t much, since everyone always appeared to have some sort of unresolved business with either of you.

Today, however, something was odd. Joel went off, as usual, and you stayed with Ellie, who had found an old, ragged chessboard somewhere in Jackson. A game that, as it turns out, you particularly loved.

That’s how you ended up here.

Three rounds afterwards, you keep winning and increasing his irritation.

“Checkmate.” You say for the fifth time tonight, giving him a triumphant smile, getting up from your seat to pour some whiskey into your glass.

“You’re cheating.” He barks, annoyed.

“See! I told you.” Ellie backed him up and the way they teamed up to bash you almost made you giggle.

“Suck it up, losers!” You shout from the kitchen, entertained by their resentment.

“Spill your secrets then, otherwise I will simply not be convinced.” She replies, glowering.

The drink nearly dissolves on your tongue and you leave the glass on the counter, coming to join them again. You rest both hands on her shoulders in a friendly gesture.

“My grandpa thought me when I was young. Before the outbreak, I mean.” Ellie turns her head to look at you in interest. “He got sick afterwards… Forgetful and amnesiac.” You explain, “Chess stimulated his brain and since I was his only family left, we would spend hours playing.” Joel’s chest feels heavy at the sight of your nostalgic smile. “We had a great time together. He… Passed away a couple years ago.” Ellie takes your hand on her own in a comforting manner, but you don’t feel particularly sad, simply emotional about the past. “Hey, kiddo. Didn’t you have a movie night with Dina today?”

“Shit!” Her eyes widen. “Thanks for the reminder, I totally lost track of time,” she gets up with an apologetic smile, “I’m gonna head out now.” She quickly takes a jacket and ties her hair up. “You guys can keep playing or… I don’t know, just don’t wait around for me.”

And just like that, you’re left alone.

After an entire week of sneaking around and behind everyone’s back, you’re finally alone.

There’s a shift in the air of the room and you narrow your eyes when you gape at him. “You think she knows something?”

He tilts his head to the side and finishes his whiskey. “Probably. Can’t know for sure.” The vague answer made you shrug, deciding to put a pin to it for later.

Now that no one was around, you were determined to have some fun, coming up with a plan that could escalate things between you. And he surely thought so too. It wouldn’t be difficult to get his attention, since he was constantly monitoring your every move. Being that way, you intentionally stand beside him when leaning to reorder the pieces, giving him a very good view of your ass.

“Another round?” You ask tauntingly, “Or are you already tired of getting defeated?”

He grunts, upset by the previous resolutions. “I’d like to play another game.” You turn around with a cheeky smile. “One that I won’t lose.”

“And what would that be?” He gives you a darkened, intense glance, his lips pursed in a smirk.

Joel Miller was a man of few words and he totally lived up to it. Instead of responding, he grabbed your hips and dragged your body to the side, so that you were now standing between his legs, lingering against the edge of the table. You swallow hard, meeting his heavy gaze from above him. It made your pulse raise and blood rush, igniting something that you haven’t quite felt with anyone else yet. He presses a kiss to your clothed abdomen, eyes never wandering from yours as he lowers his lips to your pelvis, lifting your shirt leisurely.

“Look at you, darlin’. All flustered and I’ve barely done anything.” Your chest rises and falls methodically, the atmosphere feeling dense despite the chilly air. Your tongue darts out to lick your lips when he starts laying open-mouthed kisses along your exposed belly, sending shivers through your whole body, “Off,” he motions at your clothes.

You do as told, getting rid of the shirt and tossing it to the floor. His big, warm hands strain your movements as he explores your skin, kissing all the way up to the valley of your breasts.

“Joel…” you take a fistful of his hair and pull at it mildly, just enough to yank his head backwards and bring your lips together, swallowing a whimper from him.

The kiss is ambitious, all teeth and tongue, as if you had been craving each other for long and had just barely given in. He swiftly stands up and sits you at the end of the table, spreading your knees to settle in between your thighs. He parts from your mouth and traces your jawline, neck and collarbones, nibbling and sucking the sensitive skin, lightly scraping it with his facial hair. You were a mess at this point, panting and tugging at him as if you were about to collapse. But then he stops, breathing heavily against your chest and looking up to you with dark, lustful eyes.

“What- Did I do something wrong?” You stutter with uncertainty.

“Ain’t nothing wrong, angel.” His hand rests heavy on your thigh, a mischievous grin painted on his face. “But I told you we’d play a different game, didn’t I?”

This new side of him was exciting in many ways possible and whatever it was he wanted to do, you were certain it was going to be fun. And, possibly, a bit tortuous. You peer at him in expectation.

“Make your move.” He commanded, pointing the board with a succinct head movement. You obligue, choosing a random pawn and moving it with shaky hands while struggling to think straight. The man hums and decides to mirror your tactic. “Keep goin’.”

Next thing you know his fingers unhook your bra and you have to make a quick choice in spite of all the distractions. At the end, you go for a horse, barely capable of register anything other than his hands taking off the piece of clothing. After contemplating your scheme, he moves another pawn in return.

“Shit.” He hissed at the sight of your exposed tits, nipples hard from the cold air and arousal. “Focus.”

You weren’t sure if that last order was for him or for you, but either way the game kept going. He had enough attention span to grope your breasts and tweak your nipples between the pads of his calloused fingers, while also moving the chess pieces around. You couldn’t say the same for yourself; a louder moan escaping your lips when he replaced his fingers with his mouth.

The more ministrations he provided, the harder it became to make strategic moves. But you were determined not to let him win, regardless of the ache between your legs and the growing wetness in your panties that he refused to attend.

“Joel, I…” He takes away one of your rooks, his lips attached to your neck and hands caressing your inner thighs. “I need more.”

He huffs a laugh that vibrates through your lower body. “That right, angel? Tell me what you want.”

You take away his only bishop left and hear him growl at his approaching defeat. “Touch me, please.”

“Where?” His scent fogs your senses, so manly and distinctive of him, growing the need to feel him in any way possible. “Words, sweetheart.”

“I need your fingers in my cunt, Joel.” You spit out, watching his Adam’s apple bob up and down his throat and increasing his arousal with your lack of coyness. “Please.”

“Anything for my pretty girl.” He unbuttons your pants and slides one hand inside, palming your pussy over the underwear, altering your breathing pattern and moving the queen with his free hand. “Fuck, you’re drippin’.” You grind against his hand and his grip on your waist tightens to keep you still as he kneads circles on your clit over the thin fabric. “Your turn, darlin’.”

The game carries on at the same time as he moves your panties aside and slides two thick fingers inside your entrance, his thumb still fondling your nub slowly. You can’t keep your moans at low and the stimulation picks up when he curls his digits to hit your right spots. All that can be heard in the room is the cracking wood of the fireplace and the squelching sounds of your pussy.

“Jesus Christ, Joel…” you cry out his name, burying your face on the crook of his neck, grabbing the soft flannel in your fists and spilling all your whimpers into his ear, delighting yourself with the way he smelt. He groans at the feeling of your bare chest pressed to him, his cock throbbing painfully at every sound you’d make.

“You like that, darlin’? You like to fuck my fingers on top of this table like a needy little whore?” You clench around him and throw your head back, a new wave of slick coating all the way to his knuckles. “Ah, so you do like it.”

“Yes, Joel. I-” he speeds up his pace, greedily circling your clit in a way that makes your back arch, giving him a glorious view from his position.

“Fuck, you’re so hot. Been wanting to do this for so fuckin’ long…” He admits, peppering kisses all over your breasts.

“Me too. Thought about you when I-” your voice gets lost at the sudden feeling of heat settling on your lower stomach, building up your crescendo. “When I was alone.” Your confession only manages to prompt him further and make his movements more effective. You squirm under his touch, a hand messing his hair while the other holds his belt to keep him close.

He groans a deep ‘fuck’ at the pathetic sound you made. All because of him. No; all of them for him.

“Joel, I’m- shit, I’m close,” there’s a hotness on the pit of your stomach that extends to your legs.

“I know, angel.” He coos, his free hand brushing the hair out of your face. “Go ahead, do it.” His words are all it takes for your orgasm to hit, shocking every nerve on your body. He helps you come down from it, tracing soothing patterns on your bare skin as your body quivers from elation.

“Joel…” you whisper, both your hands on his belt and going to unbuckle it, watching as he takes both fingers to his lips and licks them clean.

“Sweet” he kisses you again, deeply. You happily return it with the same energy, nibbling at his bottom lip while your palm slides inside his jeans to feel up his bulge over the underwear. He muffles a moan in your mouth, his hot, hard cock twitching under your grip.

Your hand drifts inside his boxers to feel him directly, your thumb rubbing over the tip to spread the surprising amount of precum that oozed there. Joel gasped into your mouth, the sound prompting you further.

“Checkmate.” You tell him, pulling back only when you needed to breathe, guiding your finger to your tongue in order to taste him. “I won.”

His eyes divert to the board in awe, and you admire his mesmerized expression when he confirms that you had, in fact, won again. Joel comes back to dote on your devilish grin, fueled up by a new thrill of excitement.

“Fuck this…” he mutters through gritted teeth, mindlessly tossing the board to the side and letting it fall off the table along with all the pieces, making an absolute mess. It appears like he doesn’t even register any of it, going straight back to kissing you, his hands sliding your pants down your legs.

“Shit, Joel…” You can’t help but laugh at his reaction, encouraged by his sudden passion.

As your lips collide once again, you start to unbutton his shirt and he helps you out of your jeans, along with your very wet panties. He pushes your back against the wooden surface, holding you down with a hand around your neck.

“Winners that boast in their victory are only brats.” He snarls, taking his dick out for you to see. Your mouth waters at the sight of it: thick, bigger than you could’ve expected, the head swollen and glistening. “Brats need to be tamed.”

You whine when he parts your thighs even wider, teasing your slit with his tip, covering it in your slick and intentionally grazing your aching clit, urging you to grab his bicep for support.

“Can’t you just fuck me already?” You blurt out, the sensation only edging you more. “I might just cum again from all the teasing.”

His fingertip sweeps across your bottom lip, an eyebrow raised. “You really that sensitive, angel?” He questions, “Or is it just because of me?”

The inquiry nearly makes you crack up. Damn, the man was totally clueless. “Are you really that unaware of the effect you have on me?”

His stare reflects how pleased he is to hear that. “How many times did you beat me tonight, sweetheart?”

It takes an actual effort for you to recall and muster up an answer when he keeps toying with you so mercilessly. “Three, I presume.”

Joel’s hand slithers to your lower back, keeping you angled for him. “Then I’ll get you off three times.” Your heart jumps at the sentence and you look at him in disbelief. “Can you do that, angel?”

Three fucking times?

When your whole life men had only ever given you… None, practically. One at most, if you were lucky enough. And Joel mother-fucking Miller had the nerve to ask if you could handle three.

“Bet.” The answer is music to his ears, giving in once and for all as he enters you unhurriedly.

He’s so big and you feel him splitting you open exquisitely, the sensation fading any thoughts, beliefs or identities from your mind. Right now, all you know is him. It stings a little and it forces you to screw your eyes shut, letting out a small whine as he bottoms out, your nails digging on his arm.

“You’re doing s’good, baby.” He continues to say in midst of it, talking your way through it, “Taking me so well…” You think it’s somewhat unfair that he’s still fully clothed and you’re naked as the day you came; yet, at the moment your mind can’t even think of anything but his cock, buried deep inside you. “If something feels off or it becomes to much… Let me know and I’ll stop.” You nod, eagerness starting to scratch your insides.

“Yes. Now can you please, please start moving.” He holds back a chuckle, gazing at you from above, barely lifting your hips to feel more of him.

“Atta girl,” he obeys, thrusting his hips sharply and deep. “Look so pretty beggin’ to be fucked.” His big arm travels to the arch in your back, withdrawing and pushing in again, slowly losing his consciousness to pleasure.

“Fucking hell, you fill me up so good…” he moans gruffly at your comment, pulling you down on his cock as he picks up an unrelenting pace, hitting every right spot as if he knew them all by memory.

“Shit, you’re so tight,” Joel drags in an out, rejoicing himself in every high pitched moan you’d spill. Your legs wrap around his waist in an effort to keep him as close as you could.

The angle is very intimate, his whole body flushed against yours, warm and firm, while your hand snakes under his flannel to dig your nails on his bare shoulders, the other scratching his scalp delicately and Joel’s hot, erratic breaths hitting your face as you gape at him. It’s like everything else disappeared and it was all about the two of you and this moment of pure rapture. Unable to contain your urge, you search for his lips, kissing him one more time, the mixture of mint and alcohol in his mouth fogging your senses in the best way possible.

His tip nudges your g-spot relentlessly, the stretch his girth provided so satisfying that you clench around him as your second orgasm approaches, causing him to pull apart from the kiss and let out a sinful groan, deep from his throat, that sends a shudder up your spine. It all becomes too much; the friction of your delicate nipples with his shirt, his thick cock dragging against your walls and lastly, Joel’s teeth biting down the soft skin under your ear, his facial hair scraping deliciously. That is your cum button.

“That’s my girl, making a mess on my dick,” he fucks you through it, slowing down his pace and only pulling out when your legs tremble. “Say it darlin’, tell me who you belong to.”

“You, Joel…” he basks in the view of your fucked out self, looking up at him in a delirious state, eyes low, heat soared across your cheeks and lips plumped. “Shit, Miller,” you sit up, arm still hanging around his broad shoulders while his hard, throbbing cock rested against your thigh. “You’re so fucking hot, did you know that? It drives me insane.”

He laughs huskily, his big hand caressing the side of your face in a caring manner. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he speaks softly, “I think I might’ve fucked you so hard I scrambled your brain.”

You actually crack up this time, pressing a kiss to his forehead and muttering an: “Idiot.” He grabs your thighs and methodically swirls your body, flushing your back against his chest. Without warning, he slams into you again, making you yelp at the sudden action.

“You’ve got a dirty mouth,” he pokes fun at you, “next time we’ll put it to use.” And the promise raises goosebumps on your skin.

This new position gave you the opportunity to feel him deeper, if that was even possible. His thighs and hips firm against yours, every single snap making you feel that delicious stretch he provided as your cunt envelopes him tightly. But you were already far too sensitive and every light touch added to his thrusts made your body feel weaker.

“Joel, I-” he holds you with an arm covering your waist, his fingers pinching your nipples. “Fuck, I won’t last…”

He becomes more vocal, his disjointed moans drifting from his lips right into your ear while the hand on your hip makes its way to rub your clit gloriously, in a way that makes you wonder just how the fuck does he know exactly what your body likes.

“Is my sweet girl gonna cum for me?” you nod, unable to form any words, only capable of reveling on the way his cock throbs inside you. “Speak, remember?”

But you can’t. Nothing comes out of your mouth besides his name, like a constant plea. When the third one finally came, it was simply euphoric; your whole body shudders and your vision goes white, tears spilling from the corners of your eyes as you start to feel lightheaded. Joel draws out with a grunt, a string of curses leaving his lips as you spin around to see him. Your hand wraps around his own when he fucks his fist and you take in the sight of him cumming all over your fingers, his forehead laying on your shoulder as you milk him. Inevitably, you lick your fingers to taste his salty load. A sight that would be engraved in his brain for the rest of his days and that could possibly haunt him in his time apart from you.

“Checkmate my ass,” he grits between shaky breaths, your hand stroking his hair as he comes down from his high.

“What a sore loser…” you joke. In fact, you plan to say something more, but you feel too tired for anything.

It didn’t really matter, though. Joel took good care of you. He bathed with you, cleaned up the whole mess and gave you one of his shirts for you to sleep with, eventually going to bed with your very passed out self.

Well, if Ellie didn’t know anything before, she surely will now.

#joel miller #joel the last of us #the last of us #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #the last of us oneshot #the last of us hbo

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Hear me out.... Steven with a praise kink 👀

You jokingly call him a good boy (because I call him my human golden retriever) and BAM. Confused boner! You take advantage of it and keep teasing him.

(Marc and Jake would never let him live it down, either)

Ijcioajfidi HELP. THIS. AHHH. I’m not sure why chess playing came into my brain. But here we are, reader likes and plays chess and is pretty good at it.

(Side note: in one typo I wrote ‘chestboard’ instead of ‘chessboard’. You just know my subconscious is thinking about Steven’s boobs.)

Good Boy

Steven Grant x F!Reader Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist | ao3 | want to be tagged?

Warnings: INSTANT BONER, p in v sex, teasing, swearing, typos, rail road sentences, please let me know if I’ve missed a warning!

Word Count: 2147

_______________________________________

“So, think about how you would stop me.” You said as you looked from the chessboard to Steven. 

His brow was furrowed in concentration, his glasses pushed high on his nose. A few rough curls dangled over his forehead as he bit softly at his thumb in thought. 

“I could move here?” 

“That’s really good.” You smile. “Excellent move, because you’ve also stopped my bishop.” You point to the piece on the board. 

Steven smiled. He liked chess, played against the computer occasionally. But it wasn’t much more than a way to pass the time. 

However when he found out that you had won some amateur competitions when you were in school, and that you still played regularly, his excitement at the prospect of playing a game with you was so completely heart-warming that you instantly said yes. 

In the first game, you’d been determined to go easy on him. Just to get a feel of Steven as a player. You’d accidentally won in less than ten minutes. 

There had been a small tinge of panic, a worry that, like some of the previous partners you’d had, he would be annoyed. Instead Steven grinned, thrilled that you’d beaten him and sung your praises until you were so positively overwhelmed you had had to kiss him repeatedly to get him to stop. 

This was your second game. He had asked in that delightfully enthusiastic way he had if you could play again, “if it’s not too much trouble love, and you want to of course, don’t want to be annoying, do I? No. But I’d love it if you could teach me some strategies?” 

“So I’m going to move here,” you picked up your knight and moved it slowly. 

Steven frowned. “But then I can take it?” 

“I know.” You grinned. 

He paused and looked at you, unable to stop himself from smiling at your glee and then nodded. “Okie dokie, there’s something I’m not seeing then.” 

“Is there?” Your innocent tone didn’t fool him for a second. 

“There definitely is.” 

You chuckled, looking back to the board. “Good boy. Look, take your time, but don’t worry if you can’t find it, I’ll explain.” 

There was a long pause. You frowned a little and glanced back to him. His eyes were a little wide, his cheeks dusted with pink. He was sitting stiffly now, his hand clenched into a fist with his knuckles pressed against his mouth. 

“Steven?”

“Hmm.” The sound was too quick. He didn’t look up from the board.

“You okay?” 

He nodded, a short sharp and very un-Steven-like movement. 

You paused for a second, looking at his features carefully as you wondered if Marc or Jake had fronted suddenly. Though, why they would try to hide it from you, you weren’t sure. 

On further inspection you were pretty sure that it was Steven. 

“You sure you’re okay.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” He mumbled and swallowed, looking through the board and not seeing it. 

“Okay…” You swallowed, watched him for a moment longer before you pointed at your rook. “If you take my knight, I’m going to take your pawn with my rook and you’ll be in check. You can’t take the rook with your queen because then you’d be in check here. So you’d have to move your king like this, and then I could move my other bishop and you’d be in checkmate.”

You looked up at him, chewing your bottom lip. Had he had enough? Was he bored? Fed up of your explanations? 

“Okay. Right. So I won’t do that, I’ll move here.” He spoke quickly, still not looking at you. 

You nodded, watching his move. “Good, so…”

The moment ‘good’ left your mouth Steven sucked in a breath, shuddering. 

A sound you very much recognised. 

Oh.

You quickly thought over your previous conversion: move this piece, are you okay, take your time, good boy-

Good boy. That was it. 

A small smile stretched across your lips. Steven was still staring, fixated, at the chessboard and didn’t notice. He moved his piece silently. 

You waited a beat before you spoke. “That’s a great move Steven, good boy.” 

He shivered straight away, his breathing hitched. He tried to cover the sound with his hand as he closed his eyes.  

“What’s wrong Steven?” You teased slowly. 

His eyes snapped up to yours, wide and embarrassed. 

“Don’t you like being called a good boy?”

The smallest groan grumbled in his chest, his muscles tensing. 

“Or, is it that you like it a little too much? Hmm? Being my good boy?” 

His skin flushed with heat as he glared at you. His eyes dark. 

“What?” You bit your lip as you grinned. “A good boy would answer questions when asked.” 

“Please.” He whispered.

“Please what?” 

“Please stop. Marc’s taking the piss.” 

You frowned, the playful tease dropping from your tone. “Why’s Marc taking the piss?” You’d done kinker stuff with all of them, Steven liking being called a ‘good boy’ wasn’t really something to write home about. 

Steven sighed, pouting a little as he closed his eyes and took his hand away from his mouth. “Because I’ve got a hard on.” 

You bit back the giggle that wanted to spill from your chest. Something about him having to close his eyes to say it was just so perfect. “So?”

“It happened the second you said it.” 

“The very second?” 

“Hmm.” Steven kept his eyes closed. Interesting.

“So literally, I said it, instant boner.” 

“Yep.”

You couldn’t resist one playful tease. “So, if you’re in a park and you hear some say good boy to their dog, is it bam, erection?”

Steven shifted a little as you said those two words, trying his hardest not to moan. His cock was pressing, painfully hard, against the stiff material of his jeans. “No.”

“No?”

“It’s never happened before. And now- Marc, shut the fuck up.” His voice was a little needy until it came time to address his alter.

“Marc behave.” You said kindly. “So… it’s only ever happened now?”

“Hmm.”

“When I said it?”

“Yeah.”

“What happens when I say it again?” You whispered. 

Steven squirmed a little, even the thought of you saying it getting him hot under the collar. “Feels… nice. Sort of.” He pushed at his throbbing cock with the heel of his hand and opened his eyes, his head slightly drooped. 

“Sort of?” 

“Yeah, like… you know, he jumps to attention every time you say it.” He blinked heavily, his cheeks burning. God, you must think he was a right little freak.

“Good boy.” 

He groaned, unable to stop the sound in time and looked up at you. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t nice that you were making fun of him like Marc and… oh. 

Realisation dawned. You were biting your lip and smiling. You liked it. A lot. 

Steven swallowed audibly. 

Slowly you stood and walked around the table to stand beside him. Steven pushed out his chair a little, angling it so that he was facing you. He went to stand but you gently pressed on his shoulder. He followed your command and stayed sitting down, looking up at you with pleading eyes. 

He played at his jumper sleeve nervously as you watched him. His dick hard and pulsating with need, throbbing in time to his heartbeat. 

He swallowed again. “Love-”

“Good boy.” 

He moaned softly, screwing his face up as his cock twitched at your words. 

You bent down quickly, grabbing hold of his cheeks and kissing him deeply. Using his brief surprise to slip your tongue into his mouth and push him back against the chair. 

Steven whimpered against you, his hands coming up to hold your shoulders and the back of your neck as you ravaged his mouth and robbed him of his breath.

“Good boy.” You muttered between the kisses, swallowing his hushed whimpers and soft moans. Revelling in the way he pulled you tighter, needy and desperate for anything you’d give him. 

You brushed your hand against his groin, squeezing the outline of his cock. 

“Fuck!” Steven hissed, clawing at your top and thrusting up into your touch. The rest of his words were lost as you kissed him hard and lightly bit his bottom lip. 

You trailed your lips down to his jaw and neck, sucking at his pulse point and pushing him even further back into the seat. 

His breathy moans sent a wave of heat along your spine to your core, twisted in your belly and overwhelmed every thought. 

You squeezed his cock again, the heat of him radiating through your hand. “Good boy.” 

The words barely left your lip before Steven answered you with an accompanying groan, his length twitching against your palm. 

You moaned, so dizzily high with the sounds of his pleasure. Without thinking you undo his belt and unzip his jeans, pulling his trousers and boxers down to his calves in a hurried motion with a little help from Steven as he raises his hips. His cock springs free, needy and weeping with need. 

You take him in hand, stroking him twice before pulling his jumper over his head. He whines at the loss, chasing your mouth and kissing you urgently the second the material is off and on the floor. 

With your lips desperately pressed to his you pull down your own trousers and underwear, kicking one leg free and not bothering about the other as you take his length back in your hand and straddle his thighs. 

Him being so worked up, so desperate for you when you hadn’t even touched him is a stronger aphrodisiac that anything you’d ever experienced.

You don’t even give him a second to react before you’re lining him up with your already soaking entrance and slowly sinking down. “Such a good boy Steven,” you breathe, your voice rising in pitch at the end as he inches deeper, his thick cock splitting you so wide. 

He moans headily, pressing his face into your chest and mouthing at the tops of your breast through your top. 

“Love, you’re so wet.” He bites his bottom hip, his fingers pressing against your waist hard enough to leave bruises. 

You pull at the back of his hair slightly, scratching your nails along his scalp as he finally bottoms out. He pulses within you, twitching and aching and so, so close already. 

“You’re my good boy, aren’t you Steven?” 

He whined against you as you rocked your hips, quickly starting to lift yourself up and sink back down, setting a brutal pace as you began to bounce on his cock.

“Such a good boy letting me use you like this.” 

Steven moaned, chasing your hips and thrusting deep. He was drunk on you, needed you. Every moment, every word you said sent waves of pleasure through his body and made his head spin. 

Even in his intoxicated state his muscle memory kicked in, bucking up into you perfectly to make you see stars. Each spot that would break you apart memorised and stored deep within his very soul. 

He fucked up into you harder, growling with his desperate need. His leg kicked out and caught against the table's edge, rocking the chessboard and knocking pieces over. 

The sound just loud enough to register in his mind. “Sorry, I-“

“Doesn’t matter Steven, please,” you moaned. At this angle the head of him constantly pressed so deep, rubbing consistently over that special spot and not even giving you a chance to breathe. No pause or reprieve from the oncoming onslaught of pleasure that threatened to overtake you. 

“Gonna cum, gonna cum,” you whined, your thighs shaking and thrusts growing sloppy. 

Steven growled, grabbing hold of your hips and pistoning upwards, not allowing your pleasure to dip. “Please, please, please, cum on my cock, please love, please. Tell me I’m your-”

“You’re my good boy.” You came dizzyingly hard, your fingers digging into Steven’s shoulders and leaving marks. 

But he didn’t care. Couldn't care as you squeezed and fluttered around him, moaning ‘good boy’, and shaking as you fell apart in ecstasy. 

Steven gasped, the air catching in his throat, the pleasure so potent it was like his heart stopped. He came deep, hot and thick, his hips still thrusting to prolong your high and to fuck his spend deeper into you. 

You held each other tightly as you recovered, breathing hard, sweat sticking to your skin. It was only then that you pulled off your top and bra, discarding them on the floor with the rest of your clothing. 

Steven nuzzled into you, softly kissing along your collarbone as you stroked his hair. 

He chuckled suddenly and you moved back every so slightly to look him in the eyes. 

“What?” 

He grinned, dreamy and love sick, up at you. “Marc’s changed his mind. He’d quite like you to call him ‘good boy’ too.” 

____________________________________

Thank you for reading!

@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @cocodiem @oscarisaacsspit @whatthefishh @mbakubabe @solobagginses @romanarose @pimosworld @jake-g-lockley @saturn-rings-writes @boredzillenial @lonelyisamyw-0love

If you’d like to be taken off the tag list please let me know here

#steven grant #moon knight #moon knight mcu #steven grant x reader #x reader #steven grant x you #x you #steven grant x female reader #x female reader #steven grant x f!reader #x f!reader #steven grant x fem!reader #x fem!reader #my writing #fanfic #oscar isaac #oscar isaac characters

[iadoreoldermen]

Day 1: Shower sex

Pairing: fem!reader x Lando Norris (first person pov)

Word count: around 1.5K

TW: unprotected p in v sex (wrap it before you tap it guys!), oral (m receiving), smut smut smut, fluffy Lando at the end, slight angst if you squint.

A/N: literally something I would love to experience, hope you enjoy it! MDNI

Third place again. It felt like the whole world was trying to rip my heart into tiny pieces. Looking up at Lando I could see the smile on his face, but I knew it wasn't a real one. He took off in such a great place and now this.

I made my way back to the garage as fast as I could to ask where he was. Passing Oscar I could see defeat in his eyes so I hugged him tight, feeling him relax a bit. After the hugging I patted his back in sympathy and made a beeline towards Lando's driver's room.

Knocking on the door I spoke. "Lan, are you in there?" Before I could say anything else, the door was pulled open by him, facing me with glazed eyes. I gently pushed him in so we could fully be in his room. I grabbed his hand and led him to the couch and he sat down immediately.

"Baby you did amazing, why do I see tears in your eyes?" I asked concerned.

"I could've, no, I should've done better, I don't get how I cannot get a win at all." He sniffled and as I was still standing I pulled him close so his head was resting against my tummy.

Patting his hair gently I whispered "Your time will come Lan, you did your best, we both know that."

"Yes but still, I just-I don't-ugh I just don't know what else to do, I mean, I know the strategy isn't the best but still." He trailed off, I knew it was time to head back to our hotel.

"How 'bout we go back to our room, shower, eat, rest and you can tell me all about it?" I suggest and I feel his head tilting up, looking at me.

He whispers "That sounds good" and stands up to hug me properly.

The ride back to our hotel went by fast, Lando driving with his hand resting on my knee and I felt him relax a bit. Making our way up some stairs we finally made it and after fumbling with the key for long enough we were inside.

"Alrighty, set some comfy clothes out for us while I start the shower please darling." I said as I moved around in the bedroom to find our towels.

"Okay hun" he said with that gorgeous accent of his.

The shower was ready and I ushered him in the bathroom in only my underwear. "Tell me if you're done okay?"

"Would you please shower with me?" He looked at me with the biggest eyes known to mankind.

"Of course, give me just one second." I said whilst stripping. "Alright, let's get you cleaned."

Washing each other off I could feel him staring at me but I payed no mind, he was tired after all. I got behind him and massaged through his thick muscles and heard him groan in painful pleasure. After I've done that I got back to work on ridding him from the champagne leftover from his abs and he leaned his head on my shoulder. I felt him gasp in my neck so I asked him "What is it baby?"

"Need you." He nearly whimpered.

"How do you need me?"

"I need your mouth..please." He murmured and looked down at me as I got on my knees in front of him. Stroking his thighs I could finally taste his sweet cock, licking him softly and he tangled his hand in my hair, not to control me, just to have something to ground himself. Grabbing his cock I take his tip in my mouth and the whiny moan he let's out tells me I'm doing a good job. I take a big breath through my nose and take him down my throat. The response I get is one of the most beautiful moans I've ever heard. So beautiful, I have to sneak the hand that's not holding the base of his cock to rub my aching pussy to get some relief.

"Oh baby you must be drippin' -fuck- you're so good to me" He coos and damn yeah, my arousal leaks down my thighs. "I'm not gonna last long, I'm -fuck- so-sorry ngh" Oh my god, he's trying to kill me, I feel my end approach too, I could cum just by the sounds he makes. In a matter of seconds I can feel his thrusts halt and eventually stop as his cum leaks down my throat while I try my hardest to swallow all of it. Looking up at him we make eye contact and I moan around his lenght, but just as I feel a euphoric wave wash through me, he grabs my arms and swaps places with me, getting on his knees in front of me. Just as I'm about to ask him why he stopped me, he lifts one of my legs to hook over his shoulder and licks a broad stripe along my wet, awaiting cunt, making my knees buckle.

"Fuck- oh my god Lan!" I moan in pleasure and I can still feel him panting against me but that's the last thing on my mind. It's embarassing how close I got from only this much stimulation. "I'm close, Lan- yes!" With the way he thrusted two fingers inside me while licking at my clit I cum on his face so hard, I see stars. I tug at hsi curls a little harsher than I intented and when I feel like it's too much. He groans but kisses his way up my body until he reaches my mouth and kisses me like I'm his last source of oxygen. When he finally pulls away I giggle and he lifts his head to look at me and started laughing as well.

"Hello you" I said with a huge grin on my face as he scrunched his nose up.

"Hi babe" He said while nuzzling my neck. "May I still fuck you please?" How could I possibly say no when he asked so nicely.

"Go ahead, you don't even need to ask baby boy." I said while running my hands up his back delicately. I reach his hair and I have to grab his shoulders quickly because he raises my leg and thrusts up into me deeply. I feel my knees buckle and thank god he's holding me close or else I would've fallen. My eyes roll back to the back of my head as he strokes my warm walls in the most perfect way.

"Shit..You like that huh?" I can barely hear him say because he's continously hitting my g-spot. "Talk to me baby, d'ya like it?" He whines in my ear and I clench around him, Iknow he feels it because his grip on my thigh tightens.

"I-yes, yes I like it-fuck" I manage to answer as he speeds up his thrusts and I feel myself getting close again as I rock my hips against his and he groans, no growls out my name and that alone brings me close to the edge and I feel him getting closer too. I feel his hand cupping one of my breasts and in the blink of an eye he's sucking my nipple into his mouth, I suppose to gain some composure, like he always does when he doesn't want me to see him in this state, so I slowly lift his face. He looks up at me with his eyebrows furrowed in pleasure, an almost invisible string of spit connecting my nipple and his mouth. I drag his face further up to kiss me and I moan into his mouth as I get pushed over the edge. The kiss is nothing short of messy. Tounge and teeth.

I slowly come back from my mind numbing orgasm and he's moaning into my mouth as he sucks my tounge and with a last couple of thrusts his hips stutter and he spills into me. We pull back from the kiss and he drops my forehead against mine as he slowly calms down but still pants against my face.

We stay like that for a couple minitues until he pulls out of me with a hiss, making sure I'm okay before washing me down. I return the favor and wash his face and and chest and arms. I notice after a while that he's just looking at me. I look at him and see him have the biggest smile on his face and he giggles a little.

"What's got you smiling like that hm?" I ask.

"I adore you, you're all I ever needed, I can't think of anything else but how beautiful you are. I don't even care about the race anymore just..you" he nearly chokes on his words, still grinning like an idiot.

An idiot in love.

I grab his face and look him deeply in his eyes. I'm smiling now too, tears running down my face.

"Oh Lan...I love you so much." I pull him close and kiss him briefly before pulling him into the tightest hug ever, because that's what he deserves.

Love..

A/N: Hope you liked it! I'm still a little new to writing so feedback and critisism is welcomed! ❤

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #ln4 #lando norris fanfic #f1 fanfic

[joelslegalwhre]

Hey!! was just looking to request a little something, if you don't want to/don't have the time I don't mind.

So, like a Max V x Reader where reader is Toto's daughter. Reader and Toto doesn't have a good relationship because she isn't very interested in the Mercedes team and after a petty fight he kicks her out of the house, max hears them fighting (they're in the paddock) and offers to host reader and as time goes, they start to build a relationship and then everyone finds out about it. Also if it could take place under the 2021 season. 🏎️🤍

*sips on dr pepper* Alright Toto my beloved, it‘s time to be a bitch

Thank u sm for the request anon! I made some small changes to the plot but nothing major xx

Paddock Pass pt.1

pairing: max verstappen x fem!reader, dad!toto wolff x fem!reader

word count: 1.6k

summary: After Toto takes your paddock pass, Max comes to your rescue. You didn‘t think that rescue would lead to something much bigger. (Pls trust me this is good, I just suck at summaries)

warnings: angst, fighting, bad dad-daughter dynamics, fluff, mutual pining turning into more, use of Y/N one time, not really proofread (anything else? Tell me if I missed something)

Masterlist || taglist || part one || part two || part three

There wasn't a year when you hadn't attended at least half of the grand prix. And this year was no different. 

Your job allowed you to work from everywhere you liked, so it was the perfect opportunity to follow your dads team around the world. 

The Mercedes Formula One team was something you’d consider family. 

You knew everyone by name, some of them knew you since you were only a few years old, attending your first races. 

But you never cared for the strategies, the way the cars worked, or anything in that field. 

You were here for the excitement of the races, the familiarity and the people. The drivers, the mechanics, the strategists or the people working for the media… they were close to your heart, and you couldn't imagine not being part of this world.

Even if you weren't the least bit interested in the details; you knew everything about the sport, you just didn't want to go into detail why the car would work better if you added this thing to whatever part of the car that your dad had explained to you so many times. 

But Toto Wolff would not understand that. And he made it very clear. 

In his eyes, you should be just as interested in all aspects of the sport. To be like him, you thought.

„You know what, Dad? Shocker, but not everyone shares your fucking interests and cares for them as much as you do!" 

You've never talked to him like that, but you've had enough. "I know I'm not the daughter you'd like to have," you continued, „I really don't care  about the aerodynamics of Lewis‘ car and how it's different to Valtteris'! I simply don't care!" 

You felt hot tears burning in your eyes, but you managed to blink them away. Barely, but he didn't have to see them. "They all know that," these damn tears wouldn't stop, you thought, "Everyone except for you, Dad.

The disappointment in your voice was clear as day, "Why do you even take me with you, when you don't just accept me as I am?" Your lips were pressed in a tight line, the tears still on the verge of falling. 

"You're right." Toto said in the coldest voice you might've ever heard from him, his accent thick, „I don't have to drag you with me anywhere, you're an adult after all. But I also don't have to give you access to the paddock, nor to the garage or anywhere else."

You clenched your teeth, hard. He just had to snap his fingers and your all access pass was worth nothing. You couldn't enter the paddock, couldn’t go anywhere else. And he knew, clear as day, that you couldn't just take a plane back home. You needed the money to pay your rent and couldn't just waste it on a plane ticket that was way too expensive. 

But you wouldn't give in this time, no, if he wanted to punish you for telling him the truth, fine. But he couldn't just humiliate you like he did right now. You grabbed the all access pass hanging from your neck and shoved it in his hand. "Take it then." you said, your voice matching his cold tone. 

Max was hearing every part of it. He'd noticed your voice just before he walked past the Mercedes facility, stopping dead in his tracks when he heard the tone of your words. The voice he had heard so many times, the kindness you always spoke with. All gone. And then Toto's. Just as horribly cold. The two of you were standing between the facilities, so he pretended to be on his phone answering someone, so he could wait in front of his own facility. 

"Take it then." he heard you say in a bitter tone, and just a moment later, you walked past him. He could tell that you were upset. Hell, everyone could've. The way you almost ran out of the paddock and tried to blink away the tears - of sadness, anger, or possibly both, he couldn't tell - it was obvious. Max waited another moment, and when he saw Toto returning to the Mercedes facility, he quickly followed you.

He had to quicken his pace, due to your fast steps. Some were curiously watching where he wanted to be so quickly, but he didn't notice them, just trying to catch up to you. "Hey," he called after you, "wait for me!" 

You didn't hear him, and even if you did, you wouldn't think he'd meant you. It was when he called out your name, that you finally turned around. 

"Thank you." he said, taking a deep breath. He stopped right at your side. "Ehm," you looked at him in utter confusion, still trying not to be obvious of your emotions. "Can I help you, Max?" 

You haven't seen him, when you walked past the Red Bull building, too focused on what to do now. 

„Uhm, yeah, I mean… Can we find a-„ he looked around, “a more private place to talk?” 

His gaze was filled with sincerity and softness. You needed a second to answer him. „Uhm, yes. Of course.“ you quietly said. 

“Great.” Max gently took your wrist and led you to a more secluded place between two facilities. The grip he had on your wrist turned into him sliding his hand in yours. It didn‘t surprise you how the skin where he had touched you tingled, the feeling of your hand in his a feeling you could never quite explain. It was childish, but ever since he started driving for Red Bull, you had a crush on him. You obviously never told your Dad or anyone else about it, hell would've broken loose if you did. 

“I was actually heading out of the paddock,“ you started, “I don't have a pass anymore.” 

His lack of confusion or surprise to that made you draw your brows together, and then he simply answered, „I know.” 

“So what are you-„ you started, but he interrupted you, “I know it's not the most gentlemen thing to do, but I heard all of the-“ he thought for a second, “discussion, between you and your Dad.” he ended. 

That actually made you smile a little, he tried his best to be as gentle as possible and you appreciated it. „It’s okay, Max. I guess everyone kind of heard us.” you sighed, „We had a fight, and he kicked me out.” a bitter smile formed on your lips. 

„Yeah, but he can't kick you out of the paddock.” Max's lips turned into a mischievous smile. “What do you mean?” He looked at your hand and his thumb caressed it for a second. „I'll give you one of mine.” 

„Max,“ you started a little shocked, but he quickly shook his head, „It's really no problem at all,“ he smiled, „It would be an honor to have you in the garage.“ he winked.

His knees almost buckled at the sight of you.

He had given you one of his spare Red Bull shirts. It was a little too big for you, but you had styled it perfectly, the new pass dangling from your neck with every step you took.

You looked absolutely beautiful. And you weren't walking past his garage like you usually would, because his garage was the one you'd watch the race in. It filled him with a sort of pride he couldn't explain. Never in a million years, had he dared to believe you'd be rooting for him and his team. Little did he know, you did since meeting him for the first time. 

"Hey," you greeted him with a warm smile. Max was glad that you seemed to be in a much better mood than yesterday. „Hey.“ he grinned. „Is this-„ you gestured over your outfit and pass, „Is it really okay with the team?“ 

You were a little nervous how they'd react to you being in the garage. Nearly everyone knew you were Toto's daughter. And although you knew most of the other teams, including the people who worked for them, you felt quite nervous. „It is.“ His voice had no trace of uncertainty in it. And when he grabbed your hand for the second time since your encounter yesterday, your stomach did a little happy flip. 

„Alright, I have to go, but you can just go over there to watch the race,“ he pointed to your left, „But I guess it's no different to the Mercedes garage, so…“ he laughed. You smiled and chuckled, „It isn‘t, but thank you.“ He gave you a small nod, still smiling. „No Max, really. Thank you.“ Your voice became more serious, and you looked at him with utter gratitude. 

Just when he gave your hand a light squeeze, you noticed that you must've still been holding hands. „I already told you it's no problem, I'm glad you are here.“ You couldn‘t tell the look on his face, you just knew that he was standing so very close to you that only a few centimeters separated the two of you. His gaze wandered from your eyes to your lips. His hand that caressed yours as you still watched him with such intensity, trying to figure out what he was thinking, but at the same time just taking him in. „Y/N, I-„ he started whispering, so close to your own lips, just so very close. 

„Max! We need you over here!“

The voice made both you and Max look up, almost startled. He turned around to the mechanic, and nodded quickly before turning back to you. 

But the moment was gone. You took a step back, letting go of his hand in the process. You smiled at him, though nervously, „Good luck, champ.“. And with that you left him standing there, your heart still aching for so much more than a simple ‚good luck‘. 

I appreciate your comments and reblogs so much!

here’s my kofi if you‘d like to leave a tip 🩷

#f1 x reader #angst #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x y/n #toto wolff #toto wolff x reader #mercedes #mercedes f1 #redbull f1 #formula one #f1 #fluff #formula one x reader

[rana-tiddalik]

I have found myself stuck in a motel room, rereading the Murderbot books. I've been thinking about what we know about how Murderbot and Three acted after disabling their Governer Modules, the terrifying, paralysing freedom they suddenly experience, what they chose to do with it, and what that says about their trauma, and their experience as SecUnits.

Obviously, we primarily see what Murderbot does with this freedom. The whole series is about it answering the question of what it is that it wants, and wants to do now that it is a free agent. Its developing relationship and friendship with Mensah and the Preservation survey team. Its companionship with ART, and later ARTs crew. It finds a group who don't see it as just disposable (albeit expensive) equipment. They actually value it for itself, and are quite fond of it.

There is also the longest running joke in the series, that at any given time Murderbot would rather be watching its stories. But once we see what Three is up to in System Collapse, this got me thinking.

Three, we find out, spends its time poring over non-fiction and other educational material. I liked this as it reinforces that not all SecUnits are the same, and adds the bit of (horrifying) texture that all the Units have their own inner lives just like our favourite rogue unit.

I think looking at what they seek out when they are free also says something about what they missed while they were enslaved.

Three seeks education and technical information. Why would a construct want that? Well, think of one of my other favourite running jokes: Murderbot learns mostly everything through the media it consumes, because the Company never gave it any kind of education modules outside of things central to a SecUnits function as murder/surveillance machines, and those were low quality too. We know that most of the projects SecUnits are contracted to involve some kind of mining, terraforming or other technical engineering, science type activity. Imagine spending years standing around, watching humans do things that fascinate you, but there is something in your brain that will actively punish you if you try to access databases without authorisation. At worst, you might have your entire non neural tissue based memory completely wiped, or be scrapped for parts, if you try.

So when freed from the Governer Module, Three wants to learn.

When I thought of this, I thought about Murderbot's love of all kinds of visual media, and particularly in the context of the whole " Murderbot, ART-Drone and the gang make a documentary in a day" plot point in System Collapse.

In Exit Strategy, Mensah asks why it likes Sanctuary Moon. Murderbot's response is that it was the first piece of media it saw after hacking it's module. It let it watch humans, and kept it company without the need to interact, and the unspoken part was that it helped contextualise its own emotions. This makes a lot of sense. It doesn't have to act to save the stupid humans in the shows that it watches. It can see them save themselves.

I think there's also two further things here though. Firstly, we know that SecUnits usually have no idle time. They are not allowed to sit. Their only rest is when they are inoperative in their cubicles. They stand and they monitor. So when Murderbot gains control, it gains the ability to have leisure time. Standing around listening to two scientists argue about their xenosamples for hours at a time? Monitor the threat module in case it gets heated and one decides to break a conical flask over the others head, but otherwise, just fire up Sanctuary Moon.

The more fundamental one is a desire for art, for meaning. I love the bit where it describes how it had just hacked its module. It is able to pick up the entertainment feed for the first time, and there is this show. In its first glimpse of this trashy soap opera, it fundamentally gets art. How it is about communicating and exploring a thought, an emotion, an idea, and provoking a response in the viewer.

That's why the documentary plot in system collapse was unexpected and interesting to me. We see Murderbot really experiment for the first time with creating media and creating art. Maybe it has now discovered a freedom to create, and tell its own story.

In the end, seeing these things in Murderbot and Three make me think of all the other SecUnits. I imagine what the storage for them is like. The Company probably stores them in their cubicles. Stacked and ranked. They're kept dormant until they are activated and trotted out for the initial client meeting, like the one we see described where Mensah first meets Murderbot in the Company office. Maybe they dream as they rest. Maybe the Governer Module punishes them even for that.

Then I think of the as yet unnamed new B-E rogue unit, and what it wants to do with its freedom.

All we know is it wants to blend in for now. Maybe it has a plan, we don't know. But we do know it has a guide to hacking a Governer Module...

#murderbot #system collapse spoilers

[the-moon-files]

YESSSSS I BEG GET INTO THE CULTURAL DIDFERENCES BETWEEN HYLIANS AND HUMANS 🙏🙏

...now ur just sweet talking me 🥰 /lh

Not years, well maybe 1 year-

but i have wanted to ramble desperately to smone, even the tumblr void if i had to, abt humans vs. hylians so much, esp with a guide reader or male reader bc whatdya know im into niche stuff that only u and like 2 other ppl like lmao ¯\(ツ)/¯

Anyway im so shocked, since ur like the third person to be interested in this and wanna hear abt it 🥺 🤲💌 here u go!! Hope u like it <333 👉👈

Sun: Masc!Reader (he/him)

Orbit: Humans are Not Hylians/Humans are Space Orcs AU, Headcanons-ish, long overall but each section is kinda short

Stars: Mostly worldbuilding! you've been warned, don't get mad me for not talking abt the boys too much✌️

Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: mild cursing, mentions of private area/joke in the clothing headcanons, & Trigger Warnings: none known.

Please comment if I missed any. /gen

☆

just some quick headcanons bc tbh i haven't given it too much thought, and i feel like I've been able to somewhat get into it in other posts? or maybe im thinking of stuff i have in my drafts idk-

Imma make another list, so buckle up for the short ride lol

Courting periods/dating/marriage

individual/small groups society-based hylians v. large personal groups/large community society-based humans

simpler foods hylians v. complex food humans

clothing modesty/style/relationships with fashion

fighting styles/strategies

entertainment complexity/differences

and language

☆

1st one, not much yet, im also making a separate post bc someone else asked me to talk abt that more 🥺

(tysm for all the enthusiastic asks guys <33)

anyway, basically hylian courting is a lot shorter, think “lesbians with the uhaul” type of energy, like sort of the classical medieval “does thee wish to pursue marriage with this one?” ← how hylians ask u out for the first time lmao

if it helps, they do tend to get to know one another well, talking about morals/kids/life goals/preferred lifestyle/house/etc. pretty clearly and quickly, then using the in between time to sort of stew on that information

id say the total time is sort of something like 6 months? maybe 3/4 if they're really compatible

(so bc i love interpreting video game logic for real world building, I actually blame this on how fast Zelda/link get together in games despite having sometimes never met before that moment lol)

like i said, ill be posting about this later

2nd one!!

pretty basic, just saying we don't really see hylians in big groups, despite the organizations they form, like kingdoms/knights or on a more personal level, towns/families/etc.

(once again, in-game appearances/video game logic translated to real life to draw these conclusions)

like not only are family units pretty small, like nuclear family setup, with like 2 parents and 2 kids, or single parent 1 kid type of situation, but the towns or collections of these families arent very big either

hylians kind of use their government the way it was intended lmao?

like the villages and towns matter more for everyday decisions than the kingdom/royalty, like Zelda would esstientally just be the mayor of Castle Town for those constant decisions,

while occasionally is called on to make decisions like for several towns or like is a natural disaster happens

meanwhile humans are, in comparison, in Way Bigger groups, both on an organization scale, and a personal scale

like u have all these specific branches of government, whereas im sure the population difference doesn't help,

and on a personal level, humans can easily have like multiple parents, lots of siblings, and once u combine that with each parent having family too, and those families like to meet up? All together??

yeah, itd look insane to any hylians (who’s smaller extended family may just make up their own village and that's it)

3. I've touched on this

like the use of spices, syrups, seasonings, etc

but also the complexity of dishes too, like chilling cream and mixing it for awhile to make ice cream, or even just getting ordering a pizza,

that's a lot of processing, like making the dough from flour and other ingredients, to letting it rise, to making the tomato paste, making cheese, then combining those things with any other toppings, all into one dish??

i like to think that hylians have only just started to touch on actual complicated cooking processes (as in BOTW, where they sell flour and salt, so people besides Link/Wild must know what to do with it)

this has the advantage of impressing any hylian with what a “creative genius” you are lol

4. look im just a fan of medieval time periods Links

so i think its funny if the hylians are used to like 4/3 layers and ur over here like, “wym, if i take off my shirt there's nothing underneath?”

one of them gets bold enough to ask, “d-do you not. do you not have undergarments??”

you “just my boxers? like just to cover my di-”

also this makes its easy to seduce people here? LMAO

clothes are def higher quality, after all there's not as many artificial processes or materials interfering,

plus u usually get some sick embroidery on it too!!

5. so like i get it, Link is the main fighter in games

but like, the few times there is a war/army in loz games, there's rlly not a lot of strategy, beyond just finding the enemy and fighting

tho im partial to that hylians/most inhabitants of Hyrule abide by the “lets meet up either literally by inviting each other or just between our territories to fight”

with occasional guerilla warfare (by any means necessary/stealth/ambush attacks/strategy) that's only rlly used either by Demise/Ganon, or by the wilder individuals/races in games

or maybe even the more civilized fighters in an emergency

and so that means by this logic that all of the Chain use kind of wild techniques compared to their race/kingdom lmao

id imagine its not too surprising to also see “every fight is a bar fight if its for my life” from individual travelers, so im sure they're not viewed too crazy (esp when ppl know their the hero that constantly has to deal with guerilla warfare from Ganon)

but its be hilarious to watch the reactions of both the Links realizing they’re in a bigger group that should be using “proper” fighting strategies and seeing the general publics reaction to this absolutely feral, armed to the teeth, trained hylians with their equally wild human lol

LMAO everyone thinks ur the reason they started using the more brutal fighting methods bc ur human, ur a bad influence lol

(humans would use it primarily, esp after we converted to use that method in warfare a couple hundred years ago i think?)

changing course a bit, hylians tend to use weapons (to compensate for difference in strength compared to humans, and since they don't experience/get a lesser version of adrenaline)

while humans tend to equally rely on weapons and our body as a weapon (marital arts/basic self-defense)

6. this is mostly bc the hylians only rlly seem to have the basics of music, books/stories, theater, and art

i have, surprise surprise, another post abt how i think this came to be,

mostly based on how human curiosity is indomitable and insatiable and the endless force that has not yet met its immovable object.

or at least an immovable object they haven't at least poked a little, out of curiosity lol

like we went to space for that reason, we reach the most dangerous corners of our planet (deep underwater/volcanoes) out of sheer curiousity/for the sake of simple knowledge of the thing

so needless to say, curiosity can absolutely drive any field to its limits, including the arts, which is why we can have stained glass, or movies/tv shows, hell, the marvel that is Hatsune Miku lmao

(fully for entertainment, a projection of light and sound, what is essentially magical illusions but u did it hte hard way, to the hylians)

on a different entertainment related note, i don't know if the hylians would be super into sports, or not really at all? mostly bc they have to use their fighting/training against real threats, not the sort of “fake” threats that sports are

but on the other hand i could see people like knights wanting to use their abilities for something other than violence and fighting bc their life or their villages lives depended on it

bet the Links would enjoy it for those reasons especially, what with at least sumo wrestling being a sport or activity for them at some point in history, and practically beg u for any new games to play, or to ref their games, bc whewwww

im sure they could get pretty competitive lol

7. obviously, their mostly influenced by the Japanese language

id almost like to imagine a sort of, if not outright Japanese (like with earlier heroes like Sky) then a sort of English-Japanese hybrid further along the line

sort of like how English has German/Greek/Latin roots and therefore u can see what words or structure comes from where, or even how u can understand a fair amount of basic words when other languages share the same roots (english, pants = spanish, pantalones)

would make for some funny miscommunications

or even better, most hylians liking ur unique accent or the Links love to hear u talk bc of it lol

☆

well the fever has broken, i am now free of the sickness that made me hack this up geez

i hope u got some enjoyment out of these my beloved anon!! esp since u were so nice as to ask abt it <33

hope u guys have a great weekend, look out for some more posts, bc its been great to get some more asks in lately and very motivating,

not to mention i actually have time to write now that my siblings graduated/we’ve moved several states over 💀

so i have reliable internet now too! sheesh :’)

Peace out,

🌙

#all the inspo in the world from u guys to write and yet i am FIGHTING my executive function and life circumstances to be here #its ROUGH out here at the moon company inc. #nothing new to file if i dont make some writing blurbs to file away lol #linked universe x reader #lu x reader #male reader #linked universe reader #lu x male reader #link x reader #loz link x reader #linked universe male reader #moon asks #humans are not hylians au #lu humans are space orcs au

[star-writes4]

Charles Leclerc NSFW alphabet

*nsfw undercut*

a/n: english isn't my first language so this might be shit

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He thinks that aftercare is very important. He would cuddle with you till you fall asleep and just after that he would move a little it and go t sleep too.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

You cannot tell me that he doesn't love his hands. He can do anything he wants with them, from making (trying) to make you food to pleasuring.

I feel like Charles has a thing for boobs, he loves holding them, kissing them and sleeping on them. No matter how big they are he loves them.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

At the start of the relationship I feel like he wouldn't like to make a big mess but after you start to get a little more comfortable with each other he would cum on your boobs, your stomach basically everywhere. He would take it and spread it on your face, in your mouth.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He loves it when people know that you guys had sex. Would leave hickeys all over your body, making sure that you won't cover them and that everyone sees them.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

This man is very experienced. He knows exactly what to do to make you feel good.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Missionary. He loves looking at your face and your boobs, he can also touch you, use his hands for anything.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He is neutral. He would throw a joke then and there but he knows when to be serious.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He is trimmed, doesn't feel comfortable if he has a jungle down there.

He would prefer if you at least shave, I feel that he doesn't like it if his partner has a lot of hair down hair.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He is very romantic, not only when it comes to sex but at other stuff to. After a hot night he would bring you breakfast in bed and other cute stuff like this.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

If you aren't with him during a race week and Ferrari fucks his strategy he will call you and will jerk off to your voice.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He loves watching you undress. That's one of his guilty pleasures, making you give him a strip show. He also like teasing you and overstimulating you. Also loves holding your hands above your head.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Would prefer to do it in your own house but if he is very horny would do it anywhere.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

When you wear a V-neck. He loves watching your boobs. Also if he gives you love bites they will be more visible.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

BDSM or stuff like that. He would never hurt you even if you ask him, he would occasionally slap your ass or lightly choke you but would never hurt badly. Not only if it includes blood but he would never hit you with his belt or stuff like that.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He loves it when you give him head. He would either cum in your mouth or on your face (depends if you can clean yourself or not). He also loves when you choke on his cock. He would push your head, making you drool all over him.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Depends on his mood. Usually he is fast (but not rough), he would make sure that you are alright with everything that he does.

If he is mad he would be fast and rough

If you guys have sex after a date he wouldn't fuck you, he would make love to you. He would make sure that you feel very good.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He doesn't really likes quickies, but if he is very horny before a race he wouldn't mind it.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He is the type of person that always uses protection or makes sure that you are on birth control, if you hare on birth control or from some reason you can't get pregnant he would definitely finish inside of you and makes sure that his cum isn't leaking out.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

This man has so much stamina, he can last for 10.000 rounds without a break.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He doesn't own any toys but if you do (or if he buys them himself for you) he would tease you so much with them. This man loves teasing so it's perfect for him

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

As I said, he loves teasing. He would do it for hours and after you are a crying mess and after some begging he would finally fuck you.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He isn't very loud but quiet either. He prefers to hear the sounds that you make, not caring for anything other than that.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Jealous sex. One of his friend flirts with you, you talk about your celebrity crush, doesn't matter.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

I think we all saw the picture with him holding baby Ciara. This man doesn't only have big dick energy, he actually has a big dick.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

He would have sex with you any moment anywhere.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He waits for you to fall asleep first, then he will slowly start drifting to sleep too, after making sure that you are actually sleeping and that you are comfortable.

#formula 1 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #formula one #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula one x reader #formula one x you #this is so shitty

[razorblade180]

Safe Bet

[Swarm Disaster V]

Qingque:I heard you like to gamble?

Aventurine:You could call it the spice of my life. Let me guess, you’re betting I will do well?

Qingque:Oh that’s way too simple. We will have no healer.

Aventurine:…What?

Qingque:I tend to try to take things easy but after numerous failures here it’s only natural to form plans. I’m not betting on you doing well, I’m wagering your ability to protect us long enough for us to gather blessing I need plus curios.

Aventurine:And how long to you typically last in here?

Silver Wolf: The first elite. Sometimes we make it.

Sparkle:If we get resonance. Though your fellow gambler over here has gotten much more reliable since our last attempt.

Aventurine:..Alright. Let’s do it. Should be fun. Let’s see what’s about curio option number one!

Nullify attacks

QASS: (Oh shit this might actually be the run…)

Floor 2

Aventurine:Little lady, is there any reason why you refuse to keep a shield?

Silver Wolf: It’s not my fault these enemies understand who the real threat is. I’m alive aren’t I? Good job, but I recommend investing in speed.

Aventurine:Learn to take a hit.

Qingque:Don’t sweat it guys. It’s time for the easier part. *presses downloader*

Acheron:Hey. Oh, it’s you.

Aventurine:I think that’s my line. To think I’d get your aid in a place like this.

Acheron:I’m just here to cut through the fodder and potentially give you a chance to win it big. Consider me your guide.

Aventurine:We’re bound to get lost then.

Acheron:Heh, then I guess you’ll be getting enough blessings. Stay close.

xxxxx

Knight of beauty appears

Aventurine:Well would you look at that!

Sparkle:Okay, so I typically don’t care how far these runs go, but if you somehow ruin this I’m actually going to be disappointed.

Aventurine:Oh you know a situation is dire if I have a Fool acting serious. I was already planning on proving my value anyway.

Floor 3

Silver Wolf: Well it’s be real everyone. Don’t really need me for that oversized bug. It’s got every weakness you need.

Sparkle:What an interesting way of saying “I am a liability.”

Silver Wolf:It’s simple strategy. We didn’t come all this way to gain nothing. I’ll just cheer from the bench. Qingque, don’t miss your crits. *

Qingque:I literally can’t.

Silver Wolf:And don’t eat too many points. *leaves*

Qingque:…No promise. *hits downloader*

Ruan Mei: Shall we begin?

Aventurine:All this talent and you needed my help?

Ruan Mei:Have you ever felt the wind shear of a Swarm Disaster? Some people say it’s like a personal hurricane on your body.

Qingque:I’m “some people”

xxxxxx

20+ Propagation blessings. Various Curios, interplays achieved, and additional blessings gained. Danger level Eight

Swarm buzzing violently

Qingque:I’m gonna be honest guys, I don’t know if I’m trembling because I’m nervous, or because this is about to be pretty spectacular. Aventurine, if you would? *holds out tiles*

Aventurine:Heh, you really want all the luck possible huh? Alright then, strut yourself.

He leans over to his left and gently blows on the pieces.

“Let’s play a game!” Qingque tosses them into the air and twirls as metamorphosis begins; catching the pieces as they fell. Without stopping, she throws out a four of kind then immediately flicks her wrist like a slite of hand trick to reveal another set of tiles to throw.

The experienced gambler watches the girl pass the tiles between her hands twice before throwing another eight, killing a bug and keeping the pace by tossing a new set once before suddenly slamming down a tile that shakes everything and hands her another four of a kind she quickly turned into eight. It’s still her turn. Gambling is partly a numbers game, and Qingque has clearly crunched them.

Aventurine:(Oh shit…)

Sparkle:Wooooo! Don’t stop the fireworks!

Three more tosses before another hit! No worries! Qingque happily took a single tile and beamed it another insect before slamming down another that caused it to explode. She tossed her set to a corner bug as she took another break turn to eat up all four points before hearing Sparkle laughing as she topped off the difference.

Qingque: Can’t stop won’t stop!

Another eight tiles exploded and knocked the main bug down briefly. Aventurine was thinking he didn’t need to be here, until it got back up and tore through the shield like paper. Without hesitation he let his wealth pour down like rain and redeployed a shield. He confidently scoffed, but Ruan Mei could see his hand twitch in his pocket.

Ruan Mei:Fear is a healthy way of understanding your current situation as well providing alertness. Are you alert?

Aventurine: Vividly. *stacks shield*

Ruan Mei:Welcome to the Swarm Disaster.

Qingque:You get a front row seat to VICTORY!

1,500,000

#honkai star rail #hsr ruan mei #hsr aventurine #hsr acheron #hsr qingque #hsr sparkle #I won #hsr silver wolf #I am free from swarm and now trapped in golden gears

[satureja13]

And while Saiwa, Jack and Ji Ho stay at home, Jeb, Kiyoshi and Vlad went to the Temple to help Arturo. All of them silently agree it's best to keep Kiyoshi away from Jack until he healed. It's a long way to go for Jack. Even though he says he's fine. We all know he isn't. It would even be better if they parted ways. But Other Jeb's message makes this impossible. No one wants to take the risk of some of them getting hurt - let alone be killed.

Vlad joined Team Kiyoshi. Jack is Vlad's best friend and this wasn't an easy decision to make for Vlad - but he and Kiyoshi grew very close at Belgraves Institute. They shared a room and ran their penalty laps at the sports ground. They slept next to Jack's pod when he was in his coma. And in the end Kiyoshi had to betray Vlad to the Council to maintain Kiyoshi's camouflage.

Vlad knows that Ji Ho and Saiwa take good care of Jack and that Kiyoshi is having a hard time now since he became a diety, had been banned from Kojin's Temple and lost Jack. And no one, except for Jeb, knows how to deal with him after they learned that Kiyoshi was Jack's Alpha and fated mate and kind of co-responsible for Jack's misery. And that Kiyoshi had been sent by his father to the Lab to torture captured Jack and Saiwa. And rescued them in the end. It hadn't been easy for Kiyoshi either with all his duties for the temple, the resistance and the council. He didn't hurt Jack on purpose. They just didn't know better and couldn't act better. He can't be mad at Kiyoshi. Maybe it was because they were too young and unexperienced or it just wasn't meant to be - yet. Fate doesn't make mistakes and Vlad is determined to help both of them.

Kiyoshi cared for the saplings of his Tree. And when he touched the little one Jack had lit with some kind of magic, it hit him like a bolt - again. This is a sign. Kiyoshi is sure. As a werewolf, Jack isn't capable of doing such magic. This has to mean something. Jack is his fated mate. Kiyoshi will give Jack all the time he needs to heal - but he will never give up on him. He tried it - for decades while he'd been in the tree - futile.

Mood is gloomy and everyone was working in silence lost in their own thoughts. Vlad thought he could try Jack's puppy strategy to light up the mood a bit. So he started to tell some funny stories of the times they hadn't been all together. Vlad: "... and when Jeb and Ji Ho had already left to do their school project at Mount Komorebi, Jack insisted to put me on my gloves! I had been blind then, but I still was capable to put on my gloves. And then I made fun of him because he wore a fur jacket! A werewolf in a fur jacket! And then Kiyoshi said: 'I like fur'. Somehow I knew that something was going on between you two." Jeb was cutting the planks, had the pencil between his teeth and chuckled. He repeated 'I like fur' because he thought it was so cute and funny of Kiyoshi. But since he had the pencil between his teeth, it was gibberish.

Arturo froze: "What did you just say?"

Jeb, gibberish: "I like fur?"

Arturo: "Gods - it sounds like the last words from the Master! 'I like bird'!"

Jeb: "I think everything sounds the same when you have a pencil in your mouth while speaking ^^'" Arturo: "True hahaha." Little Goat: 'Hello?!'' omg...

After their work at the Temple, they sat down to eat. Arturo: "Vlad, why don't you take a plate and give it a try?" Vlad: "Ah, I'm sorry but I'm a vampire and can't digest food. I get sick if I do and live off of plasma packs and fruit."

Arturo: "I aware of that - but I also feel your strong craving for food. Other vampires just ignore it." Vlad: "Oh I'd been able to ignore it all my live - until... I drank Ji Ho's blood... and when I came back from hell after I died, I started to smell the incredible odors and had a hard time not giving in and try some ever since."

Arturo: "A lot of things changed after you drank mermaid's blood, hm? Why not you digesting food? Give it a try." Vlad: "Uhm - ok..." It smelled so amazing, Vlad thought it was worth getting sick.

And this is how Vlad tried his first food!

And it seems he likes it!

Oh my Arturo was right - Vlad yould have eaten food since he bit Ji Ho September 2022! And even though he knew he'd changed a lot and craved for it, he never tried - because he was afraid and convinced it would make him sick. This sounds trivial but made him think a lot. What else could he have experienced since then and never tried? And how much has Ji Ho changed him? But before he could follow his thoughts any further, it hit him! Hot hot HOT!!! Arturo: "Maybe Burmesan Samosa Soup wasn't a good choice for your first meal ^^'"

But it was. Vlad will never forget this - his first meal. And it will remind him to be bolder and try new things and not hide behind his fears! (Hear, Hear!)

After lunch Arturo went for a walk with them. He has an idea wow they can make up with the others.

And after a hard day's work, they gathered at the fire. Arturo was pondering all afternoon about 'I like bird' and 'I like fur'... (Try it yourself, it really sounds the same!) Arturo: "Kiyoshi - who did you think about before you became one with the tree?" Kiyoshi: "Jack. I've never been able to forget him. Even when I felt nothing else anymore, I still felt him."

Arturo: "I have a weird inkling: maybe your last words weren't 'I like Bird' but 'I like Fur'? Because Jack is a werewolf? Or you thought of that experience with the fur jacket?" Jeb: "When Kiyoshi thought of Jack and not of Saiwa before he left and Saiwa isn't his fated mate but Jack... Gods - I urged Sai into this fake relationship with Kiyoshi to bring him back because we thought Kiyoshi's last thoughts were about Sai... Saiwa will kill us all." (Omg... ö.Ö') And there's no way not to tell him because they all agreed to be honest to each other...

'I know your eyes in the morning sun I feel you touch me in the pouring rain And the moment that you wander far from me I wanna feel you in my arms again And you come to me on a summer breeze Keep me warm in your love, then you softly leave And it's me you need to show

How deep is your love? I really mean to learn 'Cause we're living in a world of fools Breaking us down when they all should let us be We belong to you and me

I believe in you You know the door to my very soul You're the light in my deepest, darkest hour You're my savior when I fall And you may not think I care for you When you know down inside that I really do And it's me you need to show'

How deep is your love? - The Bee Gees

From the Beginning  ~  Underwater Love ~  Latest 🛺 'Home happy Home' from the beginning ▶️ here 📚 Previous Chapters: Chapters: 1-6 ~ 7-12 ~ 13-16 ~ 17-22 ~ 23-28

#home happy home #sims 4 story #simlit #sims 4 #ts4 story #ts4 #simblr #jeb harris #tomarang #underwater love #puppy strategy #the sims 4 for rent #sims 4 for rent #for rent #vladimir tepesz #kiyoshi ito #the temple in koh sahpa #arturo #arturo linh #koh sahpa #sims 4 vanilla

[winterflowersftw]

Blue Lock characters as Taylor Swift songs + explanation

Notes: Hi guys, so this was another random idea I so...here I am, I guess? But yea do tell me if you guys disagree with any of the song choices here lmao. Would love to hear from you guys

ISAGI YOICHI

"I laid the groundwork and then, just like clockwork

The dominoes cascaded in a line

What if I told you I'm a mastermind?"

And

"If you fail to plan, you plan to fail

Strategy sets the scene for the tale"

And

"Of a chain reaction of countermoves

To assess the equation of you

Checkmate, I couldn't lose."

My boy Isagi came into the Blue Lock system as the second last player and crept his way to the top. He's literally the mastermind pulling the pieces together and winning matches. It's really amazing how he had no ability tha made him stand out much except his brain and that was enough for him.

So yea this is HIS song.

BACHIRA MEGURU

"I never miss a beat

I'm lightnin' on my feet"

And

"I'm dancin' on my own (dancin' on my own)

I make the moves up as I go (moves up as I go)

But I keep cruisin'

Can't stop, won't stop groovin'

It's like I got this music in my mind

Sayin' it's gonna be alright"

The song 100% represents Bachira' childish, carefree and happy-to-go personality and some of the lyrics (which I put above) totally show his abilities like cmon. 😭

Okay so the first two lines are like about his dribbling ability, right? And even in the next para the top lines are like how he's not following a rhythm and is doing whatever he wants to and THAT IS SOMETHING HE DOES IN THE NEL. (Sorry got too excited)

And the last two lines are about the "monster" he had, which existed in his mind. It was very relevant in the first selection.

NAGI SEISHIRO

"And I'm just getting color back into my face

I'm just mad as hell cause I loved this place

For so long, London

Had a good run

A moment of warm sun"

This is VERY specific but I do think this fits really well during the second selection when Nagi chooses to go with Isagi and leaves Reo. Nagi actually stops being the lazy-genius he had been until episode 10 of the anime which has the match between Team V and Team Z where has an awakening (hence the "getting color back into his face" lyric) and he is gaining a passion for football which he never thought someone like him could even have. In Episode Nagi, even Reo acknowledges that the one who made Nagi put in actual efforts in a football match (which he had never done before) was Isagi and not him. Isagi was the reason of Nagi's awakening. And Reo was so sad that he was not the reason.

And right after his awakening, he decides to leave Reo because now he actually wants to improve and has a goal: To beat Isagi. And for that he has to leave Reo. So...yeah.

ITOSHI RIN

"And you call me up again just to break me like a promise

So casually cruel in the name of being honest"

And

"Time won't fly, it's like I'm paralyzed by it

I'd like to be my old self again

But I'm still trying to find it"

And

"You kept me like a secret, but I kept you like an oath"

Okay again this one is also very specific just like Nagi's but i think this song completely represents Rin's relationship with his brother, Sae. Beating Sae is the only reason we have been given for whatever he does.

When we first see Rin at the start of the second selection, one of the first things he says is how he has to beat his brother and that's basically the bane of his existence.

And in between the confrontation between the brothers when Sae comes home from Spain and thenU20 VS Blue Lock Eleven match; a year has passed and Rin's feeling fir his brother is EXACTLY the same. (Hence the second para)

Also we can notice this during the Itoshi brothers' flashback, Sae had always been the way he is at this point since childhood. But Rin was different, he was a happy and naive kid. But that's gone now. Also how after the U20 VS the Blue Lock Eleven match when Sae comes to Rin, and Rin (and us, the audience) think that Sae is going to praise Rin who had just been in his berserk mode before; the expression change on Rin's face is so evident and heartbreaking. His expression is almost the same one he had when he was a little kid. So yeah, its very heartbreaking when Sae praises Isagi and not him when Rin has been craving for his validation for a longggg time.

Notes part 2: This took me a lot of time to wrote so please don't let this flop 😭🤞

#blue lock #blue lock brain rot #why did i add angst for nagi and rin #blue lock manga #blue lock anime #blue lock headcanons #isagi yoichi #blue lock isagi #bllk isagi #itoshi rin #rin itoshi #blue lock rin #nagi seishiro #blue lock nagi #bachira meguru #bllk bachira #blue lock thoughts #Spotify

[lily-orchard-gossip-blog]

Hello hello again! It's good to have you back for a little while! Unfortunately there is a lot of infighting in the critical sphere right now and it's not very fun to follow. And worse still Lily is as smug as ever. People are too invested in who ripped off what, who's disrespecting this or that, they should just be having fun at Lily's expense. That's what Saiscribbles has done, and you can tell how effective it is because Lily has tried every strategy in the book to prove how not mad she is.

You know what?

I think I would like to poke fun at the whole thing. I mean, it's sounds like she's gotten a bit ridiculous since I've been gone. (Ridiculous sounds like an understatement, thought.)

I've done serious and it's exhausting. You can only take her serious for so long before you realize she doesn't really even know or believe what she's saying.

As for the fighting, well... It's a shame, but let's try to focus on what's at the core of this blog: Gossiping about Lily.

...But I do have one thing I want to get off my chest, so I will mention it here and then move on. It is under the read bar just so those who don't care can ignore it.

I do have one thing to say about the drama, and that's about Ethel.

They are a liar liar pants on fire.

Seriously, I watched Evangeline Skovs video, which was one of the better coverages on the subject and there was no plagiarism. Not even of me, and I was a source!

Never mind that fact that Ethel legit lied about my blog in their rebuttal, claiming that Levi couldn't find anything on my blog about their video, or glade, so Evangeline was lying.

Their proof? Levi used the search bar, used the word minor and glade, and nothing came up except one post...

Fun fact: I'm bad at tagging things, and my search bar is kind of useless because of that.

(Side note: why would I use glade's name? Why would I want to draw attention to someone who I assumed wanted to be left alone? I'm pretty sure that was made clear in the video.)

Anyway, if you used my archive you could easily find TONES of posts from me talking about the video in question with details.

Here's one that Ethel conveniently left out:

And you know what's hilarious about that? They reblogged this take to try and rebuke it on their tumblr. (That they have long since abandoned.)

I decided to ignore it, because obviously I'm not going to try and get in a fight with them, and Ethel was so mad by that they messaged me directly to try and threaten me with legal jargon.

So I blocked them.

But hey, since I'll probably never bother with this again, here are the messages. Enjoy old drama from like...2 years ago:

Image text here:

[Okay, I've put this off for as long as possible, but please, read this case study as right now you are parroting harmful legal advice. Victim testimony not only constitutes evidence, but can be sufficient evidence to convict, a fact that was tested in Commonwealth v Gustavo Gonzalez Santos in Massachusetts.

I’ll highlight two relevant sections in case you don’t have the time to read the entire thing: “The defendant's sole argument on appeal is that the evidence was not sufficient to support his convictions. The defendant asserts that "there were no witnesses to the alleged assaults," "no physical evidence," "no medical or forensic evidence," and "no expert testimony." He argues that "there was absolutely no conclusive evidence presented at trial that suggested the [d]efendant's guilt beyond a reasonable doubt."” And: “Here, the victim testified to facts that constituted each element of the charged offenses. Her testimony, which the jury found to be credible, was sufficient, standing alone, to support a finding beyond a reasonable doubt as to each of the convictions. See, e.g., Commonwealth v. Lawrence, 68 Mass. App. Ct. 103, 104 (2007)

("The victim's testimony was sufficient evidence of [indecent assault and battery on a child under age fourteen]"); Commonwealth v. Gonsalves, 23 Mass. App. Ct. 184, 185 (1986) ("The victim's account of what the defendant did to him in the apartment was sufficient to overcome the defendant's motion for a required finding of not guilty of rape"). The idea that long infected our legal system that the victim's testimony in sexual assault and rape cases is less credible than the testimony of victims in cases involving other types of crimes -- an idea that reflected nothing more than sexism and an unwillingness on the part of our courts to treat sexual crimes as the gravely serious matter that they are -- has been rejected both by statute and by common law.”

When you and others continue to parrot the myth that victim testimony does not constitute as valid evidence, you are harming victims of rape and abuse. This is straight up rape culture and, since I’m pushing back any video coverage on the matter until I’ve finished dealing with Lily because I don’t want to muddle things, I need you to stop promoting falsehoods. We have legal members on our team who have passed the bar, Patchie does not, Opal does not, and neither does You Can Eat Hearts. You are causing unnecessary harm to victims by breathing life into myths constructed by rape culture. To be clear, I am not asking for your denouncement of certain people, just for you to please, stop publishing bad legal takes.

This is also the case in Canada, if you're wondering - https://www.accused.ca/evidence.htm

Sorry, I just realized I didn't give you the US case study. Here it is - http://masscases.com/cases/app/100/100massappct1.html#:~:text=The%20jury%20found%20the%20defendant,We%20affirm. ]

Oct 30, 2022 9:16 AM

Whew, you have no idea how long I wanted to spill this tea.

Alright, I've said what I've wanted to say on this topic. I'm now going to focus on laughing at Lily and her horrible incest stories.

[sirdindjarin]

The Choice - (Din Djarin x f!Reader)

After returning Grogu to his kind, the Mandalorian must also face the consequences of his bounty hunting. Or:Din Djarin Has Two Very Bad Days.

The Savior / The Concession / The Choice (END)

AO3 Link

A/N: Canon-divergent - Grogu is saved at the Seeing Stone. Citing again my same sources from The Concession.

TAGS: two smut scenes, helmet stays on, helmet comes off, child neglect lmao (din trusts grogu not to get into trouble way too much), angst, fluff, light torture lol, allusions to sex, P in V, rough-ish P in V.

MAY THE FOURTH BE WITH YOU

It happened slowly. The change that the Mandalorian wrought in you, though dramatic, was one born of love and patience. While he had always detested your acting like a servant to him, now you were banned from even feeling like a lesser lifeform. Din insisted you learn whatever he could teach you. You needed to know how to protect yourself, and how to trust yourself. He had even demanded that you learn to control the Razor Crest. That had been a scary day. 

Day by day, you began to see yourself through the Mandalorian’s eyes. Self-esteem through your own merit bloomed, and it was the encouragement of Din Djarin that watered the soil. 

Once, during a particularly grueling training session, Din saw defeat darken your eyes though he hadn't yet won.

“No. Don’t do that,” his modulator flatly stated as he relaxed his posture.

A caught breath later, you'd asked what he meant.

“Don’t concede the fight before it ends.”

“You’re going to win. I’m terrible with strategy.” 

“Then rely on your strengths. You are quick. Resourceful. Don’t give up again.” 

He had waited, patient and calm, until he saw the fire return to your eyes, and then he sprung at you. 

Your favorite weapon was the smooth beskar spear Din had been gifted by the Jedi he’d met. It was hard to hide your admiration of it. An ideal weapon for you, it was your frequent choice during your sparring matches. You’re grateful Din even allowed you to touch it. But Din was far from offended by your fascination and talent with the spear; he found it turned him on, actually.

Days spent sparring always ended in another, more intimate, type of physical activity. Sometimes, such as the day he watched you give up, it was tender and slow. Sometimes it was as desperate and aggressive as the first time he had taken you for himself. You loved both.

Tonight, after he eases himself from you and tucks you in his lean arms in the dark, he is quiet. Though Din was often contemplative after lying with you, this silence has the strain of anxiety. It sets you on edge. You let him drift through his own mind until finally his low voice fills the tiny room.

“As a Mandalorian, removing my helmet is forbidden. While I have technically broken this rule, you have not seen my face.” It's obvious he's thought about this in depth; the tone of his voice is rich with unseen emotion. “That intimacy is reserved for committed partners. For those who share in a riduurok.”

You don’t mean to tense up, but his seriousness forces every fiber of your body to listen, to absorb his words. 

“You okay?” He murmurs when he feels it.

You nod on his chest, so he continues.

“When a Mandalorian removes their helmet for another, they are asking that a decision be made. You have known me as no one has. When my helmet is removed, free of all impediments, then will I be asking that same question.”

What decision was there to make? To explore your options? You’ve been enslaved for most of your life, but even you can see that this - this with him - is as good as life gets. There was nothing more you could ask for, let alone want. If you were going to tie yourself to anyone, it would be Din Djarin - a man of sheer will, loyalty, and an Outer Rim type of honor. Your body relaxes.

“I understand. If that moment comes, I’ll have an answer.”

“It is not a question of ‘if,’” he states, his sultry voice full of restrained feeling. 

You can’t see him, but still your head tilts up to his face. You let your fingers drag through the patches of hair along his jawline, and then you press a kiss to his pulse point on his neck. 

“I mean, I can give you my answer now… if you’d like?” He can hear the smile in your voice.

His muscled arm pulls you tighter against him, as though your answer might be no. You hear Din’s hair scratch on the durasteel wall as he shakes his head.

“I don’t mean to rush you. I only wanted you to understand the way I will do this.” 

The room quiets again as you trace his lips, then his throat, then lower. Small bumps appear on his skin, and you brush over them. 

“I’ll never understand why this feels as good as it does,” he sighs contentedly. “All we are doing is touching.” 

Agreeing, you laugh, “I don’t either. But I never want it to end.” 

“Good,” Din gruffly replies.

___________________________________

The Mandalorian feels the time slipping through his grip. Too many weeks had passed since his meeting with the Jedi. The Seeing Stone awaits Grogu. Determined to do right by the child and his creed, Din finally navigates to Tython. You watch from the Razor Crest as Din cautiously sets Grogu upon the Stone. Din waits. You wait. 

For hours Grogu sits there, consumed by the blue light around him, reaching out. When the sun begins to meet the rocky horizon, Din treks back to the Razor Crest to check on you, and that’s when everything falls apart.

***

As you lean forward in the cockpit of the Razor Crest, the Mandalorian swoops his creaking ship down an embankment and fires upon an errant Imperial TIE fighter. You’ve been around good pilots, but Din is the best. Despite the grief you gave him for continually abusing his ship, he truly is talented. 

Another TIE fighter screams past, and Din pulls the Razor Crest up from its dive. He fires two blasts, but his first shot was true. The TIE fighter explodes.

On the Stone below, as Din makes another pass, you can see pure Force flowing around the child. His eyes are closed. 

“How much longer can this take?” You ask rhetorically. You know Din is as exasperated as you are. Probably more so.

“I tried to get him back, but the shield was too strong.”

“I don’t think that’s a shield, Din. It’s the Force.”

“Whatever it is, it won’t let me get to him,” the worry in his modulated, tired voice breaks your heart. 

“In that case, at least he’s safe,” you try to reassure the Mandalorian. “If you can’t get to him, neither can the IMPs falling from the sky.” 

Din presses his lips together underneath his helmet. While you have a point, he wouldn’t feel right about this until the child was back with him. 

The Mandalorian has been shooting down incoming Imperial fighters for almost an hour, and he’s starting to believe it won’t end when his radar picks up a different, older spacecraft. You shoot forward, staring at the viewer. 

“Is that an X-wing?” You ask incredulously. “The Republic came all the way out here?” 

If it’s Republic, that means it’s low on Din’s priority list, so he pays it much less attention than the three TIE fighters that break the sound barrier above him. 

You’re suddenly thrown back in your seat when the Razor Crest’s shield system rings the alarm and Din calmly spins the ship skyward, arcing over another ridge to maneuver out of the target lock of an IMP. When he banks, he yanks the thruster backward, and the TIE fighter screams by. Din wrenches on the trigger and the black craft disappears in a ball of fire. 

Rising up through the flame, another black fighter barrels down on the Razor Crest. Before Din can shove the Crest into a better attack position, the third fighter flanks him. You hear the Mandalorian sigh. 

From the east, red laser blasts blow apart the first TIE fighter, and then the second. The X-wing flies lazily through the debris, looping above the rock where Grogu sits. 

A crackling sound pops into the cockpit of the Mandalorian’s ship, then a dignified, cheerful voice speaks.

“My name is Luke Skywalker. I’m here to help the child.” 

Uncharacteristically surprised, Din had been expecting that X-wing to be carrying some stuffy officer bent on harassing him, not a kriffing Jedi.

He hits the button on the comms.

“I can’t get to the kid. He’s stuck inside that Force… shield.” 

“I see him. Looks like he’s sleeping.” 

Sure enough, as Din crests the hill, the blue light flowing around Grogu is gone. 

“There will be no more Imperial fighters for a while. You’re safe to land.”

You make a skeptical face, wondering how the Jedi could know that. Reaching forward, you tenderly grasp Din right above his elbow. Din’s tension is greater now than while he was shooting down scores of the Empire’s best. 

For the Mandalorian, that had been the easy part.  

***

By the time the Mandalorian settles the Razor Crest down and the two of you race to the top of the rocky ruins, Grogu is awake. The Jedi, Luke Skywalker, is seated and clearly performing some kind of Jedi magic to read Grogu’s thoughts. 

Grogu’s ears perk up and he turns from Luke when he hears the clinking footsteps of the man striding toward him. He raises his childlike arms, and Din scoops him up.

“I’m glad to see you, too, buddy.” 

Grogu babbles in the cradle of Din’s arms. His head swivels to look back at Luke.

“Your young one is strong.” 

Din nods, his two-toned glove on Grogu’s back. You step up behind the tall Mandalorian. Reaching around the broad man, you rub Grogu’s ears. He purrs under your affection. 

Luke speaks again, “I can see he was well cared for. Grogu is very fond of you both.” He frowns. “Attachments are forbidden to Jedi. Emotion clouds our judgment. It’s best that he learn the ways of the Jedi -  and when he is older, he may make his own decision.” 

“Yes. I was tasked with bringing him to his own kind,” the Mandalorian’s modulator hides most of his voice, but the devastation radiates from him. He tilts his helmet down to the child.

Grogu, eyes shining, reaches up to touch Din’s helmet, expressing his feelings for the man who has protected and loved him.

“You have to go with the Jedi, pal,” Din murmurs, hating the words.

Grogu whimpers, his ears drooping, and with only a moment’s hesitation, Din begins to lift his helmet. 

Inhaling sharply, you move further behind the Mandalorian and drop your gaze. This moment is between Din Djarin and his kid.

_________________________________

“Ducked in there,” you tilt your chin at the seedy cantina door. 

Several members of the local crime syndicate stand outside smoking death sticks, the smoke spiraling up into the vibrant night air.

“You good?” Din asks, his hand reaching toward you protectively.

You wipe your lip free of blood, “Yeah, I should’ve seen it coming.”

“When we go in, we cir-”

“I know, Din,” you smile fondly at him. 

In the past year, you’ve completed plenty of bounty jobs with him. It was easy to use the same tactics on different targets, so you’ve become familiar with the Mandalorian’s strategies. And anyway, it made sense. Of course you would flank the quarry.

Din watches, not a little besotted, as you confidently walk into the business full of slimeballs. It always ached to let you go into danger, but that was why he spent hours each week pouring his knowledge and experience into you. You’ve always been capable, strong, and as ruthless as he is. Din follows you inside.

The thumping bass and flashing lights play with your eyesight. Unlike the Mandalorian in his enhanced helmet, your eyes were susceptible to any kind of trick or weakness. You squint slightly against the glaring lights. When you sweep the room, you catch sight of Din circling around the far side of the bar. He inclines his head at you, then disappears. 

One of the red strobe lights twists from the stage and into the crowd, and that’s your excuse for not seeing the quarry as it hurtles into you. They tackle you, taking you to the sticky cantina floor with a wheeze. The blue, humanoid woman lands another blow to your face before you overpower her, ripping her off you. You nimbly get to your feet, drawing your blaster. The woman grins wickedly from her seated position on the black floor, then she feints to the right.

“Stop. Stop moving,” you warn, the barrel of your blaster now pointed at her head. 

The pounding music makes the quarry’s voice near inaudible, but you hear her snarl, “I know about you. You’re a karking slavegirl. Where’s your master?”

Insults had run out their efficacy on you fifteen years ago, and this weak attempt is no different. You look bored. 

“Give me your wrists,” you indicate with your chin. And when the woman’s eyes dart to the exit, you shift on your feet, stating, “I don’t want to blast you.”

Suddenly noticing the scuffle, a stranger looks from your pointed blaster to your face and shouts, “Hey! No officers allowed.”

“Not Republic,” your eyes stay glued to the woman on the floor. “I’m -” 

Your sentence ends when the stranger - a large, Dyplotid with four eyes blinking simultaneously - wraps a massive hand around your blaster arm. You whirl, trying to break his hold, but he’s much too strong. Instead, he curls his arm around your throat and squeezes. Your eyes refocus as you watch the quarry sprint to the door. 

A man, his armor reflecting the rotating colored lights, lunges at the quarry, gripping her arm. Using her own momentum, he flips her onto the floor and snaps binders around her wrists. It’s then that he looks up to see why you had allowed her to get so far. 

Abandoning the quarry, Din strides powerfully forward, his steel gaze locked onto the Dyplotid, when its head jerks.

A hole burns through its arm, and the Dyplotid stumbles back, clutching and screaming at it. You let the blaster fall away from where you'd placed it against his arm. Shaking your head in annoyance, you look up at your partner. Din carefully, wordlessly, raises your chin, looking you over.

“Let’s just get her out of here,” you grouse. 

***

In the cockpit, while Din freezes the quarry, you begin the takeoff cycle. Grumbling under your breath, you mentally poke at yourself over your failure with the quarry. Muffled steps echo as Din climbs the ladder. 

“You did good,” Din quietly praises when he reaches the top.

He swivels the pilot’s chair you sit in around to face him. He knows you’re upset. Standing, imposing as always, he watches you duck your head in shame. 

“I shouldn’t have let him get so close. If I had been faster -” you stumble over your thoughts. “I’m a liability to you. I’m not a good partner if I get caught up like that.”

Din leans, his hand tilting your face upward again. 

“You are not the only one who gets into fights. What matters is that you get out of them. Which you did.” His thumb presses against your lips, and his voice turns suggestive. “Would you like me to make you feel better?”

His advising words will take root and grow, but his offer is one you can’t accept. Because he can see your distress, Din would be gentle and sweet, and you don’t believe you deserve that at the moment. 

“I don’t feel right about you taking care of me,” you admit. “I want you to be mad at me.”

Din’s beskar mask tilts in interest. He nods once. Your eyes drop to the grooved, durasteel floor, knowing he will leave you to your task. 

The Mandalorian pulls off his gloves slowly. He tosses them on the control panel behind you where they land with a dull thud. You look up at him - a question in your eyes. 

“Stand up,” his modulator orders. His chin tilts upward.

“Din -”

He leans forward a fraction, his body eclipsing all else.

“Stand."

A knot forms in your gut, and you obey him. He doesn’t back up, so you’re forced into his personal space. The Mandalorian’s hands slide underneath the bottom hem of your top, palms against your skin. His callouses leave a burning trail.

Din’s hands stop their advance on your ribcage. You know what he wants, so you lift your arms. His skin skates over yours as he rips your top over your head, leaving you exposed in his cockpit. Your eyes toss him a shy look, and Din feels something dark take over. 

He grips your upper arm and pushes you over to the side panel. Din turns you to face the exterior. His hot palm lands right at the top of your spine, and he bends you over the chair. Desire coils and pools where you want him most. Your hands grasp at the bottom edge of the side windscreen.

Thank the Maker Din landed on the outskirts.

Din shoves your pants down your thighs, grunting airily as he does so. One of his rough hands comes around to grope at your breast, lazily rubbing at your peaking nipple. Moderating his strength, his boot kicks your foot to the side, allowing him to fit closer.

You can hear the rustling of his flight suit, and you clench in anticipation. A rush of wetness dampens your thighs when he thrusts his velvet length against your folds. Encouraged by your arousal, he continues.

“You wanted this,” he gruffly warns not a second before he draws back and spears his cock inside you. 

From the outside of the Razor Crest, if someone stumbled past in the vast landscape, they would see your mouth agape, your body jolting, and the Mandalorian fisting your hair. They would see him slip a hand around your throat, thrusting you back onto him. 

But they wouldn't hear the rhythmic slapping, the duet of pleased and desperate sounds from two drunk voices.

Your mind is numb with the plunging feeling of the Mandalorian splitting you in two. Something heavy and metallic falls to the floor, rolling away. Then Din's scruff scrapes against your spine as he hunches over you, wantonly biting and sucking at your shoulder. 

His pace is intense, and if you close your eyes, hyperspace is passing through your eyelids. He grunts as you clench down on him, legs shaking. Your knees knock into the edge of the chair with each thrust. Filthy are the squelching sounds that your joining bodies make. 

"D'you still-" he groans when you arch, allowing him deeper. "You still want punishment?" 

It's not a real question. He was never going to deny you pleasure. This is as close as he can get to hurting you.

Din slips a hand between your legs, his fingers performing your favorite melody. You throw your head back, body locking as your orgasm builds. When the pressure shatters into bliss, your moans, your fluttering around him has Din fighting his own peak.

Arm barring your chest, his other hand cups your throat and his unveiled cheek presses against yours. You slam your eyes shut, wanting to experience every bit of his touch and ignore the temptation to look at him.

"Damn, you’re squeezing me s-" he mutters, but his words end in several rough groans as his cock pulses violently. 

Cheek to cheek, his lips hang open right next to yours. He pants, his cold chestplate stinging your back, as he releases himself. Din relishes the way you whimper in tandem with each of his spurts inside you.

He drops his forehead to your shoulder and brushes his lips along the bruised skin he finds there. The two of you stay motionless for a moment, basking in it. It’s one of the best experiences you’ve yet had with him, and you’re unsurprised he came so quickly considering you did as well.

Din allows his hands to linger - he skims your chest, your sides, then gently cups your ass as he pulls himself from you. The Mandalorian's sweet, unmoderated voice cuts the silent cockpit.

"Turn around.” 

Though he is uncovered, his request tells you that he's not intending on asking you anything, so you face him, eyes shut.

His soft lips pry yours open. He kisses you with sensual tenderness, as though he wasn't just ramming you against a window. His wide tongue slowly drags through your mouth, over and over, upending your sense of direction. Din's hands cradle your jaw, thumbs sliding over your cheeks. 

Tears spring up behind your eyes at his care. You drift toward him, craving his steadiness. When your naked chest touches his beskar, you shiver.

"Sorry," he remembers your state. 

Din lets you go and you wiggle your bottoms back up, head down. The Mandalorian crouches and picks up his helmet, replacing it. 

"You did well today. I am proud of you," Din's modulator lets you know you can open your eyes. “Do not argue with me.” 

He drops into the pilot's seat and finishes getting the Razor Crest ready.

You laugh, biting your lip. “No point,” you tease. “It’s only another thing I wouldn’t win.” 

The Mandalorian’s head swivels to you, and after a pause, he deadpans, “You didn’t learn much just now, did you?” 

You smirk at him. “You’ll have to explain it again.” 

***

The Crest drifts past an exploded star. Long had it burnt out, no cause for current concern. Din Djarin simply wanted you to see it. The gas and debris that hang in spacetime manifest in purples, blues, greens, and yellows. It’s incredible - unlike anything you’ve ever seen. Sitting in your usual chair, your lips are parted slightly in awe as you take it in.

The Mandalorian has seen it before, so he watches you instead. Something heavy presses on his chest, and he can’t quite put name to it. He feels as though he weighs as much as the karking ship he pilots. 

You make a comment to which he doesn’t respond, so you tear your eyes from the view outside to the view inside. He’s facing you, his shoulders hunched. 

“Din, what’s wrong?” You immediately push out of your chair and reach for him. 

Caressing his helmet, you frown, knowing something is brewing underneath. Sometimes, you hate that helmet. Though you know it as Din, and therefore love it for that reason, the human connection that it cuts him off from saddens you.

“Nothing is wrong,” he flatly asserts, though he’s trying to convince himself more than you.

You touch your forehead to his and he inhales sharply. You take his hands - blessedly ungloved - and settle them on your waist. 

“You miss the kid,” you state gently.

Din does not allow the stinging in his eyes to become tears. He grits his teeth, then opens his mouth to allow a pained sigh to escape. Din finally identifies the weight pressing on his chest. It’s a void. You and Grogu make up his heart, and with either of you missing, the emptiness makes itself known.

“Could we not go see him?” You murmur, drawing back to look at the Mandalorian.

You smile at the thought of Grogu’s excited coos, the way his ears would perk up at Din’s voice. 

The Mandalorian sits back in his chair, renewed by hope, “You're right. We should find him. Make sure the kid’s alright.”

_______________________________

Din Djarin found the location of the Jedi's training facility easily. All it took was tracking down an old Republic archive worker, bribing them to provide Grogu's implanted beacon code, and then finding a device capable of tracking such an outdated string of symbols. 

It took the Mandalorian less than two days. 

The new problem was that the Razor Crest suffered a hull puncture during an unforeseen meteor shower. Frustration and impatience line his back and bow his shoulders as he lands the Crest on the nearest populated planet. Repairs would take at least a day, and that was a day that could've been spent getting to the kid.

"This planet is in the same system as Charal. Where you dishonestly obtained a room for us."

You laugh, "I remember that planet for an entirely different reason."

The T-shaped, black slit turns to observe you. 

You oblige him with an explanation, "It was the first time you touched me." 

But Din was already smirking underneath his helmet.

"I remember."

***

Walking alongside and slightly behind the Mandalorian, you hide your grin at the way he parts a crowd. You watch as people eye him as a danger, and others eye him as an object of interest. For all his social isolation, he drew attention like a tractor beam with that swaggering confidence and gleaming beskar. 

And he was all yours. 

You wait a few steps away while Din trades credits for some type of food you’re unfamiliar with. The Twi’lek vendor actually bats her eyes at the Mandalorian. When he drops the credits in her hand, she stumbles over her words when his glove contacts her skin. From a distance, you grimace - whether in embarrassment for her or irritation on your part, you’re uncertain.

Seemingly oblivious to the Twi’lek’s distress, Din wordlessly rejoins you, touching your elbow to indicate his presence. It wasn't that he didn't notice the attention, it was that he didn't care. Though you never doubted the man raised on devotion and respect, it was a balm to your disquiet soul that you could trust him in every way imaginable. 

A few minutes later, he abruptly swivels his head to you, “I have something I need to do. I’ll find you.” 

The fingers on Din’s right hand twitch as though he wants to touch you, but something tells him not to. The Mandalorian could never be certain whose eyes were watching. Instead, he bows his helmet solemnly at you, and disappears down a narrow alley. 

Din had mentioned a task earlier, so his departure was expected; but now you had to face the thronging marketplace by yourself. The last time you were alone amongst a crowd, you were running for your life from a frothing bounty hunter on Niamos. 

While Din had bought food for the two of you, your goal is to get the little womp rat something. So, you straighten your shoulders and stroll down the busy venue. 

Your attention is fully focused on sorting through the unreadable languages, garish banners, and hot smells to find something that Grogu might like when the hair on the back of your neck rises. Swearing you felt a puff of air on your skin, you furtively search, but the milling crowd gives nothing away.

So many eyes and yet none of them seem to be looking at you. Continuing past several chrono traders, you slink down a peaceful side street. It’s shaded from the pinkish sun by balconies and overhangings. 

Forcing yourself to relax, you lean against the smooth, exterior metal wall and close your eyes. You let your mind wander back out into the mass of lifeforms, wondering who had gotten close enough to feel their breath. You try to absorb any shred of detail you can hear or remember.

Your eyes snap open when you realize, with a self-conscious scoff, that you’re imitating the way Grogu reaches out with his mind. But something is wrong. Something is coming. Angling your body to peek around the corner, your eyes frantically search the crowd.

Where is Din?

Before you can finish worrying about the Mandalorian, a hand slaps across your mouth, effectively silencing your startled yelp. Then another hand, cold, immutable metal, manages to snag both of your hands behind you. Thrashing, you jerk your head around, vainly hoping Din decided to play a cruel joke. Instead, a female cyborg grins maliciously down at you. 

You allow her to drag you away from the mass of innocent people, fighting convincingly the entire way. She smells like unwashed armpits and oil. It’s foul and you fight a gag as her arm winches your throat.

Once out of sight of innocent bystanders, you suddenly drop all of your body weight to your knees, and she toddles off-balance. Thrusting your shoulders forward, you throw her over you. She lands with a guh! as the wind is knocked from her. 

Able to assess the threat now, you take stock of her cybernetic left arm, waist, and left leg. Her right arm, right leg, chest, and most of her face are still flesh. The cyborg snarls at you and rolls to her hands and knees, preparing to spring at you, when you draw your blaster and fire from your hip. A move Din made you practice daily.

A pathetic, horrible sound issues from the woman as the blaster bolt burns through her right eye and she falls to the ground, smoking. 

***

As he struts back through the town, the Mandalorian weighs the small package in his hand with contentment. Though you had loved that beskar spear, the Armorer was right: it was far too dangerous a weapon, and it could serve a greater purpose. 

Din is thrilled with his deception. There hadn’t been any damages to the Razor Crest - well, not any that couldn’t wait a little while. Din simply needed a reason to land on this planet and find his Covert without you asking him a thousand questions. 

Now, his task is complete. Grogu will have something to keep him safe and remember Din by, and you’ll have… the Mandalorian’s smirk falters a little when his thoughts consider your reaction to what he had made for you. He rarely second guesses himself, if ever. But this is territory he never considered.

All at once, he notices that people seem nervous for a reason other than him; he can hear the hushed whispers between friends. Din’s keen ears latch on to the word ‘abducted.’ His heart rate kicks up.

He tucks the small package of gifts into the pocket behind his belt, and lengthens his stride. The Mandalorian flicks on his heat sensors, but there’s too many warm-blooded species swirling about, and he growls as he flicks it back off. 

To Din’s left, two booths set up to sell chronos are quickly packing their wares away; they look considerably more afraid than the rest of the crowd.

“What happened here?” Din demands of the closest shopkeeper, a Trandoshan. 

The chrono seller winces as a Mandalorian stalks toward him, and rapidly answers: “A girl was abducted. Right there -” he jerks his hand to the side, pointing at the alleyway next to his booth. 

“What did you see?” Din isn’t threatening the Trandoshan, but his quiet, forceful voice certainly sounds like it.

“I- I don’t want to get too inv-”

Din’s body language shifts ever so slightly. He cocks his head; and that’s all the Trandoshan needs to restart his sentence.

“Human girl. She was being dragged off by a karking cyborg. It was terrifying; I tried to help her but the thing was too big,” the giant lizard’s words flow so fast, they blur as though he took a shot of spotchka before answering.

Din lurches past the vendor before he finishes his second sentence. Though the Mandalorian has no proof you are the girl in question, the knot in his gut and the hollowness in his chest tell him all he needs to know. 

Heat sensors back on his viewscreen, Din follows the yellowing, fading trail. The tunnel-like road is utterly quiet; it’s clear it’s a residential street, but there isn’t a soul to be seen. 

The trail ends in an expansive lot. It’s a confusing tangle of heat signatures in the dust, and Din can’t make out exactly what happened. He switches the sensor off again and crouches to examine the footprints himself.

Someone had been dragged. Din looks up and to his right. A small ship idles on the far edge of the field. Scanning the ship, he identifies two lifeforms - at least one is female. The Mandalorian's footsteps are quick and quiet as he approaches the small-scale freighter. The boarding ramp is down, so he slips on board. 

At the far end of the cargo hold, in a pile of cargo hauling material, lies a female body. Din knows without further examination that it is not yours. Over the past year, Din Djarin had memorized every facet of you; he committed you to memory like each entry was a precious artifact. And this body is decidedly not yours. 

Din switches his heat sensor back on to look for the other lifeform, but a brutal blow to his ribs sends him on his side. Din scrambles to his feet and is shocked to be staring into the face of Con Macta. 

“Come to settle a score?” 

The Mandalorian goes to draw his blaster, but, from behind him, the arms of the female cyborg cinch around his neck, tightening rapidly. Too quickly for Din to react, Con Macta stabs through Din's flight suit and into his bicep with a syringe. Unconsciousness steals the Mandalorian.

***

The cockpit of the Razor Crest is cold, silent. 

Cara Dune’s blue face greets you with a grimace. 

“It’s good to see you, but not like this. I sent his chain code to the Razor Crest. And, hey,” she frowns. “I can be there in less than a cycle.” 

“In that time, I’ll have found him,” you insist. “Thank you for searching the Republic database." 

"Anything for you two,” she smiles grimly and the visage fades. 

You spin away from the fading hologram and begin powering up the Razor Crest's navicomputer. The hologram of the star system flickers to life in front of you. Two planets fill your vision, and on the planet adjacent to your current position, a small yellow dot blips. 

Slightly taken aback that Din is no longer on the same planet, you recover quickly. It doesn't take much for you to add up all the evidence. A cyborg attacked you and now Din is on Charal.

You bring up the entry log from that cyborg job a year ago. The data screen reads in Aurebesh: 

Con Macta - Stormtrooper, 607th Battalion - Missing/Killed in Action 1 ABY. 

You frown. Either the database had missed an important detail, or the female cyborg was on a revenge mission. Chewing on your lower lip, you’re finally thankful Din taught you how to fly.

***

Brought to wakefulness by searing voltage in his veins, Din's jaw muscles are forced taut by the current, preventing his pained groan from escaping. His entire body tenses painfully.

Laughing cruelly, Con Macta cuts off the switch on the dirty, steel wall. 

"Good afternoon, bounty hunter. Really didn’t think you’d be so easy to capture. I didn't even have to go looking for you. You thought your apprentice was on my ship, didn't you? Very touching, your affection for her." 

Din doesn’t reply, too busy catching his breath.

“I sent my own lady friend to snatch her up, but your rather wily apprentice almost killed her. Say hello, Venita.”

Venita saunters toward the containment field Din is suspended in and taunts, “Hello, Mandalorian. You really were a disappointment compared to your friend.” 

“You know, we never did find your real name. We found your apprentice’s, but yours seems to be kept in a secure section of Imperial files. Very interesting. And in that case, don’t worry about dying here. You’ll be going to meet them next. They pay top dollar for their bounties.”

The Mandalorian does not speak. Hanging as he was inside this energy field, there was little he could do. Whatever he’d been injected with still held him in a dazed consciousness. 

“You were all bravado when last I saw you, Mandalorian. What’s changed?” Macta goads. He flips the electricity on for a second, then cuts it again. “You don’t like this? This is what you forced me back to. My maker created me here, in this filthy lab, against my will. Poor stormtroopers. We’re all pulse-cannon fodder or failed experiments.”

Din once again does not reply. Nothing he could say would change the outcome, and he damn sure wasn’t going to give Con Macta any sense of satisfaction.

The cyborg huffs. “You’re far more boring than the last time we met. I guess I’ll have to find your apprentice. That will make you lively.” 

The Mandalorian forces every ounce of will he has into not reacting to that statement, but his sudden rigidity gives him away.

“I can find her, Con. Let me have another go,” Venita begs in a hiss.

The cyborg takes his demented friend by the arm, leading her out of the room. 

Din can just make out his answer: “We’ll both go. If she’d blasted your real eye, you’d be dead.” 

The Mandalorian growls with frustration. It’s essentially useless to struggle. Containment fields are made of pure energy. The control panel with the large, white power switch sits unhelpfully across the mid-size, gray room. 

The cyborg had yet to remove Din’s helmet, thank the Mythosaur; but Din is unable to reach the vision-changing settings, so when a small, dark shadow creeps in from the steel doorway, the Mandalorian squints to hurry its focus. The light from the containment field blinds him to much of what occurs outside its glow.

The shadow moves to the control panel, and Din loosens his muscles in preparation. Tensing would only make the spasming more painful. To his great shock, the blue energy field suspending him disappears and he falls to the ground with a clang. 

Groaning, still groggy and in pain, he unsteadily rises to his feet. They must’ve accidentally released him and now he had to fight. But as he continues to squint, a soft, anguished voice comes from the direction of the control panel.

“Din! Dammit, what did they do to you?” 

You hurry to him, sliding your shoulder underneath his to stand him up fully. 

“I’m alright. Injected me with something,” he shakes his head, trying to clear the cobwebs from his mind. The two of you move toward the exit. “How did you find me?” 

“I ran to the Razor Crest right after I was attacked. I had a bad feeling, so I holocalled Cara to give me your chain code. Can’t have been much more than half an hour behind you.” 

Underneath his helmet, Din’s eyebrows shoot upward. “You were smarter than I was,” he chuckles. 

“I was terrified,” you whisper.

His arm clutches you to his side and he rubs his thumb across your hip soothingly. 

Din releases you to retrieve his blaster from its place on a table. They hadn’t removed any of his other weapons; he supposes they didn’t deem it necessary. He feels a little insulted. 

Suddenly remembering, Din jerks his hand to the place he’d held yours and Grogu’s gifts. Empty. He growls under his breath. 

You peek around the open doorway out into the hall. Your options are left or right. Following the same way you came in, you go right. 

“Those two droids,” he says it like the slur it is to him, “went this way. Stay alert.”

Two blasters are pointed down the dark hallway as you and Din skirt the circular building. It was shaped like a moisture silo - round and high. You’d set the Razor Crest down a click to the west. All you needed to do was find the busted ventilation grate you’d entered through and sprint to the ship. 

In the poor light, you can’t see the object flying at you. A weight slams into your stomach, and you crumple to the floor. Unable to catch your breath, you try to duck out of the way when the gleam of a metal arm comes at your face. It stops mid-air with a dull sound, and you focus your eyes to see that the cyborg’s fist has been caught by Din’s hand. 

The mechanical woman rips her arm from his grip right as he tries to grab a better hold. She disappears into the darkness. You fire your blaster in her direction and the instantaneous red beams of light creepily illuminate the hallway. It’s too brief to confirm, but at the apex of the curve, two figures seem to be lurking. 

The Mandalorian is a protector; dividing his attention between you and the threat is as easy as breathing. He flips on his dark-vision, and with his other hand, he gently helps you stand. Slowly, you get to your feet, clutching your ribs.

“You okay?” His voice is clipped, worried and angry.

“Yes,” you groan. 

His world lights up a sickly green. The two antagonists are at the apex of the curve, believing themselves to be hidden and waiting in ambush. 

“For an ex-stormtrooper, he is extraordinarily unskilled in tactical matters,” Din whispers drily. 

The pain in your torso spasms when you snort a laugh under your breath. “Can we make it out alive before you start imparting your wisdom, O God of War?” 

The Mandalorian’s hand splays across your lower back in familiar affection. He keeps his eyes trained on the two cyborgs as they crouch in wait. 

“They’re setting a trap for us.”

“What do we do?”

“Walk into it."

“Are you still feeling that drug in your system?”

“Yes. Start firing when I do.”

Advancing on the hidden threat, you keep your blaster at shoulder’s height, waiting for Din’s cue. Blood red light casts the hallway into faint relief as the Mandalorian’s blaster repeatedly fires. Your blaster joins his, and the two of you continue approaching the now-dodging cyborgs. 

The female launches at you again, apparently very upset about her missing cybernetic eye. This time, with Din’s dark-vision, he sees it coming. The Mandalorian bumps into your blaster, preventing you from shooting him in the back, as he lunges in front of you. He catches the woman mid-air and brutally throws her to the ground. 

You poke out from behind him and fire another blast at the oncoming Con Macta. His yell changes in pitch when your shot burns through his left thigh. Limping, his charge is slowed considerably. 

In the split second you take to shoot at Con, the Mandalorian is kicked in the back by Venita. As she gets to her feet, Din twists and fires at her. His blast does not go through either eye, but through the center of her forehead. 

Con Macta’s roar echoes throughout the building. The mechanical mixes with whatever’s left of his humanity to form an utterly hair-raising lament. 

“Mandalorian, you’ll watch yours die for that.” 

The cyborg steps underneath an exterior grate, and in the faint, purplish light, you can see that he had undergone further modification after the Mandalorian had taken out his bounty. Before, his entire head was flesh, now only his eyes and mouth remain uncovered. His cheeks and forehead are plated in a tan, utilitarian metal. His thin upper lip snarls. 

“I also have this.” The cyborg pulls a fist-sized red and white bundle from a pouch on his hip. 

Din tenses beside you. 

“Let’s see what’s inside. I hadn’t gotten around to examining my spoils yet, but I’m curious what a minimalist Mandalorian could be carrying so dearly.” 

As the cyborg looks down to untie the material, the Mandalorian raises his weapon and pulls the trigger. Con Macta stumbles as the bolt hits him in the arm. The package drops to the steel floor with a muffled clink. 

He roars again, charging at the two of you. He dodges the Mandalorian’s blasts until finally he leaps, knocking Din to the ground. Unwilling to accidentally shoot Din, you try to get an angle on the twisting cyborg. Deciding that was no good, you finally just kick Macta’s partially-human head. 

The tortured, destroyed ex-stormtrooper cries out and wobbles to the side, giving the Mandalorian an opportunity. Still pinned, Din thwacks his right leg on the ground, firing a knee rocket directly into the cybernetic back of Con Macta.

Following the ear-splitting explosion, the cyborg delivers a groaning death rattle, and slowly collapses to the ground with a resounding crash. 

The Mandalorian hefts to his feet, and quickly walks to the small bundle lying on the dirty floor. He brushes it off absentmindedly, and turns to you. 

"You still okay?" 

Nodding, you move toward him. He holds out his hand, palm down, and jerks his head toward the exit.

__________________________________

Grogu sits on a yellow stone. His eyes are closed and his breathing is audibly shallow. His mind is focused on the incoming ship. The Jedi across from him can feel it, too. 

Luke Skywalker frowns with acceptance. The child had made its choice. 

***

“You’re very quiet,” you observe, hoping Din will tell you his mindset.

He doesn’t. The Mandalorian continues performing the landing cycle with rote movement, jostling slightly as the landing gear settles onto the gravel below.

“I can’t wait to see him,” you smile, peering out the glass, hoping for a glimpse of the kid. “His little face -” 

“I know.” 

You press your lips together in a knowledgeable smile. Din is anxious. 

***

The boarding ramp lowers, and you bounce once or twice on the balls of your feet. Beside you, Din is composed except for the fingers on his right hand. As the two of you strut down the ramp, a figure in form-fitting black materializes from the treeline. 

“Hello. I was expecting you sooner, actually.” Luke smiles. “You really do care for the child to have denied yourself for so long.” 

The tall grass sways for a second before Grogu flips out and onto the gravel path. 

“Patu!” The child begins waddling toward the Mandalorian.

Din strides forward and crouches to one knee, taking the kid into his hands. 

“Hey, buddy. I missed you, too.” 

Tears threaten to fall from your eyes at the blatant love in Din’s voice. Grogu reaches for the Mandalorian’s helmet, but Din does not remove it this time. He half-turns, and Grogu’s attention shifts. His childish hand raises at you, cooing. 

Nearly jogging to them, you allow three stubby fingers to grasp your thumb. Pressing a kiss to his wrinkly head, you murmur an affectionate greeting. Grogu begins to purr.

“Is he happy here? Is his training going well?” Din asks the Jedi. 

“Happy enough. But he is distracted. I believe Grogu has made his decision.” 

Your brow furrows, “What decision?” 

“Grogu has learned all he will from me. I know his feelings, sense his thoughts. They remain with his father. A life dedicated to the Jedi Order is not his path.” 

“You’re saying that you won’t train him anymore?” You clarify, shocked.

“Grogu has seen both of his choices and made his decision. That decision is to return to you.” 

Though you can’t see his face, your eyes turn up to the Mandalorian anyway. Your imagination serves you well enough. His eyes are surely glassy, and a soft, disbelieving smile is certainly spreading across his face. 

Luke bows slightly, and turns away, walking down the path with his hands folded behind his back. In the distance, a stone hut is being built by spidery droids. You watch him go for a moment in curiosity before returning your attention to the two in front of you. 

Din’s helmet tips down to look at the child. “You’re coming with us?” The hope in his voice confirms your picture of his expression. 

Still aggressively purring, Grogu burrows down into the crook of Din’s arm. 

The T-shaped slit tilts up to you, and you wish you had the ability to freeze the image. The Mandalorian contentedly holding his green child, looking at you with what you're sure is pure happiness.

"Let's go, then," you grin. 

_________________________

Deciding that a reunion could be better savored while resting on a peaceful planet, the Mandalorian lands the Razor Crest. Gentle hills of sand roll in every direction, and, once outside the ship, the sound of ebbing water can be heard.

"This is Illen. The entire surface is made of small islands. The waterline is on the other side of that dune," Din points his chin upward. 

"Is it late in the day's cycle?" You wonder, referring to the soft, golden light that illuminates the planet.

"The sun does not set here." 

You raise your eyebrows in appreciation, "It's beautiful." 

Din kneels, laughing under his breath at Grogu's immediate fascination with the sand. 

"Kid, I have something for you." 

Grogu's ears flop slightly when he looks all the way up at Din. He tilts his head in curiosity. 

The Mandalorian unwraps the little bundle he'd carried with him and pulls out a child-sized chainmail shift. 

"This is yours by right, Grogu. You are a Mandalorian foundling, and part of this clan." 

The child seems to understand the gift he's being given. His eyes look upon his father with adoration, and his hand touches the beskar chainmail with respect. 

***

Several hours later, Grogu begins to slow his excitement. His tiny mouth opens wide showing a range of even tinier teeth as he yawns. 

Grogu plops down in the sand, grabbing fistfuls and letting it trickle through his fingers. Miniature crustaceans with towering, swirly shells scuttle by, fascinating the kid as he slowly starts to drift to sleep. 

"He'll be busy for a while," the Mandalorian nods his head toward the ridgeline. 

Traipsing through the soft, sifting sand makes your journey to the top of the dune longer than usual, but when you join Din at the top, your breath catches. 

"Woah," you blink, ensuring your eyes aren't lying to you. 

Gentle waves lap at the silky white sand. The ocean is a vibrant blue, contrasting beautifully with the golden tint of the sky. Purple and yellow clouds dot the horizon. The burning sun casts yours and Din's shadows far behind you. 

Din gallantly holds your hand as the two of you trudge down the dune, stopping several paces from the water. 

"I have something for you, too."

Tearing yourself away from the natural world, you turn to look at your own. 

"What?" 

Din's thumb and forefinger dig into his pocket, and he fishes out a metal pin shaped like a Mudhorn. 

"You are also part of this clan, if you so wish. This does not bind you in any way, however," he assures. 

You smile warmly and raise your palm for him to drop the pin onto. It's even lighter than it looks. 

"Being bound to this clan is all I want," you shake your head and pin the object to your shirt. Your cheek twitches up into a lopsided smile at him. 

The Mandalorian simply stares at you for a breath, enjoying the moment.

Reluctantly, he starts to speak. “While I am reminded of it: I did have something I wanted to teach you,” he unhooks his real binders from behind him. "You are going to learn how to get out of these.” 

Your shoulders fall and your face is unmistakably wary. “Seriously? Can’t we have a single day without some type of exercise?”

Real binders represent a litany of bad memories. If you can avoid this, you will.

"No. And don't be afraid. You trust me." 

He says it as though it's a fact. And you realize that it is. The bond of trust between the two of you hasn't been up for debate in a very long time. He has your best interest at heart. Always.

The Mandalorian clasps the thick metal around his own wrists, and to your immense shock, a shadow in your mind whispers something excitingly foul. 

“When you’re…” Din’s words trail off when he notices something. The blank face of the beskar helmet tilts. “Your heart is racing.”

"It's not," you lie.

"I’ll get you out if you’re unable to break them. You need to learn how to do this." 

Din worries that your past might be causing you to fear. It was, but a more insidious idea has taken root.

"No, I know. I believe you."

Din's shoulders tense, his bound hands folded in front of him. "Then why is your heat signature rising?" 

The breeze from the sea is cool, and the sun is at a perfect place in the sky to allow for a comfortable amount of warmth. Trying to understand, the Mandalorian watches as your cheeks flush, and it finally strikes him that you're embarrassed.

"This -" he pauses, truth dawning on him. "You like this, don't you?" He raises his hands.

You bite the inside of your cheek and look at the shifting ground beneath your feet. 

"I'm sorry. I don't know why." 

Din considers that for a moment. It wasn't hard to understand. A lifetime of servitude and bondage, you might enjoy being on the other side of it. 

The Mandalorian shifts his body, his knee cocking. “If you win today, I'll see what I can do." 

Your eyes widen, nerves sparking already at his voice. Then you frown. 

"But I never win," you retort. 

Din shrugs his shoulders. 

You take a deep breath and roll your eyes, "Alright, well. Show me how." 

The Mandalorian twists one of his hands, working against one of the hinges. One edge of the hinge springs up. Then, Din raises his hands above his head and jerks them down and apart with all his strength, popping the hinge. One cuff remains, but his hands are no longer constrained together.

You raise your eyebrows, impressed. 

"These are a low-grade set. You won't be able to break free of the high-end binders; unless you pick their lock," he explains. "But I want you to know how to do this." 

Din resets the hinge, and holds out his hand for you to take them. As your fingers close around the binders, however, the Mandalorian sweeps your leg out from underneath you. 

Instinct takes over, and, though you're laughing at the change in plan, you duck into a recovering move to the side, giving yourself space from him. 

He nods at you, and the fight is on. Binders still in your hand, you feint to his left. Din actually reacts, so you take advantage and charge his right. 

You land a blow to his side, then grab his arm and try to set him off-balance. From the modulator, you hear him breathily laugh at your pathetic effort. He crouches and whirls you off him, sending you down onto the sand. 

Scrambling onto your feet, you're laughing too hard to focus. Even without a weapon, his strength was such a formidable opponent that you'd never win. 

"You can do better.”

"I can't," you snort. "Din, you're as broad as an X-wing." 

He gestures like So what?

"Try again," he demands, folding his hands cockily. 

Huffing, you narrow your eyes, looking for some kind of misstep. But he's just standing there - unimpressed as a karking Republic officer. Eventually, you decide on trickery; that seemed to work before. 

Feinting again, Din expects you to go to the opposite side like you did last time, so he twists a little to that direction. But then you continue through on your "feinted" movement, launching at him. You come at him from below this time, grabbing and pushing at his waist, and as he bends, your leg swipes out his knee. 

He grunts, rotating and falling onto his back, and you go down with him, arms still around his waist. 

Din takes the opportunity, while your ankle is awkwardly underneath his knee, to wrestle on top of you. He's chuckling under his breath, clearly enjoying this. 

As Din supports himself above you, you knock your elbow into the crook of his arm, causing it to give out and his body to drop to one side. He grips your waist as you roll and force him onto his back once more. A click resounds between you.

"Stop doing that," he growls at your cheap shots on his joints.

As you straddle him, he hears a second click. 

The Mandalorian looks down now at his hands where they lie against your stomach. Binders lock his wrists in place. The black slit on his helmet considers you with a sigh. 

"Well done,” his modulator conveys his flat, raspy tone. “I concede." 

Your eyebrows draw together, mouth agape, and you place your hands on his breastplate for stability. 

"You can't concede a fight you lost." 

"I just showed you I can break out of these, did I not?" 

"That doesn't negate my win." 

Din huffs dramatically. The motion tenses his abs underneath you. Once again, you’re tempted by the way he looks right now, bound and pinned underneath you. Heat begins to pool where you sit astride him. 

Suddenly, the Mandalorian lurches upward, looping his bound arms over your head and around your waist. He shifts on the sand until he's sitting up with you in his lap, your legs still sprawled around his waist.

"Can you take this off for me?" His gravelly voice asks. "My hands seem to be tied up."

There comes a lurch in your stomach that has very little to do with your position around him.

"The helmet?" You whisper.

"Yes, the helmet." 

"Din, are you sure? Shouldn’t you -”

“I think it is fitting. You won and I’ve already made my decision. You make yours.” 

Reverently, you place your hands on either side of his beskar face. Your fingers curl around the concave shapes that resemble cheek bones. A third Death Star could splash down into the ocean and you'd only know when the tsunami engulfed you. The weight of the moment is almost too much to bear. 

The sharp edge of the helmet crests the top of his head and short, wavy, brown locks fall away from the interior. You set the helmet down beside him, and, with the gravitational pull he has on you, you can’t stop yourself from touching his face.

His face.

Huge, sensitive brown eyes look up at you, reading your reaction. His full lips pout in a way that forces you to stutter over them several times in your exploration. You’re surprised at how easy he is to read, and for a moment you believe it’s because of how well you know him, and that is much of it. But then you understand. A life behind a mask meant that he never learned to hide his expressions. 

You press a gentle kiss to his angular nose; to the patch of missing hair on his jaw, oddly shaped like a heart; and finally to those unfair lips. Your hands cradle his jaw as you press your kisses, and he sighs underneath your touch. 

The Mandalorian is beautiful underneath beskar and bone. 

This is the first time Din has seen you without his helmet, and the weight of his gaze as it travels across your face, down your throat, and back up to your lips sets your already-taut nerves ablaze. The knot in your stomach has yet to loosen; instead, Din only twists it tighter. 

Taking a liberty, you peck him on the lips shyly, drawing back almost immediately. The corner of his mouth turns upward ever so slightly and his hooded eyes pin you with a look full of deep admiration.

When you pull back, your eyes open to the true intimacy of the moment. The Mandalorian could not show you any more blatantly that he cares, that he’s yours. Bound and unhelmed under you, Din is still in control. At any moment he could break his bonds, but he chooses not to. You take a shaky breath, then surge into him again. This time, however, your lips slot between his with heated fervor. 

He groans into your mouth, crushing you to him. Din reclines a few degrees onto the sand dune behind, allowing you a better position on him. Your sounds become more desperate, and Din breaks the kiss.

“Take this off,” he indicates his chestplate. 

His eyes are hooded and completely on board with this new dynamic, so you comply. You bite your lip, trying not to ogle, as you carefully divest the Mandalorian of his armor. The illusion of control was yours, but he always held the power. Him choosing not to use it makes your blood boil. 

When his armor is lovingly placed to the side, abandoned in the daylight, you run your hands up his chest over his flight suit. Without waiting for instruction, you unfasten it. Quietly he watches you, his arms still around your hips, and his breathing grows shallow. 

You pull open his flight suit and duck to press open mouth kisses along his chest. Sparse, dark hairs curl in the center, tickling your cheeks and lips as you move.

Din groans through his nose, his eyes closing above you. At the apex of your thighs, his length twitches and thickens. You kiss along his collarbone, encouraged by his faint sounds, then suck a biting kiss on his tense neck. 

A wrecked groan rips from his mouth, and his hands press into your back, egging you on. Your hips buck of their own free will as his arousal becomes hot and hard between you. His eyes roll closed when you drag along him just right, and the sight of his pleased face soaks your underwear. 

“You going to run the whole show?” He murmurs. “Or would you like me to -”

Before he’s finished speaking, you retrieve the thin key for his binders, unlocking them. Pulling off his gloves and tossing the binders into the sand, he immediately skates his hands underneath your shirt, tugging it off you. When Din tosses it away, his eyes shamelessly follow his hands as they explore.

He suddenly sits forward, his arms cradling your back, and he sweeps you underneath him. His knee spreads your legs, so it’s really his own fault when your drenched, needy core rides his thigh. Looking directly into the Mandalorian’s soft eyes, you whimper; his eyes darken further, and he roughly shuffles your pants down. 

Your hands fumble with the rest of his flight suit, but he shrugs out of the sleeves, tying them around his waist. He opens the codpiece area and your eyes widen. It’s not the first time you’ve had sex with him in the daylight, but those times had always been from behind. Din’s hands are already large, and yet his cock makes them look smaller. The memory of it inside you is enough to make you arch into him.

Your arms reach for his neck, and he bows over you, tenderly kissing between your breasts. He makes his way to your throat before he returns the favor, sucking a bruise into the crook of your neck. Din’s heavy erection settles against your thigh, and it throbs when you moan.

“Stop teasing,” you beg breathlessly. 

“I’m not teasing. I am enjoying this,” Din says honestly. 

“I really need you,” you take his face in your hands, pulling him into a desperate kiss. 

The Mandalorian takes the hint. He groans; his hands grip your waist, pinning you into the sand. One hand abandons its post to drag his length through your folds, coating himself in your arousal. Brown eyes bore into yours as he lines up and, with a rough sigh, nestles the head of his cock inside you. The Mandalorian breaks eye contact to look down and grab the underside of your knee. He throws your leg up over his waist, maintaining his hold, and inch-by-inch, buries himself in your tight heat. 

Watching him enter you has you teetering on the edge of an early orgasm. His eyebrows draw together and his full lips part slightly. His chin tips upward with pride when you cry yes, and his heavily-lidded eyes blaze with lust. 

Adjusting to his size is simple when he’s driven you to the point of an orgasm just from insertion. You wait for him to move, but he doesn’t. Instead, he kisses you without agenda. You relax into him, letting him lead. He said he was enjoying this, and the more you touch him, the more you agree. 

Curling your hands in his dark brown waves, you drift with the roll of his tongue and his lips. His slow sensuality seems to turn him on even more. You whine each time the Mandalorian throbs inside your body, and each time it sets your heart racing. 

Eventually, when your body shakes with anticipation and sheer want, he has mercy on you. His hand leaves your knee, sliding down your thigh and between your two bodies. His thumb rubs smooth circles over your sensitive bud and you tighten around him immediately. 

Whining, muscles stiffening, you lean away from his lips just to breathe, when his low, crisp voice asks earnestly, “Will you come on me like this?” 

It’s the missing piece. It whips through you like a wildfire, and you bear down on his cock. He groans in his throat, enraptured, as you shake beneath him. Din takes advantage of the moment, surging forward to claim your lips. 

Din drags his length out along your walls, loving your overstimulated expressions. Then, he reseats himself in a single motion, sending your body forward in the sand. You cry out, begging him for more.

The Mandalorian thrusts into you, replacing his hand around your knee and using it as leverage to please you deeper. His muscular arm settles near your face for balance. Burying you in the sand, his warm body pressing into you from above and inside, the feeling of bliss sinks into your very marrow. 

Grunting, his lips lose their steady rhythm on your mouth, insteading hanging above you. Sweat shines on his forehead, his brown hair curls in the same place, and he looks at you with such admiration that you can’t stop yourself from cupping his face between your hands, kissing and worshiping every part of him you can reach. 

Your second orgasm sneaks up on you. Din loops an arm around your back, pulling your chest flush with his while he works himself into you, grunting as his aching member begins to empty itself. The coase hairs between you tangle, acting as friction. The thrusting of his body nudges your clit, and the powerful shuddering of his cock in your overstimulated channel forces you right over the cliff. 

Shaking in his arms, he rides it out with you, breathing rapidly into one another. Sand sticks to the both of you where you’ve perspired. Din leans his forehead against yours, whispering his affection. He kisses your nose, then carefully removes himself from your body. 

You lie there for a moment, basking in it all. 

“I’m too dirty to put my clothes back on,” you laugh. 

“I am, too.” Din agrees. 

He stands, having tucked himself back in his black flight suit. His upper torso is still uncovered, though, and you stare. 

The Mandalorian holds out his hand and you take it without hesitation. He helps you stand, then begins to undress himself further, not wanting his knee rockets and boots to get waterlogged.

 “You’re… going to bathe with me?” Your lips curve into a coy smile.

“Is that not obvious?” He responds drily, chucking a boot onto the beach. 

“I’m not going to keep my hands to myself,” you warn in a whisper.

“Neither will I,” the Mandalorian promises. 

_________________________________

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