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ghostboneswrites2 · 2 months

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Lots of love if you write this, and lots of love if you don’t!

Could you do a Daryl x reader where at first he doesn’t like her, and she tries to get to know why hes so mean to her? Maybe he yells at her and then some comfort after?

Note: this is a cute idea! I might write a different version of this one later <3 not sure how I feel about it. This ended up a lot more angst and has a lot more of an argument than I originally intended tbh

Another note: I usually write in past tense but this one has both past and present tense. It’s lightly proofread but I apologize if I missed any errors in past vs present tense!

Summary: Every since he first saw you he’s seemingly had it out for you. All that frustration comes to a head when you have to go rescue him from the side of the road.

18+ MDNI || WARNINGS: Daryl bring a Dickson, profanity, TWD typical non graphic violence, guns

Daryl stepped into the RV for a gun, shaking his head with annoyance at the sight of your failure. Well, multiple failures. See, you started with a standard Glock, but the recoil spring in that one was too hard to set in place. Then, you switched to the Beretta, where you found your current firing pin spring issue.

Daryl stared down at all the bits and pieces sprawled on the table in front of you.

“Y’gon’ take every damn gun apart ‘til we ain’t got none when we need ‘em?” He complained. You glared.

“Well, excuse me if taking apart guns to clean them wasn’t my hobby of choice before shit hit the fan.” You shot back.

That day was the beginning of a long standing feud between the two of you. A feud that was frankly one sided. You never had a problem with the smelly hunter. In fact, you often made meager attempts at impressing him or even going as far as to be friendly. Unfortunately, you were always met with rude snark and bitterness.

One time, at the CDC, you had a little too much wine with dinner. You were stumbling through the hall, attempting to find the room you had previously claimed, when you had the misfortune of walking right into Daryl.

“Oh! I’m sorry.” You giggled.

“Damn it.” He grumbled with an annoyed sigh. “Can’t ya watch where the hell you’re goin’?”

“I’m sorry, really—“ You tried to apologize again but he had no intentions of hearing it.

“Don’t drink if ya can’t handle yourself.” He snapped. “Got the dead roamin’ the damn earth and you get shit-faced the first damn chance ya get!”

In your drunken, emotional state, you sniffled and cried quietly to yourself that night. Why was he always so damn mean? You missed your friends and family so much, and you couldn’t even bare to think about your cat.

When Sophia got lost everything was worse. You’d offer to help with the search and you’d always hear the same response; “I already got one little kid to look for. I don’t need two.”

You also tried to console him when Sophia’s body came staggering out of that barn.

“You’re a great tracker, Daryl. We were all just too late.” You’d say.

“Ain’t no we! You didn’t do shit but stay back and twiddle your fuckin’ thumbs! Get on somewhere. I don’t need your caudlin’.”

When the farm fell, he’d always snap at you for lagging behind the group when you were on the move. You couldn’t help it. You were so tired and hungry.

“Keep up, damn it. Can’t afford to keep slowin’ down!”

When you were all clearing the prison, he wouldn’t even let you shoot.

“Jus’ stay back and hit the fence. Distract ‘em. You can’t shoot for shit.”

Since then, you reasoned to just avoid him. You’d never met anyone who could make you feel so bad about yourself. You decided to stop asking yourself why he hated you. You weren’t going to try and change it anymore. You were just going to exist the best you could, as far away from him as the prison yard would allow.

Which brings us to now. Inventory is your main task at the prison. Some people make it hard. Carl never checks out his weapons, nor does Daryl. But with Carl losing his mom and Daryl being such an ass, you never say anything. You just make notes on the weapons they’re most likely to take without telling you.

Beth sometimes grabs formula without letting you know, but taking care of a baby is hard work for a teenage girl to be doing full time. You have no intentions of nagging her. So, as usual, you just check your inventory every day and report to Rick or Hershel, usually the latter.

When your inventory is done for the afternoon, you decide to find Carol and help her with laundry. Maggie is on the tower today with Glenn, so she’s all by herself out there scrubbing everyone’s smelly clothes.

“Hey. Need some help?” You ask her, pressing your lips into a thin smile. She returns the same expression and nods.

“Please? For such a small group we sure go through a lot of clothes.”

“No problem.” You say as you get down on your knees and begin scrubbing and ringing out a pair of jeans. “Jeez. These really stink.” You mumble. Carol giggles.

“Daryl.” She sighs.

“Does he ever shower?”

“I mean.. never would be a strong word. Rarely, though, that might be the accurate description.” She jokes. You chuckle.

“Hey, (Y/N)?” Rick asks as he approaches you. You look up from Daryl’s stained jeans. “Could you take a car out to the main road? Daryl’s broken down out there. He can’t carry all those supplies back.”

“Me?” You raise your eyebrows, tossing a quick glance to Carol. If anyone is accustomed to your strained relationship with the archer, it’s her. Daryl would often complain about you to her, and she’d just as often give you a reassuring pat on the shoulder when she’d notice his harsh treatment.

“Well, yeah, if ya don’t mind.” Rick nods. He is a little more oblivious to how rude Daryl can be toward you, but he isn’t blind to the visible tension the two of you share. He just assumes it was never that serious.

“Um.. Sure.” You shrug. A pit in your stomach is already festering, growing bigger as it feeds on your anxiety. You had been very successful at avoiding Daryl since you’d been at the prison. The only solace you find is in the fact that you had grown more confident since you guys found this place. Being in charge of inventory gave you a much needed sense of control. From there, you realized just how much you really did have control over, and soon enough the scared girl you once were had become a productive young woman. Now, you have to put that confidence to the test, facing the man who kind of stole what little faith in yourself you had to begin with. You vow to yourself that today will be the day you stand your ground to Daryl Dixon.

You brush off your jeans and accept the keys from Rick before making your way to the vehicle parked near the gates. When you start the engine, Carl drags open one gate, then the other, and you head out. You notice Daryl right away when you make it to the main road. He’s smoking a cigarette, leaned up against the red truck he had taken into town.

You can’t help but wonder why he was on a run by himself to begin with. It isn’t like Rick to send anyone off on their own. Then again, knowing Daryl, it’s not that hard to figure out why he might be a solo kind of guy.

You pull the car up beside the truck. He glances up at the vehicle but immediately looks back down at the ground when he realizes it’s you. He makes sure to seem indifferent.

Instead of letting his lack of a greeting (or gratitude) phase you, you just step out of the driver’s seat and pop the trunk open before approaching the bed of the truck and beginning to transfer all of his loot into the car. When the trunk fills up, you resort to packing the back seat.

By the time Daryl finishes his cigarette, he notices there are a few more items still in the truck. He huffs and impatiently grabs the three items, shoving them in the back seat and slamming the door shut, mumbling something about you taking your sweet time.

“What was that?” You speak up before sitting back down in the driver’s seat.

“Move over. I’m drivin’.”

“That’s not what you said, first of all. And no. I drove here just fine, I can drive back.” You roll your eyes.

“Quit bein’ difficult damn it! I’m tired. Been workin’ all day out there riskin’ my neck.” He snaps.

“I’ve been working too.” You shrug, sitting down and starting the engine.

“Scribblin’ on a clipboard ain’t nothin’ like what I do.” He argues, still standing by the driver side, waiting for you to give in and let him drive. You won’t, though. You won’t cave in and bow to him like a puppy with its tail between its legs like you used to. He lost the privilege of your kindness — or maybe cowardice — a while ago.

“Actually, I woke up and spent two hours on the fence impaling skulls, then I helped Hershel hoe the ground for spring crops before I scrubbed the common area of the cell block on my hands and knees. Then I did inventory, then I washed your smelly ass jeans. So, no, I don’t just scribble on a clip board.” You correct him. “And, while we’re on that subject, you’re supposed to check out your fucking weapons. Would make the scribbling part a lot easier for me.”

He clenches his jaw and his fists at your insubordination.

“I don’t know when you grew a smart ass mouth but I ain’t got time for it so quit your bitchin’ and move outta my seat.” He demands.

“Or you could stop wasting time and just get in the passenger seat.” You roll your eyes.

“God, do you ever stop bein’ such a damn burden?!” He shouts. You run your tongue over your teeth and nod.

“Burden?” You repeat.

“Yeah. A burden.” He drawls. “As in, makin’ shit harder for everyone around you.”

“Hmm.” You hum thoughtfully. “Okay.”

With that simple response, you shut off the engine, toss the keys on the ground beside him, and stand up. With your knife in your belt for protection, you start walking toward the woods. You realize that he is absolutely unbearable. You won’t subject yourself to even a five minute car ride with him.

“Where the hell are you goin’?!” He calls out after you. You ignore him. “C’mon, (Y/N), get in the damn car!”

By this point you’re blending into the trees and he’s losing sight of you. He groans and slams the car door shut, snatching the keys off the asphalt before he marches off after you. He swears when he gets his hands on you, he’s dragging you back by your ankles and cramming you in the trunk with the rest of the shit he looted today.

“(Y/N)!” He shouts. You sigh.

“Fuck off! You wanted to drive so bad, be my guest! Whole car to yourself!” You call back.

“Quit bein’ so damn—“

You whip around, eyes blaring with fury.

“So what? Burdensome? Annoying? Stupid?” You cut him off, recalling some of the insults he had bestowed upon you in the past. “I’m so fucking sick of you! All I ever did was try to be nice to you! And all you ever gave me in return was cruelty!”

You’re shaking now. He’s stopped a few feet away from you, silent as you unleash your pent up frustrations on him.

“You know,” you begin, not as loud and shrilled as before. “I didn’t even want to come help you. Because I knew it would be like this. I only came because I was asked to. So you wouldn’t have to try to carry shit back to the prison and go through more trouble. I didn’t talk to you, I didn’t try to be friendly or otherwise vexing. Yet, somehow, that wasn’t good enough. If my presence alone makes you so miserable, then I’ll walk.”

With that, you turn around and start storming back toward the prison.

“(Y/N)—“ He tries to protest but it just triggers another wave of anger.

“What?!” You throw your hands up. “What did I ever do to you?! Just leave me alone!” You shout, turning back to him. “Why do you hate me?!”

“I don’t hate you!” He fires back.

You scoff and cross your arms. “Sure seems like it.”

“Well if ya would just listen to me I wouldn’t get so mad!”

“I’m not your fucking dog, Dixon! I shouldn’t have to listen to you for you to treat me like a human being.”

“Treat you like what?” He scoffs. “All I ever did was try and look out for ya! Ya can’t do anything right! How the hell am I supposed to keep ya safe if ya can’t follow a simple fuckin’ direction?”

“Look out for me? How? By making me feel like shit about myself? Reminding me every chance you get how much you just can’t fucking stand me? You don’t treat anyone else like that. Nobody.” Your eyes are watering now. The rage is slowly wearing down into what it really is at its core: hurt. He hurt you time and time again and you always tried to make it right, even when you had done nothing wrong. Shit, (Y/N), get it together. Don’t let him see you like this.

“Well why the hell are ya so worried ‘bout what I think?” He asks.

“I don’t know!” You snap, turning away from him again. You hug yourself and sniffle. “Just leave me alone.” You beg quietly. “Go drive yourself back. I’d rather walk.”

He stands there silently, mouth opening and closing like he has words to say but can’t find them in his sea of thoughts. He doesn’t want to make you cry. He doesn’t even know why you piss him off so much. He does know that seeing you there, hugging yourself as your shoulders rise and fall with silent whimpers makes him feel like shit. He steps toward you slowly, reaching out to place a hand on your shoulder. You flinch at his touch and he retracts his arm.

“I don’t hate ya.” He finally speaks. When you don’t respond he realizes he has to continue. “I just don’t want ya gettin’ hurt.”

“Yeah, right.” You mumble. “All you do is hurt me.”

He swallows a dry lump. Is that true?

“I don’t mean to.” He insists. “I just.. Ya don’t belong in this world. You’re nice. Ya ain’t violent, you’re pret—“ He stops. Your ears perk up. Was he about to call you pretty?

“What I’m tryin’ to say is… Ever since I first saw ya I knew ya had to be looked after — kept safe. Ya ain’t like most people. I’d feel too bad if ya… If ya got hurt.” He admits softly. You turn your head a little, peeking behind you to try and catch a glimpse of him.

His hand finds your shoulder again and this time you don’t shrug him away. You sniffle and wipe your eye clean of tears.

“So you’re mean to me to protect me?” You summarize. He realizes how stupid that must sound.

“I just get frustrated when I see how vulnerable ya are. Can’t clean a gun and put it back together, can’t aim to save your life, can’t—“

“Couldn’t.” You correct him. “I couldn’t do those things, but I’ve learned how. You just haven’t been around to see it. Or encourage it.”

He nods. “‘M sorry.” He mumbles. “Maybe you could, uh, show me sometime.”

“Show you what?” You turn back to him.

“Dunno.” He shrugs. It’s a lot harder for him to speak freely when you’re actually looking at him. “What ya can do.”

“Oh.” You nod. “Maybe you could stop being such an asshole.” You suggest.

He smirks a little.

“I can try.”

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#daryl x reader #twd daryl #daryl dixon #the walking dead daryl #daryl x female reader #daryl fanfiction #daryl twd #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl x y/n #daryl x you

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webshooterrr9 · 2 months

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Stamina

Volleyball AU, in which Miguel is your teammate

pairing: outsidehitter!Miguel x setter!reader

Word count: 1.8k

CW: explicit 18+ content, oral sex (f!receiving), fingering, dry humping, praise, arguing because they're both stubborn as hell

fic under the cut!!

The year is 2099, national sports teams are now gender-integrated, making it harder to get a spot on the team, since you have twice the amount of competition. Not to mention that volleyball is a sport heavily influenced by height, and although you’re pretty tall for a female, you’re going up against men who are almost 7’0" or above.

Luckily you placed on the USA team, marking your place as an incredible setter. Now, you’re two years in and preparing for the next Olympics.

During your team practice today, you got into an argument with your outside hitter, Miguel O’hara. You and your teammates were in the middle of running a 6.2 lineup, when you messed up a set towards Miguel. It wasn’t a huge issue at first, people mess up all the time, even at Olympic levels, but the screw ups kept happening. After practice was over, and all the other teammates left the gym, he spoke.

“Are you stupid?” Miguel clenches his fists as you two argue, his uniform sticking tightly to his muscular torso.

You gaze at his tall frame, beads of sweat dripping down his face from an intense practice. You had admired his physique during practice many times before, but you didn’t have time to ogle over him now, not when you were arguing like this.

“Am I stupid? You’re stupid! All of your receives today sucked, you only made it to the ball in time when you had to hit!” your hands find their way to your hips as you shout.

“And your sets have been trash! I could barely get a good hit in the whole time!” Miguel yelled as he stepped towards you. He looked almost intimidating, but you weren’t scared. This wasn’t the first time he had yelled at you before, and it wouldn’t be the last. Still, that didn’t mean that what he said didn’t piss you off.

“It’s a miracle you’re our main setter with how sloppy you were today.”

“Oh please, you’re lucky to even have your position. The only reason you’re a starter is because you’re a fucking tower.” That wasn’t true. He was an incredible player, but whatever.

You step closer to him, fists balled up just like his. There was a tension between you two, the anger rising. “At least I worked hard to get here, you just got your spot handed to you.” you spat.

Miguel was livid, his face was even more red now than it was from the workout. “Are you kidding me? I had to work for my spot just like everyone else. Your sets are the reason why I messed up today. I bet the coaches didn’t even choose you for your abilities, you probably just slept with them to get here.”

Oh hell no. “My sets are fucking incredible, you asshole!” you shove him. “I wouldn’t be on this team if they weren’t. I’m not a whore like you are.” you were all up in each other’s faces now, glaring at each other with the heat of a thousand suns. “You’re just a lousy snob who can’t adapt to your surroundings. Don’t project your high standards onto me.”

“I have every right to have high standards, we’re on the national team for God’s sake! I shouldn’t have to play cleanup for you all the time!” his muscular chest heaves with his anger, getting even more riled up than you were. So much for the strong, silent type.

“Play cleanup for me? I’m the one who has to play cleanup for you!”

Miguel just glares at you, fuming. You can see his gaze lingering down to your body, but you don’t know if it’s because he’s sizing you up or not. “Just admit it: you’re not good enough to be on this team.”

“I won’t admit to something that’s not true.” All the yelling almost made you out of breath, but you stood tall. The tension in the room could be cut with a knife. “You don’t have the stamina to keep up with me… or anyone on this team for that matter.” you breathe out, glaring at him.

“Oh?”

Miguel’s eyes narrowed, and he leaned down to be eye-level with you. The truth was, his heart was pounding, he had never seen you so worked up before. The sweat shining on your forehead, the panting of your breath, and the fierce look in your eyes was a combo he had never seen before - not up close at least.

“You think I don’t have stamina?” his voice dropped just above a whisper, the question laced with a certain venom. “Try me, chiquita. I’ll show you stamina.”

Jesus Christ.

Oh he definitely did that on purpose. There was no way he made your heart race and thoughts cloud like this on accident. He knew what he said.

“I’d like to see you try.”

Your teammate looked at you in a way you had never seen from him before. His large hands, perfect for a front row player, find purchase on your waist, pulling you closer to him. But you wouldn’t make this easy for him.

“Don’t tempt me, muñeca.” he breathes, dipping his head right next to your ear.

Shit. Nevermind. I guess this would be easy for him.

When he pressed his lips to yours, ever so softly despite the attitude you were giving him, you didn’t reject it. The kiss progressed slowly, tentatively, the two of you unsure of how to explore the situation. The past two years of on-and-off pining for your arrogant teammate was paying off, but you never thought you’d get this far. His mouth kissed yours curiously, trying to read your feelings for him.

The gentleness of the kiss was short-lived, though, as the tension from earlier quickly returned to the surface. You took his face in your hands, cupping his jaw and pulling him closer to you. The inquisitive caress of his lips on yours became a stronger, messier, more desperate call for action. His hands wandered across your back, occasionally dipping down to grip the ass that was shaped by years of playing a lower body sport.

Much to your dismay, he broke away, panting. The flush on his cheeks and the thrumming of his heart was evidence of an excitement he hadn’t felt in a while now.

“You…” his finger lifted to twist a strand of your hair. “You’re beautiful.”

“So are you.” you said back, completely captivated by the look in his eyes. He was staring at you like you were a goddess, like he was holding a piece of the sky in his hands.

“We can’t do this here,” he whispered. “Not on the court.”

“Let’s go back to your place, then,” you say, running your thumb over his cheeks. He absentmindedly leans into the touch. “You only live like ten minutes away, right?”

“I don’t know if I can wait that long,” he says.

“Well, you’ll just have to.”

“You like that, sweet girl?”

“God, yes…” you whined. He began to suckle on your clit, the pressure alone enough to make you see stars. You arched your core against his mouth as his tongue flicked over you, his hands gripping your hips and pulling you closer to him. You carded your fingers through his hair, reveling in the way it curled around your hands.

He moved lower and pushed his tongue into your entrance. He slipped one of his long fingers inside you, massaging your velvety walls in just the way you liked. The two of you moaned in tandem as he made his movements more precise, while grinding his needy bulge onto the pillow below him. You’ve never been with a guy who’d settle for humping a pillow, but Miguel seemed to focus on feasting on your cunt and hearing your pretty sounds to care too much about his own pleasure.

“God, Mig…!” you groaned, letting your head fall back against his sheets. He looked up at you from where he was settled between your legs, still fully clothed but with a look of pure wanton need in his eyes.

“That’s it, mami, let go for me…”

You moaned and writhed as he attached his mouth to your clit once more, pumping his fingers in and out of your entrance with fervor. You couldn’t stop yourself from clenching around his fingers. It was getting increasingly difficult to stop yourself from full-on riding his face. You whimpered as your orgasm slowly crept up on you. “Miguel…”

“Come on, baby, it’s okay…” he hummed against your core, the vibrations of his voice on your cunt making you twitch in delight. He seemed almost as needy as you, rutting against the pillow under him and chasing his high just as you were. “Cum on my face, baby, please.” your wetness was coating his lips and chin as he lifted his face to speak, and he quickly dived back down to eat you out. There was something so carnal in the way he pleaded for you to give into the pleasure he was giving you, the desperation in his voice to have you come undone.

The insane amount of precum seeping through his underwear was soaking his pillow as he thrusted against it, syncing up the timing with his fingers that were knuckle-deep in your pussy. The obscenely lewd sounds of his mouth working against your sex was enough to drive you over the edge. Your hips lifted off the mattress as your wave of pleasure crashed over you, your vision blurring and voice breaking into a sob.

Your toned thighs clenched around his head, trapping his face deep into your core. “God, Miguel… you feel so fucking good…”

Your praise was enough to send him into the throes of his own pleasure, his release soaking the pillowcase beneath him, just as yours had soaked his beautiful face. He pulled back from you, crying out your name as he finished.

The two of you were utterly spent.

After changing his cum-drenched boxers, and pillowcase, he came back to lie down next to you, slumping onto the soft sheets of his bed. You were still catching your breath from the passionate encounter, and so was he. Miguel pressed a soft kiss to your cheek and hugged your waist, pulling you close to him in a comfortable embrace.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty, baby…” he murmurs into your neck, his warm breath tickling your skin. “I’m sorry I yelled at you earlier.”

“I’m sorry, too.” you reply, turning your head to face him. He looked more handsome than ever, a soft expression on his face that replaced his normally focused one. “You’re not a bad hitter. You’re our best, actually.”

“And you’re not a bad setter, chiquita. You’re wonderful.” Miguel smiles at you, planting another soft kiss on your skin.

“We should make this a regular thing,” he suggests, squeezing your waist.

“Don’t push it, guapo,” you laugh. “We’ll see how you behave next practice.”

“Deal.”

dividers by @cafekitsune

#webshooterrr9 #miguel o'hara #fanfic #atsv miguel #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel ohara x you #volleyball

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wildestdreamsblog · 1 year

Text

The more you hate

Pairing: Jung Hoseok x Reader

Summary: They say there is a thin line between love and hate. But they never told him crossing that line was dangerous. Idol!AU

Warnings: Yandere behavior, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Power imbalance, Sexual themes, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: see, he was serving looks for days in Paris that I knew I had to do this 😭 this is an 8k one-shot. I hope you enjoy!

Jung Hoseok’s smile faltered when you entered the dressing room, much to Jimin’s amusement. He was in the middle of a sentence, literally in the middle and the moment you entered, Hobi faltered. This was not the first time. No- this had been happening ever since you became one of the group’s temporary staff. It had been three months now, and not a day went by that he did not flounder when you entered the room he was in.

One may think it was because the main dancer liked you.

They couldn’t be more wrong.

Hobi could not stand you. He could not even smile at you. He could not even mention your name without gagging. And yes, he was that dramatic.

Jimin watched his hyung as the said hyung followed your movement with daggers in his eyes. It entertained him to no end. He, together with the other members, could not pinpoint the reason why the seemingly always happy J-hope treated you that way. Regardless, he would take advantage of Hobi’s current state.

“So my take is okay now, right?” Jimin asked slyly, taking advantage of the fact that you were now here and that he wouldn’t have to suffer anymore on another take just because it was not up to his standard.

Hobi nodded absentmindedly, drinking from his water bottle as he kept on watching, well…more like glaring on your form.

“You don’t think I should move a little to the left, right?” Jimin clarified with mischief in his eyes. Hobi blinked before turning to him. He looked at the tablet he was holding where the dance record was transferred for him to review. He frowned before looking down at it again.

“Jimin, I think you should do-“

“Hey guys, back to studio in five minutes,” you passed on the order from the director, your smile pleasant and respectful as you looked at Jimin, and slowly shifted your gaze at the emotionless Hobi who didn’t even lift his eyes to look at you.

“Okay, Y/N. Thank you,” Jimin replied before telling you that they would be there. You nodded your head slowly, glancing at the stoic Hobi before lowering your gaze and going back to the studio. It was no secret to the other staff, and to the members as well, that treated you differently. He didn’t even attempt to conceal it, no. He made it obvious.

He would literally stop laughing when you entered the room.

He would stop talking to his members when he caught sight of you.

Hell, you thought that if could stop breathing just to not share the air you breathe, he would.

Which was ironic to you considering that you were here for him.

And which was a shame, really. You did love his smile.

“Hyung?” Jimin called him for the third time since you left.

“Yes, Jimin. Your take is perfect.”

The following week was the group’s video shooting for their music video. It had been a hectic week for everyone, including you. You were tired, yet seeing the art made by them come to life was everything. You felt like you were part of a masterpiece, despite you working from behind the scenes. Everything was going well, except for the current part of the MV.

If looks could kill, you’d be buried six feet underground now. Hobi was getting distracted with the way you were laughing with another staff. A male staff. How dare you laughed with another man, he thought. You should be serious. You were working. What was more important to you than your job, he thought. He was so occupied at throwing daggers with his eyes- daggers that you didn’t notice, that he missed his cue for the fifth time. The director yelled cut, gesturing for them to go back to their original position.

Taehyung sighed before whining, “Hyung, what is the problem?”

He didn’t say a thing for a moment that younger man thought he wouldn’t reply. Taehyung was about to go back to his original position when he finally said something.

“I need a coffee. An iced coffee,” Hobi suddenly declared, his eyes still trained at you.

“Do you want my coffee, hyung? I barely took a sip from it!” Jungkook quipped up, on his way to grab his iced coffee when Hobi shook his head.

“No, I want a fresh iced coffee,” he replied in a fake sadness that Namjoon definitely didn’t buy. Suga rolled his eyes. The two of them saw Hobi’s eyes trained on you. They knew what he was doing. They weren’t born yesterday. “In fact, Y/N, why don’t you buy me coffee?” He called out to you, deliberately increasing his voice to get yours and the whole staff’s attention.

You blinked owlishly once you realized that he called for you for the first time in months. You felt everyone’s eyes on you, waiting for you to move. Hoseok sauntered to you, his smile seemed permanent on his face yet his eyes looked cold as he glanced at the man you were talking.

“You know that coffee shop where we bought our coffee last week?” He asked quietly, his tone pleasant. You couldn’t help but nod- so unaccustomed to his proximity. “Can you please buy me an iced vanilla latte?”

You cleared your throat, “S-sure,” you said before turning to look behind him, specifically to the six other members who were looking at the two of you with varying reactions: Jimin seemed like he was generally having a good time, V looked like he was still confused, JK was pouting that his hyung didn’t like his coffee, while RM looked like he was done with everything, Jin was whispering at Suga, and lastly, Suga especially looked sleepy. “Does anyone else want coffee?”

Suga immediately raised his hand, and at the same time, J-hope who never took his eyes off of you lost his smile. “Nobody else wants coffee, right? She’s just going to buy for me,” he announced, turning to look at them with smile on his face, pointedly ignoring Suga’s raised hand.

“Go along now. I’m craving for something sweet,” he murmured with a smirk before turning to walk back to his position.

“But it’s a one-hour drive,” you realized to yourself, already calculating that it would take you more than two hours to travel back and forth, and waiting for the order. You just prayed that there weren’t a lot of people at this hour.

“I guess you have to run along now, Y/N,” Hobi said cheerily, raising his fist as if to gesture ‘fighting’ to you.

You were running as fast as you could without spilling the coffee you were holding. It was more than two hours, and you were stressing. Your co-worker a few minutes ago messaged you that they were almost done with the shoot. You feared that you were already too late. To your defense, he did send you to buy him a coffee knowing full well that it was a full hour away without the traffic. Your temper was shooting up. You were not the most patient person in the world to begin with. He was not like said this in the beginning. In fact, he was normal with you. He smiled, he laughed, he said thank you every time you did something for him- and then one day he just stopped. You thought you had offended him somehow. It was a good thing that you were only a temporary here. In all honesty, all you just wanted was to repay him for the kindness he showed you when you were at your lowest, when you thought that life and everything good in it left you.

So what happened to him?

Where did it all go wrong?

You entered the studio, seeing only few of the staff remained to pack up. The rest were security patrolling the building before calling it a day. They told you that the members left, but that J-hope might still be in the building. With a sigh that you prayed could provide you the patience you didn’t possess, you went up to his room. But when you arrived, he wasn’t there, and only his assistant was left. And that was how you knew your prayers weren’t answered. You offered her a tired smile before turning around.

“Oh, you’re here! He’s been waiting for you,” his assistant said in relief, instructing you to go to the parking lot.

Which you complied.

You hated how he had you running like a dog. You were starting to think if he was really that man who showed you kindness when you needed it the most a few years ago. Did you play that scene too many times that you started to place more meaning to it? Did you hold on to that memory for far too long that you had started to romanticize that moment?

Still, nevertheless, he did save you that day.

You only wished to pay his kindness back.

Finally, you saw him leaning against his car, his attention focused on his fancy cellphone. He looked serious, his brows pinched together. J-hope was now barefaced, and he was now only wearing a white button down shirt and pants which somehow made him more attractive and manly. Regardless, your patience was running thin and no amount of his attractiveness could alleviate what you were feeling.

You meant, who would order an iced coffee knowing full well that by the time it arrived, all the ice would have long melted by then?! He knew it was a two-hour travel, and yet he still insisted. Your steps were quick, and quite frankly sounding provoked that he looked up before you could even call his attention. You handed him the iced coffee carelessly, the content slushing around and not even the lid could saved him from the escaped droplets. He looked down at his drenched hand, not knowing why it didn’t irritate him. He shook his head with amusement in his eyes before turning his attention to you.

“How’s the travel? I hope it wasn’t too much of a hassle,” he lamented in a fake sympathy. He didn’t know why he enjoyed tormenting you, why he wanted all your attention on him. He couldn’t pinpoint the reason why, and he was too naive to realize it himself.

You knew he was testing you, waiting for you to take the bait. But you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction, no. You smiled at him, about to answer him when he lifted his hand that was now dripping from a little coffee and licked it, savoring in the rich taste of the coffee. All while looking at you.

It was too…sexy(?!) for you that you choke on nothing. You felt your cheeks heated up from that that you forgot what you were going to say for a moment.

“Y/N?”

“W-what?”

“Would you drive me home?”

See, why did you say yes? You were just too weak when he was paying attention to you, or when he said please. Or when he looked at you with his soulful eyes that you thought held a little too much emotions, both sadness and euphoria.

Why then did he only let people see his happiness, but never his desolation? Never his regret? Never his weariness?

You watched him warily as you maneuvered out of the basement parking lot. He was sitting beside you, leaning his head on the head rest. He had his eyes shut closed that you could observed him freely. He looked tired, evidenced by his slumbering form.

You thought that it must have been so exhausting to project a happy, lively image every single day.

And so, you told yourself you’d give him the time to sleep by driving as peacefully as you could- which was not easy because you weren’t a good driver in the first place. You thought that it was a miracle you were able to pass your driving test when the examiner looked like he was holding on for dear life. But you knew the road signages, knew the laws, knew the do’s and dont’s, and so by miracle, you were able to pass your exam.

Driving on the main road was no easy feat. You were intimidated by the fast cars, and because of that, you were driving even slower than usual that the less than one-hour drive to his house turned to an almost two-hour drive. The man sleeping beside you was not even aware of what was happening, lost in his own dreams. The movement of the car moved his head to the side, facing you. He was even more angelic when he wasn’t busy glaring at you. He was even more ethereal when he wasn’t giving you meaningless tasks. In the silence of the car, absent of the noise that his world brought, he shone more.

Sometimes you couldn’t believe you were with him now, that you were breathing the same air he was breathing, that you could see him the whole day when he was just a mere memory of your darkest day- the day you buried your parents.

You were numb, so numb that you could barely feel your tears falling freely from your eyes. Your black, funeral dress was in contrast with the gentle picture that the sunset was quietly painting. You were staring at the ocean, the forgiving way the waves kissed the sand didn’t bring you peace. You thought that nothing could bring you peace anymore, that from this day forward, all you would feel was the cold loneliness from losing the only family you had. You thought that you would ran out of tears now that a week passed since you lost your adoptive parents from a horrendous accident. But the tears never stopped. And your heart never ceased to break.

You didn’t know how long you sat on the sand, you didn’t know how many tears fell, or how you were the picture perfect of melancholy. But Jung Hoseok knew, that day he knew.

Your hair had long fell from its confines, now freely flowing with the wind when you turned to look behind you. There, you saw him. He was sitting on the sand just like you. He was resting his arms on his knees. The young man was looking at the sea. He looked so serene, yet his eyes were troubled.

“I thought you’d never stop crying,” he voiced out. He had been sitting there almost as long as you. He came to clear his thoughts, only to find a young woman crying on her own. It was a difficult time for him. He thought that his career was not going anywhere, that he was wasting his time, that no matter how hard he worked, their group wouldn’t make it. He felt like his dream was a like a punch to the moon- impossible. He was torn between giving up and trying, yet this time as a soloist. To add salt to the wound, he watched as everyone received fan letters but him. Jung Hoseok had problems of his own.

So why then did he choose to stay?

He didn’t know why, but he never had the heart to leave you alone. Something was telling him that he was supposed to be here, that he shouldn’t leave you alone.

That you needed him.

You sniffed at the young man with a kind face behind you. He thought you were the most beautiful person in the world, regardless of the endless pit of sadness you were drowning in. He didn’t smile at you. You didn’t need a smile right now. He wordlessly stood up, walked near you, and placed in your hand a white handkerchief. “Cry more if you want. I’ll wait until you’re done,” he stated. And you did. You cried so hard, you cried so much until no tears fell anymore. All the while, he stood there with his hands in his pockets, his eyes trained on the crashing waves. He was humming a song you weren’t familiar with, but you found it soothing. You found him calming.

“You must think I’m a lunatic,” you whispered, his handkerchief drenched with your tears.

He shook his head, “It’s not crazy to cry. It’s how you express the love that has nowhere else to go,” he said tonelessly, as if it was just the truth of life. And it was. “What’s crazy is that people stop themselves from feeling when we aren’t made to not feel. If you’re sad, then cry. If you’re happy, then laugh. It’s not crazy to cry. It’s human to cry.”

He finally looked down at you. He didn’t know why he cared so much when he had burdens of his own. But he wanted you to know, “You’re not alone. I don’t think you were put in this world to be alone.”

No one, not even your closest family friends knew what to say to the pitiful young orphan that was you. Their words seemed empty to you. Their hugs seemed meaningless to you. But this young man that you didn’t even know stood by you as you cried. This man was able to comfort you more than anyone could. This man told you that you weren’t alone. And you held on to that. That day was your saving grace.

It was almost a year ago, yet you didn’t forget him. You couldn’t. His handkerchief was still with you, a remembrance of the day you felt like the world turned its back on you. You were walking to your university, enjoying the calm breeze of the morning when you heard a song from the store you were passing.

That same melody.

That same unfamiliar song he was humming.

Without any thought, you entered the store and saw that the owner was watching a performance by an unknown group. And there he was.

That day, you learned his name.

That same day, you wrote his first fan letter.

J-hope opened his eyes. For the first time in months, he felt rested. It was dark outside, he noted. He was still in the car. He turned to look at you, and there you were smiling so gently at him.

“Slept well, sleepy head?”

The car was parked in front of his house for almost an hour. You didn’t have the heart to wake him up, and so you stayed with him. He deserved the rest after all the hard work he was putting to their craft. Without any makeup on, he looked just like the young man you met on that day. He looked younger without the stress that was piling up on him.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” He asked, his voice still laced with sleep. “And why didn’t you park the car inside the house?”

“Well, I can definitely park your car. But I can’t assure you that I won’t scratch your car,” you confessed. You sucked at parking, as pitiful as that sounded. He blinked at you before laughing- a real one this time. He always laughed but it wasn’t always out of happiness that you hated hearing his fake laughters, loathed seeing his fake smiles.

“Cute,” he whispered. He wasn’t able to stop himself.

“What?”

“I said you looked like a shoe,” he scoffed before getting out of his car. He rounded the car, and opened the door for you.

“That doesn’t even make any sense!” You pointed out, looking at him indignantly. You looked like a shoe? What did that even mean?!

J-hope smirked, before leaning down and pressing the seatbelt to release you. His face was so near you that you could clearly see his eyes. You loved the color of his eyes, the quintessential blend of brown. You loved his face. You loved how you thought he had the perfect bone structure, how straight he nose was, the perfect size for his face. You loved how he was the perfect embodiment of everything good in this world.

Wait, what? Loved? You meant, you liked his eyes and his face!

He was so near that you could feel his heat. He was not satisfied that he even leaned closer, his arm resting beside your hips while the other was propped beside your head. He was so near that you could smell his manly scent. He looked at your eyes, before whispering, “Get out.”

See, he didn’t even thank you that day.

The end of all the shootings was marked by a celebration party. All the staff, together with the members, were having fun dancing, eating, and drinking in a hotel solely rented by the company. You were exhausted beyond measure, and not just because of work. Specifically, it was because of J-hope that had you running all around the town as if you were his own personal assistant. Not only that but his mood swings drained you. Who knew this person was so moody, you thought.

“You’re a fashion design graduate?” Your male co-staff asked you in disbelief. You chuckled before you took a sip of your drink. “Then why are you working as a staff here?”

You explained to him that you were waiting for the result of your application to work for a brand you believed and supported abroad. You did interviews virtually and now you were eagerly waiting for the response. You couldn’t wait to finally live your dream, the one you had the strength to reach because you promised yourself that day to never give up.

You turned to look beside you and you almost jumped when you saw Yoongi silently drinking his choice of alcohol. How could he move so silently? And how long had he been sitting there?

“Do you want anything else, Yoongi? I’ll get it for you,” you offered politely to one of the members, smiling at him when he shifted his eyes to you.

“So you’re leaving?” He asked instead of answering your inquiries. It was out of nowhere that it took you a moment to realize he heard your plans.

“Oh, u-uhm. Yes, that’s my life plan”

“Hmm,” he thought of the headache that was about to come, seeing as from across the room, Hoseok was already throwing daggers at him with his eyes. “What did Hoseok say about that?”

You blinked owlishly in confusion, wondering why he brought up what he thought of your decision. “I didn’t tell him. But the company knows I’m only temporary here,” you trailed off your explanation, seeing the stoic Suga looked stressed. “No worries, though! I’ll make sure to finish all my commitments before I leave,” you hurriedly assured him, mistaking his silence for his apprehension on work. After all, he was known for being a workaholic.

Suga was certain it was not smart to hide this from Hoseok.

Another hour passed and you weren’t able to keep track of your alcohol intake. Everyone was loose, and the staff you grew closed to kept on drinking more and more. It was bad, you drank more than you should evidenced by your slurred words and your barely focused eyes.

“Noona, you’re drunk,” he noted as Jungkook kneeled in front of you, checking your current state with his worried, doe eyes. In your eyes, there were two Jungkook- two muscular Jungkook that looked at you with concern. “Come on. I’ll help you,” he said worriedly, placing your arm around his neck as he guided you to stand up. He, with Namjoon, had been helping the drunk staff get to their rooms, seeing as they were one of the few sober people here. He was about to lift you up when Hoseok who had been going back and forth about helping you showed up. He told himself he didn’t care, that you were merely a nuisance to him and that your presence disturbed his composure. On the other hand, something about another man touching you just didn’t seem right to him.

He guessed the possessive side of him won that night.

“Jungkookie,” he called the youngest member, clapping his muscular shoulder once. “I’ll take care of her. You go help Namjoon.”

Jungkook faltered once, looking at his hyung with hesitancy in his eyes. Didn’t he hate you? Wasn’t it just last week that Hobi saw you laughing at V’s joke? And that he said that if you had time to joke around and laugh with other people, then you’d have time to take his car for maintenance. That took you two hours. Plus the drive back to the company. Plus he made you drive him to his home.

And then he made you cook him dinner.

“Are you sure, hyung?” It didn’t escape Hobi’s eyes that the maknae still did not let you go. “I can bring her up real quick and then help Namjoon hyung-“

“Jungkook. Go help Namjoon,” Suga ordered quietly, his stance relaxed that he didn’t have any choice but to place you gently back on the sofa. See, how could he slither up to anywhere without making a sound? He was like a cat, Jungkook swore in amazement.

“You know what you’re doing, right, Hoseok?” Suga clarified with Hobi, his voice bored as if he didn’t care either way. But he did. The whole members were at lost with how Hobi was treating you. It was unlike him. He was always the first to smile at anyone, always the first to offer a helping hand, the first to make anyone feel welcome.

So what made you an outlier?

“Because if you don’t, I suggest you start thinking of the reason why you’re like this. And stop playing with her.”

J-hope carried you in his arms, your dizzy head leaning on his chest. This close and you could inhale his musky, manly scent. He did smell good despite the smell of alcohol lingering on his shirt. His body was warm- the kind that was pleasant and felt like home.

Carefully, he laid you on the bed, supporting your head until it hit the pillow. With softness you didn’t know he possessed for you, he placed a blanket on your body after he made sure you drank enough water.

He knew he should leave, he knew he did the decent thing. Why then did he not want to leave you when you were this vulnerable? Why then did he want to stay?

Why then did he falter when all he wanted to do was brush the hair off of your face?

And why was he fighting against himself?

His hand hovered just above your skin, gently tracing the outline of your cheeks, of your nose, of the way your lips protruded.

The way your eyelashes softly fluttered against your cheeks was endearing. The way your brows furrowed in your sleep unknowingly made him smile. You were so ethereal in his eyes, that he made up his mind. With extreme gentleness, he brushed you hair off of your face. This close and he could see the marks on your skin, proving further how you were made so uniquely, how marvelously you were created. He caressed your cheek with the back of his hand, no longer wondering how soft your skin was because this time, he knew. Perhaps, he was not in control as he initially thought because he found himself touching your lips with his thumb. And at that time, he could have swore he wanted nothing more than to kiss you, to feel your lips against his, to know what you tasted.

He looked so lost, his eyes trained on your lips that he didn’t notice you looking at him. And when he met your eyes, you didn’t say anything. You merely waited, waited so sweetly, anticipating what his decision would be. Yet, for the life of you, you wished you wouldn’t be alone.

J-hope would have stepped back if not for your hand holding on to his. “I don’t want to be alone,” you confessed, seeing the same loneliness that haunted you each night in his eyes. “Can’t you stay?” You whispered.

You didn’t have to ask twice.

He was only meant to stay until you fell back asleep. He only meant to sit beside you, not lie down on the bed facing your slumbering form. He only meant to be here temporarily. He only meant to keep his distance- so why then did you have your hand buried in his chest? Why then did he hold it close to him? Because now, no one could tear him away from you. Now, he was looking at you with as if the truth itself was glaring at him, willing him to finally see what he was desperately misunderstanding.

He sighed with the realization that his hatred for you was a misunderstood emotion, something that he didn’t know he could experienced in this life. The line between love and hate was definitely thin. He didn’t know when he crossed it, he just knew he couldn’t go back.

“Why are you still so good to me?” He asked despite knowing you wouldn’t answer. How could you take all the shit he had been throwing at you? How could you continuously asked him everyday if he was okay, if he needed anything? How could you still smile at him when he had been anything but good to you?

He thought you wouldn’t answer, but you did.

And in your haze, you whispered, “Because you saved me.”

The six members were all gathered in their communal room. They were all looking at each other, waiting for anyone to start. It was apparent to them that J-hope didn’t come home last night. In fact, Jungkook happened to pass by the hallway at six in the morning, looking for food because he was starving when the door to your hotel room opened. And there he came face to face with the disheveled, clothes-wrinkled, Hoseok.

“Do you think…he killed her?” He voiced out his concern, eyes wide as he looked at his hyungs.

Jimin chuckled at the youngest member’s innocence. He was the first one to notice how different his hyung was when it came to you. He was just glad that finally after tirelessly looking at the two of you interacted, his hyung finally made a move.

“He likes her,” RM finally spoke up, his eyes trained on the book he was reading.

“Really?” Taehyung asked in disbelief. How could he not see it?

“Tae, you’re so dense,” Jin bellowed, throwing V the pillow he was holding. “Don’t you have eyes?”

“Shit, he’s here!” Jimin alerted them when he saw his hyung opening the door. “Quick act natural!”

The freshly showered main dancer entered the room. He looked like he had rested well. Everyone avoided eye contact with him. It was apparent to him that Jungkook blabbered what he saw this morning. With a sigh, he looked at the culprit who had his head buried on a book.

“Jungkook, how’s that book?”

“It’s very educational, hyung!”

“Interesting,” he said in a deadpanned voice before walking to him, grabbing the book, and flipping it upside down. “Very interesting. I didn’t know you could read that way.”

He turned to look at Suga who had his eyes closed, his head bent in an unnatural manner that he was certain it was not comfortable.

“Suga hyung, stop pretending to sleep. There is no way anyone can sleep in that position.”

Yoongi cleared his throat before sitting up straight as if he wasn’t called on his lie. “How was your night?”

“It was…good,” he replied with a genuine smile on his face that Suga couldn’t help but mirror it on his own. Hoseok deserved to be happy, that was what they all thought.

He hadn’t slept that well in a long time, but he noticed that whenever he was with you he felt like he could rest. Like he could close his eyes and it would be okay because you were there. Like he could shed the happy persona he was wearing and just be himself. Like he could feel emotions other than happiness he was showing to the world.

The problem now was that he spent all his time antagonizing you that he was sure you wouldn’t give him the time of the day. To which, Taehyung articulated that maybe, he should try being kind to you.

So yes, he did try doing that. But now, you looked at him suspiciously. Just the other day, he passed you a bottle of water because he thought you looked a little parched. You passed it back to him with the lid opened, much to his shocked. Did you think he was asking you to open it for him?!

The next time, he opened the bottle himself and passed it to you, this time you thought he wanted a colder one so you went to fetch him that. His jaw literally dropped when you passed him the bottle. He even bought you flowers, certain that you would loved it. In fact, you loved it so much you put it in a vase only for J-hope to find it displayed in his office. Jin laughed himself to the floor when he saw it.

You were preoccupied with the instruction being disseminated, your eyes focused on the schedule given that you didn’t notice your shoelace was untied. Without much thought, Jung Hoseok leaned down on his knee, his mind focused on the task. You almost didn’t notice that the noise suddenly stopped, and that all eyes were on you. Slowly, you looked down to find his head bent down as he tied your shoelace. His brows were furrowed, engrossed in his task. He looked up suddenly, meeting your eyes. You felt your cheeks heating up from his gesture. He smirked and he thought that you would finally get it.

You didn’t. To which RM advised that he made it obvious this time, to make you actually noticed him, to leave you no choice but to notice him.

The following week was the group’s schedule to film somewhere remote for their segment. It was a three-day trip. You looked around the basement parking, wondering where your co-staff were. Weren’t you all supposed to drive there together? You were about to call them on your phone when you saw J-hope leaning against his car, his eyes trained on you.

“About time you show up. Let’s go,” he sighed. You guessed you were going to have to drive him again. And here you thought that you’d get to catch up on your sleep. You opened the door when Hoseok slammed it shut again, his manly hand beside your head as it rested on the door. Here he was again, standing so near you that you had no choice but to step back. But this time, you couldn’t. You were between him and the car.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m…going to drive?” You answered unsurely, breath hitching as he leaned in even further. If you thought he was handsome when he was smiling, the serious Hoseok did things to your heart.

“I’m driving. That’s why I waited for you.”

“Yeah, but why? Don’t I always drive you?”

Why was it hard flirting with you, he thought.

You watched him from the corner of your eye as he drove with one hand, the other resting on the stick gear. He had coffee prepared for you in his car, even a bottle of water for the travel. He was being so uncharacteristically kind and considerate to you that you were becoming suspicious now.

“Your hair looks so beautiful,” he complimented all of a sudden that you almost sputtered out the water you had been drinking. What did he mean? You didn’t even wash your hair today. Was he insulting you? Was he complimenting you? At this point, did anyone know what was going on?

“Did I do something wrong?”

“What?”

“I don’t know. You seem different now. If I did something wrong, I’m sorry.”

He looked at you with confusion in his face, holding your eyes for a moment before turning his attention back to the road. “Just because I said your hair is beautiful?”

When you only blinked at him, lost for words when he looked puzzled himself before a shadow of understanding passed through his expressive face. “You don’t remember that night, do you?”

“What night?”

And there it was. He thought that he already made progress with you. And it turned out that you remember none of it.

The members watched as you and J-hope arrived with anticipation in their faces, only for Hoseok to shake his head. He spent the whole three days literally glued to your side. He brought you food, he opened water bottles for you, he sat beside you wherever you were, even going as far as glaring at any man who had the audacity to sit beside you. Most of all, he made you laughed. He listened to whatever you had to say with laser focus, as if you were the most interesting person in the world. And one night, when you all had too much to drink, he sat beside you and held your hand in his in the darkness of the night.

You could admit that as much as you didn’t want to, being this close to him was affecting you. Which was bad. Because you knew you couldn’t and shouldn’t fall for him, that you shouldn’t get attached because this would end badly for you. You were leaving. And you were just here to make his life a little bit easier as a repayment to what he unknowingly did for you. And so, you started steering clear of his path for his sake, but also for the sake of your heart. Whenever you saw him, you’d suddenly have an errand to do. Whenever he was about to go to you, you’d suddenly join a group of people so he wouldn’t come. You even went as far as jumping at the last car, which happened to be Suga’s, just so you wouldn’t be with Hoseok. Suga looked at you weirdly before looking at the window, and then sighing. You were only glad that he drove without a word.

“Don’t you like him?” He asked in a bored tone after driving for half an hour. “And don’t lie to me.”

You blushed as you looked anywhere but him. Truth, you found out, was harder to deny once it was verbalized, once it was said. You could hardly deny the truth when you kept it in yourself, what would happen to you then if you say it?

“Can I trust you?” You asked in a small voice. You weren’t close to him, but you knew he was quiet, that he was like a Cheshire cat, merely sitting there quietly and observing, always observing. From the few interactions you had with him, you knew he only had his members’ best interest in heart. He was asking not because he was curious, no. He was asking because he cared for Hoseok.

“You can,” he replied in that deep voice of his. “Or you can’t. It’s up to you.”

You smiled at his answer, this was really who Suga was. And so, you decided to tell the truth.

“I do… but this is not going anywhere. What I feel for him is irrelevant,” you began, your lips twitching as you played with your fingers nervously. “He is a good man.”

Yoongi nodded as he silently drove, lost in his own thoughts. His mind must have been interesting, it must have been too complexed that you wondered how he would act when he fell. You didn’t know if you admire or pity the woman who would have the bravery to fall for him.

“That’s not for you to decide, Y/N. At least tell him.”

You wouldn’t.

You walked quietly after you made sure that he was not around. It had been a week of successfully avoiding Hoseok and you could see that he was becoming displeased with your actions. It was apparent to him that you were avoiding him, much to his vexation. But this ended now.

You were on your way to a meeting, in your hand was your planner. This was your last month, your contract was almost through. Your thoughts were immersed with things you needed to do that you didn’t notice that it was peculiar you were the first one in the small conference room. You waited for the other attendees of the meeting, lost in your own world as you wrote on your planner. The door opened and closed, and you lifted your head with a smile on your face ready to greet whoever that was when you saw him. He entered the room with a blank face, never turning his back on you as he pressed the lock. He walked around the table and sat on it, perching his lap on the edge as he faced you. His eyes looked tired. It took him a moment before he broke the silence.

“You’re avoiding me,” he stated as though he didn’t need your answer.

“I’m not-“ you started denying when he tilted his head to the side, his expression even going more serious. You recognized this face, the expression he used when he was coaching on the dance routines. You looked at your lap, anywhere just to avoid his intense gaze. Yet, you could not escape him. You were too hyperaware of his presence, of his larger than life presence that made you want to say yes to whatever he wanted. His thigh was almost touching your hand that was on the table.

“Why are you avoiding me, angel?” He asked gently, terrified that you’d up and leave like the last few days. You couldn’t even deny when he already saw right through your bullshit. You were afraid to look into his eyes because then he would see, he would know what you felt. When you still didn’t lift your eyes to him, he held your hand, bringing it to his lap. To be honest, he was scared. He hated the feeling of not seeing you, of not talking to you, of not having you near him. “Tell me, hmm? Tell me and I’ll fix whatever it is.”

Your lips quivered. It had been too log since anyone told you they’d fix it for you, that they’d take care of it for you. You had been alone for far too long that hearing that hurt you. What you felt for him terrified you. For so long you looked at him as though he was your savior, and now you were looking at him like he could be something more when you knew you were setting yourself for another heartache- one that you wouldn’t survive. Hoseok lifted your hand to his lips, softly kissing your palm, his eyes never leaving yours. “Tell me.”

“I-I think,” you began before trailing off. You chewed on your bottom lip, your eyes trained on his chest. You still couldn’t look at him, still could not f the life of you look at him as you told him the truth.

“You think what, angel?” He repeated gently, urging you to continue.

“I think…I’m falling in love with you,” you finally said as you shut your eyes closed, waiting for his disgust.

Yet it never came.

He was silent, so silent that it terrified you. You were pulling your hand away from his when he tightened his hold on you. It left you no choice but to look up at him…only to find him with a genuine smile on his face.

“Good,” he whispered, his face losing the tense look it had moments ago. Now, J-hope was happy, utterly happy. And it showed. “Because I already fell.”

He tilted your chin further, and slowly, so slowly he leaned in. His jaw was set hard with concentration, his eyes trained on you. And then you felt his lips on yours. It was soft, a kind of kiss reserved for first kisses, the one where one wanted to savor the moment. He kissed you once, twice- and then he leaned back, opened his eyes and looked at you as if asking you if that was okay. And when you nodded, J-hope decided he wanted more. The kiss began to get more heated. Suddenly, he lifted you from your seat and placed you on top of the table. He grabbed your waist and pulled you closer, so close that you could feel the growing hardness of his member. You have been kissed before, but certainly not like this. Certainly not by someone as grand as him. Certainly not the kind of kiss where time felt like it stood still. You could feel his tongue inside you, keen on discovering every inch of you. It was too much, it was too many emotions that you didn’t know how to handle them. You felt his other hand possessively around the back of your neck. You thought it was forever before he stopped kissing you. He leaned his forehead on yours, breathing hard as he leveled you with his intense gaze.

“You’re mine now, right, angel?” He asked as he looked at you with his lust-filled eyes.

Were you his?

Could you be his?

It was as if you were awaken, as if the haze that surrounded you was now gone and in its place was the hard truth that you weren’t supposed to be with him because you were leaving.

You shook your head, your hands pushing on his chest. “No. I’m sorry,” you whispered, tears brimming on your eyes “We can’t.”

In his weakened state and shocked, you were able to push him away. You ran to the door without looking back, and left him.

What happened, he thought in confusion. He was about to follow you when he noticed that you left your planner in your haste to escape. He was about to pick up the open planner when something piqued his curiosity.

Your handwriting seemed familiar to him. He tilted his head to the side, trying to remember why this seemed like a piece of a puzzle to him. He racked his brain, trying to remember something… And then he got it. He remembered this handwriting, the same handwriting that he had framed in his office- his first fan letter. He looked at it for hours back when he wanted to give up, and until now he looked at it with gratitude that someone believed in him when he wanted to give up.

It was you. He finally found you.

If this wasn’t fate, then he didn’t know what it was.

It almost buried the hurt he was feeling when you pushed him away. Almost. He was almost okay. But then he saw you marked the date of your last day in the company- and on the next page was the list of things you needed to accomplish because you leave the country. You were leaving the country. You were fucking leaving him.

You couldn’t leave, no. Not when he finally found you. Not when he only felt this way with you. Not when this was fate itself. Not when he was irrevocable so in love with you, not when he couldn’t even begin to imagine breathing without you. No. You cannot leave him. His mind was going overdrive, his heart beating too loud with the thought of losing you.

He needed to do something.

He needed to do it now,

With renewed strength, he marched out the door. His footsteps was hard and fast, looking for any trace of you that he almost ran straight to Namjoon. The leader took a look of his hyung’s state before carefully asking if he got everything under control. To which he replied that he’d only be stable and okay once he was sure that you were never going to leave him.

“Remember to do everything smartly, hyung,” RM advised him as a leader should. But as a friend, he told him where he last saw you. And as someone who also had to do underhanded methods just to get the girl, he stated, “Do what you must do, hyung. Lock her down to you, if you must.”

You almost jumped up when you heard hard, consecutive knocks on your door. It was alraedy closed to midnight, and you were weary. Your eyes were red from crying, something that you had not done in a long time. You were on the floor, surrounded by things you were packing since last week. You thought it was just your neighbor asking for something, and so you thought she would go away. You didn’t have the energy to deal with anyone today.

Yet, the knocks only became more frequent that left you no choice but to open the door- and there he was. Standing tall in front of you was the one you ran away from.

Jung Hoseok had his hands in his pockets, his stance relaxed that you couldn’t read him.

“Can we talk?”

And as an answer, you stepped back and let him passed you inside your apartment. You had barely locked the door when you found yourself against the wall, and his lips hovered above yours for a moment, a moment for you to push him away. And when you didn’t, he pressed against your lips so tenderly and yet so demanding. All thoughts about why this was not a good idea vanished. All of a sudden, all that mattered was this feeling. All that mattered was Jung Hoseok.

His tongue caressed yours, while his hand lifted your leg to him, brushing his hardened member on your core. Pressing so gently as though he was on a mission to seduce you that you were left with no choice but to entangle your fingers in his hair, brushing the strands that fell on his forehead. His other hand journeyed inside your shirt. The heat of your skin, the softness of your skin furthered drove him to madness. His palm was hot as he kneaded you through your bra, pinching your nipple with a pressure you never knew.

“If you don’t want this,” he breathed as he peppered kisses on your neck, marking you for the world to see. “Tell me now. Because if you don’t, I can’t stop myself anymore, angel..”

You felt his hand on your bare breast, your bra not standing a chance against the man in front of you. His thumb brushed over your nipple repeatedly, earning him a moan you could not stop.

“Do you want this, angel? Do you want me?” He whispered hotly, his eyes now trained on your eyes with seriousness and lust. And you could only nod.

You didn’t know how, but he managed to carry you to your bed. If he noticed your belongings in boxes, he didn’t say a thing. You would be moving, yes. But it wouldn’t be abroad where it was fucking far from him. No. You would be moving in with him.

He moved fast; your clothes were gone while he was still fully clothed. He spread your legs unceremoniously, hooking them over his shoulders, and then his sinful tongue thrust inside of you. Hoseok never gave you the chance to keep up with his ministrations, you had no choice but to moan and fall apart. And even when you did, by heavens he did not stop. His hold on your thighs were tight, fingers digging on your skin as your thighs shook with endless pleasure he was giving you.

You were begging at this point, but you didn’t know if it was for him to stop or to go on. The third time you came, he crawled to you, his lips and chin glistening with your essence. He showered you with praises about how good you were to him, how heavenly you tasted…how you were his. This time, he did not ask. He knew you were his.

You didn’t know when you passed out. Was it the second time he made you come with his cock? Was it because of the dizzying pleasure he managed to pull out of you? Was it because of his sweet, little promises about possessing you completely? Was it his promises that he’d take care of everything?

You didn’t know.

Hoseok watched you as you slept beside him, his body momentarily sated as he looked at his angel. He admired the marks on your neck, admired the bruises on your thighs. He smiled to himself as he brushed your hair away from your face. How could you think of leaving him when it was this good, he thought.

But never mind that.

You wouldn’t leave. His phone dinged from an email, and he smirked evilly as he read that the person he recommended for the job you had previously accepted was successful. The fashion company replaced you willingly with Hoseok’s promise that he would model one of their collections. You would be sad, though. But that was fine. He did this for you. He did this so the two of you would grow even closer. You shouldn’t worry, though. Hoseok thought of everything. A month from now, you would start your work with a fashion company. But this time, it as in Korea where he could see you, where he could keep you.

See, anyone was replaceable. But to him, you weren’t. You were the only one.

#jung hoseok fic #jung hoseok smut #hoseok x reader #hoseok x you #hoseok x y/n #yandere jung hoseok #yandere j-hope #yandere hobi #bts fic #bts yandere #hobi x reader #hobi x you

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reverie-verse · 10 months

Note

Hiiii, could you possibly do a Miguel O'Hara smut with some ✨BRAT✨taming in it ( if your comfortable with it ) the plot is up to you 🫶🏾😁

Brats Sometimes Need Taming: Miguel O’Hara x Reader

Prompt: You get hit in the face with sex pollen. Honestly it starts out that way but really it’s just luck because Miguel fucks you how you like. Hot heavy, intense.

Warning: Dudes this is straight up filth. There’s brat taming(main course), oral (F and M), edging, light very light bondage, choking maybe, pleasure Dom if you squint hard enough. Oh and Creampie

Iiiii hope this is up to your standards! This is my first smut so let me know if this is good enough to write more haha. Anyways I hope you enjoy it Anon and anyone else who reads it!

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Miguel had ordered the team to complete a task in another dimension that included all of you and himself. He would lead the group into a destroyed building many stories high. The objective was to stop a rather ugly looking creature from spewing out pollutants from its body. The creature wasn’t alone. There were many of them each with a different pollutant. They had already demolished half of the city you were in. It wasn’t until the end of the battle when you fought one particular monster at the top of the building while Miguel fought at the bottom. You were striked down; then you were falling off a nearby metal support beam. A cloud of colored pollutants floated around you and in the air. It even fell gracefully with you, but you were rendered unconscious. Miguel waited for you to use your webs to save yourself but you didn’t. As if time slowed down Miguel threw himself in your direction. Using his webs he flung himself under you capturing you in time before you could go no further and no closer to the ground. You both rolled on the ground of the next level of the building. The rest of the team took care of the creature while Miguel tended to you.

Your head lulled to the side, Miguel checked your vitals frantically. You were in fact alright but something was off. Your breathing becomes faster. He could feel the heat of your skin rise instead of cooling down, your skin began to sweat. Miguel scooped you up in his arms and opened a portal back to headquarters taking straight to the med bay. Still rendered unconscious as he marched through, he yelled at everyone to leave except for the doctor. He demanded answers and a way to save you. He had know idea what that pollutant was that struck you. He was worried that you might implode on yourself. As a bit morbid as that sounds but you burned to the touch and you were sweating profusely. The doctor could offer him no information without taking tests. Miguel threw items on the floor frustrated with himself for letting you battle that creature alone. But of course the doctor was right he needed to know what was wrong. Miguel had stripped your mask off so that you could breathe better. The doctor was gone and the privacy stayed between you both.

Miguel stared at your beautiful face, caressing your hot skin, by now he had removed his own gloves. His bare skin on yours was enough to wake you. Just as the doctor arrived your whining had begun. Doctor had explained to Miguel that you were infected with a type of substance that exposed you to a sexual chemical. It ultimately triggers you into a sexual frenzy. The doctor had no idea how long it would take for it to be satiated. As the doctor continued he explained that he needed time to figure out its formula. He had no idea if this process could be handled by itself if you waited it out or if you needed an antidote. During that conversation You were already eyeing Miguel’s massive figure. The way he leaned over the side of the bed his elbows resting on the mattress as he spoke with the doctor. His muscles stretched all the way down to his back, his wide frame making you want to leave marks on his skin if he’d let you. His hair looked soft to the touch you so badly wanted to twist your hands in his hair. To watch as his head dipped between your thighs. You moaned at the thought reaching for Miguel as you lifted yourself up kissing along his back and onto his shoulder.

The doctor cleared his throat and Miguel turned his head to look at you. You looked zoned out, your mind hazy and else were, and you smelt like arousal. Miguel firmly pried off your hands. Don’t get him wrong he loves to relish in the moment and be present as he watches you squirm, and moan under him. Right now though, you were sharing sounds that he wanted no one to hear but him You were kissing his body as if it were just the two of you in the room, again those were not for the doctor to witness. Miguel gave you a look that held the meaning of. Knock it off. Miguel had moved slightly away from you so that he could focus on what the doctor was saying. It wasn’t until you moved toward Miguel again; you were pulling on his suit nipping at his clothes skin on his back. He could hear your quiet hum. This doesn’t go unnoticed by the doctor who tried his hardest not to pay attention to your actions but failed.

The doctor cleared his throat to ask if he should leave when Miguel’s stone filled expression became grave and dark. He looked pissed to be quite honest. Miguel becoming irritated by your needy behavior he turns quickly to face you and with just one hand both wrists pinned to your chest. He pushed you back down on the bed pinning you there. Your breathing became erotic, your head rolled to the side on the pillow, your legs propped up on the bed you were about to rut into the air when Miguel slammed another hand down on your hips. You were beyond turned on and burning with desire.

“ You need to wait” he warned you.

“ Miguel I-I can’t. Let’s go home!” you whined. Your body melting and folding under his touch, he was driving you insane. You just needed to feel him. He didn’t even need to do anything. Miguel rolled his eyes at you before looking at the doctor. His hands stayed where they were holding you down. He continued to listen to the doctor, completely deciding to ignore you. To be honest the doctor was the furthest thing from your mind. You could’ve sworn he wasn’t even really there. Which he only distracted you for a minute before your eyes landed back on Miguel. Oh Miguel. You bit your lip as you squeezed your legs together hoping that maybe it would ease the burning need but it doesn’t.

This doesn’t go unnoticed by Miguel. He side eyes you before heaving a sigh of his own, with a few curses. Miguel had told the Doctor to keep doing his research and look for an antidote in case you continue with this behavior. Miguel had reached for you in the hopes of picking you up bridal style but you managed to already wrap your arms around his neck and legs around his hips. Thankfully the doctor couldn’t see you, as you bit into Miguel’s ear lobe. You didn’t bite hard but you pulled on it slightly before kissing it. You could feel his clothed erection growing. It made you that much more excited. Your insides scream for him, yearning to be cock drunk and filled to the brim.

Miguel growled in your ear as he whispered “ You’re being a brat.” Miguel wasted no time as he jumped out the med bay window swinging his way back to your shared apartment. He refused to risk anyone else witnessing you in this state of mind. The doctor seeing it was enough for him. As soon as you landed in the apartment Miguel had stripped you of your suit. You had lost your balance in the same process but not before he webbed your hands together. You fell towards the floor not exactly hitting it but instead you were pulled back into his hard body. Miguel lifted a hand and gripped your jaw firmly planting a much wanted and much needed heated kiss. Your lips, tongue and teeth fought for dominance. Miguel instantly shut down the thought as he pulled away abruptly. You chased after his lips only for him to move back once again

You whined again. “ Miguel you’re being mean” you tried to wiggle out of the webbing itching to grab Miguel. He shook his head tsking at you.

“ What a shame. Hmm you being all whiny and needy in front of the doc too. You just can’t seem to control yourself” He taunts.

“ Miguel-“ you were about to begin your begging when he turned you around so your back pressed into his front. You were beginning to feel everything ten times worse, the way his tall frame curved into you, the way he was pressed against you. The way his breath fanned across your ear and cheek as his lips grazed your skin. The way his rough hands gripped and touched your body, slowly massaging each part until his hands stopped where you needed him most “Fuck, please, please”

“ Poor Y/N, look at how desperate you are. You want it so bad but you haven’t earned it” he whispers to you. He frees one hand so it slides up in between the valley of your breasts and up to your throat. He only holds it and never squeezes. Without so much of a warning his other hand dips into the place where you needed him most. You were drenched, covered in your own arousal. Miguel’s fingers glided through your sensitive folds. He had no intention of stroking that bundle of nerves or your hole just yet. Your legs buckled slightly and with your hands webbed together you couldn’t reach for Miguel. It didn’t help that he had you pressed to his chest either. His finger runs through your folds barely touching your clit, with each nudge it sends a jolt through your body. His finger inches closer to your own circling around it as he quickly inserts a finger. He leaves it there. He doesn’t move, he waits to see your reaction. He was testing you.

“Miguel you’re being mean” You hiss at him. Your body is too needy with an arousal. Your body rocks against his finger. You moan at the sensation, how good his finger feels down there. How it rubs against those spots you could never reach only Miguel. Miguel oh Miguel. He inserts another finger, adding a much needed stretch. He let you fuck yourself on his fingers. He let you enjoy it for the time being. His fingers pick up the pace, pushing deliciously hard into you hitting everything but that one spot. You began to whine, he may not have been hitting the place you wanted but you were so sensitive that it felt so good. You twist your hands in the webbing to try and break yourself free. You wanted to touch him, to feel him. Miguel had noticed and whatever orgasm you were about to feel vanished. He pulled his fingers out of you leaving you feeling empty. Your legs feeling like jelly you turned your head to look over your shoulder. Miguel with his hand on your throat he leaned down capturing your lips with his. His tongue stroked the inside of your mouth. He pulls away biting your lip with his sharp fangs before devouring your lips.

His hand that was once inserted now rubbed furiously at your clit, your whines, the back into moans. He made quick work with your clit but as your orgasm grew closer he managed to pull away just in time. Edging you every chance he could get. Honestly you wanted to cry, it felt so good and it hurt so bad. “ I told you to wait, didn't I? This is one of your punishments for being a brat-“your hips pressed into his ass rubbing against his clothed cock. He takes his finger from your cunt and shoves them in his mouth. He licks your slick clean from his fingers as he pushes you off him. He pushes you towards the couch not caring if you make it to the bedroom. He makes quick work taking off his suit. His toned body is on display for you. You were practically drooling out the mouth not to mention you were drooling elsewhere. As if you couldn’t get more turned on. Miguel grabbed ahold of your ankles pulling on them so that you neared the edge of the couch. His tall figure looming over you. He smirked as he grabbed your legs and bent them towards your chest. He slowly dropped to the floor on his knees, his own mouth watering. Your breathing picks up as you feel his breath along your hot skin. Miguel turned his head to the side and kissed your inner thighs, then your outer lips, then your folds. Not wasting any time he lapped at your folds licking long strips from your hole to your bundle of nerves. A loud pornographic moan leaves your lips. He shakes his head to the side as he licks, at one point he starts nipping at your folds pulling on them, tugging. Your hips rocked into his face, you so badly wanting to thread your hands in his hair. Your webbed hands stayed near your chest but those waves of hair were calling to you. You watched him as your mouth hung slightly open. Hisses leave your lips when his long tongue enters your hole and his nose nudges your clit. Tears began to prickle on the corner of your eyes. You wanted to reach your orgasm but the closer you got Miguel would know. He pulled away but not before giving your clit a hard suck and then a smack with his hand making your body jolt at the feeling.

Miguel leaned toward you, capturing your lips again with his. He let you taste yourself on his tongue not before pulling away from you, his hands pinched your little nubs on your breasts twisting and pulling on them. He kneaded them as he gave each one a kiss. Standing up he pushes your legs down grabbing your throat he pulls you forward so your face is in front of his dick. You bit your lip, Miguel removed his hand from your Throat reaching for your hair he held it back in a ponytail for you. His other hand lifts his cock so that its tip slaps your lips. “ Open” he demands. It was long and thick, his tip already covered in precum. You lick his cock tasting him. before you do as he says. He slips his cock into your mouth, he groans the feeling of your warmth around him. He guides your head back and forth, sucking him off. You let him abuse your mouth. You hum on his dick enjoying the taste of him, the vibrations hitting Miguel he moans.

“ My little brat likes that. So desperate for my cock” he pushes you head further on to him the sounds of his wet dick in your mouth turning obscene. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you continue to suck on him. You push back slightly going for his tip again knowing he liked when you did that. You kissed his tip as you opened your mouth letting your tongue lick it. Your lips wrap the edges sucking on it letting your tongue trace his slit. Miguel growled at the feeling and sight of it, your mouth sinked in further stroking him at a slower pace. Honestly you were driving him mad. Your mouth couldn’t fit all the way around him but you took what you could. With your hands still bound together you desperately wanted to break loose. The more you stroked him and the faster his hips snapped into your mouth you knew you were close to getting what you both craved. Though you needed a final push. You took a deep breath through your nose as you pushed him further into your mouth so that your nose hit his hip. You slowly bobbed your head, you changed the pace and movement making it difficult for Miguel to hold on to his release that he saved for later. Miguel pulled you off of his cock glaring at you as he tsks at you.

You stood up so that you were more or less face to chest with him. You wrapped your webbed hands and arms around his neck. Pulling him in your lips, taking his, you pressed your chest into him. As your tongue fights him for dominance. You pull back biting on his lip tugging at it then diving back into him. His hands gripped your back before sliding down and kneading on your ass. The two of you grope each other in a heated back out. In the process however you “sneakily” turned Miguel around so his legs would bump into the couch. He knew what you were doing and before you could even attempt to do anything else he pushed you off of him. You broke the webbings on your hands within mere seconds Miguel had you pinned down on your side on the couch. He turned you so that one leg rested on the couch while the other was held up by his hand. You watched him as you pressed the side of your face into the couch. You were so excited you couldn’t wait for him to get inside you. You began to whine encouraging him to enter you. You were throbbing, needy, hungry for him. He was depriving you as he watched your body beg for his.

“ Someone needs to learn patience.” He tells you as he slowly glides through your extremely wet folds slipping into your tight entrance. You both moan at the feeling, he inches himself further into you so that he bottoms out. Miguel stayed still, he hadn’t thrusted into you yet, making your body feel every curve and inch of his cock. You were beyond overstimulated and extra sensitive you mewled in protest. Then he does. Miguel pulls his cock out all the way before slamming into you hard. You both yell out a curse. He sets a pace, on that hit the one spongy spot inside you. His hips slamming into yours at an intense pace. His large hands holding your thighs open. You reached behind you to place a hand on his wrists holding him. At this point he no longer cared that you got out of your restraints. His cock was starting to kiss the tip of your cervix. Moans flew out of your mouth some lewd, some pornographic, some with all the air leaving your body. The sounds of skin slapping against skin echoed in the room, the smell of sex undeniable.

“ Miguel-“ you moaned his name like a mantra or a prayer that would set you free. The force he was putting into you made your back arch and the breath leave your lungs. Miguel pulled out for a second so that he could turn you over onto your back. As he sat on his knees, he entered back into you ramming into you harder than before. You proppeped yourself up, placing a hand on his stomach as he slammed into you repeatedly. He wasn’t letting up and he wasn't going to either. He leaned forward trapping you underneath his body. He locked your hands into your chests as he bounced downward into you. Both of your orgasms were beginning to build up and you could feel the familiar knots build in your stomach.

“ Mig-Im-close-fuuuck”

“ Come on mami, give it to me” he encouraged you as plowed into you profusely. Your orgasm came quicker than you had expected, your come flowing out of you, your body shaking, as the spots filled your vision. Your ears ringing, Miguel hadn’t finished yet he chased after his high still ramming into you. Your body began struggling to keep up. By the look on Miguel’s face he was about to reach his climax and you were about to reach your third or fourth. You weren’t sure how many times he made you come but what you did know was that you were about to do it again.

“ Fuuuck I’m about to come” Miguel’s hips sputtered as his set thrusts ram into you. You reached up caressing his face burning your hands in his hair. Your walls clenched down on him telling him to let go. With a final hard snap of his hips he releases into you a deep moan sounds from his chest. He body slows down riding out his own high before he pulls out of you. Sweat covered both of your skins. Your cream mixed with his as it trickled out of your hole. You prop yourself up on your elbows. Miguel is already eyeing your hole again. His fingers dip inside pushing your mixed back into you. You pushed on Miguel’s chest with your foot to move him away from your overly sensitive body. You were trying to regain your breathing and let your body catch up with your mind. Miguel caught your foot and pulled you towards him.

“ I can’t” you shook your head “ it’s too much”

Miguel’s eyes connected with yours “ You should’ve thought about that before you started acting up like the brat you are.” You could’ve sworn he was the one who got hit with the pollutant instead of you with the way he was acting. You’ve never seen this feral side of him before this was new territory you both were about to explore. You’d be lying to yourself about how incredibly turned on you were again. Round two was definitely underway.

#miguel x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderverse #miguel x y/n #miguel smut #miguel o’hara smut #miguel x you #spiderverse smut #x poc reader #x y/n #fanfic #fanfic readers #x you #bipoc writers #poc reader #imagines #x reader #smut

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beskarandblasters · 8 months

Text

I Know Places

Enemies to Lovers!Din Djarin x F!Reader

Main Masterlist | Din Djarin Masterlist

Author’s note: Special thank you’s to @nostalxgic for making this beautiful graphic and @wannab-urs, @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin, @mandoisapunk, and @theredviper for beta reading this for me! 🥹 Also I used this guide to help determine how long it takes to get from Tatooine to Coruscant… which isn’t that accurate at all lmao but roughly 22 standard days of travel is convenient for this story specifically so I'm going with that. All of my other Star Wars fics are much better with travel times/lore I promise but as the official writers of Star Wars say, “hyperspace travels as fast as the plot” 😉

Summary: You’re on Tatooine running from your life from some goons on Coruscant who you owe credits to; credits you definitely don’t have. Just when you think you’re alone, a Mandalorian captures you to bring you in. What started out as hatred for each other morphs into apathy into tolerance and finally, into feelings for each other.

Word count: 7k

Warnings: reader is able-bodied, canon divergent, takes place when Grogu is with Luke, long live the Razor Crest, helmet stays on, descriptions of reader being dehydrated/sick, taking medication, restraints, Din is an asshole at first, eventual feelings, nipple play, fingering, oral sex (M receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, canon typical violence, use of Mando'a words (cyar'ika = sweetheart), no use of y/n

The hot suns of Tatooine burn the back of your neck as you trudge along the desert. Your feet feel like a million pounds, every step takes all of your energy that you can muster. Not only are you physically exhausted but you’re also beating yourself up mentally. It’s your own fault you’re here on this shithole of a planet running for your life. You got tied up with the wrong crowd, a crime lord named Garo and his goons on the lower levels of Coruscant. And now you owe them a hefty sum of credits; credits you definitely don’t have.

You get the sense you’re being watched; like someone is following you. You turn to look for another set of footprints in the sand but there’s only your own. You spun around too fast and now you’re feeling dizzy. When was the last time you had water? You can’t remember.

You spot a valley in the distance with some shaded patches from the rocks above; a break from the harsh suns. You make it there as fast as you can (which is still rather slow) and plop yourself down in the sand. You pat your sides to make sure you still have your dagger and blaster attached to your belt; the only methods of defense you have. You’re not even that good with a blaster and it’s not yours. You stole it before you left Coruscant, hitching a ride with a stranger who was also traveling to Tatooine, giving him pretty much all of the credits you had left. And as for the dagger… What good is that going to do? A dagger is only useful if the threat is close to you and by that point you’re probably dead anyway.

You close in on yourself, balling yourself up as tight as you can, as if you’ll fall apart at any given moment. It feels like the entire weight of the galaxy is on your shoulders and you’re going to let it swallow you whole.

You must’ve fallen asleep. You’re sprawled out on the sand, still under the small patch of shade, you think. You haven’t opened your eyes yet. Your mouth feels like sandpaper and you’re severely dehydrated. If this continues any longer it’ll prove to be fatal. You open your eyes slowly, expecting to see rocks or the unforgiving suns of Tatooine above you. But instead… you’re met with the sight of a silver helmet and the stone-cold stare of its visor glaring down at you.

You attempt to yell but it comes out as a weakened gasp. Scrambling backwards you try to inch away from the looming figure above you. You struggle to your feet and try to run away but due to your impaired state, it’s no use. A leather glove grabs your wrist and you feel what must be cuffs locking– you’ve been captured. Your worst fears are coming true; you’re gonna be sent back to Coruscant where you’ll most definitely be put to death.

“I have to say, that was easier than I thought,” the masked man says, keeping a hand wrapped around your arm as he leads you away from your resting spot.

“W-what?” you choke out, barely audible.

“I didn’t think you were going to be so frail.”

“I’ve been alone in the desert for many days… without any water.”

“Judging by your state I won’t be able to carbon freeze you.”

“Carbon freeze me?”

…Who did they send after you?

“Consider yourself lucky.”

You roll your eyes.

“Lucky? I don’t even know who you are. How threatening could you even possibly be?”

He stops walking and turns to face you, the helmet getting closer in your face. You can see your reflection in it, just how tired and sick you look.

“Do you want to test that?” he says sternly.

“N-no,” you stutter.

“Good. Now let’s go,” he says, dragging you along. If he wasn’t holding you upright you’d be face planted in the sand.

The mysterious man leads you to his ship, a Razor Crest, lowering the exit ramp and pulling you inside. And now you’re standing right by his carbonite freezer, feeling thankful for your desiccated state. He seals the ship and sits you down on a crate and pulls one across to sit in front of you. The T-shaped visor burning a hole into you as he sits, stoic and not saying a word. Now that you’re not blinded by the sun or being dragged you get a better look at him; full silver beskar, an imposing stance, and completely adorned in all sorts of weapons.

“So you’re taking me back to Coruscant?”

“Mhm.”

“You know he’s gonna kill me, right?”

“That’s not my problem. I get hired to do a job and I do it. I don’t ask questions. I don’t get involved.”

“Who are you?”

“A bounty hunter.”

“But who are you?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“You’re a Mandalorian, aren’t you?”

You’ve heard rumors about them; legends even. You know they’re strong, skilled warriors; a relentless group of people. They sent one of the best bounty hunters in the galaxy after you… feels like overkill.

“And that’s all you need to know about me,” he says.

“I’m going to take any weapons you have, uncuff you so you can get to the cockpit, and then once you’re sitting the cuffs go back on, got it?” he continues.

“I’m not much of a threat to you,” you declare.

“I know you’re not,” he says, unclipping the blaster in your holster, “But who knows what sorts of ideas you’ll get if I leave you with these,” he continues, holding the blaster in front of your face.

“Who knows what you’ll try to do as I’m piloting the ship,” he finishes, holding the dagger in front of your face again.

He gets up and stores your weapons with his own, closing the compartment so you can’t get to them. He stands to the side of you and starts to undo your cuffs. And that’s when something stupid overtakes you. You’re going to try to run.

Once your wrists are free you make a run for the exit, trying desperately to lower the ramp. You feel him behind you immediately, spinning you around, grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head.

“That wasn’t wise,” he says by your ear, really coming out as a growl.

“Just kill me already,” you spit out.

“Can’t. They requested you be brought in alive.”

You groan just as he draws his blaster, which shifts your groan into a gasp.

“What are you-”

“They don’t care if you’re injured or not. Now get in the cockpit,” he says, grabbing your shoulder and placing you in front of him as he walks, the tip of the blaster against your back.

He coaxes you to climb up the ladder, keeping the blaster aimed at you the whole time. You sit in one of the passenger seats and strap in and that’s when the cuffs return, much to your dismay. He sits in the pilot seat and prepares the ship for takeoff while your stomach swirls with nerves. He takes off from Tatooine and enters space. Once he’s locked a coordinate and sets a path, he makes the jump to lightspeed.

He turns his seat around and looks at you, “We have roughly twenty two standard days until we get to Coruscant.”

You nod. You knew that when you escaped Coruscant, but it’s also annoying that you’re going to be stuck with this asshole cooped up in his ship for what’s gonna feel like forever. He gets up from the pilot seat and starts to head back down to the storage area, without bringing you with him.

“What about me?!” you call over your shoulder.

“What about you?” he deadpans.

“I can’t-” you start to say but he cuts you off.

“No you’re staying there.”

“Can I at least have water?”

He lets out a long modulated sigh, as if your dehydration is a burden to him. You hear him rustle around the storage area of the ship and climb back up the ladder. He hands you a small canteen, not saying a word.

“Thanks,” you grumble, taking it in your hands.

You place it in between your thighs and try to open it with your cuffed hands but it’s no use. He sighs again and takes it from you; like you’re a wounded animal he’s being forced to help. He opens it and hands it back to you. He watches you struggle to take a sip of water and you wonder if he’s looking at you with pity or disgust under that helmet. You finish the water and hand the canteen back to him as best as you can with these stupid cuffs on. You lean back in the seat and rest your eyes, wishing you were back in the desert instead of being stuck in this trap with Mando.

You wake up with a stiff neck and sore wrists. You groan as you lean forward, wishing for nothing more than to be free from these cuffs and out of this seat. Mando climbs up the ladder behind you, stopping next to your seat. With his visor glaring down at you he says, “You’re finally awake.”

“How long was I asleep?”

“Pretty much a full standard day.”

“And you let me sleep that long.”

“One less thing for me to worry about.”

“Thanks,” you say, sarcastically.

“Are you ever gonna let me out of these cuffs?”

“Depends on-” he starts to say, but you cut him off, completely fed up at this point.

“I’m not going anywhere. We’re in the middle of space. I can’t take you in a fight and even if I could I don’t know how to fly this thing,” you snap.

He sighs again, a signature for him at this point, and moves to undo your cuffs. As soon as you’re free you immediately stand up to stretch out, feeling some of the tension leave your body.

“Do I have to stay up here?” you ask.

“I guess not,” he says reluctantly.

You’re still a little wobbly on your feet, from the sleep but also the extreme dehydration and fatigue from your time in the desert. You take a step towards the ladder and stumble, almost falling forward until Mando catches you by your wrist, pulling you back into him.

“Are you still not feeling well?”

“Not really,” you say, hyper-aware of the cool beskar against your back.

“Let me go down first. I’ll be there to catch you if you fall.”

“Uh, sure.”

“Would you rather I just let you fall?”

“No, no. That’s fine,” you say quickly.

He lets go of you and has you hold onto the seat while he heads down the ladder. Carefully, you walk towards the ladder and lower yourself down. As you climb down you feel Mando’s ghost of a touch around your waist, barely there but ready to grip you if you fall. You step down onto the floor and think you’re in the clear but your knees buckle underneath you and you lose your balance. But Mando catches you, steadying you and holding onto your waist tightly as you find your balance.

“I don’t feel good,” you say, a sudden wave of nausea washing over you.

“Do you need to lay down?”

“Y-yeah, and I need water.”

You feel him pull you over to what must be his sleeping quarters. He sets you down on his cot and leaves to grab another canteen of water, returning swiftly with it and opening it for you even though he already took off your cuffs. You take a few sips and set it on the shelf next to you. You get under the blanket and lay down while he turns off the light. You hear a faint sound, what you think is his glove coming off. All of a sudden his bare hand rests against your forehead, checking your temperature.

“You’re burning up.”

“Yup.”

“Hang on,” he says, slipping his glove back on leaving to grab something.

He returns and turns the light on. You blink a few times and get adjusted to the light again. He extends his hand to you, holding a pill in his gloved palm.

You look at it with a suspicious expression on your face. Why would you take a random pill from him? What if it’s just something to knock you out until you get back to Coruscant so you don’t have to be his problem anymore?

“It’s for your fever.”

Looking at it reluctantly you still contemplate whether or not you should take it.

“I’m not lying,” he says.

“Fine,” you say, grabbing the pill from his hand and the canteen off the shelf. You take the pill followed by a sip of water, and put the canteen away. Feeling tired again already, you lay back down on the cot and drift off to sleep, hoping to wake up well rested for once.

You didn’t sleep peacefully. You were tossing and turning, shivering and breaking a sweat. What you don’t know is that Mando was worried sick about you. He stayed up and by your side the whole time, keeping a watchful eye on you. Under the helmet, he wore a concerned expression on his face, taking note of every time you stirred in your sleep, every time you shivered, the furrow of your brow, and the beads of sweat on your forehead. It was from that moment he decided to drop the hardened bounty hunter act and shift into protective mode. But the next step is getting you to trust him.

You wake up the next morning feeling a bit better but still tired. You kicked off the blanket in your sleep and you can tell your fever has dissipated but the quality of the sleep you had was not great. Mando’s cot isn’t the most comfortable place to sleep but it sure beats sleeping on the sands of Tatooine any day. You roll over on the cot to see Mando sitting beside you, startling you.

“Have you been there the whole time?” you ask, once the small wave of shock wears off.

“Yes.”

“Why? Just to make sure I didn’t go anywhere or do anything?” you ask sourly.

“What? No, I-”

“I already told you. I’m not going anywhere. I’m not doing anything. I’m stuck here with you,” you say through gritted teeth, feeling truly fed up with him at this point.

He sighs, not out of annoyance but out of defeat, and hangs his head. You sit up on the cot and declare, “I need to use your refresher.”

“Of course,” he says, standing up, “Do you need help getting there?”

“No,” you say, rising and brushing past him. He sighs behind you but you don’t care. The storage area of the ship is small so the refresher isn’t hard to find. You step inside and turn on the water. You take off your clothes and hang them on a hook before getting in. Letting the water run over your body, you wash away the dirt from the desert, your sickness, and your exhaustion. You’re taking your time, not caring about using all of his hot water until you hear a soft knock on the door.

“What?” you call out, already getting annoyed.

“Can I come in? I have some clean clothes for you. I promise I won’t look.”

“I guess,” you respond, feeling a little relieved however that he didn’t yell at you for using all his hot water.

You hear the door open and you watch him step inside, keeping to his word and not facing the refresher. He sets the clothes on the sink and leaves. You poke your head out of the refresher and look at the clothes, curious as to why he has a spare set of women’s clothes lying around. And they’re… strange to say the least. A silver, extremely formal top and black pants that are on the complete opposite of the spectrum; casual wear. He is trying to be nice, you suppose.

You get out of the refresher and dry off with the only towel you see, trying to ignore that it’s his, and the only one he uses most likely, before putting on your new clothes. You step back out into the storage area where he’s waiting, sitting on a crate.

“Thanks for the clothes, I guess. Where did you even get these?”

“Previous… entanglements.”

“Entanglements?”

“You know what I meant,” he says, standing up.

“So on top of being your ‘job’, do you think I’m gonna be another one of your ‘entanglements’, too??” you ask, placing a hand on your hip.

“No! No, I gave them to you because… I just feel bad for you.”

Oh, now you’re absolutely livid.

“I don’t need anyone’s pity!” you yell, getting in his face (well really helmet).

“I’m just trying to help you out,” he says, calmly.

“Help me out? By taking me in for a bounty? To people who are most definitely going to kill me?” you press further.

He’s silent, not looking at you and keeping his visor locked onto the floor.

“So what is it then? Am I just another job to you or am I someone you actually care about? Because I can’t be both,” you say, folding your arms.

“I can’t… I can’t answer that,” he says softly.

You scoff and turn on your heel, heading back to his sleep quarters.

“Don’t follow me,” you snap over your shoulder.

You hear him sigh in defeat again before climbing up the ladder to the cockpit. Serves him right.

You lay down on his cot and turn over so you’re facing the wall away from the door. You close your eyes and try to fall asleep but as you’re alone with your thoughts you realize that some part of you… feels bad for him? As backwards as that sounds, you can tell that he was being genuine with you and so what if he feels bad for you? Who wouldn’t feel bad for you right now? He must not usually develop feelings for his bounties, and he’s probably facing some internal conflict right now. You sigh and get out of the cot, heading over to the ladder. You climb up to the cockpit and in a small voice you say, “Hey… I’m sorry about all of that.”

“Don’t be sorry. You were right,” he says, turning around in the pilot seat.

You sit in the passenger seat and face him, taking a deep breath before asking, “Do you… Do you have feelings for me?”

He tenses up at your question and you can visibly see him sit up straighter after hearing that.

“I’m not… used to it. Everything I’ve ever had with anyone was just some meaningless fling.”

You nod, just letting him finish. This is like the most you’ve ever heard him speak in one sitting.

“And I feel stupid because you’re one of my bounties. I’m not supposed to do this. I’m not supposed to develop feelings or get attached,” he continues, sounding even more frustrated and confused.

“Yeah, it’s not ideal… But we still have a while to go… Why not make the best of it?”

“Really? You’re okay with that?”

“Might as well enjoy myself before I go,” you shrug.

“Okay,” he sighs, “What do you want to do now?”

“Are you tired?”

He tilts his helmet to the side and before he can answer you speak first.

“That was a stupid question. Of course, you’re tired. I’ve been hogging your cot.”

“I don’t mind,” he chuckles.

You nod and climb back down the ladder before heading back to his cot. It’s pretty small, like it’s probably barely big enough for him. He meets you in his sleeping quarters and leans against the door frame.

“How do you want to do this?” you ask.

“Hm, we’ll probably have to spoon.”

“O-Okay,” you say, trying to ignore the excitement brewing between your legs.

He gets on the cot first, laying on his side and facing you.

“You sleep with all that on?”

“Not all of it, but it’s just a nap, right?”

“Mhm, just a nap,” you say, getting on the cot with him and pressing your back up against his chest.

He pulls the blanket over you two and puts a protective arm around your waist. Soon enough you hear soft snores coming out as heavy breathing underneath the helmet. He really was tired.

You wake up to the feeling of something hard pressed up against your lower back and ass. The excitement brews between your legs again. You think about how strong Mando is and how he can manhandle you and how big his cock probably is and– yeah, you're definitely wet.

You feel Mando stir behind you so you shake your ass a bit. That seems to wake him up instantly because you feel a hand grip your hip tightly followed by some cursing under his breath. You lift your leg so it’s resting over his, spreading your legs apart. He takes the hand that’s on your hip and moves it to your inner thigh, slowly inching closer to the waistband of your pants. You press your ass into him more and finally, he’s had enough of your teasing. He pushes the blanket to the side and dives his hand down your pants, running his gloved fingers along your entrance. You rest your head against him and close your eyes, reveling in the feeling of his fingers stroking you and spreading around your wetness. He pulls his hand back for a second and you think he’s done but he’s really tugging off his glove and returning his hand to your entrance, wanting to feel your wetness himself without the glove in the way. He pushes a finger in slowly, listening to the soft gasps you let out at the feeling of his finger entering you. He curls it against your walls slowly, just to get you extra worked up before inserting another. You grind your ass against him as he fingers you, getting wetter but also wishing for something besides his fingers.

“Need your cock,” you whine.

“Not until you cum first,” he growls in your ear.

You whimper and let him continue to finger you, his fingers pushing up against your g-spot perfectly. He brings his thumb to your clit, rubbing small circles and with that you’re at the brink of orgasm. You cum around his fingers, your cunt fluttering and soaking his hand down to his wrist as he whispers words of praise in your ear.

“Good girl, cyar’ika,” he says. You make a mental note to ask him what that word means later when you’re not distracted.

As you ride out your high you ask him, “Can I please have your cock now?”

“I suppose,” he teases.

He moves so he’s laying on his back and you shift to straddle him. You position yourself so that his cock is in front of you so you can pull it out and stroke it. You run your hand over the bulge in his flight suit and hear him groan under the helmet. You pull his cock out and take a look at it twitching in your hand. Somehow it’s everything you pictured it would be; long, girthy, and uncut. You start by rubbing your thumb over the head; over the pre-cum leaking out of the tip before stroking the entire length. The precum leaking from the tip spreads onto his head and down the shaft, lubing it up for him as you continue to stroke it, getting him extra hard and extra frustrated before you sit on it. He folds his arms behind his head, visor fixed on your hand on his cock. You stop stroking him for a moment to pull off your shirt over your head, watching the visor move from his cock to your chest. You give him a few more strokes before you inch up to straddle him above his cock, sinking down onto it slowly and feeling it stretch your walls. He groans at the feeling of his cock being enveloped in your warmth. You take a moment to get adjusted to his size before leaning forward. You rest your hands on his breastplate, staring directly into his visor as you rock your hips back and forth. But as you move your breast bounce perfectly and his gaze trails down to them, watching them move as you fuck yourself on his cock. He tugs off his other glove, scrambling to bring them to your breasts already, caressing the outline of them before taking your nipples between his fingertips.

“You take it so well, cyar’ika,” he says, coming out as a low, modulated purr from under the helmet.

You moan in response just as you pull your hips back, feeling his cock hit all of the deepest angles inside you.

“M-Mando, I’m gonna cum,” you moan.

“Din,” he says sternly.

“W-What?” you say, blissed out and barely hanging on.

“My name is Din. Say my name when you cum,” he growls, pinching your nipples on the last word.

“Yes, Din,” you say, continuing to grind your hips until you feel the floodgates open.

“Din, I’m coming,” you moan, watching him nod as your eyes are locked onto his visor.

You cum with him buried deep inside you, your cunt convulsing around him. The movement of your hips slows down as you cum, closing your eyes and throwing your head back in pleasure as you take in the moment of feeling full. Your orgasm pulls his own from him, spilling ropes of his cum inside you. You’re silently grateful for your implant at this moment as you feel his warm release inside you. You lean forward and rest against his chest, still keeping him inside you until he goes soft and eventually slips out. You feel his bare hand stroke your back as you lay against him.

“You’re incredible,” he says absentmindedly, resting both of his hands flat against your back.

“Thanks, Din,” you giggle, emphasizing his name.

He chuckles nervously and you can tell he’s embarrassed.

“Do you normally not tell anyone your name?” you ask, sitting back up.

“Not unless I trust you.”

“You think you can trust me?” you ask.

“I think so,” he says softly.

You lean forward so you’re face to face with the helmet, looking deeply into the visor.

“I wish I could see you,” you say, not realizing what words are slipping out of your mouth.

“I know, cyar’ika.”

“What does that mean?”

“It’s just… a Mando’a word.”

“For what?” you chuckle, pressing further.

“...Sweetheart.”

Oh.

Butterflies form in your stomach and in order to prevent him from seeing that stupid smile that’s about to form on your face, you lean forward and rest your head against his chest again.

“Is that… Is that okay?”

“Mhm. It’s more than okay, Din,” you say softly, trying to hide the giddiness in your voice.

Your stomach grumbles as you rest against him. You silently curse it for ruining the sweet moment, but Din asks, “When was the last time you’ve eaten, cyar’ika?”

“Uhh, it’s been a while.”

“Let me get you something,” he says gently.

You sigh and reluctantly roll over so he can slide off the cot. He returns with rations and says, “I know it’s not much but I don’t want you to go hungry.”

“This is fine, Din. Thank you,” you say, grabbing the rations from him and going to get out of the cot.

“No, no. You need to rest,” he says sternly.

“What? Why?”

“You haven’t eaten in a while and… you just did all the work.”

“Oh yeah, I guess I did,” you chuckle, lying down and pulling the blanket over you.

“I’m gonna go check the ship’s course. You eat and rest, okay?”

“Okay,” you nod, getting comfortable.

He leaves and climbs the ladder to the cockpit. You already miss him next to you, but the truth is he needs a moment alone because he’s morally confused. The last time he developed some sort of emotional attachment to a bounty he was briefly kicked out of the guild, and the Mandalorian covert had to relocate. Who knows what kind of consequences he could face for this? But when he comes back down to the sleeping quarters and watches you peacefully rest he knows two things; he has undeniable feelings for you, and he needs to make a decision. There are still roughly eighteen cycles or so left of the journey. He has some time to make a decision, but he better start contemplating now.

You wake up after who knows how long. The days blend together on the ship, especially when you feel like you’re in an endless cycle of sleeping for unspecified chunks of time. You look over and see Din sitting beside you and sleeping, his leg up and foot resting on his knee. The visor is angled at the floor, and his snoring is coming out as heavy breathing again.

“Din,” you say quietly, lightly shaking his knee.

He wakes up, slightly startled for a moment before realizing it’s just you.

“What is it, cyar’ika? Are you okay?”

“I’m okay. I just wanted to know how long we have left.”

“Around eighteen standard days or so.”

You nod and lay back down, trying to ignore the pit forming in your stomach at the thought of your time ending together. In the back of your mind you hope that some part of him will change his mind and will choose to not bring you in. But he’s a professional and this is how he makes a living. Who are you to change that for him?

“Can I ask you something?” he says quietly.

“Sure.”

“What did you do to get a bounty on your head?”

“I used to live in the lower levels of Coruscant where there’s a lot of violence. Garo and his gang would extort people for protection, myself included. It’s dangerous to be a woman living there alone. But eventually I didn’t have enough credits anymore, and they started coming after me… So I ran.”

“...I see.”

“Not what you expected, huh?” you chuckle.

“No, I-”

“I’m not some big, bad criminal. I’m just a normal person who got mixed up with the wrong crowd.”

“I know. I’m not judging you,” he says gently.

You nod, and he tells you to get some more rest. You happily oblige.

And so over the next two weeks, you fall into a routine of sleeping, eating rations, having sex, using the refresher and repeating. Your feelings for him grow even deeper, and you wonder if he’s feeling the same. You try not to think about how leaving him when he drops you back off on Coruscant will be one of the most devastating things you have to go through.

You have roughly four standard days left of your journey, and you’re about to do something you haven’t done yet; give Din a blowjob. He’s sitting in the pilot seat, facing the control panel, and you’re kneeling on the floor. You watch his cock pitch a tent in his flight suit and lightly run your hands over the bulge. His breath hitches at your touch as you release his cock from the fabric but instead of taking it in your hand, you press kisses along his groin and to the base of his shaft. He groans, aching for his cock in your mouth already. You decide he’s been teased enough and trail your tongue from the base of his shaft up to the tip, swirling your tongue around the head before taking his full length (or as much as you can fit) in your mouth. You bob your head up and down, cupping his balls with one hand and wrapping the other around the base of his cock. You glance up at him as you suck him off, looking straight into the visor and imagining what he looks like right now underneath the helmet; what he looks like when he’s feeling immense pleasure.

He lets out a strained, “cyar’ika” and you notice his hands beside him clenching into fists as you suck harder. His sounds become incessant, and you feel him get restless; he’s about to cum. But before you can bury his cock deeper in your mouth, he grabs each side of your face, stopping you.

“Not so fast, cyar’ika. I’m coming inside you when I fuck you,” he growls.

You nod, a little bit of his pre-cum mixed with your saliva dripping down your chin. He swipes it away with his thumb and says, “Over the control panel. Now.”

You get up, kicking off your pants and pulling your shirt over your head. You turn around so you’re facing the view from the ship, in disbelief that you’re about to get fucked with the view of hyperspace in front of you. You bend over and rest your arms on the control panel, careful not to touch any buttons, and stick your ass up for him. He gives your ass a squeeze before taking off his gloves and bringing two fingers to your cunt, running them up and down your entrance. You whine at the feather-light touch while he takes the time to play with your wetness and get you riled up. He chuckles at your frustration before pushing a finger inside you. He works your walls, swiftly adding a second finger and making you ache for his cock more. He pulls his fingers from you once he thinks you’ve been teased enough and slicks his cock with your wetness. He grabs your hips and pulls you into him, thrusting his cock into you in one clean motion.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good, cyar’ika,” he says.

You moan in response and you feel his cock stretch your walls. He reaches around you, bringing a hand to your clit. He rubs small circles around it as his cock gets buried deeper inside you. Tears spring in the corners of your eyes as he rails you over the control panel and stimulates your clit. With one last slam of his hips, you’re coming around his cock, stars sprinkling your vision as your orgasm overtakes you. A warm, tingling feeling originates at your core and spreads outwards, making your knees weak. He keeps you upright as you ride out your high, the convulsing feeling of your cunt drawing his own orgasm from him. You feel his cock spill his release inside you, filling you with the familiar feeling of his cum inside you. He pulls out once he’s finished and sits on the pilot seat, catching his breath. You stand upright and stretch before sitting on his lap and wrapping an arm around him, resting your head against his helmet.

You’re both silent for a moment, and you know why. You only have a few more standard days left of your journey, and it’s suddenly getting real for you both that this is all about to end.

“Can I say something?” he says quietly.

“Of course, Din.”

“I think… I think I love you,” he says with a shaky breath.

“You think?” you chuckle.

“I’m sorry that came out wrong. I mean, we haven't been together that long and I think I’m-”

“Relax! I think what you’re trying to say is that you’re falling for me. And I feel the same way.”

“You said it a lot better than I could’ve,” he grumbles.

You laugh and rest against him for a few moments before continuing.

“Well, don’t fall any harder because it’s all ending soon,” you sigh.

“Don’t remind me,” he says softly.

“I won’t,” you whisper, “We still have a few more cycles left. Let’s enjoy it while we can, shall we?”

He nods, and the two of you sit there silently, just enjoying each other’s company and trying to ignore the dread you’re both feeling.

Your journey with Din has come to an end. You’re strapped in the passenger seat as he begins his descent into Coruscant. Both of you are silent. You feel like if you open your mouth you’ll just start crying, and Din doesn’t even know what to say at all, for fear of making the whole situation worse.

He lands on a docking yard, and before you exit the Razor Crest, he stops at the weapon storage and hands you your blaster and dagger.

“Just in case you need them,” he says in a gloomy voice.

And with that, you start to head down to the lower levels of Coruscant. He places a hand on the small of your back as you walk through any crowded areas. It makes your heart flutter, but it also makes you heartbroken; heartbroken that this is the last physical contact you’ll get with him forever.

You head to Garo’s lair in the most obscure place of Coruscant and start to feel nauseous. This is it. Not only are you about to leave Din, but you’re pretty sure Garo and his goons are going to kill you since you can’t pay him back. Din knocks on the door, and one of his associates answers the door, giving you a nasty look. You head inside with Din and walk to the room where Garo is waiting. You wonder if Garo will wait until he’s gone to kill you. You hope he does. You don’t want Din to have to see that.

“Well, look who it is,” Garo says, sitting at a table counting credits.

Neither of you say anything as you step closer, stopping in front of his table.

“Good job, Mando. Hopefully she didn’t give you too much trouble. Bring her to me,” he continues.

One of his goons grabs you by the arm and drags you over to him. You look at Din one last time, fearing that this is it. They’re going to kill you in front of him.

Garo rises from his chair, looking you in the eye with a devious expression on his face.

“And let me guess, you don’t have the credits you owe me, do you?”

You say nothing, paralyzed with fear.

“Answer me!” he yells.

You quickly shake your head no, feeling your knees go weak.

“Just as I thought,” he sighs, grabbing the blaster from his belt and holding it against your forehead.

“You knew this was coming, though, didn’t you?”

Tears spring in your eyes, for your own sake but also for Din’s. You can’t grasp why they’re making him watch this. He did the job, they should just pay him and let him go. You close your eyes and hope for all this to be over soon.

You hear a blaster go off, and you wince. But you’re still standing; still breathing. You open your eyes and see Garo on the floor, a blaster hole in the side of his head. You turn and look where it came from and see Din, with his blaster still drawn. Garo’s goons start firing, and Din shouts, “Run, cyar’ika! Back to the Crest!”

You’ve escaped this place once before, and you can do it again. You bolt, heading for the exit and hearing all the commotion happening behind you. You place your hand on your blaster attached to your belt, prepared to start firing behind you. But they seem to be too preoccupied with taking down Din to worry about chasing after you for right now. A part of you is worried they’ll get Din but you know he’s strong and well protected. But it’s weird not having him by your side as you run for your life. You exit onto the crowded street and push past groups of people, not caring who you hit or run into. You sprint back to the docking yard, heading back up to the Crest. You don’t know how to open the exit ramp so you anxiously pace back and forth, waiting for him to suddenly appear.

And he does, running towards you and lowering the exit ramp hurriedly.

“I bought us some time,” he says quickly, “But we have to go. Now.”

You run inside and head up the ladder to the cockpit, wondering where in the galaxy Din is going to take you. Garo’s reach is powerful and if he could send someone to find you on Tatooine, surely one of his associates will also send someone else after you, the both of you now.

Din meets you in the cockpit and prepares the Crest for takeoff, lifting off quickly. But to no one’s surprise, there are ships following you. He speeds up, trying his hardest to get into space quickly so he can make the jump to lightspeed.

And just as the ships behind you start shooting, he makes the jump, sighing in relief that you’re safe… for now.

“Where are we going?”

“I know a place… somewhere they won’t find us.”

“I doubt that, Din. If they sent you to find me on Tatooine, they’ll send someone after us both. No matter where we go.”

He spins around in the pilot seat to face you and says, “Have you heard of Seelos?”

“...No?”

“Exactly. They won’t find us there.”

“Well, what kind of planet is it?”

He’s silent, like he’s nervous to reveal what Seelos is like. And then it dawns on you.

“Don't tell me it’s a-”

“It’s a desert. Because I know you love them so much,” he deadpans.

You sigh but before you can say anything else he says, “But there’s also mountains. We can live there.”

“I’d live anywhere as long as it's with you, Din.”

“Me, too, cyar’ika.”

You take a deep breath, feeling at peace for the first time in a while. Knowing you have Din by your side you know you’re safe, always.

End note: I hope you guys enjoyed this one! I feel the most in my element writing for my silly tin can man!! If you have any requests for Din, send them my way! 🖤🖤🖤

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