#this man sitting in his apartment in the dark talking to millions through a tiny screen

[angllicjk]

𝐈’𝐌 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐍𝐞𝐞𝐝 (𝐌)

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Alt Nextdoor Neighbor!Jungkook X Bartender!(fem)Reader

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 9.4K

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: While you're too busy putting up with that asshole boyfriend of yours, Jungkook spends his time trying to get you to see that he could be a better man for you. You're all he wants and he knows you want him just as much, you just need a little push. Specifically a night in with him and perhaps spill all he feels to you even if it might lead to you both falling apart.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬/𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: pining(jk), sum angst, tiny fluff, sorta unrequited feelings but not rlly, oc is emotionally constipated & very conflicted, jk is a desperate feral simp for oc, jk with neck tatts & of course his sleeve tatt😩, jk wearing smudge eyeliner(soooo hot), jk with brow & lip piercing, jealousy, slight possessive jk!, mentions of toxic relationship, smoking pot(jk & oc), infidelity(oc), arguing, sexual tension, heavy petting, heated making out, sexual intercourse, unprotected sex, big dick!jk, softdom!jk, sub!oc, rough vaginal fingering, oral(f receiving very briefly), cum eating/tasting, squirting, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, size kink/difference, light dirty talk, missionary, biting/marking & light choking.

A/N: Hiii!. I’m back with another fic 🫶🏻 this took kinda long to finish & for what, I was kinda iffy about it but I rlly wanted to post another story again. I rlly hope you enjoy this, pls let me know. I shall post another one soon hopefully. I love youuu allll💗💕🩷🎀

Through the thick haze that lingers over the both of you in his bedroom, Jungkook still can’t wrap his mind around the fact that you’re real and sitting right next to him. A cloudy puff of smoke escapes your red stained lips, licking them right after and when you turn to look at him with a blissful smile. He couldn’t think of a better sight. A better moment than this, because he likes the way you look beside him in his room, on his bed, when you look at him like that. Just you.

Jungkook’s been trying to get you to come over to his place for a while now. Seeing you in the halls in passing or down at the laundromat and sometimes in the elevator isn’t enough for him. Being next door to you simply isn’t enough. The amount of times he’s knocked on your door to borrow some fucking sugar or to ask if you need your sink fixed again. Hell, he’s gone as far as pretending his shower was broken just so he could use yours in the meantime. Anything in the book just to get closer to you really.

Like almost every night when he’s waiting up for you after your shift from the bar a little ways from the complex just so he could walk you home. Asking about your night and keeping you company down the sketchy dark streets because he doesn’t like the thought of you all alone out there.

You always remind him that he doesn’t have to do that but Jungkook insists he must and walks you home every night anyway. He likes to. Especially if it means he gets to spend more time with you while keeping you safe.

“I just needa make sure my pretty neighbor gets inside safely, can’t have anything happen to her.”

An addictive sensual melody of a song plays low from his stereo system, filling the lingering silence between you in Jungkook’s bedroom and the heady bliss you’re starting to feel puts your overworked mind at ease.

You said you wanted to forget about whatever happened in your walls earlier(all he heard was some heated argument between you and your bitch ass boyfriend) and for once not feel a single thing but that of the burning relaxation between your fingers. Which is why you’re currently sitting beside him on his comfy bed smoking some of the pot he deals. And yet, here he is making you feel a million other things instead. Jungkook is not even doing anything but merely existing.

The way he looks so pretty leaning back against his deep burgundy colored wall. It’s cute how long strands of hair nearly cover his dark eye-lined eyes, although you miss the sight of his hot brow piercing. He had you melting on sight when he walked you home not even an hour ago when you first saw him. The fit of a signature leather jacket, an old band tee that fits his slim frame perfectly and baggy denim jeans with a metal square studded belt gleaming around his hips. Veiny wrists clad in thick leather bands, some silver studded and spiked as well. Long slender fingers adorning pretty silver jewelry.

Jungkook always looks so good.

Damn him for being so fucking hot.

“Got anything on your mind?. Wanna share?.” He breaks the silence, staring back at you whilst taking a long drag from the thick blunt held within two digits. His leather jacket had been shrugged off the moment you both entered his room and now you’ve got the pleasure of staring at his beautiful tattooed arm and a few that litter the right side of his neck.

It’s a moment before you answer, eyes trailing up to his pretty irises that stare back at you, glazed over with a look you can’t quite pinpoint this instant, but it makes your insides feel on fire. If he knew what you were currently thinking about, you wonder what he’d say or do. The guy is almost always running through your mind, as much as you don’t want to admit it.

“I don’t think so.”

He hears you utter softly, tearing your gaze away to place your attention upon the many posters he’s got plastered over his wall instead. You can’t handle the way he’s looking at you anymore. Jungkook just loves eye contact.

“Why not?.” He sighs in disbelief, neglecting his half smoked blunt on the ashtray near him on his desk. Jungkook doesn’t want to get too fucked up and properly enjoy this time spent with you. He’s not sure if you’d wanna come back again after tonight. But he can’t help but think that you look like you belong here right beside him.

A breathy chuckle tumbles out of you along with smoke. You roll your eyes and shake your head.

“Because it’s simply not something I want you to know.”

Now Jungkook really wants to know what's going on inside that mind of yours. He’s got a few guesses, but he’s not so sure you’d like to hear them.

A sudden thought ponders in his mind and with a quirk of a brow he scoots a bit closer as he then suggests,

“Well, what if I tell you something in return?.”

The idea momentarily intrigues you, lifting your head to meet his excitement filled orbs. He almost looks innocent for a change.

“Mm, like what?.” You ask before inhaling another huff of the now shortened blunt.

Jungkook gets a bit distracted watching you and the way you blow out the smoke from your lips. Why do you make smoking look so hot?.

Another thing he finds himself distracted by is the peek of cleavage he sees by the first few buttons undone of your white blouse mandatory for your bartending gig. His throat constricts at the sight, arousal burning in his gut and Jungkook forces his eyes back up, delaying in his response to you.

“It can be anything.”

“Fine, tell me a secret.” You comply without much thought, not really minding the idea at all. It should be fun and simple, something else to keep the thoughts at bay.

Jungkook likes the sound of that, so he leans close and whispers in your ear. The deepness of his low timbre and lips slightly grazing the shell of your ear, it all sends a good tingle down your spine you try to fight off. You don’t want him to know the effect he has on you.

“I heard you the other night through the wall and I fucked my fist hard imagining it was you instead. Came so damn hard hearing the hot sounds you made.”

The filth he just confessed widens your eyes in slight surprise. Did he just say that?. The fact that Jungkook got off to the sound of you trying to make yourself cum after hours in bed and admitted it was so hot.

The walls are thin and you’ve found his bed is adjacent to yours with the same layout as your own apartment. So it’s no wonder he could hear you. Sometimes you hear him as well.

You very much heard him that night too and his desperate sexy moans through the walls fueled your own drive to your end with your hot neighbor in mind. So much for keeping the thoughts at bay, because now they stray further imagining what he might look like himself laying in bed chasing his own end. Most likely shirtless, boxers pulled halfway down with a tight fist wrapped around his hard cock, head thrown back, sweaty chest heaving, mouth wide open and groa— Okay! That’s enough!. You force the sinful thoughts to go away at once. It’s definitely not something you want to think about right now with him right beside you. It’s not so good for your foggy mind and the ache between your legs.

Jungkook leans back a bit, taking in the expression on your face with a teasing grin. He knows he’s got you all hot and bothered. You can try to hide it all you want, but he knows. Jungkook always knows.

“Your turn.” The whisper he rasps deeply in your ear fuels simmering heat in the pit of your tummy. It’s crazy how just hearing his voice is enough to make you feel all hot.

‘Come on Y/N. Keep it together’.

When you turn to look at him once again with those pretty eyes, all Jungkook wants is to simply tug you to him impossibly closer and kiss the fuck out of you. To taste those sweet lips he’s always dreaming about.

“I like that you walk me home every night, it’s sweet of you.” He barely hears your low voice, but you say it so lovely with a tiny smile peering up at him, giving him a glimpse of your pretty teeth.

How are you so fucking cute right now?.

“I like you so much.” Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to confess, passion dripping off his tongue. It tugs your heartstrings, but you pretend you didn’t hear it.

“That time you took a shower in my bathroom when you forgot a towel and I brought you one. Well, after you left I went to my room and touched myself because I thought you looked so hot half naked and with dripping wet hair.” It almost took a lot for you to admit that, but it just came out. A sheepish smile spreads across your face with slight embarrassment. You bring the blunt up to your lips for another much needed drag.

Since he shared a dirty secret, why not share one too. It’s only fair.

“Fuck, your so hot.” Jungkook groans at the thought, shutting his eyes for a moment as he tugs his bottom lip between his teeth imagining you in bed desperately trying to get yourself off to the thought of him.

“I want you to come over more.” He then says, a bit eagerly turning back to you.

“I like the little talks we have and when you're kind enough to ask if I need help with anything.” You add on, gaze softening as you remember those times Jungkook was able to make you forget what a hard night you had with stories of his own that got a few laughs out of you or even asking about the things no one ever takes the time to learn about you, especially when he never does.

It’s what you really appreciate and a part of you hopes that you never lose the safe space that you feel with Jungkook, whenever you’re near him. He’s a comforting warmth, a home you terribly miss sometimes, keeps the empty void within filled that yearns for something. He makes it all feel even a little better most times.

“You’re such a sweetheart and I hate when that motherfucker comes around when he treats you like shit.”

And suddenly it changes in a millisecond. You still briefly, body growing tense beside him and he notices the change as well when the smile slips off your face, knowing he hit a nerve he shouldn’t have.

“You didn’t have to say that.” Low and soft you utter tinged with sadness and he feels the disappointment in your words. In the way you look at him. Your hurt filled eyes tell him so. Striking a pang in his heart, but he can’t bear this any longer. Everything he feels on the inside. Himself. For you. About you. It’s always you.

“But it’s true. Why do you let it happen when…when you have me.” Jungkook sighs with the utmost pented frustration. He doesn’t get why you let yourself get treated so badly. That the lousy fucker is taking advantage of you and messing with your beautiful head. It’s sickening. His heart hurts knowing it and the fact that he can’t necessarily do anything about it. At least not without hurting you in the process by butting into your toxic relationship. You’d probably stop speaking to him if he tried to as well, something he certainly cannot risk. But here he is doing just that. Jungkook just can’t let it happen anymore.

“It’s…it’s just complicated.”

It’s all you could ever say, he’s heard it all before. It’s always so fucking complicated and it seems like it’s never going to get uncomplicated any time soon either. Deep down you know this, but you’re too stubborn to still try to make it work.

“It wouldn’t be with me.” He clasps his hand over yours that’s resting upon your naked thigh, gently squeezing your plush skin in a comforting manner. It startles you, makes you feel those things all over again. Everything he’s saying is getting to your head and taking over your body. Maybe it’s the weed. It’s definitely the weed.

“What are you doing?.” With furrowed brows in confusion, you pull your hand away from under his searing touch and scoot further to create some type of distance. He’s too close for comfort, for the addictive feeling he provides that’s all too consuming.

You’re slipping away from him, putting up those walls he’s been trying to tear down for months now. He won’t let you, not this time.

“I just wanna show you how sweet I could be to you.” Jungkook never tears his gaze away, eyes holding so much emotion that you almost can’t hold it together yourself and it’s enough to crack some of the hard shelled resolve you’ve tried scraping together in a desperate attempt to stay put, never stray.

“You are sweet Jungkook, so sweet I-…I don’t know what to do with myself sometimes.” You sighed out almost defeatedly as you slump your head against his wall, staring up at the ceiling.

He’s the sweetest and everything opposite from the man you’ve been seeing. Jungkook cares about you so much, you can tell by the way he’s always looking out for you. The things he says, the things he does for you even when you don’t ask for it. The efforts he makes in getting to know the real you and when he gives you the heart-melting look that makes you want to unleash the deepest parts of you that you never share with anyone else. To let him have his way. Let him have you.

“I want you, you already know this.” Jungkook’s husky whisper brings you back to him and the comforting yet suffocating confines of his bedroom.

He wants to so badly reach out and hold your hand. Have you look at him again and make you hear his heart out till it’s full content, till you know everything he hopes, dreams and desires for.

“You don’t need that stupid pretty boy, I bet he doesn’t know how to take care of you since I keep hearing you night after night.” Jungkook shakes his head, gently leaning closer to have you near him again. Within his four walls, inches, millimeters. It’s never enough for Jungkook and it never will be. If he could sear himself into your skin, meld himself forever to your body, he would if it meant never parting from you. If it meant you’d belong to him and he belonged to you.

Wouldn’t you want that too?.

Your breath hitches at how terribly right he is. It’s always half assed and most of the time you never finish, leaving you high and dry and it hurts whenever he leaves right after, stinging your heart and pride. Leaving you alone in bed to cry, wallowing in self pity.

“Plus, I’m way prettier.”

Of course, he speaks no lies. Jungkook’s the prettiest and handsomest you’ve ever seen. No one could compare nor compete. You’re always staring a little too long at his pretty plush lips and the shiny lip ring pierced into his skin you find so hot, glittering doe eyes, flawless features that always steals the breath from your lungs whenever you see him. He’s like a perfect daydream come to life.

“I just know I could have that pussy soaking for me in seconds.” He’s in your ear again and again his hand gently grips over your thigh, fingers sinking in between the skin where they meet.

The sudden touch has you snapping your head to look back at him, startled and he’s so close. If you lean in just a bit you could kiss him. Jungkook smiles his cute smile down at you as his hand kneads your plush thigh.

“Huh, you just need to hear my voice and have me look at you like this, don’t you?.” He rasps deeply. The sound rich in your ears that sends a pulse and multitude of flutters to your pussy.

He isn’t wrong. Jungkook doesn’t have to do much to get you wet and going. Especially when he lives in your mind most late nights.

He hums and pushes his hand further between your legs and you slightly pull them apart for him, falling into his sweet temptation. You bet his long and slender fingers would feel so good, better than your own on those nights when you’re desperate.

“I bet you’re so wet right now. I could take care of it.”

A soft moan escapes you at the first light stroke of his finger against your covered clit he finds easily.

“There she is, let me in baby, please.” He rubs it over a few more times, nail grazing it gently before his hand fully engulfs your heat, cupping it in his hold. Palm digging against your mound and rubbing it in a slow but hard tandem that pulls a loud moan from your throat, unable to hold it back and you allow your eyes to fall shut, basking in the pleasure he provides. Gently rocking your hips up against the firmness of his palm. He drops his head beside yours, groaning into your ear as he feels wetness seeping through your panties. Cock hardening to life, throbbing painfully and the tightness in his jeans is beginning to feel almost unbearable.

“I know you want me too.” Jungkook urges, breath picking up and suddenly you snap out of his spell, quickly removing his hand from between your legs.

No. It’s too much. You can’t let yourself fall too deep in whatever this is between you. It isn’t fair to Jungkook and yourself, not when he’s still in the picture.

“You’re delusional.” You spat with spite, scooting further away from him once again. Disappointed with every second that you almost let yourself get pulled astray into his tight clutches.

Jungkook scoffs, shaking his head. He grins amusedly and shuffles his way to you on his bed. “Maybe, but you are too if you think things are gonna work out with that little boy.”

“It might.” You retort weakly, although you don’t sound so sure yourself.

He cackles, throwing his head back.

“Oh, sweetheart it wouldn’t and you know it.”

Jungkook is beside you once again and continues on his little spiel.

“I know you like me too. You can’t stay away either. Stop lying to yourself. You want me to keep looking at you, want me to keep coming over and ask for stupid shit cuz you know I just wanna see you. You want me to keep wanting you, but baby I could only hold out for so long.”

His words rattle you, stir something in you that you try to force down, but perhaps Jungkook is right. You like the guy, absolutely adore him and maybe if you had met him first, in different circumstances. One where you're a better version of yourself, not struggling, not so desperate for a new change in life, things could be different.

“Why do you like me so much?.” A frustrated sigh heaves past your lips, looking back at him with deep perplexity.

Who would like you like this?. Want you this way?.

You know he’s liked you ever since you moved in all those months ago and you’ve always wondered why. What did he see in you?. What made him want you this much?.

“Because I did the moment I saw you. It just happened. I think you’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen, always.” Jungkook’s eyes are practically heart shaped, staring back at you with such intensity yet a loving softness that makes your whole world spin out of control.

Smoke wafts between you and the now neglected bud between your fingers continue to burn just like your desire for him.

You don’t know if it would ever die like fiery embers, fade away into nothingness. It possibly couldn’t. He’s always fueling the fire.

“No one’s captured my sole attention so easily like you do. I’m so drawn to you and I can’t help it. I like how sweet you really are. I like watching you get excited over little things because I hardly get to see you that way. Like that time we stopped at the convenience store on the way home and you were so happy they restocked those jelly candies you like so much. It was really cute.”

Your breath hitches and your insides turn to mush.

Fuck, what is he doing?.

Jungkook chuckles, seemingly thinking of something else before he goes on to tell you more.

“You’re cute when you think you’re alone in the laundromat, with your earphones in, singing along to your music and doing little dances. You care, even if you get irritated with me sometimes, you still don’t hesitate to help and I know you’re smart. I’ve sneaked a peek of your architecture designs and ideas before when you weren’t looking.”

He sees the second your eyes widen with shock and slight irritation but before you could say anything on the matter, he beats you to it.

“They’re great, you don’t need to give up something you love just for someone who doesn’t deserve you. You don’t need him at all to make it. You could do that on your own.” Jungkook speaks everything he means and the way he’s looking at you right now is scary because deep down you know it’s true. You tear your glossed over eyes from his ardent ones and shuffle off of his bed completely.

“You know, I came here to forget things but you’re only making it harder by bringing this shit up Jungkook. I don’t need this right now. I’d appreciate it if you could just mind your own fucking business for once.” You’re snagging your purse from his bedside table and yanking it onto your shoulder, putting out the neglected blunt on the ashtray near his soft glowing lamp light.

His brows pin together in deep confusion and hurries off his bed as well with abruptness, trailing after you.

“You know I can’t when it comes to you.”

Standing beside you in a second, eyes moving frantically over the side of your face. He places a hand upon your shoulder, shaking you gently for a second more of your attention.

What had he done?. He just told you half of what he loves and admires of you and then you're running away the next second, looking mad at him as if he’s the one who's to blame for the hell in your life.

“Would you please look at me?.”

You don’t give him that, too busy trying to get your heels back on as you hold onto his wall for support. You’re leaving and Jungkook’s panicking. He’s in front of you now, invading your space as you shift to get the other heel on.

“If you want to forget, I could make you.”

“I know what you really need, just say the words and I will.” He urges on, watching you intensely for your next move and impatiently of the words you speak.

“I need to go.” Is all you mutter, moving past him to his door as you reach for the old brass knob.

Jungkook’s fingers clutch tightly onto the band of your black skirt from behind as a last resort to stop you from twisting it open and leaving.

“Fine. If you leave, then this is the last time I’ll ever bother you. You want me to stay out of your business, I will. I’ll leave you alone for good.” You hear him huff in a threatening snarl, yanking his touch off of you as he backs away to give you the space you clearly wanted.

“I don’t want to keep waiting around for something that’s not gonna happen. I need to move on too.” He then spits with sharp bitterness.

You turn around to meet his frustrated dark orbs. Brows pinched in a mean furrow as he watches you.

It should be enough for you to walk away, to walk out of his room and never look back. He’s making it easy for you but so hard to do so at the same time. If this means not seeing him everyday, his pretty smiles, the talks you two share on the way home together and basking in the comfort he brings you by simply being within his presence. Abandoning the home he’s made in your heart. Fuck!. You can’t do it. You shouldn’t have gotten too close. It was going to hurt either way, you or him and all you’ve been doing is hurting him and ultimately yourself in the process.

“You’re always in the way. Why do you always make everything so goddamn hard, Jungkook.” You huff so frustratedly, shoulders dropping along with your resolve because you can’t do this anymore.

He shakes his head vehemently, jaw tensing as he takes a step closer. His heavy gaze pierces your being. It makes you feel small and pathetic. You are in this moment and so weak for Jungkook and all of what he makes you feel.

“No, you do that on your own. You want to stay miserable with that fucker be my guest, but you know I’d take care of you way better than him. I may not be rich like he is, but I can still give you everything you need.”

Jungkook states, now standing directly in front of you. He never loses the mean furrow or the frustration and burning anger in his eyes you witness. Baring them to you and it takes all of you to keep yourself rooted in place, to not step up to him, lean in and put out the fire yourself.

“I’ll always take care of you. Always make you feel wanted and special because you are to me. I love you but you make it so hard for me when you act like the dumb and weak little thing he wants you to be for him.” The nasty edge of the last sentence he grits through clenched teeth strikes a nerve within you. You know how awfully right he is. It’s draining and a pain how right Jungkook always is but never as much as it is being with him. Despite his crude words, his touch upon your cheek as he curls a strand of hair behind your ear is gentle and soft just how he is with you.

The way you fell for him.

“I want you to be my proud shining gem, my sweet girl.” Harsh gaze softening, cradling your cheek like you’re a precious porcelain doll. He whispers near your lips, pure adoration melting into you and your lustrous eyes warm with a passion that his heart yearns for. Eyes falling to your lips he’s aching on the inside to get a taste of, he can’t help it.

This time you can’t turn away. Can’t stop the feeling he's bloomed inside you ever since you met him in the hallway the first week you moved in all those months ago. This time you can’t fight it and push everything you feel for Jungkook in the deep crevices within that you never look for.

You let yourself feel it all. Your frustration, your weak temptations for the man standing before you that looks at you like you are the whole universe. Deep yearning and ache whenever he’s near. His anger, his frustration, his comfort and all his love. It’s all you truly want.

It’s what drives you to close the hair's breadth distance in between and meld your lips against his soft ones. You feel him go rigid and still for the briefest moment in slight surprise. It’s like electric currents shocking through him at once and he’s tangling his hand in your hair and the other at the side of your neck, kissing you back with just as much fervor. Both of your tongues wrestle together, ravishing each other like you’ve been starved all your life. Teeth clashing, mixed saliva staining the corners of your mouth and chin as you taste one another.

Jungkook pulls you by the waist and yanks you back with him towards the edge of his bed, manhandling you around as he pulls apart from your lips to push you back on his bed. He’s on you in a second and devouring your lips once again. Groaning into your mouth at the taste of you, so sweet and so addictive. Soft moans of yours into his mouth he swallows up and they get louder and desperate at the way he grinds his hips against your covered mound.

“Want you so fucking bad. Always.” Jungkook breathily moans against your cheek, lips traveling past your jaw and upon your neck. Suckling and mouthing hot wet kisses against your skin in his wake to explore your body.

You moan in response, tangling your fingers into his dark hair and tugging at the strands. His touch, kisses, everything feels so amazing. You can’t believe you kept yourself from this. From him for so long.

He paints his own marks into the side of your neck whilst his hands bunch your skirt up to expose your covered core in sexy black lace panties. He pulls his lips apart and lifts his head to peer down at you.

“Can I make you feel good?.” Jungkook groaned softly against you, smooth palm rubbing over your covered cunt and when his fingers brush over your clit through the fabric, how could you deny him when the simple touch of him makes you feel so damn good. Body hot, tingling and aching desperately for him.

“Yes, please! Please!.You softly moan, nodding your head rapidly up at him.

Jungkook chuckles lightheartedly, swiping strands of hair back from your flushed face.

“Heh, aw, you sound so pretty when you beg like that.”

Alas he skims his hand beneath the hem of your panties and plays with your slick folds, spreading them apart with his fingers. They drift lower and feel just how wet you already are and Jungkook groans in delight.

“Fuck, so wet baby. I’ll take care of you. I’ll show you how good I can, better than he ever could.”

Your body squirms underneath his big frame towering above you, whines and moans escaping you as he cops his feel of your hot pulsating pussy and a startled gasp tumbles past your lips when Jungkook suddenly tears your panties down your thighs quite aggressively till they fall off your feet.

He pushes your thighs apart and you spread them wider for him as he lowers himself down your body to fully engulf the beautiful sight of your exposed cunt to his hungry eyes. Glossy with your slick, puffed and throbbing just for him. A sharp intake of breath is heard as he stares intensely at your gaping hole. His cock grows harder at the sight and Jungkook has to hold himself back, fingers wrinkling the sheets hard in his hold at the side of your head.

God, you drive him to insanity and he knows he’s not gonna last long once he finally gets to be inside you.

“Jungkook, please don’t just stare.” His eyes snap up towards your face and sees the complete lust swirling in your irises. The furrow between your brows, begging him to do something just like your cunt throbs for the same thing.

“I need you.”

He moans throatily at your desperate plea and it has him springing into action. Leaning back up to smash his lips against yours with his fingers back between your wet folds. He swallows up your whines when his fingers rub your needy clit, gathering the juices you leak to spread all over your bud he plays with. Back arching and mouth falling open against his as he sinks two digits inside immediately with how drenched you absolutely are, coating them fully.

“Oh!. Oh my- fuck!-“ A near-sob racks through you, head falling back against the sheets.

“Feels good huh. You're squeezing my fingers so tight, baby.” Jungkook purrs in your ear, plunging his digits in and out of your plush walls in a maddening pace that already has you a quivering mess beneath him.

Obscene squelches of his fingers fucking your soaked pussy fill the otherwise silence of his bedroom. You don’t even remember when you last heard the remnants of the playlist he had playing long moments ago. All your clouded mind and body knows is the hot pleasure coursing through your veins, just how good Jungkook is making you feel.

Your breathy and whiny moans raise octaves higher the deeper he reaches inside your cunt each time he pounds his digits back in, finding that special spongy spot that gushes more of your essence, dripping down his hand and wetting his sheets below. He doesn’t care one bit of the mess you’re making, hell no, it only fuels his carnal desire to see you make an even bigger mess, to see just how fucking wetter he can get your pretty pussy for him.

“Right there huh?. Mmm, fuck you’re so hot. So perfect for me, sweetheart.” He’s so turned on, body buzzing with hot arousal watching you squirm and the way your wet pussy tightens around his fingers. No thoughts but your tight plush cunt, the hot sounds you make that sends his cock throbbing in his jeans begging for a feel of you. Filled with the sudden urge as he licks the side of your face up, tongue flattening and leaving a sheen of his saliva before biting the apple of your cheek hard with a deep groan rumbling against your skin.

The action you find oddly hot yourself and he knows it too by the way your pussy clenches around his fingers hard. He catches your pretty face that contorts deeply in pleasure, watching him with fucked out eyes, mouth wide open of your cute moans falling one after the other at the fast pace he fucks your cunt.

Fuck, how are you so fucking beautiful like this?. How do you always manage to outdo yourself and make him fall harder for you 100x more than he already has.

Needing to taste you all over again, he drives his tongue down your open mouth, sucking and wrestling with yours in a frantic heated rhythm. Jungkook practically devours you, never wanting to part and both your saliva mixed makes the kiss more messy and nasty than it already is.

He never ceases the harsh pace his fingers pound into you nor does he give you a moment to breath kissing you like he’ll never get to again.

“Mmm!- Ju- ngh!.” You struggle against him to get some air in, voice muffled against his mouth.

How he ravishes you and fucks your leaking pussy, it’s almost too much and the coil in your stomach further expands, almost ready to explode any moment at how heavenly you feel.

Jungkook gets one last long kiss of your lips then pulls apart finally and you get blessed with the sight of his rosy, plump lips with a sheen of your mixed salivas coating them. There’s small streaks of your smeared red lipstick at the corner of his lips and down his chin as well. He looks so pretty and the sight of him sends your cunt pulsating a multitude of currents around his fingers.

A whine of protest leaves you the second he backs away a bit, hands pushing your thighs higher against your chest and he lifts a brow at you to comply.

“Be a good girl and hold them up for me.” In a heartbeat, you hook your hands beneath the fold of your knees and keep them up like he wants.

“Good girl.” Jungkook hums with satisfaction and leans back over you, dropping his head against your forehead, dark lidded eyes boring into yours.

“Baby, I want you to watch with me as I make this perfect pussy squirt for me.”

You moan in response and when he shifts his head to look down, so do you and your breath gets caught in your throat.

Watching him continue to batter your pussy with his two long pretty fingers plunging in and out at a menacingly fast and hard pace. With his tattooed hand that is clad in his leather and silver bracelets, a thick black one with spikes. Eyes skimming over the veins that pop out prominently from the strain he’s putting on his tattooed arm to make you cum. Fingers reaching so deep in your pussy you nearly can’t take it anymore as he pounds and twists his digits in. It’s all enough to have you quake with immense pleasure, eyes wanting to fall shut but you fight to keep them open, orbs crossing over and the band in your tummy snaps at once as you cum hard, jets of your essence shooting out your gaping hole the moment Jungkook pulls his fingers out to see your pussy squirt like he so badly wanted to.

It splashes over your whole mound, wetting your thighs with droplets and soaking his sheets below your bottom as well as sprinkling some spots on his dark denim jeans.

“Holy shit!. That’s so fucking hot. You’re so- Mmm!- So hot, baby.” Jungkook growls almost animalistically, cupping both your cheeks and giving you a searing kiss, taking your bottom lip between his teeth and biting into the plump flesh before letting it go.

He nearly came in his pants at the sight of your pussy squirting and the obscene view of it soaking wet, still pulsating from the intense pleasure he gave you.

“One more time before I fuck your pussy, wanna see it again.” Jungkook pleads while pecking your lips with chaste kisses over and over.

“No!. I don’t thin-“ You immediately shake your head whining at the thought, you're so sensitive and you’re not so sure you can do it again. It was a whole new intense feeling for you.

Jungkook seems to think otherwise, nodding his head down at you.

“Yes, baby. Yes you can. I’ll fuckin’ make you do it again for me.”

With that, he’s shoving the same two digits back into your sloppy cunt, sinking in knuckle deep and fucking his fingers in your pussy twice as fast and hard. So determined to make you explode like a waterfall once more.

Your moans become uncontrollable, high in pitch as you throw your head back. Body buzzing with hot searing pleasure, hips and legs shaking violently as you lay there and take it. His fingers reach so deep, jackhammering into your g spot over and over in a frenzy.

Jungkook sucks in a deep breath, moaning along with you. So addicted to watching the sight of your beautiful tear stained face cry out in ecstasy then down below where he fucks your soaked pussy, fingers drenched in your sweet juices. Damn, he doesn’t know which sight to focus on more.

You’re quaking with intense pleasure, so loud and crying out for him. He feels a hand of yours clinging onto the front of his shirt and tugs, needing something to help you grasp reality but you’re too far gone. Too drunk off of the way he’s making you feel with his fingers alone.

“Shit!. You’re gonna cum. Gonna fuckin’ squirt for me. Can feel it sweetheart. Squeezing me so damn tight.” Your walls grip his digits so tight he almost can’t pull out all the way, so he keeps abusing them deeper against that sweet spot of yours.

“I- fuckkk!. Jungkook!. I can’t- Nghh!. Oh!.” You sob aloud, almost pathetically as your body shakes violently underneath him. You’re so close, he can feel it and Jungkook is just as desperate as you are to have you reach euphoria.

“Yes you can. C’mon baby, let go for me. Fuckin’ give it to me please!.” Jungkook coos down at you with low growls and pleas of his own. It’s all it takes to have you reach your end. “Hah!. Fuck fuck fuckkkk.” Convulsing, eyes blown in ecstasy staring back at him as you cum so hard around his digits. Splashing more of your essence all over his hand and pussy absolutely drenched with your wetness.

Jungkook stares mesmerized at the mess he’s made of you and he can’t help but to play with you a bit more. Splaying his fingers flat over your folds, further spreading your wetness all over. You’re so soaked, swollen red and still so sensitive. You push his hand away with a helpless yelp of protest.

He surprises you as he lifts his hand and licks your slick off of his fingers, sticking the same ones he fucked you with in his mouth. Sucking on them and moaning in delight at your taste as he does so. A breath of yours hitches, feeling hot all over once again at the lewd sight of him enjoying the taste of you off his fingers.

“Mmm, so fuckin’ good. Love your taste…need more.”

Before you know it Jungkook lowers himself between your spread legs, face diving first into your pussy. A sharp gasp escapes you fleetingly, chest heaving and you watch from above as he laps at your folds. Drunken orbs staring up at you before they fall shut with brows furrowed deeply in pleasure like he’s the one getting eaten out.

“S-stop!. Pleasseee!.” You nearly scream as he tongue fucks your hole, thighs clamping tight around his head as you try to wiggle feel, but Jungkook doesn’t care and wraps his arms around your thighs to stop you from thrashing in his hold.

“Mmngh…just a taste, baby.” The vibrations of his growl against your pussy sends a rack of shivers through you and you whine helplessly, trying to pull him off by the grip of his hair.

“Hah!. Uh- that’s enough!.” You yank harder and this time he relents, mouth pulling off of your slick pearl with a wet suck.

The taste of you lingers on his tongue and he’s become so addicted to it. He didn’t want to stop and have you keep cumming on his face, in his mouth, on his tongue and drink all you have to offer up like the best thing in the world. Jungkook rests his forehead against your sweaty one, heavy breaths mixing with your pants and fanning over your cheeks. Carnal passion burning in his pretty smudge eyeliner orbs. He’s so fucking hot and your pussy clenches hard staring up at him. He pecks your lips once and twice more, missing them on him.

“Next time, I’ll make you cum on my tongue. Eat this sweet pussy for hours till you beg me to fuckin stop and trust me, I won’t want to.” Jungkook promises, backing away to finally unbuckle his studded belt, watching you as he does so and your pretty pussy that still throbs for him.

His words catch you off guard for a moment and excitement courses within you at the thought of doing this again. Smile growing wide as you watch him get his pants off while you lift your own top overhead, fingers undoing your bra and tossing it aside.

He stills for a moment, sucks in a breath at the sight of you, plump breasts, all naked, and exposed lying there just for him.

“Fuck, look at you. So beautiful.” Jungkook whispers more to himself as he lifts his own t-shirt overhead and you marvel at the beauty he is. He’s well defined, built of scrumptious muscles, prominent veins you have a certain attraction for with a snatched waist you're almost jealous of and deep v-lines leading to his clean shaven dick that stands tall and proud. Your eyes immediately zero in on it. He’s painfully hard, big and girthy, mushroom tip an angry red with beads of precum leaking down his shaft. It twitches a few times and he can’t help but to wrap his hand around himself, squeezing his base and lightly jacking himself off for a bit.

His dick is so pretty just like him. Every inch of his body is absolutely beautiful.

It’s so hot seeing him touch himself and watching you with heavy lust filled eyes as he does so. It has you slithering a hand past your naval and parting your folds, slipping your fingers inside. A soft moan escapes you at the feeling and it seems to have snapped something in Jungkook because suddenly he’s yanking your hand out of your pussy and pulling it up to his lips. Sucking on your digits for another taste of you. Throwing your hand back down and leaning over your smaller frame as he grabs you by the throat with slight pressure.

You're a bit startled but so excited and utterly turned on by him and the slight aggression he shows towards you, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him in even closer. He grabs himself by the base and lines his cock with your leaking hole, resting his mushroom tip against it just barely pushing in.

“Do you still want this with me?. Tell me.” He adds more pressure upon your throat, lightening his grip a moment after to have you answer him properly.

Though you nod your head frantically at his words along with desperate pleas falling rapidly from your lips.

“Yes. I want you so bad, Jungkook. Only you.”

“Fuck!.” He hisses, pushing the entirety of his hard length inside your pussy to the hilt in one go with no resistance due to how wet you still are. Body going still and muttering curses against your cheek, breath hitching at how heavenly you feel around his cock. So fucking wet, plush walls chocking him tight and the flutters of your pussy inside he can feel has him on edge already, eyes nearly rolling because fuck, do you feel so goddamn good.

“Fucking tight. God, feel so perfect baby.” He nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck, sucking and biting more marks into your skin since the ones from before are starting to fade. You’re his now and if you don’t know it already he’ll make you.

“Mm!. Please fuck me Jungkook.” You moan wantonly, bucking your hips up for friction. His cock fills you up so good you can hardly think straight, being stretched out by him.

“Shh, baby. I’ll make you feel so good. Gonna fuckin’ ruin you.” He lifts his head up, staring directly into your eyes and tightening his hold around your throat again as he drags his big cock out till the fat tip, slamming back into you hard. Repeating the motion over and over at a maddening pace.

Both your groans and moans fill his bedroom mixed with skin slapping and the obscene sound of his cock plunging deep into your soaking pussy with wet squelches.

“Harder!. Hngh. Please!.” You grab at his shoulder and biceps, nearly sobbing when he gives you just what you want. Pounding your pussy deeper and rough with hard thrusts, heavy balls smacking against your ass. Both your legs are tossed over his shoulders and he’s got your thighs pressed against your chest with his body nearly crushing you. He loves the way you look beneath him, so small and cute.Tattooed hand still around your throat choking you with enough pressure to send you reeling.

“So fuckin’ pretty. Look at you, taking my cock so well.” He groans roughly against your lips, slipping his tongue out and into your mouth. Making out with you in a sloppy and heated manner.

“Nngh…feel so- Ahh!. So- so good!.” His cock fucks into you so deep, hitting your sweet spot directly each time. Legs shaking, body quaking and face contorted in immense pleasure, tears streak your pink cheeks as you whine and sob like a desperate little thing begging to cum undone.

“Know it does, baby. Pussy squeezing me so good. Gonna fuckin’ cum soon.” His words are broken heaves, brows pinched and mouth open of moans that have you clenching harder on his cock, making it difficult pulling halfway out with each drag. He's definitely not gonna last long like he initially thought.

Your soaked pussy hugs him snuggly and the lewd sight of it swallowing his big cock, creamy white ring surrounding his base and balls with both your essence mixed. He throbs inside of you, nearing his own release.

“Gonna let me cum inside?, sweetheart.” Jungkook grunts hotly above you, hips snapping harshly into yours.

“Mhmm!. Please!. Want it so bad, Jungkook.” Your high pitched squeals and pleas are like music to his ears. Each sound drives him closer to his sweet end.

“Fuck, keep begging me like that and I’ll bust inside this pretty cunt.” He gruffs, stomach caving in with each clench of your pussy as you buck your hips up to meet his thrusts.

“Ohh!. Please!. Want you to fill me up. Make a mess in my pussy, please!.” You babble out, moaning aloud as you do so and cling onto him tighter. Your tits bounce so hypnotizingly with every pound you take and Jungkook removes his hand from your neck to fondle each one, pulling and twisting your puffy nubs that makes you an even whiner mess.

Jungkook loves this so much, and thinks he could never get used to this because he’s always going to want to see you this way. Over and over now that he’s got a taste and feel of you.

“Did you ever let him?.” He doesn’t know what propels him to ask. Voice an octave deeper in a husk and almost stern. Maybe it’s the way you squeeze around him to Heaven and back, or the thought that he’s seen you this way before.

Did that asshole ever have you like this?. Have you a crying and moaning mess?. Creaming his cock and looking like the perfect sin while doing so. Looking beautiful and so drunk off his dick fucking you so good. He possibly couldn’t right?.

With rapid shakes of your head at his words, you moan your truths to him. So fucked out and desperate to even think straight.

“Not w-without a condom…no one’s ever-“

His steady rhythm falters and he presses his weight into you, holding you tight against his embrace as his arms wrap under you. Head against yours and staring down into your pretty drunken stare.

“Shit!. Hngh. Gonna f-fuckkk…claim this pussy. You're mine, baby.”

You keep your gaze focused on him but your eyes roll back once you feel his hand slip down in between and rub your clit with his calloused fingers in rapid figures of eight.

“Cum with me baby, please.” Jungkook pleads hoarsely, hot breath panting against your face.

“C’mon, milk my fuckin’ cock. Cum for me, sweetheart.”

His cock pounds into you so deliciously with his fingers on your clit and the way he stares down at you, cooing filthy words, looking so hot as he does so. It's all overwhelming and what snaps the coil in your tummy, clenching so hard around him as you finally cum undone with Jungkook following in close pursuit. Painting your walls with spurts of his white hot release, cock pressed so deep and hips stuttering against you.

“Fucckkk!. Shit!. Hah…Nghh.” His body falls against yours, chest heaving with unsteady breaths as he tries to calm his racing heart.

You’re no better, panting and staring up at the ceiling basking in the afterglow of the amazing pleasure and orgasm he gave you, his cum seeping out of you.

Jungkook lifts his head up to meet your gaze just as you look down and he shuffles closer in dire need to kiss you but a wince tumbles out of you suddenly that he pauses abruptly midway.

“It hurts.” You say with a soft groan, wiggling your back, indicating the spiked band cuffing his wrist was poking against your skin in an uncomfortable way.

You hadn’t noticed it until now, too lost in pleasure during sex to pay any mind to it before.

“Oh fuck!- I’m sorry.” Jungkook is quick to apologize, leaning up from your body to remove his arms. He rips the band off his wrist at once, pouting at the obvious indents he also notices he left above your chest where he had grabbed you by the throat during sex.

“It’s okay, I’m fine.” You reassure him with a small smile, hand clasped over his own that softly rests against your stomach.

It’s grown silent but not uncomfortable and now that you’re both not clouded with lust or driven by overwhelming emotions, Jungkook wants to tell you that this meant something to him. That everything he does for you will always mean something deeper to him. He doesn’t know if you’ve gotten it through your head yet just how much you really mean to him. How much he’s loved you all this time when you were too busy with that fool, stuck in your own four walls and in your own world most of the time.

You never really let him until now, but he wants to know more of your world. Explore it with you and expand it with him.

Would it be something that you would want?. Or would you go back to your rich boyfriend who treats you like crap each time you two get together.

With a deep breath, Jungkook gathers himself before he could tell you all of this and he clears his throat, breaking the silence at once.

“Listen, I wanted to-“

A blaring ringtone rudely interrupts Jungkook and you both stare back at each other, brows furrowed in confusion. You lean up a bit and he backs up to give you space as you reach for your discarded purse on his floor. Bringing it back with you on his bed, you grab for the device inside and see the name lit up across the screen.

It’s him.

You hesitate and don’t answer it, peering up at Jungkook who watches you intensely. He has that look on his face and glazed over eyes silently pleading with you.

He quickly snatches the phone from you so suddenly, peeking at the screen before turning it off completely. Jungkook’s pushing you back down into his bed, hovering over you.

“Don’t go back to him. Stay.” He pleads, desperately so.

Please stay with me.

You know what he’s really asking of you, you see it in his eyes and your heart sinks when you realize what he’s possibly thinking right now.

Reaching up, you cradle his cheek and bring his face down to you, catching his lips with yours in a deep kiss. Pulling back, you promise him with your whole heart, every fiber inside you burning to be with him.

He’s the only one who's ever truly made you feel wanted, loved and saw you for who you are. Jungkook never once tried to control you, take over your life, isolate you, tell you pretty lies, tear you down only to bring you back up and do it all over again because he liked seeing you cry. Never threatened to hurt you if you didn’t comply with whatever he wanted and he sure as hell never came to you smelling like another woman's intoxicating perfume.

He wasn’t like him and you were so done being with someone who doesn’t treat you like you deserve. For once, you choose happiness and your happiness belongs with Jungkook and the life you could finally start living for yourself.

“I won’t go anywhere, Jungkook. I want to stay with you.”

Jungkook knows what you mean when you say those words, he can feel it. He can see it reflecting back at him and his heart has never felt so good before because for once, his happiness chose him back and he’d never trade it for anything in this world.

A/N: I really hope you enjoyed this!. Tysm for reading 🫶🏻 let me know yours thoughts & feelings 🎀

#angllicjk #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagine #bts fanfic #jungkook x oc #jungkook x y/n #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #kpop fanfic #smut #bts imagines #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #jeon jungkook x you #jungkook fic #jungkook x you #jungkook fanfiction #dom!jungkook #sub!reader #neighbor jungkook

[jmdbjk]

White Day, Pt. 2

For our second date of the evening, JK changed into a spiffy crisp white button down and proceeded to fluff and primp his hair for 3 minutes. He hasn’t forgotten all the hair styling tips. Look at him scrunching up the top for some extra fullness. You don’t spend ten years in the stylist’s chair and not learn a few tips about how to manipulate your hair.

Jimin showed up in the comments and JK went off the rails a little bit, trying to show off his wardrobe change and then tried using his smooth lines to make sure Jimin doesn’t wander off ...

Come on Jimin, isn’t it a little late to be playing hard-to-get? COME BACK! PAY ATTENTION!

A commenter said let’s date for 5 minutes and JK said, sure... then he tried to scroll back and find the name of the person so he’d know what to call them... and their name was John Kanya? Did the translator mean Jeon Kanya? HAHAHAHHAAH! Way to go Kanya! One step ahead!

He shared a song that he said Tae really likes and then he tried to search for a song request in the comments. He called Siri a punk because Siri couldn’t understand JK’s pronunciation of “old love.” Bless him...

Oh but when he found it, GOOD JOB whoever requested that song! So dreamy and romantic for our date night with JK! 

And yes, he had the music turned up loud and was yelling at us over the music JUST LIKE IF WE WERE ACTUALLY IN THE CLUB! I can see why he enjoys the interaction with us on Weverse live. It really is easy for him to connect with us and have real interactions in real time (as long as Army isn’t behaving like he’s 15 years old again.) 

The sweetest thing was he saved these songs to his library AND he practiced speaking English at the same time. Armys did good here. He was having fun.

He reads English very well, and I’m sure he understands 99% of what he hears. Its the pronunciation and conversational vocabulary parts that are tricky. 

And then he opened up to us a little bit...

I can see why he ditched Instagram. It’s too fake and impersonal.

Y’all, I started laughing out loud when the next song request came on and the vibe of it made him proclaim he should be drinking whiskey shots and not highballs HAHAHAHAHA! He is a blast. FYI, there are cocktails made with a mixture of whiskeys and they have names like 3 Wisemen (Jack Daniels, Johnnie Walker and Jim Beam) and Four Horsemen (Jim Beam, Jameson, Johnnie Walker, and Jack Daniels). Ugh. I am a whiskey sipper, not a whiskey shooter. And apparently, JK is also NOT a whiskey shooter either. So playful.

And philosophical JK rolled around and he told us he says again and again, he can’t be our #1 priority, that we should prioritize our own lives and whatever obligations we have going on. He said this while putting more of Bam’s eye drops in his eyes and over-dramatically acting like he was crying. 

For about the next twenty minutes he tried to get in the mood to sing and then he saw Namjoon in the comments and they had an adorable exchange which ended with JK singing a song that Namjoon suggested. 

I wonder if Joon had an ulterior motive behind asking JK to sing a variety of genres...you know our leader is always thinking... regardless, Kookie was having fun.

This goofball... said he was pacing himself as far as drinking because he had to really go to the bathroom. But we would have never known right? His reason: because he is such a pro. LMAO!

Oh! and then Namjoon came back in the comments and told JK to hurry up and release an album! THAT’S RIGHT JOONIE! LIGHT A FIRE UNDER JK’S ASS! And JK said he has a plan...well... from the mouth of the man who said he wasn’t a planner... oh then he elaborates that NOT having a plan is in itself a plan. STOP TRYING TO WORM YOUR WAY OUT OF THIS! 

He rambled on and on how he’s not lived with a plan up until now. Kookie-pookie, that’s because you’ve never had to manage your own time before. I think he was being vague in that he really doesn’t have a plan to release anything. He does not have that fire burning in his belly that Jimin, Hobi, Namjoon and Yoongi have. Each of those members have different fires burning. Jungkookie is living up to his free-spirit ways. He is very confident in himself and he has confidence that Army will always love him and he’ll stay on the path that shows him being himself. I said what I said. Or he may drop an album tomorrow. Who knows? We sure don’t. 

He really is the opposite of a Gen Z-er. Except for his use of social media. Which is null and void mostly. Typical Gen-Z in that aspect.

He closed our second date of White Day by confiding with us that he had to pee really really bad. 

#white day with jungkookie #welcome to JKs jazz bar #this man sitting in his apartment in the dark talking to millions through a tiny screen #i pondered whether to post this because there is no time to hit the pause button and reflect #but i needed to talk about jungkook because he IS important

[lvlyghost]

Hello do you take requests cause I had this idea in my mind but I suck in writing

how bout a ghost x reader where he had a bad day and takes it out on his beloved reader who he's been in a really long relationship with, by starting an argument and maybe saying some really mean and bad things that break the reader. Like the reader is only a shell of herself and completely ruined by ghosts words and just crying or sitting completely still staring off the wall or just staring at nothing just being numb.

What would be interesting is Simons reaction when he realizes the damage that he's done, maybe he would cry/break down idk when he sees the usually happy reader being so dull and almost lifeless yk

But Pleasee don't do this to our hearts and write some comfort and a happy ending please I couldn't handle too much angst❤️😭

The Weight of the World

PAIRINGS: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

SUMMARY: You promised to always lean on each other but sometimes love isn't enough.

WORD COUNT: 1.5k

TW: heavy angst, literally got some mid anxiety writing this🥴 swearing, self-doubt, hurt-comfort and slight fluff towards the end. lmk if i missed any.

A/N: finished this in one sitting lol, also not proofread and poorly edited, i've been having a shitty week so expect more angst lol. meet me in therapy. Enjoy anon!🤍🌟🫶🏻💕

Masterlist✨

You hesitate right outside Simon's studio, the place where he secludes himself from everything and everyone. Ever since he came from his last mission he seemed to be on the edge constantly. The usual softness that he reserved specifically for you was... absent.

Still you wouldn't let that stop you from approaching; having dating him for a few years now let you know so much of that. You knew when he was hurting. When he was sad, angry, jealous or even happy. Little to no people could say that.

Somehow this was different. He wasn't even letting you in, constantly keeping you at arms length and that hurt. How were you supposed to get to him this time? Get him to talk to you?

To look at you again with that same glint in his eyes, the spark that you ignited in him and that won't fade away even years after.

The sound of a chair creaking startles you, the same time the timer in the kitchen goes off. You walk back, turning the oven off, and sticking out the apple pie you so happily baked for both with hopes that you'll get him loosen a bit that dark cloud that's been looming over Simon these past few days.

The door of his studio is yanked open the heavy stomp of his boots resonating across the small apartment you two share, then his bulky frame appears just to grab the keys to his black motorcycle.

"Simon!" You call him, burning your hand in the process. He stills halfway through the living room, waiting for you to say something else. Wetting a cloth hurriedly and wrapping it around the burnt skin.

"I made something for us... maybe," standing behind him you leave a reasonable space between the two. You swallow down hard. "Thought we could have it together and just, you know spend...-"

"I don't have time for that now." His voice is cold and monotone. "Don't wait for me."

"But Si-" he turns on his heels, eyes hard and unyielding. He approaches slowly, making you gulp. "What's gotten into you, Simon?" You fight back the tears, this was the man you loved so dearly, the man you knew loved you back; there was a reason for the golden engagement ring on your left hand. "I..-"

"Fucking hell would you stop that? Please just..." he notices the wetness in your eyes. "I can't do this. Not anymore."

"Whatever it is I promise we can work it out together!" your lips quivered. "Just talk to me!"

"I don't need to talk about anything girl!" He seethes, one finger pointing at you. "Think some cheap counseling with you will make things right? Bloody hell no. Neither some homemade bread, this isn't fucking working and it won't until you learn how the bloody world works."

It breaks your heart into a tiny million pieces, breathing becomes a challenge and the injury in your hand can no longer be felt. Simon's words were worse than any physical pain. Where was the man you loved? The man who used to lift you up and kiss you on the forehead? The man whose hands couldn't stop roaming your body late at night? The man who'd helped you reach out for things he probably put away in the highest shelf so you'd ask for help. That same man that had proposed to you no long ago, right before he was deployed to a special op God knows where. The fabric of his mask moves when he keeps talking but you don't listen. You can't. Just like you can't stop the tears dribbling down your cheeks and the tremble of your hands. Simon's jaw clenched, brows furrowed as he takes a step back and leaves.

You walk sluggishly to where the dessert awaits. It's when your knees buckle that you finally let out a loud cry.

-

Simon knows he isn't a good man. He's done quite questionable things that he could never say out loud. He knows he's fucked in so many ways. But he also knows that there's one thing that kept him from spiraling further down into an abyss of death and self-loathing.

You.

The woman he decided he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. The girl that didn't care about his past, the bad moments and his complicated persona. You who would selflessly love him without asking for something in return. What had you seen in him in first place? Even now after three years he can't wrap his head around the fact that he has someone who waits for him.

Simon knows how much he loves you, but what he doesn't know is how—or in what earth—he deserves every part of you.

You've been avoiding him ever since that horrible night. Words he can't take back. Looks that haunt him every time he closed his eyes. He hears you cry when you go to sleep or when you're taking a shower. Muffled sobs and wails that will come for him until the day he dies.

You avoid him like a plague, when he walks in. After all he's the one to blame. He wanted to ask you to tear him apart maybe that'd feel less painful.

The last remaining of sanity that was left in him came crashing down when he began to notice how you stared off in a haze, numbly looking at the window. He was losing you. Destroyed the one good thing he had. So, a few days later, despite his own demons. Despite the things that broke him all irreparably during the last mission in Moscow, he comes to find you. Sucking in a sharp breath as his eyes set on your left hand.

The engagement ring was gone, forgotten someplace unknown. Simon felt the panic wrenching his guts.

It's all on him.

He whispers your name, calls you softly. Slowly sitting in front of you, the coffee table creaks under his weight. Words get caught in his throat.

"May I take your hand?" He pleads, not getting an answer. Simon sighs, lowering his head as silent reigns yet again. "I don't deserve you." He murmurs, eyes bored into the floor. "I... I ruin everything I touch. Just never thought I'd ruin my girl."

Your eyes flutter shut, wet tears clinging to your eyelashes. Simon watches as you stand and leave without a word, he follows close behind to your shared room.

"Love..."

"Don't call me that!" the hurt in your voice... the resentment in your eyes, he's earned it.

Simon reaches out for your arm, grabbing you firmly but gently, mindful not to harm you.

"Right I deserve that." If there's one thing Simon regrets it's being the reason that your eyes no longer shine. "What I said... what happened I...-"

Shaking your head and biting down your lip.

"You never gave me the chance, I thought we said we'd always find a way."

"I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry baby." in an instant he's pulling you close, although you want to push him away, scream at him, slap him for the calvary he made you go through. "I'm not good with words, and I'm no good person." You feel his body shaking with anxiety as your eyes widen in shock. "I tried... I can't forgive myself for my mistakes."

"Simon..." he hushed you, cradling your head with his big hand. "I can't sleep knowing I can't protect you from what's out there, couldn't bloody protect that kid in Moscow, or my family."

You guide him to the bed, sitting down side by side and holding onto each other.

"Said I would always be with you Simon, why the hell did you push me away?! Have I not given my everything to you? We promised to always make it work!" He grabs your face staring intently into your eyes. "What happened there?"

He blinks, deciding how much to say. There was no need for you to know the entirety of it. He wanted to shield you from the horrors of this world, and he would as long as he lived.

"A young lad whose life's was cut short because I wasn't there on time. How can I come back to you, be happy when someone else just lost their kid..."

"That wasn't on you! Simon Riley you stop that now." He inhales, cinnamon and vanilla flooding his senses. It's you all of you. "Stop carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders. We do that together, yeah?" Your chest hurts from how hard it's beating. "You've done far so much. You won't lose me."

A rumble in the sky and cars passing by outside your home is all you hear. Brown eyes like honey stare back into your soul.

"You took it off..."

"I burnt my hand, it wasn't healing properly. And you know what?" He quirks a brow. "It wasn't homemade bread. It was an apple pie, you silly."

"You'll never forgive me for that one won't you?" He doesn't chuckle but the air feels lighter.

"No. Probably won't." Simon takes your burnt hand bringing it to his lips, they're soft against the marred skin.

"But we're still getting married, yeah?" He asks.

You smile fondly, humming when he kisses your forehead, tears have now dried.

"Yeah. We're still getting married."

#cod #call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod mwii #cod x reader #cod mw2 #cod mw22 #simon ghost riley #cod ghost #call of duty #simon riley imagine #cod simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x you #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost simon riley #call of duty ghost simon riley #simon ghost x reader #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #cod mw ghost #cod fanfic #cod angst

[fromthedeskoftheraven]

Always kiss me goodnight

Pairing: Din Djarin x female reader

Content:  Pining, kissing, mention of food, oh no there’s only one bed,   helmetless Din (but it’s dark), baby Yoda is an adorable tiny terror

Word count: ~2200

Note:  I swear I was only going to write one Pedro character fic. Has this   kind of thing been done a million times? Yes. Am I doing it once more?   Also yes. It’s self-indulgent hours and this little love letter to our favorite space dad and his green baby has been nagging at my mind since I  first watched the show.

Tagging the people who asked (If anyone wants to be tagged or un-tagged in any future fics since it seems  I’m well and truly back on my bs just say the word): @songsformonkeys @yespolkadotkitty @emesispo @beccaplaying

———————————————

Fatigue has caught up with the little green child now that his belly is full, and crankiness along with it. The Mandalorian has been known to lovingly  call his adopted son a womp rat, but when the baby gets overtired, a rancor is more like it.

This time, you can hardly blame him. The three of you have spent the better part of the day traveling, finally landing on this backwater planet late in the evening. With some searching and a small fortune in credits, Din managed to find a safe, out-of-the-way place to stay, leaving you and the child to eat and settle in while he went to scout the bounty’s location for the next  day’s work.

As the child’s fussing gains momentum, you hustle to the small sink in the corner of the room.

“We’ll wash your face and go straight to bed,” you promise him, letting the   water warm before wetting a cloth and wringing it out thoroughly.

In the mirror, your own face looks as exhausted as he obviously feels. The bed in question is little more than a pallet with a mattress and some  blankets, but it might as well be a royal welcome at this stage of the game.

Despite your gentleness, the baby erupts in an indignant whine as you wipe the cloth over his face and ears. “I know, little love,” you soothe while he struggles in protest. “Almost done.”

He quiets when you scoop him up into your arms, pressing a kiss to his fuzzy head. You hum bits of a song from your childhood, rocking him from side to side, and his little face crumples with a yawn. His tiny fingers curl into the fabric of your tunic and his head goes heavy on your shoulder, but still he fidgets, making pathetic little sounds in the direction of the door.

“I know,” you murmur again, still swaying on the spot. “He’ll be back soon.”

You’ve grown to love the child and you know he’s fond of you, but as far as   he’s concerned Din is the one who hangs the stars in the sky. He’s always a little agitated when his father is out of sight, and truth be told, so are you.

“I know what we can do,” you say. “Let’s make a plate for your buir for when he comes back. Don’t you think that’ll be nice for him?”

Neither you nor Din are sure how much the child actually understands, but you don’t let it stop you talking to him. If nothing else it makes you feel a little less alone in the long hours when Din is hunting his quarries.

His drooping ears twitch upward with this suggestion. He watches with interest as you lay a plate with some of the fresh fruit, bread, and stewed meat Din bought from the innkeeper for your supper.

“There we go. Now then, bedtime for little ones.”

You turn to survey the sleeping area with a stab of nerves. The minuscule size of the room isn’t a challenge -- the Razor Crest has made you an expert in living in small spaces -- but the lone bed is a wrinkle you hadn’t expected.

Din, ever pragmatic, had been quick to point out that it was plenty big enough for the three of you, and it was only one night. He was right, of course.

Still, you’d never been so grateful for dim lighting, sure that your secret longing for the Mandalorian was written plainly on your flustered face.

You couldn’t have said exactly when your feelings for Din Djarin had strayed  into dangerous territory. Somewhere in the months of traveling with him, caring for his child, helping maintain his ship, reminding him to eat, and tending the worst of his wounds your initial wariness turned to admiration, admiration to fondness, and fondness to something alarmingly like love.

It’s a fool’s errand.

For all his kindness to you Din is an island of a man, set apart from the world in  his shell of beskar and the even more unyielding armor of his creed.  Even if his heart is big enough to encompass the child, you don’t dare to hope there’s room for you too.

And now this bed -- this one kriffing bed -- sits there mocking you and all your silly fantasies of you and Din and the child being a real family, bound together by love instead of convenience.

You turn off the light overhead, leaving only the small, sickly lamp at the table to light Din’s way to his supper.

The mattress is clean and the blankets are a bit threadbare but soft, and the baby only has the energy to grumble a little when you lay him down on the side closest to the wall and tuck the thickest of them around   him. Yawning widely, he stretches out a hand toward you, fingers grabbing at the air.

The gesture warms your weary heart.

“Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere.”

You lie down beside him and face away from the table, mindful that Din will need privacy to eat. The little body shuffles closer to you, curling into your shoulder, and a surge of fierce affection pricks your eyes with tears. You wrap your arm around the baby to hold him close as the full brunt of the long day overtakes you.

“Good night, little love,” you say around a yawn, just as your eyes fall closed.

***

You wake with a start. The windowless room is pitch black, and in the absence of any landmarks your brain races to orient itself.

At your back, the child’s soft, snuffling breaths. A well-worn blanket draped over you and a slightly lumpy mattress beneath.

The inn, you remember in a flash.

At your front...something warm and broad and solid. You’ve nestled into it  in your sleep, one arm thrown over it, your hand grasping soft fabric. A familiar, comforting scent surrounds you, a scent you cherish from laundry days and the cramped quarters of a small ship.

Oh, Maker.

You clearly slept through Din coming back and getting into bed, and now you’re wrapped around him like a second set of clothes. The rush of blood into your cheeks flames so hot you worry he must feel it through the base layers he’s wearing to sleep.

Shrinking into yourself, you begin to pull away, as stealthily as you can. If you  can just get back to your own side of the bed and brazen it out in the  morning, maybe he’ll never be the wiser.

Slowly, so slowly, you  release the handful of his shirt you’re holding and move your arm from where it’s resting across his chest...

In the darkness, a hand encircles your wrist.

Oh, Maker.

You’ve watched Din wrestle enough uncooperative bounties into the carbonite   chamber to know you’re not getting away from him if he doesn’t want you to. But his grip on your wrist is light, gentle. His thumb rests on the place where your pulse is fluttering like a trapped bird, whether from embarrassment or his closeness you’re not entirely sure.

“Din.” It comes out barely a whisper, sabotaged by the sudden dryness of your mouth. You swallow hard and try again. “Din, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do that.”

“It’s all right.”

His voice is a revelation. Free of the modulator’s rasp, it’s warmer, richer, somehow softer and more resonant at the same time. You’ve never even been in the same room with him when he has his helmet off, and the realization that he’s right there, a breath away, is dizzying.

Silence stretches before he speaks again, more quietly. “It’s...nice.”

Your brain fails you entirely. “Oh.”

You search desperately for something more intelligent to say, but his thumb is drawing feather-light circles over the soft skin of your wrist and your pulse is thundering in your ears. Those touches, so delicate from a man so strong, blur your thoughts like liquor and drag a confession from your lips before you can bite it back. “I’ve always wanted to hold you.”

You wait, blessing the darkness that swallows your shame,  and hope he’s not going to tell you to pack your things and find a job in this bleak little skug hole for when he leaves you behind.

Instead, you feel the mattress shift and know he’s turned toward you.

The sudden fear of breaking Din’s creed is overwhelming, even in the dark. Instinct has you squeezing your eyes shut so tightly that white specks float behind your eyelids.

“I can’t see you,” you say quickly. “I promise.”

“I know.”

His thumb moves from your wrist across your palm, uncurling your fingers to map each one in turn, trailing up to the tips and back down again. You wonder how long it’s been since he’s touched anyone’s bare skin.

He sighs, which is nothing new, but this one doesn’t sound exasperated. It sounds almost...content. “Mesh’la,” he murmurs. “Beautiful girl. I thought so the first time I saw you.”

You’re overcome with a wild, childish urge to pinch yourself to make sure you’re not dreaming.

His praise gives you a rush of courage to ask for something you’ve only dreamed of. “Din...can I touch you? Is it allowed?”

His only answer is to cradle your hand in his, bringing it to rest on his cheek.

Stubble prickles your palm as your fingers slowly trace his scruffy jawline and the thick column of his neck, savoring the feel of him. His hair is soft, long enough to curl at its nape, and when you comb your fingers through the tousled strands he makes a low, strangled sound in the back of his throat. It reverberates through your body like a bell, making your head swim with the thrill of affecting him.

You only just resist the urge to suck a mark into the spot where his pulse races under his warm skin.

Your greedy hands move on to discover a strong brow and the curved bridge of a prominent nose. A mustache frames lips that are more plush than you imagined, a note of sensuality in an angular, warrior’s face.

“Can you tell me what color your eyes are?” you ask, fingertips traveling over his cheekbone.

“Brown.”

Brown. You see them in your mind’s eye, soft and dark, expressing all the   things he doesn’t say out loud. Stroking his lower lip, you repeat his own word back to him: “Mesh’la.”

Din’s mouth twitches under your fingers. “You can’t see me.”

He has no idea. His body warming yours and the sweetness of his voice   calling you beautiful is everything you’ve ever wanted and thought yourself unworthy of having, and he thinks you’re only talking about his  face.

You cup his cheek, smile at him, even though he can’t see it. “I don’t need to, Din. I just know it. I always have.”

“You’re so good to me.” His hand catches yours in his large one, his voice   rough with some nameless emotion. “To me, and the baby. All the time.”

“You deserve everything good,” you whisper past the lump in your throat.

He’s caressing your hand again, holding it in place to press his lips to the pad of your thumb. “I want to kiss you, cyare.”

Your exhale is somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “Please.”

His hand moves to cradle your head as he closes the distance between you. If you were expecting him to pounce, you’re completely unprepared for him to linger, breath hovering over your lips for a long, agonizing moment as he brushes his nose over yours.

You’re almost startled by the first touch of his lips, a little chapped but warm and lush. His mustache is softer than you thought it would be, and so are his kisses, a series of slow, gentle presses of his mouth. Like he wants to do with his lips what you’ve done with your hands, sketching and learning.

It’s only when you slide your hand into his hair again that something inside him breaks. His arm snakes around your waist, holding you to the refuge of his broad chest as he slants his mouth over yours, claiming you in earnest. He’s possessive and tender in equal measure and the tease of  his tongue against yours, his teeth nipping your lower lip, the span of his hand on your back has you drunk on him and whispering his name between kisses like a prayer.

...Apparently not quietly enough.

A little hand scrabbling at your shoulder blade brings you out of your haze. As you pull away from Din the baby is climbing over you as quickly as his short limbs will let him. He wedges himself between the two of you with a delighted coo at Din, hands flailing to find his father’s face.

Din heaves a sigh, but there’s no malice in it. “I’m here, ad’ika,” he says, with unmistakable fondness. “We’re all here.”

You can’t stifle a breathless laugh as the baby snuggles into Din’s arms, making himself comfortable for the night.

Your Mandalorian surrenders good-naturedly, wrapping an arm around you with  the child tucked safely in the middle. He presses a kiss to your forehead before settling on the pillow beside you. “Sleep, cyare.”

Drowsiness is already fuzzing the edges of your mind again, but it catches on the word he’s said twice now. “What does that mean?” you murmur. “Cyare?”

You feel him smile against your temple, one last brush of his lips. “Share my bunk tomorrow night, and I’ll tell you.”

#din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin #pedro pascal #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x female reader #the mandalorian x female reader

[darthkruge]

Okay okay okay so imagine Reader is abducted by the separatists because she ( or nb reader ) is a very well loved member of the senate. So obviously Anakin goes to save her, but his idiot plan gets him captured as well so then it's up to Reader to talk her way out of this mess, get to her idiot boyfriend, free him and then both of them try to make it out alive. Bonus points for Obi-Wan looking very tired and sick of Anakin's ideas in the background. What do you think?

Anakin Skywalker x Fem!Reader ~ Rescue Operations?

Summary: After the Reader is captured by the Separatists, Anakin rushes to save her. When this doesn’t work out, the Reader has to get her and her boyfriend out of this mess. 

Warnings: Language, whump, one scene where the Reader gets beat up, Reader is a badass, Anakin is completely in love with his badass girlfriend and we love that for him

Words: 3.8k

A/N: Catherine, my love!! I’m sorry this took me so long, I have nothing to say for myself other than my poor organization skills. But I’m obsessed with this request, I hope I did it justice <3

gif credit (x)

You groaned as you opened your eyes and attempted to shake the drowsiness that seemed to cling to your very bones. You blinked, trying to get your bearings and remember what had happened. You were preparing for your speech at the Senate, trying to pass a peace treaty between the Republic and some smaller territories that were debating joining the fight against the Separatists. You’d been fighting for support for the treaty for months and you finally had the chance to give one last speech before the vote. 

You’d been pacing in your Coruscant apartment, practicing the speech for your boyfriend a million times. After you finished your recitation, you exited the room, needing to get your notes that you’d seemed to misplace. So you went into your office and… nothing.

Why couldn’t you remember after that?! You opened the door to your office, walked inside, and… 

You sighed as you came back to the present, leaning against the wall behind you and looking around. You were clearly in a cell of some sort and the Separatists were almost certainly behind this. You were still in your Senate attire, although it had been thoroughly scuffed up, and they’d taken your datapad and other communication devices. You felt around your boot and smiled. Your knife was still there. They must have assumed you wouldn’t be carrying a weapon to your speech and not done a thorough enough check. Whatever the reason, you were thanking the Maker it was still there. 

Back in Coruscant, Anakin was walking the Temple halls in a crazed state. When you didn’t show up for your speech, he immediately panicked. He knew how important this treaty was for you and the entire Republic; you’d been going over it for forever and there is no way you’d just blow it off without telling anyone. The rest of the Senate was also concerned. You’d grown up in one of the poorer districts and, thus, had a sense of relatability and humility that most were drawn to. Whether or not they agreed with your policies, almost everyone could understand that you always kept the interest of the people at the forefront of your mind. 

When Obi-Wan walked up to him with a ripped piece of your clothes and your scattered and crumpled notes, Anakin felt his heart drop. 

“It was the Separatists. They must have knocked her out in her office and escaped through the vents.”

Upon seeing his absolutely heartbroken expression, Obi-Wan added, “We’ll get her back, Anakin. I promise.”

Anakin could only nod, ideas for a plan to save you already running round his head. 

You’d been in this kriffing cell for four days now. Or maybe it was five? You were desperately trying to keep your wits about you but it was so hard; they brought you a tiny ration of food and water once a day and it was not near enough to keep your strength up. You’d spent your time trying to carve your way through the bars but your knife was no match and you quickly gave up, not wanting to dull the blade. You’d found a loose brick hidden around the floor and used the knife to cut it out, allowing you to hide your weapon under it on the off chance they searched you again. 

You tried to think of a plan to escape but they hadn’t even opened your door yet. There was no way you could get out by yourself and, until someone came in that you could attack, it was pointless to even try. They kept you in complete darkness and silence, no way to tell how much time had passed aside from the daily rations. You assumed you were on a Separatist base but that proved unhelpful; they were widespread and the cell held no defining features of climate or location. You had tried calling out to see if anyone else was around. Each time, you were met with your own echo. 

You stilled, hearing footsteps approach you. A Separatist guard opened your cell door, roughly pulling you out. You yelped, legs not cooperating after so long of sitting in the cramped cell. He led you into another room that was barely brighter than your own. Sizing up the guard, you felt fear creep in. No matter how hard you tried to banish your anxieties, knowing they’d only serve to lessen your already shaken focus, it was sometimes impossible. 

“Tell us which planets are deserting.” He commanded.

You met his stare evenly, refusing to let your fear betray you. There was absolutely no chance you’d tell him anything. As soon as the Separatists learned which planets were thinking about joining the Republic, they’d send armies to wipe them out immediately. You refused to let that happen.

“Fine. Be that way.” The man pulled his fist back and sent it into your cheek, the impact sending sparks of pain throughout your entire body. He brought his foot up, kicking you in the gut and you fell harshly onto the floor. He grabbed you by your hair, hoisting up your body as if it were a ragdoll. You gathered your strength and spit in his face, enjoying the way his smug look disappeared. In retaliation, he slammed you into the wall, the impact making stars cloud your vision. 

The man released you and you fell, your consciousness already starting to detach from your body. You tried to reason with yourself, hoping logic would aid you. This is a trauma response. I’m not going to die. My body can take this. I will black out, but I will wake up again. They’re not going to kill me. They need me alive. I’m not going to die. I’m not going to die. Somehow, the hardest part is this was banishing the thoughts of that beautiful boy from your head. You knew that if you allowed yourself to think of him, to fathom how he would blame himself should this be your end, you would give in. 

Instead, you focussed on the physical pain you felt, on the rage you channeled to this guard. You hated how weak you felt, how exhausted you were. You allowed your mind to hone in on all the ways you could hurt this man, given you had your full strength. You let yourself hate yourself, appalled at how you couldn’t even fight back. With every punch he threw at you, you went further into your head, into the one place this man couldn’t touch. Eventually, your mind started spinning from dehydration, pain, and overexertion. All you could do was curl into a fetal position and hope it somehow stopped. 

“What do you mean you’re going to find her?” Obi-Wan said, running after Anakin.

“It’s been days, Obi-Wan, days. There are only so many Separatist bases in the galaxy and Y/N’s on one of them.”

“Anakin, don’t you think they’ve planned for a rescue mission?! This is Senator L/N we’re talking about! And they took her right before the vote, this was clearly a thought-out attack, stop acting like it’s simple!”

“It is simple! Those Separatist assholes have Y/N. And it’s been days. What if she thinks we forgot about her? What if she thinks we’ve given up? They could be doing fucking anything to her and I’m not going to let her stay there for another minute!”

“Anakin-” Obi-Wan began but Anakin waved him off.

“I’m sorry, Master. But if the Council won’t do anything, I will.”

“Anakin, the Council is trying! They just don’t have enough troops right now to send a full rescue mission after one Senator. They just want a few more days, then some troops should be back from their missions and you can have your full battalion.” Obi-Wan took a breath and lowered his voice, empathy for his friend clear in his words. “I know you love her. I want her back, too, you know. I’ve grown quite fond of her; her friendship is quite dear to me. All I’m asking is you be careful and think this through.”

“Believe me, I have thought this through. I wouldn’t do anything to put her in danger, we both know that. And while a few days doesn’t seem like much to the Council, we’ve seen the harm these Separatists can inflict in far less. Listen, it might not be the strongest plan I’ve ever made but, if it’s between a semi-formed plan and none at all, the choice is already made.”

With that, Anakin jumped into his ship and took off into the night. Obi-Wan sighed, leaning his head into his palm. He knew how much you meant to him and he knew of Anakin’s frustration with the Council. They moved slowly, wanting to figure out every angle before jumping into a decision. While Anakin was a brilliant strategist, he tended to act impulsively when someone he loved was in danger. As Anakin traveled further and further from Coruscant, the older Jedi could only hope that the both of you returned home quickly and safely. 

Anakin looked at his ship’s display and cursed when he realized he was low on fuel. He’d been piloting for hours and there was still no sign of you. He was searching out for you with the Force and, still, nothing. Finally, he felt a faint energy pulse through the Force. He followed it to what was supposed to be an old abandoned Separatist base, concerned by how weak your lifeforce felt. 

He parked the ship and got out carefully, trying not to alert anyone to his presence. He pulled out his lightsaber but was careful not to ignite it. He saw an open door and ran through it, relief blinding him as he felt your energy grow stronger with each step he took. He turned the corner and saw a crumpled body on the floor of a tiny cell.

No, Anakin thought, it can’t be her. 

Without thinking, Anakin ignited his lightsaber, wanting to use the light to discern if the figure was truly you. The noise bounced off the walls and startled you awake. He mentally cursed himself and instinctively turned off the saber, not missing the even louder noise it made with it turned off. He inwardly facepalmed, realizing if he hadn’t alerted the guards before, they sure as hell knew now. 

You blinked groggily, wincing at your immense injuries and bruises. You remembered passing out while that asshole beat you and now you-

Wait, You thought, is that a fucking lightsaber?

You knew you must have heard it wrong, there’s no way the Council would have approved a relief mission this quickly. Further, there is no way it would consist of just one Jedi. 

Suddenly, the lightsaber re-lit, illuminating your boyfriend’s face. His determined expression grew stronger as he noticed the 10 guards surrounding him and pointing their blasters directly at his head. You smiled. He could take out ten guards with his eyes closed. You called to him in shock, hardly believing your eyes. He looked at you and immediately widened his eyes as he saw a guard come up behind you and point a blaster directly at you from outside your cell. 

“Lightsaber on the floor, Jedi, or the girl dies.” The guard growled. 

He looked at you in anguish and you could tell he was already beating himself up for “messing up” your escape plan. You shook your head, hoping he understood your message: this isn’t your fault. 

“Anakin don’t-” You couldn’t even finish the sentence before his weapon was on the floor. He put his hands on his head. As they grabbed him, you stood in helpless silence as they threw him in the cell beside you. They locked the doors and, once again, you were in darkness. 

You desperately crawled to the edge of your cell, trying to reach out to him. He was doing the same and when you felt his fingertips against yours, you almost started sobbing. You weren’t alone anymore.

“You came for me.” Your voice was soft, disbelief lacing your words. 

“Of course I did, my love.”

Then, as if everything finally registered in your brain, you reached out and tried to slap his arm. “Anakin, what about the Council? They’ll kill you when they realize you went on a rescue mission, alone, and without approval! Ani, the only thing keeping me going in here was knowing that you were safe! And now you’ve gotten yourself thrown right next to me, no weapons, no light, no food, no water, no escape! What the fuck are we going to do?!”

Anakin had opened and closed his mouth multiple times throughout your speech, trying to find a way to plead his case but was left without one. 

“I just wanted to save you.” The grief in his voice made you sigh and take a step back. This was your Anakin you were talking about. Your safety was his priority, always. Besides, doing all this because he was afraid for you? You couldn’t possibly stay mad. You smiled, despite yourself. Anakin. You thought, slightly shaking your head. 

“Fuck, I love you. Is it selfish that there’s a small part of me that’s glad you’re here with me?” You said, breaking the silence. 

Anakin breathed out a sigh of relief, glad you weren’t upset with him anymore. “Not at all, my love. So long as it isn’t bad that my least favorite part of this is not being able to see or kiss you properly because of this damn darkness.”

You chuckled, lacing your fingers with his once again. “You wouldn’t want to see me right now.”

Anakin froze. “Y/N? What are you talking about?” His voice was serious, clipped. He knew you would try and make it seem less than it was. You winced, realizing there was no way to lie your way out of this one.

“Just what the Separatists would call aggressive negotiations, I presume.”

“How bad?”

“It’s fine, Ani, I promise. Let’s just focus on getting out of here, okay?”

Anakin took a deep breath, collecting himself. “Alright. But as soon as we get back you’re going to a medical droid.”

You groaned. “Anakin I hate-”

“I know you hate the medical droids. But that’s only because they always rat you out when you try and lie to me about the extensiveness of your injuries.”

“You lie about how bad your injuries are, too! Remember that one time you came back from Kamino?!”

Anakin laughed, despite himself. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“You were literally bleeding from the head! And you said, and I quote, ‘it’s just a scratch’” Every time you thought back to that day, you were incredulous. 

“Alright, alright! Let’s just focus on getting out of here.”

“That’s my line!”

“Y/N,” He warned.

You smiled. Maker, you missed him. You honestly didn’t think that anyone else would have you laughing while you were beaten and captured. 

“Okay. What’s the plan?” Anakin said, back to the matter at hand.

You lowered your voice, leaning toward his cell so you could talk without being heard. “I snuck a knife in with me and I’ve been able to keep it a secret. Now that you’re here, it might actually come in handy. The problem was that I couldn’t stab anyone because no one would come into the cell. I need you to get them here. Push them against the side of your cell, the one closest to me, and I’ll stab them. Then while they’re hurt, you run out, unlatch my cell, and we’ll go.”

“I’m dating a fucking genius!” You could just about hear the smile in his voice. 

You smirked. All things considered, you were pretty proud of yourself. 

“When do you want to do this?”

“They bring daily food and water rations in the morning, I think? I can’t exactly tell what time it is, they’ve kept it so dark and isolated. Regardless, the next time they come by I need you to get them in here. They normally just leave the food outside and push it under the door.”

Anakin could hear the disorientation in your words and wanted nothing more than to be able to see you, to be able to hold you and reassure you that it would all be alright. 

“Okay, angel. Got it.”

“Anakin?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for coming to get me. It’s really good to hear your voice.”

“Always, my love.”

Both of you silenced when you heard those footsteps. You smiled for the first time as you heard them. We’re going to get out of here.

“Yeah, that’s a great idea, Y/N! This brick in here is loose!” Anakin announced loudly. You bit your cheek to suppress a smile as you watched Anakin catch the guard’s attention.

“What did you say, Jedi?!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Anakin responded, dramatically feigning innocence. 

The guard huffed and you internally cheered as he roughly opened the door. He walked over to your boyfriend, keeping the blaster pointed at him. As soon as the guard’s attention shifted to the “loose” brick, Anakin used the force to knock the blaster out of his hand and push him against the wall of the cell where you slashed his Achilles tendons. 

The guard howled in pain and you knew you had to work quickly if you were to get out of here before the rest of the Separatists found you. Anakin fumbled with the latch on your cell, the immense darkness making it difficult. Finally, he got it open and ushered you out. The both of you took off in a run and he gripped your hand with his metal one as you did so. 

You immediately stopped as you felt his hand roughly pulled from yours. 

“We’ve got you now, Skywalker” The guard said.

“Y/N, you ready?”

You blinked, unsure what he was referring to. Then, you heard an object whipping through the air and on instinct shot your hand out, catching it. You ignited Anakin’s lightsaber that he had summoned to you with the Force, it’s signature buzz making you feel powerful beyond words. 

The light caught you off guard and you squinted until your eyes adjusted. You saw Anakin held back by two guards. Hearing faint footsteps, you took off in a run. Anakin ducked as you swung wildly, hitting and taking out both guards.

“You done holding us up?” You said, extending your hand toward him once more and passing him his lightsaber. 

Anakin smiled, accepting it. “My sincerest apologies.” 

You both ran, hand-in-hand, until you finally made it to the exit.

“What?” You said, as Anakin stopped abruptly and looked at you, panicked. 

“The ship! It’s out of fuel!”

“It’s what?!”

“I-” Anakin and you stared at each other, flickers of doubt coming into your gaze. You can’t believe that you’d been able to escape for nothing. 

“Anakin! Y/N!”

You whipped your head around at the sound and were met with another ship a few meters down, Obi-Wan piloting it.

“Well? Are you coming, or what?” You and Anakin looked at each other in shock before taking off in a sprint, one guard now close behind you. 

He started shooting and Anakin pulled out his lightsaber, deflecting some of the shots. As he focused on that, you pulled your knife back out of your boot and sent it flying into the guard’s chest, effectively stopping his pursuit. 

Anakin smirked at you, awestruck. You shrugged before jumping into the ship, extending your arm to Anakin and helping to pull him up with you. You entered and immediately leaned against the wall of the ship, relief coursing through you. You laughed and Anakin joined in. He immediately pulled you into him, kissing you hard. 

He broke away from the kiss, looking at you with adoration. “You are a fucking badass!! You’ve never even held a lightsaber and between that and your fucking tiny knife you took out four guards!! I didn’t even get any! I’m not going to lie, Y/N, I’m a bit jealous.”

You laughed, leaning into him but wincing. As the adrenaline wore off, your pain was suddenly quite palpable. He noticed and pulled back, scanning your face and body. 

His smile fell as the extent of your injuries sunk in. Your busted cheek, scratched face, and ripped clothing that exposed some of your many bruises across your torso and limbs were overwhelming. 

“You kids alright in there?” Obi-Wan said, walking in from the cockpit. His smile died on his face as well as he took in your form.

“I’m alright, guys. It’s not as bad as it looks.” You said dismissively.

“That doesn’t look like nothing!” Anakin shot back. 

Obi-Wan looked at you apologetically. “Anakin’s right, Y/N. Please, rest. We’ll be back to Coruscant soon.” 

Coruscant! The Senate! “My speech!! Fuck, I had to present my speech! I’ve been gone, what, a week? They’ve probably already voted, Kriff.”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “They decided to suspend the vote until you were back, Senator. They truly care for you and your policies.���

Your heart swelled at Obi-Wan’s words. You looked into Anakin’s eyes and saw that he agreed with the statement full heartedly. He took your hand and gently ran his thumb up and down its back. 

“Rest, my love.” He whispered to you, coaxing you to lie down on the coach and pulling off his Jedi cloak. He wrapped it around you as a makeshift blanket, smiling as you pulled it closer to you and drifted off. 

Obi-Wan walked up to Anakin and placed his hand on his shoulder. “Let’s leave her be, okay?”

“I don’t want her to wake up when I’m not here.”

The elder Jedi nodded in understanding. “She’s exhausted, she won’t awaken until we get back to the temple, I assure you. And if she does, you’ll just be in the other room.”

Anakin looked at you once more before smoothing the hair back from your face and gently placing a kiss on your forehead. He let his palm run down your cheek before he finally pulled himself away and walked into the cockpit with Obi-Wan. 

“So, how did you plan pan out?”

Anakin looked at his former Master, unamused. “I think you already know. How’d you know to come get us, anyway?”

“Well, when you didn’t come back or even attempt to contact the Council for over a day I assumed something had happened. I tracked your ship.”

Anakin nodded. “If not for Y/N, we’d probably both be dead.”

Obi-Wan laughed. “I heard! Four guards?! You’ve found yourself a good one.”

Anakin smiled. No words were needed, everyone knew that was completely and utterly true.

------

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[sidespromptblog]

What to Do?: Chapter 3

One, Two, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten

Summary: Logan realizing that his first mistake was seeing the other sides as anything other than coworkers. They weren't a family. They didn't even like each other. How had he not realized sooner?

Warmings: General Angst and Food Mention.

Word Count: 1,820

The smells of cooking food permeated the kitchen as Virgil nervously slunk into the kitchen, his eyes darted around, catching a glimpse of Roman’s foot tapping up and down as he bounced his leg. He could feel the anxiety pouring out of the creative side like a faucet about to overflow a sink, and ordinarily he would have snapped at Roman to reign it in with the last thing he wanted to deal with was yet another person’s anxieties… but not this time. This time he could understand Roman’s fears, as they aligned with much of his own. 

Moving over to the dining table, he perched himself on top, giving Roman more occasional glances. 

“Are you okay?” He mumbled, detesting the way that he felt himself softening at the heartbroken expression on Roman’s face. He had cared for sure… but he also hated the fact that he cared so much for this, if he had cared less then all of this would have hurt much less than it currently was. “How’s Pat?” 

Virgil felt his heart sink into his stomach at the sight of Roman’s expression breaking apart even further. 

He hated this so much. 

Roughly Roman ran his hand over his face, as if he was attempting to wipe away tears before they could even be seen. “I’m… not okay.” He honestly said, and looking towards the kitchen he couldn’t help but to add on. “And I don’t think Patton’s much better, I think he was crying all night...” A part of him couldn’t help but to be resentful towards Logan for all of this, but another part of him… the part of him that he was desperately trying to squish down before it could rise back up… actually felt oddly proud of Logan for doing this. 

It felt… right, almost. 

But it didn’t make it hurt any less, the distance that Logan was obviously trying to put between all of them. He had thought that they were closer than that, but then again… He wasn’t all that certain that he had even been acting like a friend lately, sure he had been focused on getting Thomas with the man of his dreams, and sure he had been neglecting the others a little. But he was certain that Logan would’ve been fine on his own for a little while, it was the entire reason that he had given Logan access to the imagination to begin with. So that if he needed to blow off some steam, or just relax he could easily do so without him needing to be there to make him relax. 

But… 

He’d been wrong. 

Again. 

Virgil huffed, dragging Roman’s attention away from himself and back to the anxious side sitting beside him. He looked… well honestly he looked okay-ish. There were tiny tell-tale signs that Virgil hadn’t slept as well as he was trying to portray, the caked on eyeshadow covering up dark circles and the even more caked on foundation was something that Roman could almost too easily see through. But he didn’t look like he’d be swept away, not like Patton did. And he didn’t look like he was about to break apart into a million pieces, at least not like Roman did. Virgil looked… weary but strong, like an old piece of rebar poking out of concrete that refused to be weathered down by anything. 

Roman felt more than a little jealous of Virgil's strength, or maybe it was just his denial that he wished he could fall back into...  

Either way, he could only sit silently as Patton came into the dining room sniffling as he carried the plates of food for them to eat. It was almost painful to watch him consider and then reconsider putting a plate out for Logan, just to immediately go back into the kitchen and grab a plate for the logical side even though he had yet to show up. 

“Just in case…” Patton softly mumbled, putting the plate down so carefully that one might have thought that it would break at the softest breeze. “You never know…” 

They didn’t know, there was no telling if Logan would even want to eat with them. They hadn’t heard anything from him since he’d sunk out, and they’d heard even less from him that night. When Virgil usually heard Logan going crazy on his various projects during the night, now he heard absolutely nothing. He had no idea if Logan had merely just gone to bed early, or if he just… wasn’t in his room at all. 

For a long moment, they all sat there. Their plates filled with the food that Patton had prepared for them, with one empty seat at the end of the table. And for that moment they sat there not touching a single thing on their plates, unsure if they should actually eat or not. 

Roman had picked up his fork, but just half-heartedly poked at his food. While Patton just morosely looked back at his food, a self-pitying look on his face as his hands laid limpy on the table not making a single movement to begin eating. Virgil taking one look around at the two sides he stuck with, only sighed wanting to do something to break the uneasy tension in everyone but not having nearly enough gusto to do so. That was something that would require energy from him, and that alone was something that he really didn’t have enough of right now. So he resigned himself to sit in silence, and to eat a meal that he wasn’t even sure that he wanted anymore. 

When he heard the footsteps. 

Patton’s head snapped up so fast Virgil was sure that he heard something crack, and a hopeful look blossomed across the moral side’s face. Like a flower seeing the light of the sun for the first time, a light flourished in his eyes that almost instinctively made Virgil want to look away or to playfully curl his lip at how damn happy Patton looked in that moment as Logan came down the stairs his eyes fixed onto a book he was reading. Maybe everything would be okay, if Logan was still willing to eat with them, then perhaps they could slowly fix things over with him. Perhaps all wasn’t lost, and-

And just like that the look of happiness was gone from Patton’s face. 

Logan had… Brought his own food.

With no more than a second of hope being dashed from them, the uneasy silence was back. Only this time, with Logan finally sitting amongst them, they all finally began to eat. 

The moment seemed to stretch on, even though they all knew that it really hadn’t been that long to begin with. 

 Logan hasn’t looked at them once, as he took quick bites from his sandwich while his eyes remained glued to the pages of his book. Every now and then, his phone buzzes and then and only then does Logan look away from his book, shifting his attention to his phone for short bursts of time. It was a timer, that much Virgil could glean from the screen of his phone reflected in Logan’s glasses, much more than that… it was a reminder set to go off every ten minutes for thirty minutes. Like.. like he was nothing more than some person at work who had a thirty minute break in between doing his work. 

Virgil had felt awfully betrayed when that realization had finally smacked him across the face, to the point where he was honestly unsure if he wanted to even tell the Roman or Patton. The both of them were taking Logan’s new… whatever this was, pretty hard. While he may have been annoyed with both Patton and Roman in the past, it truthfully hurt him an awful lot to see Patton crying as much as he was, and to see Roman blaming himself the way that he was. A part of him wanted to tell them that it wasn’t their fault, but he knew that they wouldn’t accept it. Not with Logan the way he was now, and especially with no end in sight. 

It certainly seemed like this was going to carry on for some time, and how long… Virgil didn’t know. 

He didn’t want to consider that this could possibly go on forever. 

Tearing his eyes away from Logan, he tried to drown himself in the food that he had on his plate. But even then, with the empty space that seemed to be Logan, the food felt like tasteless mush in his mouth. He could only stand a few more bites, before the texture of it forced him to put his fork down, calling it quits for this meal at least. 

Looking up he could see Patton and Roman glancing at one another, desperately trying to convey who exactly should try to talk to Logan while he was still here. But their useless glances, and suggested shoulder shrugs did less than nothing. 

It was almost painful to watch. 

It only became that much more painful as Logan stood up, clapping his book closed before dusting himself free from invisible crumbs. Not a single glance was given to them as Patton and Roman each tried to convey with their eyes who should be the one to talk to Logan, and as he took a quick glance to his watch Roman had opened his mouth. 

Looking at Logan’s face, and the professional detachment on it, Roman found himself faltering. There were no words to be had from him, or at least none that he could think that would help this problem in any kind of way. 

Logan sank down, without a word back to them and Roman’s mouth snapped shut. 

There wasn’t any anger to be thrown at him though, Patton himself felt largely the same way. What could he say? What could he do that would make Logan reconsider, let alone begin to trust them again? He could hardly even ask for such a thing, he’d hurt all of them more times than he cared to admit in the past couple of weeks. And whether he liked it or not, he had done something to obliterate Logan’s trust and his love for him. To the point where he couldn’t call Logan his own name to his face, he could only do so personally in his own head as if that would get the relationship they once had back.  

Perhaps he didn’t deserve it…

But it didn’t make him, or any of them any less concerned for Logan. 

Patton’s mouth felt as dry as the sand on a beach, “I…” He paused, as his heart squeezed painfully in his chest. “I don’t know what I can do to fix this…” He sorrowfully whispered, “I’m sorry…” 

Neither Virgil nor Roman could say anything in return.

They didn’t know how to fix it either. 

#logan sanders #sanders sides #roman sanders #patton sanders #ts logan #ts sides #virgil sanders #ts sanders sides #ts logan sanders #sanders side fic #ts sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fanfiction

[savnofilter]

Kinktober Day 8

dabi

☠️ warning(s): 𝕦𝕟𝕚𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕞𝕤, chikan, exhibition, voyeurism, anal, humiliation kink, age difference, con-dubcon.

☠️ genre: smut, holiday special.

☠️ words: 3k [12 minutes, 10 seconds].

☠️ read more: kinktober(uary)

☠️ summary: after a long day of university youre coerced into giving him a show... along with the rest of the passengers on the metro train.

It was almost perverse on how much he enjoyed this. Scratch that, it is perverse. It was the hidden secret that even with leaving his old lifestyle he fucked his younger sister’s best friend. None of his family knew of his existence for a million reasons that weren’t going to be met in this story. Yet he didn’t care. As long as he had you still crawling back to him was enough to satisfy his dark desires without a care in the world. Except for the fact even with him accidentally running into you and somehow starting the dangerous entanglement was beyond him.

Just like right now. He wasn't expecting to see you pile into the train with the same uniform you wore for your school, your body begging for him to claim his prize while at the same time telling everyone to go fuck off. Dabi knew his objective as soon as he saw you, moving in to fill the missing gap you needed to be occupied. The train started to move once you got comfortable, your body posture meek as you raised your hand to hold onto the bars, the other holding your cute little school bag close to your body. Even with the clear embodiment of your school uniform dressing your shoulders and left chest it was clear you were nothing more than a university student, the only thing making you look so… delectable being the way you had filled it out.

Now, had you been someone else a stranger to Dabi he wouldn’t have looked your way but seeing as you were rocking just ever slightly, the fabric of your clothing rising just a bit higher is what piqued his interest. It gave him an almost unpleasant tenseness in his chest, knowing that this was a combo you rarely wore unless something was wrong in the laundry or it was your last backup. He didn’t miss the creeps that eyed you, his dark aura shooting them off as he made them think twice.

He’d just have to show them something that they’re missing.

Dabi stepped closer to press up against your smaller frame, the feeling of him catching you off guard. You swallowed as you could feel his body, the bumps, and ridges of his outfit signature with his familiar scent you were used to washing over you with a wave of relief, holding back the need to smile as you peeked back at him with an almost glad look on your face.

“I thought you were someone else.” You spoke fluently. He chuckled as you looked as if he had saved the day as if he wasn’t the villain between you two. He moved his head to nuzzle your neck, his hands wrapping just under your breast and pressing his hips into yours.

“You should be glad I saved you~,” Dabi remarked in a smug tone. You could feel your cheeks heat at the gesture. Whether or not the blood flow showed up on your cheeks wasn’t a concern to you at the moment, the small suspicion that his little small talk wasn’t going to end as innocently as it had started. You bit your lip as his arms aided in pressing your chest against you’re already tight button up. “Heroes get presents, right?” The pressure created a small gap to accentuate, showing bits of your bra and skin that was underneath.

“Wh-What are you doing?” You stuttered as the small attention that one time was brought away from you was slowly coming back, making you shrink back into him as your false safe haven.

“Nothing,” Dabi mumbles against the skin of your neck, the train hitting a more than convenient bump on the track. You whimpered as you rubbed your thighs together, as much you tried to hide it you loved it when people watched you like this. Even though with your attempts to dress as if the thought of sex never crossed your mind you couldn’t help but start to get aroused at the thought of Dabi using you on a train like this for perverts to watch. He chuckled as he could feel your breath start to deepen, keeping your head down as you tried to conceal yourself with the arm that carried the weight of your bag.

Dabi was starting to get bored. His hand came up to dance across the fabric of the button, playing coy before tugging the other side from the other and popping the buttons in the process. Quietly gasped once he had done so, your chest now being partly bared to the world… much to your pleasure. Your tits strained at your bra, the smooth bumps of the train not making it better for your “cause”.

“Stay still for me, doll, okay~?” He whispered against your ear, the sound of his voice making you shiver. You couldn’t help but nod meekly, not daring to look up at the mixture of disapproval and horniness that started to fill the train. His hand scooped up into your bra and brought your tits out into the public view, your nipples rock hard as you tried to keep up your little act to convince yourself you weren’t getting turned on by this.

But you were. 

The excitement alone was starting to make you drip annoying as it was.

Dabi already knowing you were, his hands left your upper body, coming up under your skirt and shirking your underwear. There was clear dampness on the thin fabric, the embarrassment of it all going straight to your clit. You whimpered as the air caressed your now exposed intimate bits. His hand came up to cup your sex, letting a sound of surprise at the feeling of your drenched lips against his fingers. “Oh? The bitch is wet~” He mused happily, slipping two fingers into you happily. The sound of his middle and ring fingers slipping into you made an obnoxious noise, your thighs quivering as his fingers were always able to find well inside your needy cunt. His fingers were quick in working in you, his main objective only to have you wet enough to take his already aching cock. Your back arched as you encouraged him to continue in using you as he pleased, his hand making a move to help open your shirt more and pull down your bra fully. Any eye who wanted to watch could, watching as this patched man toyed with this innocent girl on the train.

His fingers left your cunt to give it a small slap, not holding on to the force or ferocity of it. The feeling made you yelp, the sound of both gaining new watchers while some chose to ignore it. Your breathing was heavy as people eyed you, probably wishing that Dabi would do the world some justice and rip off the tiny skirt that you had also worn that hid all the good bits. All they could see was him teasing you and being able to use you the way you were supposed to be used.

“Come on, scarface, pass her over-”

“Fuck off and watch.” He cuts off the loser hastily, his glare glaring at them to let them know to keep away still. “You think any of you greasy fucks can touch her,” He started before he side-eyed you, his famous grin spreading across his mouth when the thought of having these bastards touch upon you was something you wanted. “Hm… maybe the bitch wants it~? Use your word’s, doll~” He taunts, turning you around so your front is pressed against him. Your bag dropped as you braced yourself against him, your legs stabling yourself against him. “If you don’t use your words I’m assuming it’s a no.”

You bit your lip as you at least wanted to keep some of your dignity. Nowhere in your life did you think you were going to be able to live out your fantasy to be used on a public train for anyone and everyone to see, the helpful tool of your mask only concealing your identity as if something was looking out for your well being… as if. His hand flipped up your skirt and exposed the last parts no one else on the train had been able to see but him. Your face buried into his neck once he did the action, your ass now on display with your dripping cunt peeking through the small gap between your legs. Dabi's hands reached back from your waist and grabbed the cheeks apart, showcasing the part between your legs and glistening cunt. He looked over your shoulder to watch as your asshole clenched in excitement, your position looking no better than a bitch in heat. There were a few mutters and mumbles as he displayed you, the original action surprising you.

“D-Dabi-” Your plea was cut off by his hand coming up and tugging your mask down and pressing his lips against yours. His tongue was already violating your mouth, growling as his hand lifted and of slaps against your unmarked skin. Each time your thicc backside jiggled and teased with what was really between it, your eyes watching up at his. The feeling was oddly intimate as if he wasn’t exposing you to the train for voyeurism perverts alike. He pulled away once he had felt satisfied enough, dragging you to sit in his lap once he was sitting in a seat. He tucked your skirt into its band to prevent it from blocking from view, the sound of a few shutters sounded as some went to get a close up of your mostly trimmed cunt, the fact that both your cunt and asshole still had some on it was more arousing to the public eye. Which is what Dabi liked.

His hands found their way to unbuckle his pants and free his hard cock. If the sparse amount of women on the train were loathing not being in your position and only silently observing, they now were jealous. His cock slapped against your cunt once it was free from his tight pants, the hardness of it making it stick up proudly. He tries to hold back his pleasure of letting people his manhood as well, the Prince Albert piercings doing his already impressive cock justice in turning this debaucherous situation exciting.

He thrusts his hips upwards to rub his cock against your soaked labia, a deep moan sounding when he’s able to slip his cock to rub just ever so slightly between the cheeks of your ass. His hands were on your ass again, spreading them as he guided to take his length. Have already been able to take his cock during the late nights and sometimes early morning you had no problem doing so. Your heartbeat was faster as someone commented on how his dick was able to insert inside of you without any problem or hesitation, the onlookers wanting nothing more than to stick their girths deep inside your ass. Your hips worked like magic against his. His just about average-sized hands spread your cheeks to let people view without any obstruction to the view the passengers in the cart watching as they watched this generations of future heroes get dicked-down in a train cart. You had no qualms about letting out the sounds you wanted, your hands gripping onto his jacket as he bounced you against his hard cock. Dabi wrapped his arms around your waist to keep you in place and fuck you.

Your ass jiggled with each thrust against hips. The sound of your cunt swallowing up his cock as his silver studs massaged at your walls and rocked the moans out from your throat. It was almost a dream come true of what everyone had to witness at that very moment. Your words babbled out like an idiot, enjoying the way your body felt being watched as he used you like a cock sleeve. His hand held your ass cheek to help use you, the obnoxious sound of his skin slapping against yours and your sopping cunt fulling the train and the disgusting faint aroma you could sniff out if you were too close.

Dabi greatly got off to using you in public. Some sick way in the back of his head he enjoyed that people could see that you were his, even with how indirect it was. He longed for having you under his thumb, the thought and idea that one of the loser bystanders could do just that sent jolts of pleasure through him and motivated him to fuck you like this. Your mouth hung open as you could feel his tip press against your g-spot, your eyes rolling back and tongue hanging out of your mouth as trembled to keep yourself sane and grounded as he pounded into you like a hungry animal.

Still, those attempts were futile as he didn’t spare you a chance to even make you presentable, a small amount of drool that left the corner of your mouth signified just how gone you were, fully succumbing to the taboo of train groping and public fucking. Your body felt hot, the possibility of having your future ruined because of this was somehow exhilarating, the shallow comments of how much you were a ‘whore’ or a ‘slut’ made you tingle, loving every moment of being degraded and railed in public. You squeezed your walls around his thick and unrelenting cock, your skirt that was tucked still managed to stay in place as you bounced against him, the grip causing you to tense up.

He didn’t care to stop, ready to see you cum on his length and fill his seed deep inside you. It was almost as if he didn’t notice that you had, the only thing is when someone commented that white substance that came from you, the way your holes clenched and ground against his to finish. Your body was a toy for him as he used you, chasing his climax to meet yours. Thankfully your orgasm before had aided in the extra lubricant. He gave your skin a final pop before pressing his hips fully into your cunt, grunting as his cock twitched as he finished his load inside your walls. Your insides happily took in his length in cum, the excess amount making some spurt out as if a scene directly from hentai. I mean, technically this whole experience was a scene straight out of hentai.

“Look at the pretty little slut, full with my cum~” Dabi’s hands groped around your body before lifting you off his cock and spreading your cheeks to watch as the fluids dripped from your gaping cunt. He thought over his options, staring up at your dazed look, and brought you to hips down to rub his cock between your ass cheeks.

“What are you-” Your complaint trailed off once you could feel his tip slowly slip in, the rest of his length following in as well. Dabi gave you a playful kiss, having you take him fully until he bottomed out deep inside you.

“We’re going to give them part two~” He answers you curtly. His jaw clenched as he was able to keep down a groan of pleasure at how tight you wrapped around him. He barely gave you enough to get comfortable, the subtle feeling of his long and thicc cock thrusting into your ass was something you had only done a few times too little. Tears pricked at your eyes as you tried to adjust to his obnoxious length, closing your eyes as you were forced to have other people watch you get used to his cock.

As much as you tried to find it in yourself to be upset… you loved it. You like that you had an audience to watch Dabi stretch your ass out, not sparing you a moment to catch up or feel good. The feeling of him showing everyone on that train your practically virgin hole was being used for the third time in your life. This time, it wasn’t with the help of lube either. You clung onto him like an injured kitten, trying to relax yourself to allow him to use your backhole as much as he wanted.

“That’s it…” He encourages once you loosened up making it easier to slap his hips into yours better. Everyone got an eye full of your submission, wanting to touch and prod at you as well. You weren’t even sure you were deriving pleasure from this, the foreign feeling of his cock in your ass was such a feeling you couldn’t shake off but one that did urge sounds from you. You tried not to grow embarrassed when he pulled out to show off your gaping hole, the necessitous feeling of needing him to fill you up again crawling across your body. Your silent prayers were answered when he maneuvered you back onto his cock.

“I’ll have to use this one till it's just like your cunt~” He teases in your ear, rutting into you as he gets closer. His fingers dug painfully into your body, the hold on your side nearly knocking the wind out of you. He tilted his head to the side as his hips stuttered up into you and emptied into your second hole. You shifted uncomfortably at the feeling of his thick spurting into you was not a sensation you thought you would be experiencing for the day or truly ever. You grunted softly when you felt him pull out, his dick finally limp from the hormones that have been pumped out.

Dabi eyed your disheveled state before fixing what was left of your school uniform, keeping your pair of underwear with him as he shoves it in his pocket. He pushes you out of his lap making you stumble. Your hands come up to gather your stuff quickly as you realized your stop was approaching, have no liberty to be dazed. Your cheeks were hot as you tried to ignore the stares that both accompanied gazing under your shirt and skirt, gathering yourself to hold your shirt together and pull down your skirt. Your eyes followed the material that poked out his pocket, the train doors opening.

“I’ll give these to you next time we meet~”

#kinktober #bnha kinktober #mha kinktober #bnha dabi #bnha smut #mha smut #smut #bnha scenarios #mha scenarios #bnha x reader #mha x reader #dabi fanfic #dabi x reader #bnha dabi x reader #mha dabi #mha dabi x reader #dabi smut #touya x reader #tw dubcon #tw; dubcon #n/sfw #sav sins

[tsukiihime]

Heartbreak (Bakugo x Reader, Shinsou x Reader)

Hey everyone! This is my first BNHA piece, something I wrote when I was bored and thought what the hey, I’ll post it! Feedback is appreciated!

Word Count: 3.4k

Pairings: Bakugo x Reader, Shinsou x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of cyberbulling, swearing, breakup, angst, just kind of a sad piece overall?

Next Chapter

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When you started dating the Explosion Hero Dynamight, you knew that you were throwing yourself to the wolves. The media is cruel and the fans even crueller - if they deem you unworthy for their Hero then you’re in for a hell of a time - and not in a good way. But you loved Bakugo - you’ve loved him more than you’ve ever loved anyone, and for two years of your life you’ve been by his side as he  climbs through the Hero charts. 

But recently, the media has been sniffing a little too close to home. Someone has tipped the tabloids off to your existence and ravenous fans have been finding your social media day after day. Your selfies on Instagram are being bombarded with hateful comments on everything ranging from your weight to your skin color to your fashion sense, while your Twitter messages are flooded with paragraph after paragraph full of venom and vitriol. You can no longer take the headlines, the hate, the disgust being dished out at you day and day out. You beg your boyfriend to do something, anything to make the media leave you alone. Which brings you to tonight - in a heated argument with the Hero Dynamight.

“All I’m saying is that if you address the media, if you tell them that I’m your girlfriend, they might back off. I can’t do this anymore Katsuki, I can’t keep waking up and seeing this shit on my feed!” You’re so angry you’re shaking, and it’s pissing you off even more that Bakugo stares at you, unblinking and unfazed, arms crossed in indifference.

“You know I can’t do that. I do that, and my ratings plunge.” Your eyes widen in disbelief as soon as those words leave his mouth, you can’t believe he even said that. 

“Are you serious Katsuki? Is beating Deku and becoming the number one hero really worth more to you than us? Than me?” Tears threatened to spill over at any moment, your fists clenching until your nails left tiny red crescents in your skin. You stared at vermilion eyes refusing to back down, waiting with trembling lips for his answer.

“You knew what you were getting into when you started dating me. I don’t know why you need so much fuckin’ reassurance that you’re different from all those other damn extras.” That sentence sends you from angry to fuckin’ pissed in less than a second. 

You jab at his chest, practically screaming: “Excuse me? When we started dating, I was promised that you’d protect me from everything, including the media. Do you see the shit they say about me Katsuki? What they say about my body, my family, my upbringing? How they call me a slut and a whore because my Instagram has ‘Toshi on it and now I’ve been spotted with you? I can’t even visit my parents because I’m afraid they’ll follow me. I can’t go and see “Toshi because they’ll shit talk me even more! And you sit there and do nothing. Say nothing. All I want is for you to tell them the truth, that we are dating and that we are a couple.” 

Now, it’s Bakugo’s turn to bite back. “And I’m sayin’ my hands are tied. They know I’m with someone, and I lose  fans. Which means, I ain’t gonna beat that damn Deku at the rankings next month.”

“Fuck the rankings Bakugo! Can you get your head out of your ass for a second?! How in the world,” you turn to go to grab your phone, pulling up the latest headline about you on the tabloid’s website, “can you let them say this about me? Don’t you at least care that I’m being attacked on the daily?” Tears fall freely from your eyes now, and Bakugo flinches for a second, but only a second. You laugh in anger, turning away from him. “I already know the answer, Katsuki. You care more about the rankings than me. I’m in the way of your dream if you say I’m with you, so let me remove myself from the equation.” You grab a jacket, an umbrella and your phone, and put on your shoes. “It’s over Katsuki. I’m done. If you won’t say that we’re together, then we shouldn’t be together.” 

You turn to leave, and a part of you hopes that he’ll follow - that he’ll grab you and hold you tight and tell you that he loves you, loves you more than the stupid rankings and that he’ll stand by you no matter what the media says.

But he doesn’t. 

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You walk a couple of blocks to another apartment building, ring the doorbell and wait for the response to come from the other side. A deep voice responds, belonging to someone who had obviously been sleeping. “Who the hell is it?”

“‘Toshi, it’s me.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? It’s raining idiot, get in here.” The doors unlock and you make your way inside. You know this building like the back of your hand, it’s the home of your best friend and your second home. You make your way to his apartment and he’s waiting for you in the hallway - purple hair tousled and messy, body heavy with sleep and dark undereye circles accentuating violet eyes as he scratches the back of his neck. It’s a tic of his, one you know well - he’s nervous.

“A fight huh?” 

“Worse. I broke it off.” Shinsou immediately tenses at the mention of this, and if you weren’t so pissed and hurt by Bakugo you would’ve laughed. 

“Shit...I’m sorry. Come in, tell me all about it.” He steps aside and lets you into his apartment, closing the door as he prepares himself to listen to you complain until the sun rises. He agrees to help you get your things when you’re ready to return, and says you can crash at his place until you find somewhere else to stay.

You return two days later, punching in the code to the apartment you and Bakugo share - well, you supposed shared was the better word. It felt so foreign, being here after everything. Memories of the last two years flooded into your mind - lazy days where you spent all day with Katsuki on the couch doing nothing but watching horrible horror flicks and laughing the night away, those early mornings that had you waking up at five o’clock in the morning to cook pancakes while the sleepy blonde wraps his arms around your waist while teasing your culinary skills. Even the late nights when schoolwork kept you awake well into the twilight hours and your exhausted body dragged itself to the bed you and he shared, breathing in the caramel scent of the man you loved as your head hits the plush pillows and you drift off to sleep. But now, all of those memories have disappeared into the wind, replaced with the fight you and Bakugo had before you had stormed out of the house that night. He’s been texting you like mad, calling you like there is no tomorrow, but you ignore his calls. He never leaves a voicemail, so you don’t know what’s on his mind.  

As the beige door swung open, you breathed a sigh of relief that Katsuki wasn’t home. You had neither the heart nor the energy to see him after all that had happened and instead resolved yourself to get all of your things before his shift ended at his agency. You spent the next hour rounding up everything you owned - books, pictures, everything that you had room to take and that you knew you wouldn’t miss if you left it behind. When you had a breather you sent a quick text to Shinsou to let him know you were almost ready to go - and took a deep breath as you entered your bedroom. No, your former bedroom now. “That’s all it is now.” you remind yourself.

You start dumping all your clothes into trash bags and gather up pictures and toiletries that belong to you as you clean up the bedroom from one end to the other. As you grab a pile and place it on the bed, an article of clothing falls that you don’t recognize. You bend over and pick it up to inspect it closer. 

You know your clothes, all of them. But this lacy lingerie set that is discarded on the floor isn’t yours, hell, it isn’t even your size. Your throat feels like sandpaper and your nose crinkles as you drop the clothes as if burned by a flame. You can’t help but stare at it as a million things run through your mind at once: whose is it? How long has it been here? Was this before or after you and Katsuki broke up? Did he already move on? The last thought is something you know you shouldn’t dwell on, it isn’t your business what he does after you’re the one that ended the relationship. You know this and yet the tears come anyways, endless and stinging without end. Your legs give out and you fall to your knees clutching your heart as sobs fall from your lips, as your emotions bounce all over the place. The molten hot anger you felt at first is now transforming into deep sadness, all the bittersweet memories racing through your mind now replaced by images of Katsuki holding another woman, another lover just like he held you. You can’t stop as your brain formulates these what if situations - what if he was waiting for you to end it so he could be with her? You start to imagine him kissing another with the same passion he held for you. You see another in your place, eating the food that he insists on making to spoil you after a long night of homework, running their fingers through his hair as he falls asleep on their lap, and seeing another wrapped in his arms as they fall asleep together under the moonlit sky.

“I can’t stay here” you whisper to yourself, desperate to stop the tears that won’t end - desperate to feel anything but this pit of agony. You’ll take numbness over this endless heartbreak, this disappointment, this feeling of self-deprecation that tells you over and over that you weren’t good enough. “I-”

The door opens and you hear Shinsou’s voice behind you, calling your name and making his way through the hallway at the front of the apartment. “You didn’t answer my texts so I came up to check on you and-” The purple haired man freezes when he sees you, sitting on the floor with your head in your hands, sobbing uncontrollably as a waterfall of tears spill from your eyes dripping onto your fingers. You can no longer hold back your sobs as everything comes to a head - your insecurities, the hateful comments left on your social media, Katsuki’s own dismissal of your feelings as you two fought that night two days ago. Shinsou immediately drops to his knees in front of you, wrapping his arms around your frame and holding you close. “It’s okay...let it out.” You peer up at him from tear filled eyes, lunging at him to wrap your arms around his neck as you bury your face in his chest. 

“Hitoshi…” is all you’re able to say before another sob wracks your body, tears staining your cheeks and dampening Shinsou’s hoodie. You try desperately to explain why you’re crying, and why you’re so upset but you can’t find the words as your tongue feels heavy like a bunch of bricks. Indigo eyes drift to the underwear discarded behind you, anger seething in his veins as he puts two and two together. 

“Bakugo, you fucking tool.” He thinks to himself as he holds you, letting you cry out what you can’t tell him but he knows. He knows you better than anyone, just as you know him better than anyone. He remembers the vibrant little girl he met on the playground all those years ago, who spoke to him without a care even with his “villainous” quirk. He remembers your ecstatic scream as he calls you to let you know that he was able to get into the Hero Course at U.A, and he remembers you celebrating his acceptance at getting into a Hero Agency by getting blackout drunk and waking up with you in snuggled in his arms as you wear his favorite hoodie. He remembers being the one to introduce you to Bakugo at a Hero Ranking after party when you accompanied him as his plus one. He remembers how breathtaking you looked that night - an obsidian dress that hugged your figure closely, long legs accentuated by black stilettos and your plush lips painted in a ruby red hue. He remembers being the man of the hour, the hero Mindjack accompanied by a beauty on his arm, the envy of the venue. He remembers dancing with you, his most beloved childhood friend, his most precious person. He remembers watching you stride to the bar, smiling as you greet the bartender with glee and and he remembers watching you bump into Bakugo as you apologize quickly to the blonde before making your way back to him. He also remembers Bakugo following you to him, prompting him to introduce you to the man who would eventually become your boyfriend.

“If only you hadn’t bumped into him that night”, Shinsou thinks to himself, “Katsuki Bakugo, I’m going to give you a piece of my mind when I see you next.” How helpless he feels watching you cry as your heart shatters into a million pieces, how powerless he feels as he holds you tighter than he’s ever held anyone before. “C’mon, let’s get you home. I’ll take what I can and I’ll get the rest another day.” he smiles as he looks at you, giving you a small grin that he hopes makes you feel a bit better. “Don’t worry, I grabbed your Switch and your laptop, so the lazy girl hours can still happen” you punch him in the shoulder playfully as you wipe tears away on your sleeve, pouting as you roll your eyes at his lazy jokes before he continues, “and I’ll send Bakugo a text on what’s happening. You won’t have to deal with him. I promise.” It doesn’t escape his notice how you tense up when he says Bakugo, but the small smile you give at his joke makes him feel just a bit better. You stand up and press your lips to his forehead, tippy toeing to reach. “Thanks ‘Toshi. I really appreciate it, truly.” 

“Anything for my Animal Crossing buddy.” You cross your arms and give him a questioning look, eliciting a chuckle from the taller male. “I’m jus’ kiddin’. You know I’d do anything for you. And your Switch.” You laugh as you turn to grab your boxes and make your way to the front of the apartment, the lingerie that had shattered your world moments ago momentarily forgotten in the corner of you and Bakugo’s bedroom. “It’s only Bakugo’s now” you remind yourself as you walk out into the living room, “this place belongs to Bakugo only.” You take one last look at your home for the last ten months, and quickly turn on your heels to make your way to the elevator with your entire life packed into a few boxes. A small sense of regret lingers in you, but you quickly shove that aside to stop yourself from crying some more. Shinsou grabs the rest of the boxes left on the table, and places your key to the apartment on the counter next to a picture frame with the glass faced down. He then turns and follows you out the door to his car.

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The next few nights are the hardest - Shinsou’s apartment only has one bedroom, one bathroom and the living room which means you’re on the couch until you find your own place. You’ve known Shinsou since childhood and you wouldn’t mind sharing a bed but you’re so distraught from your discovery in Bakugo’s room that you want to be alone to cry it out if you need to - you already feel like a burden to Shinsou despite his protests against the idea. He’s not home tonight - on patrol around the city as you sit in the living room wrapped in a blanket and wearing his favorite hoodie. You flip through the channels and stumble across the Hero Rankings red carpet. It’s been ages since Hitoshi attended one, becoming more of an “underground hero” and avoiding the spotlight if possible. In fact, the only time he attended one was with you around the time you met Bakugo. You cringe at the thought of him, trying quickly to remove him from your mind. The rational part of your mind wants to change the channel, to watch those documentaries you love so much and wait until Shinsou gets back home but you don’t. Instead, you decide to remain on this channel, watching as heroes come and go on the red carpet with their dates and hear the host gush about each one’s accomplishments. This is torture, you know Bakugo will appear since he’s the number four Hero, you know he’ll be there and yet like a train wreck, you can’t look away. Maybe you’re curious as to what he’s up to, or maybe you want to see if he looks as miserable as you know you do. In any case, you wait with baited breath to see a pair of scarlet eyes and ash blonde hair to satiate your curiosity. A flash of green catches your attention and you see Izuku Midoriya appear on screen in front of you. Deku is the number three Hero and on his arm is his girlfriend Uraraka, another Hero ranked at number seven. You’ve met the both of them at parties you attend with Bakugo - they both received a lot of hate from “fans'' when they announced they were dating, but the love they exuded for each other made the media change their tune really fast. They truly adored one another and didn’t care if their ratings took a dive. You had wished Bakugo would do that for you, but you weren’t a Hero and you didn’t have an impressive quirk, so his agency decided that it would be better for his ratings if he kept you a secret and he agreed. At first, you didn’t mind but the comments on social media and the tabloids made you feel as if he wasn’t yours at all - instead all you felt was that he was ashamed of you. 

Then you see him. You grip the remote so hard it almost hurts, but you keep on looking anyway. There stands the number four Hero Katsuki Bakugo, wearing a red and black suit and looking as he always does - confident to the point of arrogance, a grumpy face that makes him unapproachable, arms crossed in annoyance. The cameras go off flash after flash, and the announcer goes over his stats - how many people he’s saved, his amount of solved cases, so on and so forth. You smile at his ranking, he’s gone from eleven to four in such a short amount of time, and you know he has his determination to thank for that. He works hard, that you can’t deny. 

Then you see her. You recognize her, from the tabloids and the makeup commercials. The Illusion Hero, Maboromicamie. She’s tall, beautiful, and has a gorgeous figure as well as a comfy place ranked as the number ten Hero. Her arm is linked with Bakugo’s, and he has an arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her close for the photoshoot. The announcer raises their voice in excitement, as a headline appears on your TV: “Dynamight and Maboromicamie an item? Seen together getting close at the awards ceremony!”

You shut off the TV and close your eyes. What were you expecting? Why did you do that? You can’t help the tears that escape, but they do. There you sit, alone in the apartment with the image of those two stuck in your head, burned into your memory. When Shinsou gets home, he says nothing and you’re grateful for it - you know he’s seen the ceremony and he knows you well enough to know that you’ve seen it too. Instead, he showers, lays down next to you, and holds you close as you cry quietly into his arms.

#bnha #bnha x fem!reader #shinsou x reader #bakugo x reader #bnha x you #hitoshi shinso x y/n #katsuki bakugo x y/n #bnha angst #mha x reader #my writing

[mayraki]

✧ chapter two: the missing girl - b. barnes x oc series ✧

-> lost-shoe’s gif

‘let’s play fire with fire’ series masterlist

my masterlist

summary: sera has to deal with the consequences of helping sam and bucky while still trying to get used to being a part of a team. and bucky finds himself not wanting her to be alone.

FEEDBACK IS VERY MUCH APPRECIATED! :)

“So... control fire, huh?” Bucky asked when the silence became unbearable between him and Sera.

She turned to him while her arms where across her chest and she was comfortably sitting on the seat next to Bucky. “What?”

“I’m just- trying to be nice.”

“You literally saw me back there. You know is fire. Is like if I went ‘hey, metal arm?’” She rolled her eyes and went back to staring out the window.

“We definitely started with the wrong foot. Maybe if we just-”

“That’s not gonna work.” She cut him off. “And, wrong foot? You literally accused me of wanting you two dead!”

“That’s why I was trying to be nice!”

“Then don’t! Being nice clearly isn’t helping.”

“Fine! I won’t be nice.” He said loudly trying to keep his full attention on the road ahead of him, but the girl next to him didn’t seem to let him. “Torch.” He said under his breath but loud enough for her to hear him.

“Screwdriver.” She said in the same tone dropping herself more into her seat and leaving her head to rest on the back of the seat.

Even if she didn’t want to talk to Bucky, the silence surrounding them was making it even more awkward than the situation already was. So turning to the side looking for something to do or say, Sera let out a tiny smile when her eyes noticed the button to turn on the radio.

“Don’t turn it on.” Bucky said immediately once he noticed her fingers going towards the car’s controllers.

“Why not?”

“The music is not good.”

“What? You don’t like modern music?”

“Yes I do.”

“Then why I can’t turn on the radio?”

“Just don’t.”

“Damn. Do you ever smile?”

“When I throw that bucket of water on you I will.” Sera let out a tiny fake laugh and then nodded.

“Never smile and not funny, what a deal, huh?”

“I wasn’t trying to be funny.”

“News for me.” As soon as she said that Bucky moved uncomfortably on his seat and grabbed the wheel with his two hands and that made Sera look at the metal arm in the other side of Bucky’s body. She bit her lower lip staring at it since a million of questions were flying around her mind. It was the first time she was in the presence of a super soldier and let alone someone that had a vibranium arm. So curiousity was her main feeling in that moment. “Can you take it off?” She asked without breaking her sight from Bucky’s arm but since Bucky didn’t look at her, he furrowed his eyebrows confused.

“What?”

“Can you take the arm off?” Sera repeated. Bucky did a quick look at her but then went back at the road. People’s eyes staring at his arm wound usually make him uncomfortable or just don’t like it, but not with her. He found himself liking his arm under them.

“Yes I can.”

“And do you take if off to sleep?”

“No, I don’t.”

Sera tilted her head sideways to have a better look at it, which made Bucky let out a tiny grin. “Isn’t it uncomfortable?”

“I got used to it.”

Sera nodded. “Nice.”

“And you, do you get burn when you do.... that?”

“No. I can’t get burn.” A little laugh escaped her lips after watching Bucky struggle with his words, it was clear that he never been next to someone like Sera and he didn’t know what to say about it, or even what to think in that moment that he got her full attention. And Sera noticed it.

“With any type of fire of just the one that you... do?”

“Any type of fire. Is this weird to you?”

“What? No.” Bucky shook his head after looking at Sera who was exploring every detail on Bucky’s face.

Sera shrugged her shoulder. “Seems like it.” Sera looked Bucky up and down licking her lips enjoying the feeling of having Bucky on the palm of her hand. He did seem like the tough kind of guy, maybe he was, but there was a part of him that made him the softest guy ever. And Sera wanted to see more of that guy. “Does the serum affects... you know?” Sera moved her hand over her lower stomach but Bucky looked at her confused, not understanding.

“Does it affect what?”

“You know...” She moved her hands in the same position but quicker than before.

“No I don’t know.”

“YOU KNOW-” Wanting Bucky to understand she pointed repeatedly to her crotch area while a smile appeared on her face as soon as she saw Bucky’s eyes go wide open as soon as he understood.

“Oh my, no!” He shook his head.

“Really? Have you tested it?” She moved her body to the side to be more closer to his face.

“And you care because?” Bucky let out a smile and then bit his lower lip while doing a quick look to Sera by her side.

“Always wanted to know! Common things everyone wonders.”

“I don’t think everyone wonders.”

Sera quickly nodded. “Oh, yes, everyone does.”

“Really?”

“Yes!” She let her hand hold her head to be even more to closer to him, as closer as the car was letting her. “So....? have you tested it?”

“No!”

“Then how do you know it doesn’t work!? Have you even had your first kiss since 1940?”

“I-” Bucky wanted to answer but his tongue seemed to have twisted itself. It was a reality of him not kissing anyone since he came back, it wasn’t like he had the time to hang out with someone enough for that, he had been dealing with big things since he gain his head back. And he wasn’t ashamed of it, but for some reason, admitting it to Sera didn’t sound like something he wanted to do.

“Oh, you haven’t?” She asked once she understood his silence.

Bucky let out a tiny laugh and then shook his head confused. “How did we get into this topic?”

“No judgement here! Not at all. Just wondering, you know?” Sera let out a proud smile knowing that she accomplished what she wanted and sat down normally on her seat but without breaking her sight from Bucky. He did seem to notice but he kept his mouth shut, waiting for her to talk again. “I made you smile.” She said softly.

“Annoy me. That’s what you did.”

A loud laugh escaped her mouth as she let her head rest on the back of her seat. “That’s even better.”

Bucky shook his head but he couldn’t help but let out a smile. He did a quick look at Sera and noticed that her eyes were now closed and it gave him a little wave of relaxation over his body, but when he went back to the road and noticed a group of people standing outside Sera’s apartment building, it all went back to normal.

“What’s that?” He asked as he was getting closer and the people became more clearer.

Sera quickly opened her eyes and got her face closer to the front window of the car, trying to see more if she could make a sense of the whole situation. But when the car was now a couple of feet away and the entire building was now visible, Sera’s stomach twisted as her heart started to beat faster.

“Oh my God... Angela.”

>>>

“That’s my apartment! You have to let me in!”

Sera’s loud voice could be heard from miles, even if the smoke coming out of the building and the people talking around them covered their entire surroundings. The man at the entrance had made Sera take steps back after seeing her with the intention to walk into the building with no hesitation. With a strange look, the man gently grabbed Sera by the arm and stopped her from getting sucked into the dark smoke and horribly damaging her lungs from it, but that didn’t seem to had bothered her at all. Not even a single muscle on her face let others know that she was a couple of centimetres away from a strong smoke, and that lead to some talking about Sera and her strange desire to enter the building on fire.

“Ms! That apartment is on fire! I can’t let you go inside!” The man yelled trying to keep Sera back. Noticing this, Bucky stepped towards Sera and gently grabbed her arm, preventing her from doing something bad in front of all those people.

“My friend was in there! Can you at least tell me if she’s alright?!” Sera yelled more loudly than before losing her patience, while ignoring Bucky’s hand on her arm.

“We don’t have information from anyone on the inside so please, move aside and let the men work.”

As soon as Sera heard those words she let out a word Bucky couldn’t fully understand but knew that it was a bad one for the way she said it. She stepped back while looking to her apartment and the smoke coming out of it. Biting her lower lip she looked down at Bucky and let out a tiny sarcastic laugh. “Yeah, let the men work my ass. Fuck that!”

“Where are you going?” Bucky asked as she walked passed him trying to leave him behind, but not getting an answer from her got him even more worried about her and her next mysterious actions.

She had quick feet but so did Bucky, so right behind her he followed her to a dark alley right next to her building. Even if it wasn’t far from everyone, the noise and the smoke didn’t seem to get to where Bucky and Sera found themselves to be. Until Sera quickly opened a black door and smoke immediately came out of it.

Without questioning it, Bucky followed Sera once she stepped inside the building full of smoke and hot air. It seemed like she knew where she was since she didn’t even stop to check where she had to turn or if she had to keep going. Her quick steps were becoming a little bit blind to Bucky since the smoke was starting to become thicker and bigger and deeper as they were getting into the building, but anything like that didn’t seem to bother Sera at all.

The long walk that Bucky was having with Sera in front of him didn’t seem to ever end, until the place became more brighter but more hotter as soon as the hallway turned into a room filled with firemen working to turn off the fire still growing inside.

“Ms! You shouldn’t be in here!” A fireman said as soon as he layed his eyes on her but not hearing at word he was saying, Sera walked passed him and walked through he fire that was hiding the hallway to her apartment. “How did she-” the man said turning to Bucky surprised but he just let out a tiny smile and patted his arm.

“Don’t ask questions, just keep working.” He said before nodding and following Sera, leaving the poor fireman confused at his own thoughts and what his eyes just saw.

It didn’t took Bucky long to find Sera again since he remembered the way towards her apartment. With quick steps he managed to walk by her side as she was moving the little flames out of her way without moving a finger.

“There’s no need for you to be here, Bucky. You should go.” Sera said without taking her eyes away from the way in front of her. “Go, Bucky.” She said firmly noticing that he wasn’t turning back, completely ignoring her words.

“Like I’m going to do what you say. I’m not afraid of a little fire.” He said and Sera let out a loud sigh but not a single word came out her mouth after that since the door to her apartment was now in front of her. Noticing that she didn’t have her keys or anything that could open the door for her, she was ready to step up and knock the door down. But Bucky stopped her.

“I got it.” He said but Sera just rolled her eyes and before he could move another muscle from his body, her foot was already on the door kicking it to the floor.

“I got it too.” She said before stepping inside and quickly moving her eyes side to side, trying to find something that could tell her that her friend wasn’t there.

As soon as they were both inside they both noticed that the fire definitely started there on Sera’s apartment. The flames were bigger than the ones outside and the smoke was starting to get into Bucky’s eyes, but ignoring it completely he tried to follow Sera around the apartment.

“Angela! Angela!” Sera started yelling but then suddenly stopped when something else caught her eye. Bucky followed her with his eyes as she was slowly getting closer to the table on the side of her living room. Not taking her sight from it, she moved her hand and grabbed a little piece of paper that didn’t seem to be affected by the fire around it at all.

“What does it say?” Bucky asked when he noticed her eyes transforming.

As soon as those eyes were finished reading the words on that tiny paper Bucky saw how they started to turn red like the fire living and growing surrounding them.

“Good luck on getting your friend back, dear. -J.” She said firmly and with anger on her voice. Seconds later, the note turned into flames and disappeared into the hot air. “That asshole!”

Her loud voice seemed to have shaken the entire building since Bucky felt the walls moving along side her voice. He looked around him and to the ceiling to find it becoming weaker and weaker as the seconds were passing

“We need to get out of here, Sera.” He said looking around making sure nothing was going to fall on top of Sera’s head, because she didn’t seem to care about the building falling apart on top of her.

As soon as Sera locked eyes with Bucky he felt the fire going through his veins. Those red eyes felt like they were burning every single muscle he had on his body. “She’s gone and it’s all your fault!”

“You don’t know that she’s gone!” Bucky yelled once the fire was becoming stronger around Sera. The redness on her skin looked like she had glowing sticks inside of her, slow flames were coming out her body as she was eating the fire around her while making it even more stronger, but she didn’t seem to care since her full attention was on the man there with her.

“I know is your fault!”

“Sera, calm down! We need to get out here!”

“If it wasn’t for you I wouldn’t be involved in this mess and Angela would’ve been safe!”

Another noise of the walls breaking and shaking next to them. It felt like the whole building was going to become apart at any second, and it was all because of Sera.

“Sera! The roof is coming apart!”

“Yes, Bucky! That’s what fire does! It breaks everything apart! Everything that comes its way it destroys it!” Each word seemed like a bomb to their surroundings. Sera was now the biggest fire in the entire building and Bucky knew that, so trying to get to her and calm her down he stepped to get closer and gently grabbed her arm ready to pull her out of there. But as soon as his hand touched her arm the burning sensation hit his skin and that made him take a step back in pain and locked eyes with her, ignoring the feeling of his hand coming apart.

“What?! Afraid of a little fire?!” Sera yelled once she noticed the surprise and shook on Bucky’s eyes.

Before Bucky could say anything else, he looked up when the noise of the ceiling coming apart every second. He could see how the material was slowly breaking and going down towards their bodies. Bucky, looking down ready bring his body next to Sera he locked eyes with her and moved his arm to the side, but like a slow motion movie, Sera let out a loud scream as the fire was coming out go her body and in the process, moving the breaking ceiling out of their way. Bucky lifted his metal arm ready to feel the burning on his skin as the fire was surrounding him, but for his surprise, he didn’t feel a thing. And that’s when he noticed, the fire was hitting everything; expect for him and Sera.

Seconds later, he stopped feeling the hot air and the sound of fire growing next to him. When Sera dropped to her knees he noticed that there was no fire around him anymore. The sound of the walls stopped and the ceiling was no longer breaking, instead, silence surrounded them for the first time in a while. Sera was now back to normal but with tears dropping down her cheeks. Bucky hesitated, but then walked closer to her and kneeled down to wrap her around his arms, making sure his metal arm wasn’t hurting her. Now there was no fire around them, no smoke, no hot air, no ceiling or walls breaking next to them. Just a broken Sera knowing that her friend was in danger and she couldn’t stop it, and Bucky knowing exactly how she felt.

>>>

“I’m sorry, Sera.” That was the only thing Bucky felt like saying when him and Sera were finally out of the building and next to their car. She was leaning over the door while looking down, it seemed like her mind was somewhere else but Bucky didn’t care, his words came out without his brain thinking them. “I truly am.” He said softly trying to get her eyes to look at him, He she wasn’t moving. Until, after a couple of seconds, she moved away from the car and from Bucky with decisive steps. “Where are you going?”

“You need to make sure Sam is fine, and I’ll go back to where Jackson used to work.” She said without stopping.

“Why?”

“Because maybe they were stupid enough to leave things behind. I’ll find something.”

“Are you sure?” He asked louder since she was further away, and noticing that he wasn’t going to get any answer, he started walking towards her. “I’m going with you.”

“No,” Sera said firmly without looking at Bucky “I’m going alone.” Feeling Bucky’s presence still next to her, she looked at him while letting out a loud sigh. “Didn’t you heard me?”

“Oh, I heard you perfectly.” Bucky nodded. “I just chose to ignore it.”

Sera stopped walking and grabbed his metal arm immediately feeling the cold hitting her skin. Being something that she wasn’t used to, she quickly let it go. “Bucky-”

“No. You’re right. You’re in the mess because Sam and I brought you into this. I wanna help.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“Well you’re going to get it anyway, so let’s go.” Bucky started walking but then stopped when she didn’t follow him.

“Being older than me doesn’t mean that you can order me around, you know?”

“I am 106 years old. That has to mean something.”

“Yes,” Sera moved her feet to pass Bucky “that you’re old as fuck.”

“Ouch.”

“Yes, ouch indeed.” She quickly started walking away but being as fast as her, he catched her with ease. “Bucky- go back and make sure Sam is ok.”

“He’s probably sleeping right now.”

“He needs to know what’s going on.”

“You’ll tell him when we go back to the apartment. Let’s go.”

Sera looked at Bucky with an eyebrow raised. “We?”

“Yes, we. Is a pretty easy word to understand.”

Once again, Sera stopped not wanting Bucky to follow her. Copying what she was doing, he stopped in front of her and crossed his arms around his chest.

“Like I told you before, you’re not funny. And I’m not coming back with you.”

“Well, we can discuss it later because now, you” He pointed at her while his other hand took the car keys out of his back pocket and waved them in front of Sera’s face “need a ride.”

“I can fly, remember?”

“You’re going to fly all the way there? Isn’t it going to be very tiring? It’s such a waste of time.” Sera rolled her eyes while letting out a long sigh and tilting her head backwards, realising that Bucky was right. “Let’s go, Sera.” He said in a loud whisper enjoying his win.

“This is going to be the last time you’re right.” Sera said without looking at him once she started going back to the car, not wanting to see the arrogant smile on his face.

”We’ll see.”

>>>

The sound of papers flying and drawers being opened was the only thing Sera and Bucky could hear the moment they both stepped inside that red room. For their surprise, the place wasn’t empty like they imagined it, even worse, it was all burned down. Every furniture, every paper, every little wall decoration was now to laying on the groun while a little smoke were coming out of it.

“Fuck! There’s nothing here!” Sera yelled throwing the last piece of paper the last drawer had inside. She let out a long frustrated sigh while trying to look around for something she hadn’t seen before.

“They literally made sure to burn everything to the ground.” Bucky bit his lower lip doing the same as Sera, but there was nothing else there that could potentially have any information. So Sera frustrated, turned to the door and without waiting for Bucky she left the room leaving traces of smoke behind her.

“Where are you going?” Bucky asked as he was trying to catch her.

“They like to play with fire, but so do I.”

“What are going to do? There’s nowhere left for us to look.”

“I don’t know!”

“We need a plan!”

“There’s that we again.” Sera stopped angrily making Bucky face her as soon as he stopped as well. Being behind her the quick movement she made to face him ended up with him being a couple centimetres from her face, almost feeling the hot air coming out of her mouth against his skin.

“Yes, we, Sera. As much as we need you, now you need us, so we need to stay together.” Bucky was starting to get frustrated at the whole situation, his loud tone was showing it but Sera didn’t seem to care about that at all, she just shook her head annoyed at Bucky’s words.

“I don’t need anybody.” She said firmly getting closer to his face without realising. Even if the hallway they were in had nothing but the light that was coming through the front door, they could see all the details from each other’s faces. They closeness made the other feel every little air that their noses were throwing out, mixing them together every time.

“That’s what you think.”

“No, that’s what I know.”

As each word was said, their tones became more firmly than the one before. Even if they felt the anger and frustration growing inside of them, knowing that the fight wasn’t over, they both went completely silent when their eyes finally connected to each other. Even though their eyes were locked since the fight started, they weren’t paying attention to what the they were saying. As soon as she saw those dark eyes under the poor light she felt the electricity she would often have when looking at Bucky. The blood in her veins started to move faster since she felt her skin burning, but she didn’t move at all. Her feet seemed to have glued themselves to the ground not wanting to leave Bucky behind and keep staring at those blue eyes. For the first time since they met, there was no words that wanted to come out of their mouths. They were no anger or frustration inside of them, just growing sadness ready to explode.

There was no noise around them, just the sound of their breathing. It felt like they been staring at each other for too long, when Bucky felt the need to end the space between them and wrap Sera around with his arms. Looking at her eyes and seeing the sadness and pain in them made him feel like he was in front of a mirror, like he was seeing his eyes on Sera. Those mysterious eyes were showing the same things Bucky would usually see in himself a long time ago.

Before he could say anything else or even think another thought, Sera closed her eyes and tensed her jawline ready to leave the dark hallway and those ugly thoughts on her mind behind. She moved to the side and turned around to walk towards the door with decisive and quick steps. A part of Sera wanted Bucky to follow her, keep talking and go back to normal, but he didn’t. He kept still looking down trying to find the perfect words to say next.

“I used to think the same thing, Sera.” He said softly but it was enough for her to hear him. His tone made her stop what she was doing and close her eyes while letting out a long sigh. “But now I have a partner and I’m good. Better than I’ve been in a long time.” Sera didn’t expect it but those words hit her differently than anything else Bucky had ever said to her. She felt the tears fighting to come out but she tried her hardest to keep them in place, not wanting to break down in front of Bucky. “You think you don’t need anyone but in reality you do. You can’t do this alone.”

As soon as he said those words she felt the burning anger inside of her. All those people on her past telling her what to do or how to act, keeping her like their pet or even weapon on their hands, those words brought them back. She knew that Bucky wasn’t the same, and he wasn’t doing what those people did, but something inside of her clicked moving away every single feeling she was having inside of her seconds ago.

She turned around and locked eyes with Bucky who was already looking at her. “Watch me.” She said firmly and without waiting for an answer, she turned around and walked through the door.

Bucky let out an angry sigh and followed her with quick steps starting to feel the frustration even bigger inside of him. “Alright!” He yelled angrily the moment he pushed the door to walk outside. “What’s your new plan now, genius? Huh? What is your master plan now that you plan to do it alone?”

“She had a date.” Sera said without stopping while hearing Bucky’s steps right behind her. “And the date was at the same hour that the fire happened so I’m going to see if that asshole is involved.”

“How do you know? Maybe he left after she didn’t answered her phone.”

“I don’t know. That’s what I’m gonna find out. It’s weird that at the same hour she had a date the whole apartment turns into flames.”

“Yeah, it is a little weird. And what do you plan to do with that information?” Not getting an answer back from her, Bucky let out a fake laugh and started yelling his next words even more frustrated. “Do you know his name? His address? Where he used to work? Anything? Do you know anything?!”

“I don’t know, Bucky! I don’t fucking know!” Sera turned around quickly to face Bucky. “Agh!” She yelled annoyed covering her face with her hands trying to calm herself down as Bucky was getting closer to her, ending up a right in front of her face.

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you! Let’s do this together. You get your friend to safety and we get those assholes, we all win.”

“Why do you want me with you anyway?” She spitted out uncovering her face quickly to lock eyes with Bucky, but he didn’t answer immediately. He just stared at her while her jaw tensed and those eyes penetrating her soul like he wanted to know every little secret she was hiding.

Before Sera could feel the same electricity she felt before, Bucky took a step closer to her and added more softly than before. “Because I know what is like to care about someone and if something bad happens... it’s in you.” Those words felt deeper than Bucky intended them to. Yes, they were as true as the next words coming out from his mouth but saying it someone that he met not even a day ago wasn’t Bucky at all. Trusting a person new so fast and easy wasn’t what he was used to doing, not after him not being able to trust his own mind. But for some reason, saying those words to Sera didn’t make him uncomfortable, instead, he felt the same as he was talking to Steve. Like those old times he loves and misses so much. But this time, Sera being the one in front of him. “Working together is going to give all of us an advantage, we all have something to bring to the table and it’s going to have a better result. You want to find your friend as fast as possible, right?” Sera nodded. “Then let’s do it. I’ll go to the car, if you come that means you’re with us. If you don’t... then I won’t bother you anymore.”

As soon as Bucky left her side she knew what she wanted to do. What was the right decision, and that Bucky was right even if it felt hard to think about. She hated it, but if she wanted to find her friend safe, she needed to do it with Bucky and Sam.

“I remembered something.” She said and that made Bucky stop and let out a tiny smile as soon as he heard those words coming out of her mouth. “And it can help us get more information about the guy.”

Not hearing her walk towards the car, Bucky turned to Sera and nodded slowly. “Then let’s catch the asshole who did this, shall we?”

>>>

“Angela told me that he works at a coffee shop three blocks away from our apartment.” Sera said when she had Sam’s full attention.

They were all standing in the living room as Sam was sitting down on the couch, still trying to take it easy since the side of his stomach wasn’t fully recovered. Bucky and Sera were standing in front of him trying to catch Sam on everything that went down in a matter of hours.

“Very coincidental.” Sam said looking at Bucky which he nodded agreeing.

“Very.”

Sam turned to Sera who had her arms across her chest while her foot was going up and down repeatedly on the ground. “And you really think he’s involved?”

“I- maybe. I’m not sure.”

“Well, it’s something that we could start on.” Sera nodded and before anyone could let out another word, she turned around towards the door ready to leave the apartment behind.

“Ok, let’s go.” She said but when she noticed nobody was following her, she went back to Sam and Bucky who were staring at her confused.

“Where?” Bucky asked.

“To the coffee shop.” She answered immediately.

“Sera, is almost midnight.” Sam said pointing at the tiny window. Sera looked at it and noticed that the light of the day was long gone, but that didn’t seem to bother her at all. “The coffee shop is probably closed.”

“So?” Sera asked. “We can go and wait until it opens so we can talk to him first thing in the morning.” She opened the door but then Sam spoke again, making her turn around to face him.

“No, Sera, is better if we get some good sleep and we go tomorrow.”

Sera felt the burning sensation growing on her inside as her brian was processing Sam’s words. “Sam, Angela was taken. She could be anywhere right now. And they’re probably doing to her God knows what and you’re asking me to wait?!” Each word that was said was let out louder than the one before. The fire inside of her was growing and she knew it, but she didn’t seem to care or even stop to prevent something bad happening. Her mind was thinking about Angela and nothing else, ignoring the feeling of her hands starting to burn.

“Sera-” Sam got up from the couch to calm her down and for the looks of it, it made Bucky realize that calming her down needed to be done. Because he felt like something was coming. And he was right.

The moment that Sam got up from the couch Sera’s eyes went red like the fire itself. Her fingertips were glowing and her hair started to move like there was wind around her, even if there wasn’t. “No, I agreed to do this with you guys but that doesn’t mean we have to do everything your way-”

“It’s not my way or anyone’s way, it makes sense to wait and get some rest to be fully prepared for tomorrow.”

“I’m fully prepared now, Sam!”

“No, Sera.”

Even if Bucky wanted to intervine he was afraid that if he said something he would make it worse. By the looks of it it looked like Sera was a second away from burning the place to the ground of even burn Sam, who was closer than Bucky.

“Fine.” Sera said normally, like she didn’t feel her skin screaming fire every second that was passing. Just like she was her normal self. “Let’s go with the place Jackson told us about.”

Bucky was about to agree but then Sam spoke again, and his next words worried Bucky even more. “We’re not ready, we need backup.”

“Backup?” Sera asked with a joking tone on her voice.

“Yes. We don’t know what we’re up against and we need to make sure we have all the help we can get.” Sam’s tone made it clear that he wasn’t going to change his mind and Bucky knew that very clear. Knowing Sam he knew that he would always try to make the right decisions. And this time, it wasn’t an exception.

“He’s right, Sera.” Bucky said after Sam said those words, which made Sera even more angry than before. Clearly showing it on her red eyes and her now skin letting out some smoke. But just like before, she didn’t care.

“Of course you’re on his side! You two don’t get it, do you? My friend was just abducted by some really dangerous men that could be doing anything to her right now just to despise me!” Each word that was said was making Sera more angry and the smoke now turned into fire growing out from her skin, slightly burning the furniture on her side. “She could be dead right now and you don’t care! And if she’s not she’s probably suffering and I put her there! I made her involved even if I tried my best to keep her safe! But no! Everything that comes through my way always seems to burst out into flames!”

As soon as she finished her sentence the tiny fire from her skin turned into a circle of fire around her body. Sam and Bucky, preventing themselves from getting burned they took steps back almost falling to the ground in the process.

The fire around Sera was so strong that even Bucky felt the burning on his skin. The tiny table next to Sera was now burning and everything that was on top of it. The fire didn’t seem to be growing but it was becoming stronger and thicker around Sera. Bucky, trying to see her, opened his eyes wider and focused his sight inside the fire. Sera was covering her face with her glowing hands while her hair was lifted into the air moving uncontrollably.

Sam took some steps forward after gaining his balance back ignoring Bucky trying to stop him by grabbing his arm. “Sam! What are you doing?!” He asked but Sam completely ignored him and calmly walking towards Sera. Bucky expected Sam to move backwards painfully after arriving closer to the fire, but surprisingly for him, he didn’t. It looked like the fire wasn’t burning or hurting him. Noticing this a confused Bucky turned to Sera and saw how her red eyes were now on Sam, while tears were slowly going down her cheeks.

“Sera you need to listen to me!” Sam yelled but nothing happened. Sera looked down and covered her face once again and that’s when Bucky felt the burning on his skin become even stronger. “Sera, please. Count to three, remember? It’s me, Sam.” As soon as Sam let out his name out loud Sera quickly uncovered her face and locked eyes with Sam. Their connected eyes seemed to be talking even though they weren’t letting out any words. Seconds later, Bucky noticed how the fire was becoming smaller as the seconds were passing and the burning feeling in his skin slowly fade away. Once the fire was long gone inside of Sera, the second her body ate all the fire she quickly closed her eyes and dropped to the ground. Bucky and Sam with quick steps grabbed her and layed her on the ground, ignoring her burning skin hitting theirs. “You need to rest, Sera.” Sam said softly but Sera shook her head slowly.

“I need to find her.” She said almost out of breath and with a weak tone.

Sam nodded, while grabbing her body with he help of Bucky, who gently grabbed her waist and started walking towards their little balcony. “And you will, but one thing at a time, Sera, one thing at a time.”

>>>

As soon as Sera felt the cold wind hitting her skin, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Even if she wanted to feel some cold air inside her body, as soon as she took it in, she felt how it turned into hot and her lungs filling with it like it was used to. Annoyed, she opened her eyes and the memories of her priors actions came to her head. Like an old movie, the fire around her body and the tears coming out of her eyes were playing on her mind. Sam’s eyes on her, seeing something not for the first time and knowing what was happening, exactly like old times. But this one, had something different. Bucky was there.

A man that met her not even a day ago saw her doing one of the things that happened when she was on her lowest. Something that she didn’t know how to control and even feel coming, even if she tried for years. She felt embarrassed because they came to her for help but seemed to brought them even more trouble even if she wasn’t trying, but for some reason, it always seemed to happen to her. She was used to it, living a life like that for most of her life, but knowing that she did it with Sam... and not the first time; she felt the disappointment on herself growing inside of her each second that was passing. And she didn’t know how to stop it.

“Better?” Bucky’s voice made Sera come out of her thoughts and turn towards him, who was standing on the door with his back resting against the wall.

“Yeah,” Sera nodded and feeling the hot cup of tea touching her skin, she remembered the drink on her hands “and thanks for the tea.”

Bucky let out a tiny smile and then looked down, somehow embarrassed of him and his tea for her. “I’m glad you liked it because I didn’t know if you wanted something hot or cold after... you know.”

“Tea was fine.”

“Good.”

Sera turned to see the inside of the apartment and tilted her head sideways, feeling sorry for the plant and the table now burned. “I’m sorry for the plant... and the table.”

Bucky immediately shook his head and then shrugged his shoulders. “It’s alright, the plant was probably fake anyway. We’ll get a new one.”

“I’ll pay for it.”

“Don’t worry about it, it happens.” Bucky walked closer to Sera and sat down next to her on the tiny couch. Once comfortable, he looked at Sera who had an eyebrow raised. “Yeah, burning a plan to the ground, who hasn’t done that?” For the first time after a long time, Sera let out a genuine tiny laugh. She took a sip of her tea and for her surprise, enjoyed the hot feeling of the drink going down her throat and stomach. “Sam was pretty good back there with you.” Bucky said softly once Sera locked eyes with him.

She nodded going back to her tea, staring at the liquid inside her cup move slowly. “He has seen it before. Me going all... crazy.”

“Did he?” Sera nodded. “I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah. When I met him it was something that happened... a lot.” Bucky wondered why and the questions of her mysterious past came back to his brain. The need of asking some of them to her right on the moment was consuming him, asking himself if it was right or even if she was going to answer them in the first place, but before a word could come out of his mouth, she let out a tiny fake laugh and said: “It’s kinda funny because I get this electric feeling every time something bad is about to happen or someone is about to hurt me but... I never get it when it’s myself who’s about to turn the whole place into chaos. I have this crazy sense and still, I couldn’t protect her.”

“We’re going to find her, Sera.” Bucky said softly but Sera shook her head.

“How do you know that?”

“Because we’ll make sure to find her and keep her safe.” Even if Bucky wanted her to feel better for some strange reason, he couldn’t find the words because... she was right, there was no way he could assure Angela’s safety.

Sera stared at Bucky’s eyes and then let out a tiny nod when some old memories came back to her head. “I said those same things to myself years ago and it never went my way. It’s like everyone that gets involved with me they get hurt. No matter how much I try to keep myself out of the real world.”

“We won’t get hurt, Sera.”

Her entire past was a mystery to Bucky, but for her words he knew that he could relate to it. He could relate to the feeling of not being able to trust your own self and being scare of hurting the people around you. Not having a choice and wanting to leave the real world, Bucky lived that for years. He knew how it felt, but also he knew that it wasn’t easy to forget and heal, and there wasn’t much for him to do more than try to make things right, for him and for the people around him.

“Sam got hurt because of me. You said yourself.” Sera’s voice made Bucky come out of his thoughts and throwing everything he was thinking to the trash. The pain on her voice could be noticible for streets far away and that made Bucky feel the regret in every vein of his body.

“I didn’t- I’m sorry about that.”

“It doesn’t matter, Bucky. What matters now is finding Angela to make sure her safety, so I can move on with a different life like I always do. Away from everyone.” She got up from the couch and left the tea on the side table before locking eyes with Bucky once again. “Thanks for the tea, but I think it’s time for me to head to bed. Don’t worry, I heated it up for you.” She said with a tiny smile trying to hide the tears wanting to come out. And Bucky noticed that. “Goodnight, Bucky.”

As soon as she said those words, she started walking towards the door to walk inside the apartment. Once she left Bucky behind, the tears that were fighting to come out finally won and started to drop down on her cheeks as she was making her way towards the couch, ready to give herself up to the night.

Bucky, who just stayed put while repeating her words on and on on his mind, finally grabbed the cup of tea and felt the hotness on his hand. He let out a tiny sigh disappointed on himself for saying those words, for treating her that way and for everything that happened. Maybe feeling like they couldn’t trust their own selves wasn’t the only thing they had in common. Because Bucky also felt like the people around him always got hurt, even if he was trying to do the complete opposite.

-LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE ADDED-

@dmonchld @riverquartzuniverse @tamaralicovska @anjuonline @coolstorybro2307-blog @yabarguphi @hamiltonlotteryloser @idunno2bh @saturnxany @lunanicki @love-chx @alexnicolaidisss @sunflowerbecca @thatcatsalem @bravheart2001-blog @oopsiedoopsie23 @hoodedhavok @imagines-r-s @girlboss99 @juliesland @the-ramseyhaller @elarasstardust @valeriafulco @cinnabunsprincess @summerdaughter @aadixteed @unsaidmiaa @xscarletxstarx @astolenheartnkiss @luke-patt @lovefreylove @annab-nana @criminalyetminimal @misswings1864 @marveleverythingg @gopromises @learisa @assassinsasha23 @slytherith @someonesidetracked @fangirlfree @justanordinarygir @hazsdiv @just-another-human-dying @barzybeau @sweetcreaturesposts @lost-blvd @blue-eyed-bitch12 @seasidestyies @missroro

#bucky barnes x avenger!reader #bucky barnes x oc #bucky barnes x original female character #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan #the falcon and the winter soldier #tfawts #the winter soldier #the winter soldier imagine

[dragon-of-dreams]

Puzzling

My Masterlist

Part 5 to Cracking a Code

1;  2;  3;  4

Pairing: dark!Steve Rogers x Reader (fem)

Warnings: Swearing, gaslighting, stalking, aftermath of noncon, noncon touching, caregiving, but like by Steve, so not really, self-harm references (previous chapter, not premeditated), discussion of eating

Summary: Steve takes you home to “take care” of you.

A/n: I’m not super happy with this chapter… and maybe I’ll redo it sometime in the future, but I just wanted to give you an update. Sorry, that everything takes so long!

Word count: 2,300

The rest of the drive passed in a blur. Steve’s hand hardly left your thigh and you let him. You were so exhausted, you didn’t have the energy to fight him off anymore. You felt yourself retreating into your body, away from the reality of being groped in the fancy sports car of America’s bravest hero.

Steve helped you up the steps to your apartment. You’re entire body was shaking, leaving you on unsteady feet. If you didn’t know better you’d say you were coming down with a fever. But the reason for the shivers coursing through you was so much larger. Not something a few pills could fix. Steve gently led you into your home, almost as if he owned the place, deposited you on the couch, and covered you in a blanket. As he tucked you in, his hands respectful and his touch kind you surfaced for a brief second out of the hole of despair his comment in the car had put you in.

“There you are, angel.” Steve smiled as he noticed how your eyes started to focus a bit. “I’ll make you something to eat. I’ll be right back.” With that, he leaned in and placed the gentlest kiss on your forehead, before retreating to your kitchen. You watched him rummage around in the tiny space adjoining your living room. He looked at ease, at home, and oh so loving. Did yesterday really happen? you wondered. There they were again. Those thoughts you had to brandish all day yesterday as well. You started to stare off into the middle distance; once more slipping away from reality and the physical pain left in your body. You heard Steve tut slightly, the fridge door opening and closing, then the same sound from a bunch of your cabinet doors. Just as you wanted to call out to him, to ask if he needed help, a robotic response drilled into you by your mother, Steve appeared before you almost as if out of thin air. His gait as silent as any other predator’s.

“Darling,” he sounded concerned, “did you eat yet?”

You looked up at him, doe-eyed. “I.. uh… I must have. I have some overnight oats in the fridge, so if there are only three glasses in there, then yeah.” To be honest you couldn’t remember, nothing made sense.

“There’s four, darling… You really gotta eat breakfast! It’s important to keep your strength up, you know?”

“Yeah, yeah… I usually do. I promise” Why do I not wanna make him sad? Why do I want him to be proud of me? You thought bewildered, as you looked into Steve’s worried eyes before all semblance of structured thought left you again to the tide of confusion washing over you and pulling you under.

“Ok, babe, I trust you. I’ll make some now, okay? You just sit tight.” All you could do was nod. It was like it was all happening to someone else. You weren’t really here. You were so far away and so present at the same time that it hurt.

As Steve left you your mind went to war with itself.

Steve wasn’t a good guy. He wasn’t the hero on those posters, was he? But he was making you breakfast, he tucked you in. He sent Bucky to check on you. No… No, he sent Bucky to make sure you didn’t go to the police. Right? Right.

You could feel your mind shut off, drawing you down with it. All that happened, Steve’s non-linear behavior pushing you over the edge. Nothing made sense.

You barely noticed as Steve fed you breakfast, bite by bite, all that registered somewhere deep within you was his calm, deep guiding voice: “One more bite, there you go, good girl” all his encouragement mushing together in your brain, a soothing sensation flowing through your pain-addled brain.

After breakfast, you could feel Steve manipulate your body, as he wrapped himself around you and put on your favorite movie. As you lay there engulfed in the arms of this giant man, accompanied by the sounds of the movie you had watched a million times, you slowly started to become aware of yourself again. The body heat was so soothing and Steve’s deep humming voice pushed the fear that had kept you paralyzed further and further away. Making way for a seething rage, fickle but growing. As you tensed and readjusted your limbs Steve leaned forwards and kissed your temple. “I knew you were still in there, angel. I made some tea. It should still be hot. I put it in a thermos. Let’s talk okay?” Steve carefully helped you sit, every touch his, stoking the anger burning through you. Then, oblivious to the shift in your mood, he got up to grab the tea and cups as you looked around as if you were seeing your place for the first time. It no longer held the feeling of safety that comes with any good home. All you could see was Steve controlling you, in the TV that was slightly turned, the smell of his cologne on your couch, the dirty pans in the sink.

When Steve came back, your head was much clearer and you carefully reached for your cup and made sure to keep your distance from Steve as subtly as you could. Whatever was to come, was going to be important.

“You know darling, you will have to be nicer to Bucky. He’s only trying to help when I can’t be there. New York is dangerous, always has been. No one knows that better than me and Buck. He texted me, saying you were really rude on the train this morning, and quite frankly, darling, I’m disappointed that I even have to say this, but you have to appreciate what we do for you, okay?” Steve’s voice is calm, collected, and rational. There is nothing but honest concern in it for a moment it disrupts the anger building within you. “It’s time to play nice with Bucky now, okay? Be nice to him, maybe even as nice as you have been for me, understand?”

It’s the last sentence that sets you off, Steve’s expectant gaze, belittling you, that makes you blow your lid.

“What? What are you talking about? Play nice? I wasn’t being nice to you! I don’t want your protection or your attention, or Bucky’s for that matter!” Your voice is rising, as you grip your cup of tea so tight its heat sears your palms. “Get out of my life!” you yell. Then like a bucket of cold water realization sets in. Every muscle in Steve’s body tightens, you see his body expand with the change, looming over you, blacking out the window. You expect Steve to yell, beat you up, but when you dare to look up at his face, it is almost passive, but there is danger burning beneath his façade.

“I understand this is difficult for you.” Steve’s voice turns harder with every word. You notice the missing pet name like a slap to your face. “But I am getting pretty tired of this conversation. You need to rain in that attitude of yours, okay? Because I won’t tolerate you being a spoiled brat who doesn’t see what’s best for them. I’m looking out for you here, taking care of you, something you apparently struggle with,” with that Steve gestures at the remnants of your breakfast, the one he had to make for you, “and all I expect in return is some gratitude, towards me and towards Bucky. This is not up for discussion. And if you can’t behave, you’ll have to deal with the consequences, young lady. Is that understood?” By the end of his speech, Steve has risen to his feet, towering over you, his voice booming to fill your apartment, while you cower into the sofa. Your breathing is shallow and you are petrified. It feels too much like last night. When you didn’t have a choice either. And everything he was saying was making sense. New York was dangerous. And you really were terrible at feeding yourself correctly… Those oat thingies were just the newest thing you were trying in your never-ending quest to live more healthily… Usually, your job took preference over clean living. And Bucky hadn’t done anything to you either. He’d just been there to watch out for you… Steve, well… Steve really had done that, but he also held you today, when your brain shut down and made you food. He could have just left you at work, where you surely would’ve gotten nothing done or even caused trouble if you fucked up your work…

Shakily you nod and watch some of the tension leave Steve’s body and he crouches down in front of you. “Good, I knew you were smart like that. Now we can either go have a bath and soothe your body or you can freak out again and then I swear I’ll make you bear the consequences of your behavior for real this time. So what’s it gonna be, princess?”

You stare at him for a second. How is he so rational? Why does this all make sense? Authority has always been your weakness, and so you just nod because what the Captain says goes, and you learned that the hard way, and let Steve lead you to the bathroom. Maybe you will get to lay in his arms again and hear him praise you. It felt so good when he held you on the couch. You were safe in his arms. All you want is to be back in his embrace. Where the harsh reality can’t hurt you. So you allow Steve to strip you down, as hot water pours into your tub.

Suddenly Steve’s grip on your hip tightens painfully, as yanks your jeans off of you. You look down, scared, and find him staring at the bruises you must have caused yourself in the shower this morning when you were trying to wash the night away. “What is this? Explain, now!” he seethes and turns his scorching gaze towards you.

“I, when I showered, I, I just wanted to get clean…” you stammer.

“Clean? Clean! You hurt yourself! Jeez! How dare you do something like that to yourself? I really can’t let you out of my sight for one second, can I? Gotta watch you like a little kid!”

You feel a pang in your heart. You weren’t trying to be bad! You want to tell Steve, but he just turns off the water, grabs your upper arm, and drags you from the bathroom into your bedroom. As you stumble after him, you try to figure out what is happening.

“Steve?” you plead as he sits down on the bed and puts you over his lap.

“No, darling, not anymore. I have been way too kind to you so far, but apparently, the nice approach doesn’t work with you. So discipline is what you get.” He thunders, and then his hand is hitting your bum with enough force to make you scream. It happened so fast that your head is spinning.

As you lie across his lap everything felt like it’s wrapped in cotton. So much skin-to-skin contact fries your over-worked and touch-starved brain into submission as Steve’s hand is raining down on your ass, painting it crimson. You burst into tears without any control over yourself. “Steve,” you sob, “Steve please, I didn’t mean to, I swear, Steve!” and just as those words leave your mouth, he stops, picks you up, and hugs you close. Your nerve endings sing at the close contact and you sag into him, all tension leaving your body. His hands draw soothing circles on your back as he holds you tight.

“I got you baby.” Steve whispers as he settles you on the bed, “I know that hurt, but I needed you to see, you know?”

You cry and nod, burrowing into his hulking form hovering over you.

“I’ll make it better baby, I’ll make it all good, now,” Steve murmurs, as he leans in to kiss your forehead, while his right hand comes down and starts to play with your clit. “Oh darling, look at you! You’re already wet for me, aren’t you?” Only then do you register the slick coating your thighs, embarrassed you want to turn from him, but Steve cages you in. “It’s okay babe, no reason to be shy about it. There is nothing wrong with wanting your man. Really, it just shows that you understand my discipline with you. I’m real proud of you, angel, real proud.” He mutters as he spreads your lips and slips two fingers in. You can’t help but moan and arch into him.

Steve is nothing but kind and soft with you as he readjusts both of your bodies until he sinks into your heat, and you both moan in unison. “There we go, darling. See how good I can be for you? There we go.” As he starts moving, slow and deep within you peace settles over you. “I’ll make you forget all that pain, babe, it’ll all be gone in just a minute now.” His fingers are rubbing circles around your clit while he keeps murmuring sweet encouragements into your ears as you climb and climb towards an orgasm that is so deep that it leaves you boneless in Steve’s arms until he finishes with a broken grunt deep inside of you. As Steve settles you in his arms after you can’t remember the last time you felt this sated, as you drift into a deep sleep with Steve’s spend slowly trickling out of you. For a split second, before you fall asleep the horror of what is happening to you is clear in your mind, but then, thankfully, once more your exhaustion pulls you under.

#marvel #dark!fic #dark fic #fic #fan fic #captain america #modern!au #Steve Rogers #dark!Steve Rogers #dark Steve Rogers #Steve Rogers x reader #dark Steve Rogers x reader

[butwhyduh]

Sickening

You looked at the blood in your sink. It was becoming sticky and rust colored at the edge. It probably wasn’t a lot but it certainly looked like it. The fact that you weren’t exactly sure who’s it was made you feel sick. You closed your eyes and grabbed some towels to clean it.

After spraying your sink heavily with antiseptic, you scrubbed your hands clean and left the room. Your boyfriend laid out on the couch. Normally you found it a little funny the way his long body would hang over the arm. Now you were worried.

“Jason,” you asked. What is going on? He sighed and rubbed his eyes.

“I got in a fight. It’s no big deal. You know how assholes in Gotham are,” he said. As if to emphasize his point, the sound of police sirens sounded close by. Yeah, this place was rough.

And Jason certainly looked like he had recently been in a fight. His knuckles were red and raw. He had a bruise blooming on his forearm. And his grey shirt had little specks of black that you couldn’t help but wonder was blood.

“Why are you always covered in bruises? Is that the assholes in Gotham?” You asked, sitting on the coffee table.

“You could say that,” he muttered under his breath. “I guess people just want to punch me. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

“You need a bath,” you said. “I’ll throw your clothing in the wash.”

“I’m fine-“

“You’re covered in blood and I’m not sure it’s yours,” you said. Jason slowly rose from the couch and you see that he favored one shoulder over the other one when pushing up. Probably also bruised. Or worse.

He all but stumbled into the bathroom. You started a hot bath. Your small apartment didn’t have a shower attachment. Jason roughly pushed off his boots before grimacing as he pulled off his shirt and threw it in your tiny washing machine. That one was a gift from him that somehow your landlord was totally cool with despite being a complete ass.

His shoulder had nasty red and purple splotches of bruises and there was a small bloody area. He shoved his belt open and pushed off his pants and socks. Jason slid into the tub. He groaned. His long leg had his knees sticking out of the water almost comically.

You bent down and sat on the old tile floor. Someone, probably in the 1920s or something, had out tiny little white hexagon tiles all over the floor next to the claw foot tub. You grabbed a cup and started pouring water on Jason’s chest. He hissed before relaxing. Steam from the tub rose in the cold room.

“I worry about you. Worry what you’re doing. Why you won’t tell me what you’re doing. That you’re in trouble or something. Do you owe a gang money or something? Who hit you?” You asked softly. Deathstroke, Jason thought but he certainly couldn’t tell you that. His hard look soften a little.

“I don’t owe a gang money. Nothin like that,” he said. He couldn’t help but look at your face. You were too pretty, too innocent, too good for his world. He didn’t want you in this. Hell, he shouldn’t have talked to you in the first place because no one lasted long in his life. Jason knew that taking you on a date had been selfish. And everything after that was him being too weak to do the right damn thing.

You took the cup and poured water over his hair. The slight pink color had you grimacing. You didn’t push your questions. It was something Jason loved about you. He was a hard nut to crack and usually what worked best was time and space.

You grabbed your shampoo rather than Jason’s to wash his hair. There was no way that you were going to use his ‘mountain bear scented 4 in one shampoo, conditioner, body wash, motor oil’ when trying to pamper him.

You’d never washed his hair before. He’d definitely never let anyone close to washing him. Shower sex, great. But never something non-sexual and intimate as just being bathed. You ran your fingers through his hair letting the soap rub in. Jason literally felt goosebumps on his skin and he closed his eyes and leaned into your hand. You were the only person that he let touch him and high key, this was the best relaxation he’s ever remembered feeling. You ran your hands through his hair longer that necessary but you could tell that he wasn’t complaining. He groaned a little.

You poured the water over his head and was pleasantly surprised that the water was soapy but clear. At least there wasn’t a lot of blood in his hair. Jason bent and washed his face in the water. He had more stubble growing than he usually did.

“Do you wanna shave your face? I can do it,” you offered. For a fraction of a second his brow creased before he gave you a half smile.

“Not today. I’m good. Thank you,” Jason said holding your hand. He couldn’t exactly say that he didn’t trust anyone with any kind of blade near his face.

“Are you okay? Tell me what’s going on,” You said reaching a hand to his other cheek. His jaw clenched a little and his eyes almost looked hurt. He was thinking of all the people who had died because they knew a secret. Other vigilantes who’d lost their entire families for knowing their secret identity. But at the same time, Jason knew that you wouldn’t stay around forever and the lies were growing. He was going to do one more little selfish thing. He sighed deeply.

“I’ve gotta tell you something but I don’t want to scare you,” he said and his eyes showed so much worry and fear. He genuinely thought he might lose you over this.

“Scare me? Jay, what are you talking about?” You said confused. He inhaled nervously.

“I- I’m Red Hood! Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to say it so loud,” he said. Jason’s eyes searched your face. Your eyes were wide and you were frozen. His breath was all over the place in absolute fear. It was only a few seconds but he prayed for you to speak.

“Did you just say that you’re Red Hood?” You said faintly. Red Hood was infamous. Brutally murdered gang members, rapists, and traffickers. Even once famously fought the dark knight himself. The one continued theme of everything you heard: cold, cruel, and highly deadly. If you saw Red Hood, it was probably the worst day of your life, if not your last.

“Uh... yeah? Yes.” He gulped and watched you. His blue eyes were so round and worried.

“No. I can’t believe that,” you said. Jason, who would read Jane Eyr to you, that fed stray cats outside of the apartment, and was literally the sweetest boyfriend couldn’t be this killer. He looked down with a sarcastic smile.

“I’m Red Hood. That’s me. If you don’t believe me, there is a Glock 26 Gen 4 strapped to my bedside table. There are a few more around,” he said motioning around the apartment.

“You keep stuff here?” You asked with a mad look. Your head was spinning.

“No. Just some protection. None of the Hood stuff is ever here. I don’t want anything that could be found in this apartment. All the stuff here is new and never fired besides a few practice rounds. I try to be as safe as possible so you are never in danger,” he emphasized. You both sat in silence for a few minutes. The only movement was Jason’s fingers running along your hand.

“Why? Why do you do it? Be the Red Hood?” You asked finally. He expected that question but not right away.

“I should probably tell you how it started,” Jason said and he didn’t hold back. He told you about his parents, attempting to steal the rims from the batmobile, becoming Bruce Wayne’s ward, becoming Robin, being killed by the Joker, the lazareth pit, and becoming the Red Hood. By the time he was done, the water was cold and your legs were numb. “That’s why I have bruises and scars. Why I leave sometimes or miss dates.”

“I’m sorry,” you said softly. He gave you a look of confusion. What could you possibly be sorry for? “You shouldn’t have gone through that. You shouldn’t have needed to hide it from me. I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t scare you? You don’t want to run from a murderer?” Jason asked. His eyes searched yours for signs of fear or disgust.

“Is it really murder if they are evil? Or justice?” You said slowly and he winced at that word. Bruce certainly wouldn’t agree. “Every time I hear the question ‘would you kill baby Hitler’ I would. Without question. I would shoot a baby because I would be thinking about 6 million Jews and unknown others that died because of him. The bad guys always get out and make things so much worse.

“You’re going to have to tell me where all the weapons are here. I’m paranoid that I’m going to reach in the couch and grab a sword,” you said with a laugh, standing up. Sure, you were shocked. But that wasn’t going to make you run screaming into the night. Or maybe you were in shock? You’d find out in the morning.

“Swords are more my brother’s thing,” he said with a laugh. “I’ll show you. I’ve been wanting to teach you some self defense too.”

“We’ll get back to your brother being into swords later. But first, let’s get you out of that wet ass tub and into bed. Because I can’t process any more information tonight,” you said handing Jason a towel. He obviously favored his right shoulder when dressing in sweatpants before coming to the bed where he flopped down. The lights in the bathroom flickered and you rolled your eyes. That’s Gotham for you.

“I’ll fix that tomorrow,” Jason said quietly.

“Nevermind that. Do you want an ice pack?”

“No. I want you,” he said and you smiled a little before crawling in the bed. Jason moved around to lay with his head next to your chest snuggling close. It was almost comical the way the big man hugged you and laid in your arms. He needed to be close to you even though your arm on his waist made him clench in pain for a second before you moved to a better position.

“I don’t deserve you,” he said quietly. “You’re way too nice to me. Almost gullible. Like Baby, you live this way?” he said with a smile. His sarcastic defense was back up. You rolled your eyes.

“Maybe I’ve got a thing for the whole bad boy thing. Or that I know last week, you had cereal with water and honestly, that’s the ultimate weakness,” you said back and he gave you a rare grin.

“We were out of milk. Like what was I gonna do? Eat it dry? No.”

You kissed the corner of his mouth and he grimaced.

“Sorry. We should get some sleep. It’s super late,” you said.

“Yeah, sleep. Sounds great,” he said already drowsy. “I fucking love you,” he whispered before falling asleep.

#fns #friday night smut #Jason todd #red hood #red hood x reader #Jason todd x reader #Jason todd angst #Jason todd smut #batboys

[darkisrising]

BobaDinLuke bdsm fic, by DarkIsRising

Can’t decide if this is something to continue or if this is as far as it goes. So, I’m just gonna dub it a Tumblr fic for now. If it picks up steam then I’ll add to it, edit it, and throw it onto ao3. CW: Very very spicy, bdsm, a host of other stuff probably but rest assured everything here is consensual.

They meet at a sex party, which in hindsight shouldn’t be a surprise. It’s just about the only time Luke can be talked out of leaving the house these days.

He shows up in a hood that hides his features save for somber brown eyes and the plush spread of his lips; the black latex so shiny that Luke can just about see his own reflection in it. He wears leather like a second skin and even without being able to make out a single feature on his face, save those eyes and lips, or a single detail of his body, save his exposed cock, he is the most beautiful man Luke’s ever seen.

Luke, of course, is naked. His knees are hitched up to his chest, held there by his own arms that he knows better than to lower, and the words Load Count are scrawled in extra wide Sharpie from one nipple to the other. He’s already gone two rounds and there’s two lines beneath the words to show for it. Boba’s turn came first, of course. It was his privilege as Luke’s dom and he'd taken it with one finger hooked around the collar that marked Luke as his. And then after Boba there had been a guy that Luke hadn’t recognized with a nice enough cock and a regrettable tribal tattoo across his shoulder.

There’s something about this third man that gives Luke pause. Something in the way he takes his place at Luke’s ass— something so hesitant and careful and precise and apologetic as he pulls himself hard enough to sink into Luke’s body— that is awfully endearing. Luke wishes he could tell him it’s okay. That he’s here because he likes doing this sort of thing. That his dom is somewhere nearby, watching from the shadowed corners of the room, to make sure that despite all the calls to wreck that twink’s ass and fuck him up! and do it so hard he won’t be able to walk no one actually does anything that Luke isn’t into.

He can’t, of course, because his mouth is where Boba’s left the Sharpie, a neat solution since the last time they’d played this game the Sharpie had been lost to the dungeon’s dark and sticky floor within the first five minutes. Instead he tries to show it with a widening of his eyes and an encouraging grunt for every tiny thrust he gives as he fucks inside of Luke, the wet from lube and release slicking his way. When he’s all the way in he rests for a moment and it feels like the kind of moment that Luke could live a lifetime in for the way he meets Luke’s eyes, the way his gloved thumb reaches down to rest against Luke’s chin, the way he stretches Luke’s ass with just the right amount of cock to set the base of his spine sparking, but not so much that Luke’s worried he’ll be split in two. 

“Ready?” he asks and his voice is so low it very nearly gets lost to all the moans and groans and demands for more that writhe like eels through the air. His eyes gleam dark in the dim dungeon and Luke can’t look away. He nods, entranced, and for the first time that night Luke’s not thinking about all the men that are going to follow, he’s only thinking about the one that’s inside of him. 

I want to kiss him. The thought hits him— blinding as a bolt of sunlight that’s been hidden behind a cloud— and it’s the most that Luke’s wanted something so chaste in so long he doesn’t know what to do with it. Not that he has many options in this position with a Sharpie clenched between his teeth. All he can do is stare at this man’s lips and yearn with an intensity that carves into his chest as this man’s cock carves into his ass and Luke can’t say of the two sensations which is more intimate. 

“You’re so tight,” the man rasps out and Luke can’t stop himself from clenching down, his hips jerking at the compliment. It’s something he’s heard a million times from countless, faceless other men, but oh the way this man says it makes him flush all over.

It’s over before Luke’s really ready, but one glance over the man’s shoulder and Luke can see a line is forming. Usually it would make him hard in anticipation, to see so many that want to use him and fill him until he’s leaking. This time he wishes he could have more time with just this one.

The man takes the marker out from between Luke’s teeth and Luke wishes he’d replace it with two of his leather-covered fingers. He doesn’t, though, only marks a line on Luke’s chest and then in the same soft, sincere way he’d told Luke he was tight says “Thank you,” and in that moment Luke is pretty sure he’d do just about anything for this man. 

Which is a terrifying, thrilling thought. And a dangerous one, seeing as his rash, unchecked impulsiveness is why he needs a guy like Boba to keep him in line to begin with. 

Before the man can cap the Sharpie again, Luke darts to snatch it out of his hand. The weighted shape of Boba coming out from the shadows, called forward by this change of script.

Luke ignores him. He ignores the line of waiting men stroking themselves hard as they watch Luke with interest as he grabs this man’s hand.

“May I?” Luke asks in as submissive a voice he can muster, and Boba would be so surprised to hear it come out so easily, but Luke can behave when he wants to. Most of the time. “Please, sir,” he adds when the man says nothing.

A slight incline of his head is all the answer he gives, and Luke wastes no time in peeling away his brown leather glove. He writes out his cell number as clearly as he can with a marker that’s a little too thick for it and then, when he’s done, he holds that brown gaze as he bends down to blow the ink dry. 

“Thank you, sir,” Luke husks, heart beating wildly. The man doesn’t say anything back, he only takes his glove and works it back down over his hand and then he’s gone, swallowed by the dark.

“Is there a problem?” a voice growls near Luke’s ear. Tugging on the collar around his neck brings Luke’s attention to Boba’s familiar, scarred frown.

“No, sir,” Luke says, turning his face into Boba’s neck, nuzzling in, but Boba steps away, keeping him at arm’s length.

“That’s only for good boys that finish what they start. Are you going to finish what you started, little one?” It’s a warning as clear as the shake of a rattlesnake’s tail: dangerous and low.

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”

Two hands take Luke by the shoulders and lay him back down. The marker is plucked from his hands and recapped with a snap. “How many loads have you had tonight?”

“Three, sir.”

“And how many did we agree you’d take?” Boba asks, catching Luke beneath his knees, hoisting them back up against his chest and into position. 

Luke shivers, as the humid air meets the wet of his hole, breathing cold, while the hot, hungry gazes of the waiting men meet among the slick. “Eight, sir.”

“Then get to it.” The Sharpie is slid back between his teeth and then Boba’s hands are winding through his hair, pulling just enough to bring a jolt of pain. Luke’s breath catches in his throat. “No distractions this time.”

Soon enough another guy is penetrating Luke, brought forward by Boba’s commanding nod. He’s rocking into Luke, fucking him with an intensity that makes a dull thwack every time their bodies meet. The next guy is huge, so big that Luke has to bite down on the plastic hull of the marker in his mouth to keep from screaming. Tears squeeze from Luke’s eyes, wrested out with every incredible thrust in. Luke loses track after that. The pain becoming pleasure, the pleasure never quite becoming enough to spill over into satisfaction, only transforming into something else. Something intense and terrible and blessed and more. The men change, the girths and lengths that hold him open and fuck him apart change, and Luke takes them all.

Through it all Boba stays where he is, supervising with an unforgiving hand in Luke’s hair, the pain a constant that Luke can depend on, focus on, until it becomes awash with a dull, glowing haze. This is what he’s here for—  this feeling— this euphoria where he’s horribly small and he’s unfathomably large, together. He’s an object to be used and discarded. He’s more precious, more vital, more necessary than he can comprehend. 

A kiss on his forehead cuts through the fog, and Luke realizes he’s not being fucked anymore for all that he can still feel a phantom grinding between his cheeks. His fingers are made to unclench from where they’ve dug like claws onto his flesh and his legs are lowered. The wet mess that’s been left to leak out of him is a turn-on but even that is a distant thing. There’s no immediacy to it, no driving need to slack his lust, just a thrum of appreciation for this proof that every man that’s had him tonight has left behind.

Drawing him in, Boba cups the back of his head until Luke’s pressed into the cradle of Boba’s neck. He was denied this privilege earlier. Now it’s being freely given. The difference sets him shaking, or maybe that’s just the come-down.

“That was good.” Boba’s voice is a rumble that Luke can feel through the places they are pressed together. The steady jump of Boba’s pulse is calming against the bow of his lips and Luke closes his eyes to savor it.

Time gets away from him again, and somehow he’s been cleaned enough to stuff his legs into pants and a warm sweatshirt is pulled over his head. The black hood comes up, as good as blinders on a horse, and then he’s led out to where there are sofas and water and people speaking soft as a passing brook.

The lip of a water bottle is pressed to his mouth and Luke obediently drinks from it without thinking. Boba sits in a plush armchair and though he’s shorter than Luke, there’s so much of him that Luke can curl into his lap and disappear behind the safe, steel beams of his muscular arms. 

“Your boy did good out there,” Fennec says, dropping into a nearby seat and Boba’s agreement is another rumble for Luke to savor with his eyes closed. “I haven’t seen you two in months, I was surprised to see you came out for this.”

There’s a question in her words, a careful line to walk between curiosity and concern, that normally sends Luke into a tailspin in the outside world. Here, though, he isn’t Luke Skywalker: wounded veteran and broken hero. He’s a pet— Boba’s pet— and he lets his dom navigate the social interaction while he sinks deeper into his embrace.

To Boba’s credit, he makes no mention of the malaise that’s grabbed hold of Luke lately, pinning him to the bed and keeping him there for days. Instead he huffs a harsh laugh. “Yeah, well. Maybe if Fortuna hadn’t turned this place into such a shithole we’d be over more.”

“Can’t argue with that. Say what you like about Jabba, but at least things weren’t always breaking on his watch. Did you hear about the ceiling that collapsed a month ago? When someone was in the sling, too.”

“Oh, shit.” Boba says and then they are off, trading gossip and wry quips. Luke is content to close his eyes and listen, secure that the only thing he needs to do is exactly what he’s doing right now. Every now and then Boba strokes his back through the thick cotton of his hoodie or turns to nuzzle at Luke’s temple, and every time Luke’s contentment spreads thick like molasses.

He surfs this subspace all the way back home where he lets Boba get him clean and dressed in pajama pants and poured into bed. The last thing he does is release the buckle on Luke’s collar and then, with one final squeeze to the scruff of Luke’s neck, the scene is over.

“How are you doing? Want me to grab the ibuprofen?”

“Nah, it’s not that bad,” Luke answers, shifting so that the ache in his ass becomes a little more noticable. “Been awhile since I did anything like that.”

“Yeah, no kidding. Was proud of you, though.” There’s a chair by the bed and Boba sits there, staying close but careful to give Luke his space now that they’re done for the night. “That’s two more than the last time you took on a train.”

“Mmm,” Luke agrees lazily. The writing on his chest hadn’t totally come off in the bath, and he pushes his blanket down enough to trace the lines on his chest, lingering on the third one.

“Wanna tell me what that was all about with number three?”

Number three. He of the shiny latex mask and the deep brown eyes and the lips that Luke can almost feel against his own for how much he’d wanted them to be. It’s enough that he almost asks Boba to bring him his phone so that he can wait around like a lovelorn teen for a call or a text, but he’s still coasting enough on endorphins from earlier that he doesn’t want to completely tank his chance at sleep by keeping vigil over the glow of a phone screen all night.

“Not really,” Luke admits at last. “Wasn’t anything bad,” and Boba accepts that with a nod.

“Fine. Keep your secrets. Let me know if it becomes anything I need to worry about.”

“Always.”

Boba stands to leave, a lumbering swing to the motion that Luke knows means his prosthetic is giving him problems, but he knows better than to mention it. “Don’t worry about making breakfast tomorrow. Sleep in. I’m in meetings all morning, anyway.”

“Yeah, okay.”

When Luke closes his eyes, the ache from his over-used, well-fucked body is finally enough to quiet his demons. For once, sleep is swift as death, and just as inescapable.

#bobadinluke #spicy #darkisrising fic

[newtonsheffield]

For spicy Sunday can we please get the Story behind Kate and Anthony on the stairs...

And Ben and Sophie on the lawn of the b&b please 🤣🤓🔥

I knew as soon as I put those lines in that BWC post someone was gonna ask me about it and... Okay. Yep. Here it is.  And sorry in advance because this post is looooong.

As Much as Anthony had hated it at the time, he’d been attracted to Kate Sheffield from the very first day he’d seen her. He’d been walking innocently through the bullpen and he’d heard her commanding tone drifting through the office towards him, and heat had shot right through him, and when he’d forced his eyes towards her and she’d sat, in her office, her legs crossed behind her desk, her stocking clad legs seeming to stretch on for miles, Her eyebrow arched in question towards him, her fingernails painted black tapping against the desk Anthony had thought he’d die right on the spot. But he’d pushed it down, even when his eyes seemed to be drawn to the seam that ran up the back of her stockings and his hands twitched to touch them, and he woke in the night his heart racing, his body aching for the way his mind had conjured up the image of her writhing underneath him gasping his name in pleasure. 

And then he’d had her. And he truly thought his heart would burst from his chest because the Kate Sheffield his mind had conjured late at night, desperately trying to tell him what his heart wanted, had been his wildest fantasy truly the most erotic thing he’d ever seen. And yet, the Kate Sheffield that lay on his bed gasping and moaning his name like it was the only word she remembered how to say was a million times more so. And he’d thought that perhaps now he’d finally be able to think straight when she was around. Unfortunately for him, that was not the case. He couldn’t see her walking around the office, her stockings pulled tightly against her legs without thinking about how those long legs had felt over his shoulders, miles and miles of soft brown skin stretching on before him as she shattered around him, for him. Couldn’t see her in his house, laughing, smirking, making witty little comments with his family and hers without thinking about how her lips felt against his own, against his chest, her teeth nipping at his collarbone, scraping against his ear, against his stomach. It was enough to drive a man insane. 

And truly, today it had been. Anthony really couldn’t say when it had happened, but he craved Kate’s touch. To feel her skin against his in even the most casual way and she had been a little more casual than normal today. She’d sat on his lap as she spoke with her sister, laughing lightly as her Step mother admonished her sister, her breath fanning lightly against his neck and her nails scraping against his neck, her fingers twisting in the soft hair at the base of his neck, and it was all he could do not to stand from the table and drag her from her family, push her against the wall and lose himself in her. And The way her eyes flicked to him when he shifted uncomfortably told him she knew exactly what she was doing.

As soon as the door had shut behind the Sheffield’s Kate’s lips had been on his. Burning hot against him, setting him on fire from the inside out, as she gently pushed against his chest, forcing him to step backwards, his hands wandering everywhere as she moaned against him. He pulled back suddenly, taking her hand and attempting to tug her up the stairs, and his heart had nearly dropped right from his chest when she’d shaken her head, that wicked smirk twisting her lips as she said 

“Oh, I think we’re fine right where we are. Sit Down, Anthony.” That same, firm voice, that had caught his attention on the first day and had him panting after her ever since and he’d sat instantly, right there on the staircase, ready to burst and he’d barely touched her as she softly commanded him to. 

And really, he wasn’t sure which Kate he liked best. Seeing the strong, confident woman writhing under him, or the one he could see now: Moving powerfully above him, one hand clutching his chest, the other holding her hair back as she took what she wanted from him. And he couldn’t stop the words from coming God Kate, so beautiful, amazing. Perfect. So right, So good I love you babbling mindlessly from him with her name, worshipping like the Goddess she was, His own name falling from her lips again and again until they fell apart together his hands clutching at her like she was the only real thing in his life. And honestly, if Kate Sheffield was going to be the only thing left in his life, he wouldn’t have complained a bit. 

 🔥🔥🔥

Sophie was... more than a little embarrassed by the series of events that lead to them being discovered in a rather... delicate position on the lawn of a bed and breakfast in Somerset. Benedict had been travelling for work and his eyes and looked so pleading, so soft when he’d said Come away with me for the weekend Sophie his lips against her ear as he said I promise I’ll make it very worth your while, his hand maddeningly close to where she desperately needed it as he said Say yes, and you can have it Sophie  what could she say but  “Yes, Benedict.” ?

And truly, it had definitely been worth her while. She’s sat and watched Benedict work for a time, more than a little curious as to what he did all day. And unfortunately, she learned a little fact about herself. Watching Benedict work was... very attractive to her. The way his brow furrowed as he surveyed the scene in front of him assessing the composition, the lighting, the soft way he ordered the models about had heat rising to her cheeks. And then, as he’d packed up his equipment he’d said something that she never would have expected to set her one fire,  “Come on, I want to draw you today.” And she’d been so surprised she’d barely argued as he’d tugged her back to their tiny room, gathered his things and sat, already uncomfortably warm, on the grass in the back garden as he softly moved her into the position he wanted. 

And God he just looked so handsome, in the afternoon sun, his brow furrowed, his hand moving softly over the paper, the charcoal he was using leaving marks against his hand. His gaze when he looked at her over the top of his notebook was practically burning into her. And then he started talking. His voice rough when he told her exactly what he wanted to do to her. How he wanted to press her into the grass, feel her tight around him, the flowers all around them when he made her scream his name. And god help, her she cleared her throat and said, much more confidently than she felt:   “Promises, promises Benedict. Stop talking and do it.”  

 And Sophie watched as the drawing he’d been labouring over softly was tossed to the side, his hands covering her as his lips met hers, the fire that had been threatening to set her on fire all day consuming her. His body slipping over hers as his lips brushed over her thighs, his fingers leaving dark smudges against her skin, marking her. The grass tickling her back as her fingers slipped through his hair as everything shattered. And shattered again when he moaned out her name. 

But yes, Sophie had to admit, it was a little awkward to be served eggs the next morning by a woman who had happened upon you seconds after your boyfriend had swallowed your scream with a kiss.  

Sorry about me.

#bridgerton and sons au #kathony #anthony x kate #anthony bridgerton #kate sheffield #kate sharma #benophie #benedict bridgerton #sophie beckett #spicy sunday 🌶 #I might need Jesus #molly's asks and answers

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

In My Dreams Tonight

for @chaotic-bard who asked me for some fluff!

have a soulmates that dream about each other au featuring both a modern au and the canon universe!

brought to you by “Dreams Tonite” by Alvvays

---

“You’re nothing but trouble, bard,” the tall man glared from atop his horse. He always seemed to be glaring or glowering or huffing, the man in Jaskier’s dreams. The familiar stranger wore his long white hair pulled halfway back and he had golden eyes, the pupils of which were slit up the center like a cat’s. His name, Jaskier had learned after the third straight week of seeing him every night, was Geralt of Rivia. A Witcher, apparently, whose job it was to hunt down monsters.

“Ah, but what a lovely piece of trouble I am!” Jaskier replies. And he’s rather sassy himself in these dreams. Far more clever and ready to fight than he is when he’s awake. “You would miss me if I left, wouldn’t you, Geralt?”

“Hmm.”

The stranger hums a lot. He glares and he hums. Jaskier’s heart stutters frightfully in his chest whenever the man smiles, though. The sight is rare. Geralt has smiled perhaps three times in the past two months.

“Where are we going today?”

“Werewolf outside of town. You’re staying at the inn, where I know you can’t get into… nevermind. You can get into trouble anywhere.”

There’s a lightly teasing tone to the stranger’s voice that Jaskier hasn’t really heard before. He likes it. He craves more of it. He tosses and turns in his sleep, his skin damp with sweat. The dream goes on.

“Geralt, please,” he whines, “I can’t write ballads about monsters I haven’t seen! Or fights I did not attend! That’s lying to my audience, Geralt, and I simply won’t do it. I must go with you.”

“Drop it, Jaskier,” the man snarls. Jaskier feels sad. Incredibly sad.

Rejected?

“Gera-”

“I said drop it, bard.”

Jaskier wakes up feeling a little heartbroken and he yearns to be held. His pillow holds the fading scents of leather and wood-smoke. The sight of a pine sapling at the dog park makes him tear up.

He starts to wear the color yellow out of nowhere and his taste in jewelry switches from gold to silver. 

When his best friend asks him about the recent changes, he cannot answer.

---

Geralt pours himself a mug of tea and shakes his hair out of his face. He’s been having odd dreams lately, things that feel familiar but manage to stay just out of his conscious grasp. Someone important is waiting for him. Someone he love and cares about and needs. 

Geralt doesn’t really buy into the concept of soulmates, but he does understand instinct. He knows to trust his gut. He knows to listen and start paying attention when the same haunting blue eyes creep into his dreams every night for six months, plaguing him in the waking hours by refusing to give up their owners’ identity. 

He wipes a hand down his face and sighs loudly into the otherwise empty studio apartment. “Fuck me, I gotta figure this shit out. I gotta talk to Yen.”

Talking to himself has always helped him calm down. He does it again, just to hear his own low voice scraping through the silence. 

“I gotta see what’s going on with my head. These dreams are… getting to be a bit much, even for me.”

He nods to no one in particular and goes to text his best friend and coworker.

---

Jaskier hops off the bus and carries his guitar case down to the coffee shop on the corner. Finally, he’s managed to get a gig that wasn’t through the university.

He sets up his stuff in the tiny alcove the shop treats as a stage and watches as a few customers stroll around near the counter, waiting for their drinks or reading through the menu, hovering just far away enough from the line to keep others from growing confused.

He loves people watching. 

Once everything is ready to go and the light outside the window has dimmed a bit, indicating early evening has finally arrived, he pulls his guitar onto his lap and strums through a few quick chords.

“Rode here on the bus,

Now you're one of us.

It was magic hour,

Counting motorbikes on the turnpike;

One of Eisenhower's.”

 “Live your life on a merry-go-round;

Who starts a fire just to let it go out?”

He watches a particularly handsome man with broad shoulders and a vintage denim jacket approach the counter. Jaskier adds a haunting, well-practiced lilt to his voice as he goes into the chorus, hoping to get his attention:

“If I saw you on the street,

Would I have you in my dreams tonight?

If I saw you on the street,

Would I have you in my dreams tonight, tonight?”

An equally beautiful woman with long, curly black hair approaches the denim-clad angel and whisks him towards a table nearby. She settles with her back to Jaskier, leaving him with a decent view of the man’s sharp, lightly stubbled jaw, glittering eyes, and severe white ponytail. He’s gorgeous.

He’s also uncomfortably familiar.

Jaskier continues to perform, trying to identify his attractive mystery man the whole time and failing miserably.

---

“He’s everywhere, Yen. I feel like I could identify him by scent if I got close enough. I can’t remember his name, though. Or the color of his hair. I don’t know his face, only his eyes. It’s driving me crazy.”

“Have you talked to Dr. deStael about it?”

“Yeah, but she said this kind of thing is normal. Recurring dreams often help us sort out our trauma or something like that. I don’t know. I don’t feel traumatized by this guy I feel… protective of him. Maybe even like I love him?”

“Hmm.”

“Hey, that’s my line.”

“Shut up for a minute, this live music actually slaps and I want to listen to it. Then we can discuss your weird possessive tendencies towards your dream boyfriend.”

Geralt takes a slow sip of his coffee and glances up at the singer off to their left, perched on a barstool with his guitar held carefully on his lap. His voice is soft but somehow bright. Geralt finds himself utterly entranced.

“On the weird guitar;

Said you'd go to work

In the waking hour.

In fluorescent light,

Antisocialites watch a wilting flower.”

 “Live your life on a merry-go-round;

Who builds a wall just to let it fall down?”

The lyrics are strange and hold a dream-like quality to them. They draw a picture in Geralt’s head, something dark and heavy and oddly hollow. He has another sip of coffee and tries to ignore the feeling of panic welling up inside him. He glances at Yennefer to see if she’s picked up on his mood, but her violet eyes are focused on the singer and his nimble fingers as he continues to play and sing.

When he glances up towards their table and their eyes meet, Geralt loses the ability to breathe.

That shade of cornflower blue was…

Couldn’t be…

Had to be…

The gorgeous, feathery tenor continues to fill the air, whirling pleasant notes past his ears and deep into his subconscious. Geralt knows that voice. He’s heard this man laugh and sing and cry and scream a thousand different times. Through a handful of different lives. Geralt knows that face, those hands, those strong legs and long arms and blue fucking eyes. He’s held this singer in his arms every night for centuries, feeling his breathing as they both drift off to sleep.

He has protected this man and been protected by him in return. He has kissed and been kissed, caressed and been caressed. The two men sitting across from each other in the coffee shop physically embody an endless cycle of love. It has been bound up in the souls of two no-longer strangers. Geralt knows that he knows this man. 

He knows Jaskier.

Petal pink lips continue to form soft words and slender hands keep plucking at vibrating guitar strings:

“Don't sit by the phone for me,

Wait at home for me, all alone for me.

Your face was supposed to be

Hanging over me, like a rosary.”

Geralt stands suddenly, startling Yennefer but not the performer, even though he’s clearly just as shocked as Geralt about this recent development.

Their mutual realization.

“So morose for me,

Seeing ghosts of me,

Writing oaths to me,

Is it so naïve to wonder…”

Geralt crosses the room to the edge of the stage in three quick strides. Yennefer is close behind him, her latte just as abandoned as his coffee at their table. She grabs her friend’s arm as if to stop him from doing something violent, but when he doesn’t struggle against her grip she lets it go again easily. 

“Geralt?” the musician asks.

“Jaskier?” Geralt replies. The guitar is placed quickly to the side and a pair of incredibly familiar arms are thrown around the taller man’s neck. Geralt hugs back just as firmly, his arms flung low around the brunette’s waist. Geralt knows that this is Jaskier’s favorite way to be embraced; he doesn’t know how he’s aware of that fact, but it comes to the front of his mind clear as day. 

“Holy shit,” Jaskier breathes, leaning back to stare Geralt in the face. One of his string-calloused fingers traces down over Geralt’s eyelid and cheek and he cocks his head to the side. “No scar?”

“No,” Geralt shakes his head. “Not this lifetime, I guess.”

“Were we? Are we- are we, you know...?”

“Yeah,” Yen beams, adding her two cents from the sidelines. “I think so. Congrats, boys. This is one of those one in a million chances and you’ve gone and done it.”

“Done what?” Geralt asks. Jaskier tosses his head back and laughs. His happiness rings out through the cafe like a struck bell and Geralt’s heart stutters frantically. He really does love this man already. Wholeheartedly and without fear. “What have we done, Yen?”

“As obtuse now as you were then,” Jaskier chides affectionately. “Soulmates, my love. We’ve been bound by the red string of fate and ta-da! Here we are. Again, apparently.”

“Yes, okay,” Geralt breathes, nosing his way along Jaskier’s jaw with giddy determination. He presses a quick and wholly welcome kiss to the bard’s lips. “That makes sense.”

 “Do you... do you want me again? This time around?” Jaskier asks, fingers fiddling with one of the ties on Geralt’s hoodie. A pair of chapped lips press against his again and he sighs into it, melting against his no-longer-Witcher. 

“Yes. And the next one, as well.”

#bouncey's sappy hours #geraskier #geraskier fluff #yen #yennefer #yenerference kinda #getting together #soulmate au #prophetic dreams #geraskier soulmate au #geraskier soulmates #shared dreams #modern au #geraskier modern au #kissing #first kiss #magically getting together #prompt fill

[prettytoxicrevolver]

Worried | Corpse Husband

Requested? Nope 

Warnings? Mentions of a toxic household, struggling mental health

Summary: After visiting your family for a bit, you isolate yourself out of old habits. However, after days of not hearing from you, Corpse comes to check up on you 

Word Count: 1,701

You were beyond shocked when Corpse showed up on your doorstep in the middle of the night a few days after you returned to the west coast. 

You had headed home to the east coast for a bit to visit your family and catch up after living on the west coast and not coming home for a few years. You didn’t mean to intentionally stay away from your family, but after building up your savings and getting yourself settled, you didn’t realize how long it had been since you had seen your family. 

So, you decided to fly back for a week and finally catch up with them. You missed them a bit but you were aware of how happy you’ve become since moving to the west coast and following your passions. You were finally able to escape your small town and be able to spread your wings.

Growing up you had always struggled with your mental health and your hometown mixed with family issues never helped it. It was part of the reason you felt trapped when you were growing up in your tiny hometown. You didn’t get as much help as you should have and the support you needed wasn’t there. 

You made it through thankfully, but when you got to the west coast you felt like you could breathe. The weight of everyone knowing everyone was lifted and you had more access to help than ever before. You felt motivated to work on yourself and with new friends who were more like family you felt better. 

Going home sent you back probably ten steps. Your mom had commented on your looks. Your dad claimed you weren’t doing well out west and shouldn’t try anymore. Your brother gloated about his new promotion all week. You felt torn down the whole week through subtle hints and tiny jabs and you couldn’t wait to get home. 

You had texted your west coast friends practically the entire time you were gone telling them how everything was going and how you couldn’t wait to see them when you got back. You and Corpse had texted every day and he was the reason you made it through the painful dinners and conversations with your family. He either sent you memes or inside jokes during the dinners and called you every night when you got back or had a moment alone to check-in. 

He was simply there for you when you needed someone to make you smile. He understood what you were going through and didn’t want you to go through it alone. You hoped you could repay the favor one day. 

On the flight back you were excited to get back home but you felt yourself falling back into spiraling thoughts. This always happened with your family, making you feel like you’re not good enough and that you’d end up failing. You ended up getting so into your head and falling back into a depression when you came home. 

You ignored pretty much all of your friends’ calls, texts, and even tweets about where you were and what was going on. It happened pretty much every time you got into your head about your family’s comments. You kept to yourself and didn’t let anyone in on what you were feeling. 

So you should have understood when Corpse was worried sick. He had been texting and calling you all week and when you come back that’s when you ghost him? He was worried he did or said something, overbearing with his messages, or didn’t help enough. He was wracking his brain for days after you had gotten home and couldn’t come up with anything. 

It also stemmed from the fact that he liked you. He’s liked you since your first among us game when you teamed up as the ultimate impostors together and you had the same mind as he did. You two played off each other’s energy and he knew immediately he wanted to know you. He knew you were someone special. 

So, when his best friend and the girl he likes dips, he’s concerned and that’s most of the reason why he ended up on your doorstep unable to sleep. 

You found it hardest to not respond to Corpse. The man’s electric personality, stunning laugh, and caring heart hooked you from the start. You had fallen hard for him and the fact that he was there for you even thousands of miles away while you were with family meant everything to you. But your brain betrays you and you wish you could tell him everything. 

It was a few days after you had gotten home and you found yourself plagued with insomnia. It had to be at least 2 am when you got up from bed to make a cup of tea and read a bit more of the book you had started recently. Whenever you couldn’t sleep, most of the time you gave up, not caring if you went back to bed or not knowing you could always drink more coffee the next day if you were too tired. 

Just as you sat down, a knock on your door sounds and for half a second your heart stops. You try to convince yourself it was something falling over outside but when you hear it again, sharp and clear, you nervously set down your mug and head to your front door. 

You pop up on your tiptoes and peek through the peephole to see the one person who hasn’t left your mind the entire time you had gone dark since you’ve come back home. 

“Corpse?” you ask when you swing open the door. The older boy scans you up and down before stepping forward and instantly wrapping you up into his arms. 

You react immediately lifting your hands to grab the fabric of his sweatshirt and pull him close. He pushes his face into your neck and it’s like every bit of stress is being relieved slowly by his touch. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers still holding you tight. “I was just worried.” 

You pull back at this, raising a hand to his cheek which he instinctively leans into. Your thumb rubs soothing circles across his cheekbone and you feel the flutter of a sigh leave his lips. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper back and he shakes his head. 

You dive back into his arms, his hands now resting securely around your shoulders and you press your face into his chest. You stay like that until you know he’s not going anywhere. 

He presses a kiss to your head before pulling away and slipping his hands from your shoulders to your hands. His left-hand slides down the inside of your forearm, his fingers dancing across your skin delicately until they meet your palm. 

You try not to seem too eager as his fingers slide perfectly into yours and you practically come alive as soon as your palms meet and you’re whole again. 

Your eyes finally meet his once again and he offers a tiny smile before tugging on your hand lightly to pull you into your bedroom. You follow him feeling a million times better than you did when you woke up this morning or any morning for the past few days. 

He leads you to your bed and you fall down onto it with him crawling into it next to you. You sit criss cross with him sitting in front of you, a curious look on his face. 

“What’s wrong princess?” he asks quietly, reaching out to place a comforting hand on your knee. 

“My family has spent most of my life telling me I’m not good enough. Not supporting me. Going home felt like I was 16 again and trying to show them I’m good enough,” you say as tears start to fall down your face. 

Corpse moves at this sight, carefully placing himself next to you and placing both hands on the back of your thighs to pull you closer to him. His left-hand cups your cheek and wipes away the falling tears. You take a deep breath, looking into his gorgeous eyes and feeling calm wash over you once more. 

“I just don’t feel good enough. I feel like no one wants me and I’ve always struggled with how to talk to people about it so I shut down.”

“You don’t have to tell anyone, anything love. Talk when you’re ready but know I’m here no matter what. I want to hear about your biggest victories and your worst days. Your passions and your nightmares. But if you’re not ready that’s okay.” 

You’re almost sobbing at this point because you’re not sure if anyone has ever loved and supported you this purely. You had learned to do the heavy lifting of loving and supporting yourself but always dreamed of someone supporting you on your bad days and you were so grateful for Corpse to be that someone. 

“Thank you,” you whisper. 

Corpse nods and you give him a small smile. Your eyes search his for a moment when you notice his eyes flicker from yours to your lips. It strikes you how close the two of you are and your heart drops to your stomach and rolls around a bit out of nerves. 

His hand is still on your cheek and he pulls you forward and just as you’re an inch away your eyes flutter shut. Your lips meet his and it’s like time stops. It’s breathtaking like you’re certain you’re not breathing but you never want the moment to end. You sink straight into the feeling in case it never happens again. 

As you break apart you stay close together, resting your foreheads on each other as your eyes search the others. And then he smiles that rare, room brightening smile and you’re lit up at the sight of it. 

“C’mere,” he whispers and you fall carefully into his embrace. 

He wraps you up in his arms, one wrapped securely around your waist while the other comes over your side to hold your hand. His face is pressed into your neck and you know for certain this is going to be the best night’s sleep you’ll get in a while.

#corpse husband #corpse #corpse x y/n #corpse husband imagine #corpse imagine #youtuber imagine #imagine #bravebesson

[cal-kestis]

You’ve Been Lonely Too Long | Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

(Part I of The Aftermath of Losing Everything) 

moodboard/sketch/gifs made by me, please don’t repost :)

Summary: After parting with Grogu, losing his ship, and battling with the tenets of his Creed — Din is plagued by memories he fears will only ever exist in his past. But when he meets you, he’s surprised to see a bit of himself reflected in your eyes... and the family he still longs for. (Set after S2) Rating: M (for reasons that will happen eventually)      Word Count: 6572 Warnings/Tags: Soft!Din, Fluff, Angst, Eventual Smut (non graphic), Action/Violence, Mentions of Blood, Hurt Comfort, Slow Burn, no use of ‘Y/N’, Din is wistful while talking about Grogu :’), he misses him A/N: Here it is! I've done a lot of research when it comes to lore, planets, etc. But I've taken a few creative liberties. Replies/comments are very welcome!

[Read on AO3] // [Series Masterlist]

Memories keep him awake more than he cares to admit.

They conjure themselves unbidden, slithering through the iron bars of his mind. And just before they burrow, just before they brand his brain, just before they emerge from the shadows and he can recognize them — images of bright eyes and petal ears, sound bites of gentle coos, memories he wants to keep locked like a treasure — they vanish like vapor.

Sometimes he tries to chase them, like a valuable quarry. But even illustrious bounty hunters like Din Djarin know what it’s like to lose. Especially at night, when memories morph into vicious nightmares... and he becomes the prey.

If he ever does sleep, he sure as hell never rests.

And no one would catch wise. That’s the beauty of beskar. Because — despite the deep purple rings circling his wrinkled eyes, the constant dry and chapped state of his lips, and the uncharacteristically unkempt stubble on his jaw — when he walks into a room, everyone only sees the harsh glint of metal armor, the precise swagger in his gait, the loaded blaster at his belt. A Mandalorian: legend coming to life. And everyone quakes in their boots.

Everyone except you.

After he had left Gideon’s light cruiser, helmet replaced on his head — an imposter’s crown — he’d expected to say his goodbyes and carry on the way he always did before everything changed, before the kid. Alone.

He hadn’t known his next move. But picking up another stray? Not part of the non-existent plan.

Yet here he is, coasting in hyperspace aboard his cold, newly bargained light freighter, watching his crewmate modify the jammers.

“Hand me that driver, will you?” You huff, wiping sweat off your brow.

He had found you on Tatooine almost three months ago, fighting off some spice-high lowlife in a dark adobe alley. He remembers seeing you throw a heavy punch to the man’s jaw, extending your other trembling hand toward his throat before softly shutting your eyes, brows pinched in gentle focus.

Something about you had felt familiar, something he couldn’t shake. Your outstretched arm had sparked a memory of tiny green claws. And it had all happened so quickly. You had your eyes closed, the man had reached for his blaster, but Din had always been the faster shot.

Smoke had wafted from the man’s chest, your eyes had opened in shock, and Din had disappeared before you could thank him.

Instead, you had managed to stow away on his ship that same night and hire yourself as his new crewmate.

“I have nowhere to go. No home, no family,” you had explained, eyes glistening. When he’d scrutinized you, he only found a small bag slung over your shoulder and a short, chewed-on pencil tucked behind your ear. “I’m a good worker. I can cook and I’m a decent pilot, a better mechanic. And I’m… crafty?”

“I work alone.” He’d said it so surely, but a cloud of sadness had hovered over the words as he’d forced saliva down his dry throat.

“You don’t have to. I can be a valuable asset to you. Take some weight off your shoulders. Be someone to talk to.”

You had glanced at his stoic frame, his silence filling the room like a smoke grenade.

“Well, you don’t have to talk. But I can be helpful.”

There had been something in your eyes, or maybe even beyond them… something in you, something so achingly familiar. He’d felt it floating around the ship, radiating off your skin, seeping through his beskar armor. And he’d sighed because he couldn’t have stopped his next words from tumbling off his tongue if he wanted to.

“Just don’t touch anything.”

He remembers how you’d gasped, your arms wrapping tightly around his torso without a second thought. And he’d just stiffened like solid carbonite, not allowing himself to dwell on how warm and soft you felt, and he’d gently pushed you off, disappearing into the cockpit.

You’re still chatting away as you continue tinkering with the jammers. You’re definitely a talker. But to him, everyone seems that way when silence is his chosen weapon of survival.

Below that primary qualification of ‘someone to talk to,’ he’d realized almost right after you joined his crew of two that your resume checked out. You’d been invaluable on this new, unfamiliar ship — helping him modify it until it had some of the Razor Crest’s best qualities. Some.

When small memories like that start flooding in and try to take him under headfirst, he thinks it’s better to be alone. At least then, he can decide whether to sink or swim. So, he excuses himself to the cockpit and you hum in acknowledgment, continuing your chatter despite being your own audience. 

He spends a lot of time here in solitary silence, staring at the stars as they reflect off the tiny metal ball that hangs from a string on an unused lever. It’s the only token he has from that life — the days of flying the Crest system to system with a giggling child in the backseat.

More often than not, you find him here exactly like this: helmet hung low, a silver sphere pinched between two gloved fingers, millions of confined thoughts racing through his mind faster than hyperspace and clawing at his skull.

When you find him like this, you try not to speak. Just sit in the co-pilot’s seat and watch the stars with him.

And as he studies the little gear knob from his past life, the one question that passes through his mind the most is:

What can you do when the reason you’re hurting is likely the only thing that can heal you?

 —

ii.

After many months on the freighter, you’re sure of two things when it comes to your new crewmate:

First, the Mandalorian doesn’t talk much. Or ever, really.

But you quickly get used to your questions — and there are many — being answered with a curt “yes” or “no,” sometimes a grunt or sigh thrown in when the question is just right. You don’t mind too much, it’s enough to get you familiar with the way the ship works and you always know what to expect from him. 

When he’s not outside hunting a quarry on some Maker-forsaken outer rim dustball, leaving you inside to tamper with the ship’s outdated systems, he’s usually on one side of the freighter and you’re on the other. If he seems busy, you leave his food outside his quarters, and later, you find his dish empty and washed in the storage cupboard. And when you’re fighting for sleep in your bed, you hear his footsteps echoing all night long. But there are times when you both find yourselves in the small, shared space of the cockpit, when your desire to see the corners of space beyond Tatooine becomes too great to stay away. In those moments under the domed viewport — faced with a myriad of vibrant hues and tremendous textures and infinite stars — he doesn’t speak and you can’t find the words, giving way to a tranquil, transfixing silence neither of you wants to escape.

The second thing you’re sure of is: the Mandalorian gets hurt, a lot.

You can’t count the number of times you’ve watched him drag himself and an unconscious body onto his ship or holed himself up in the fresher, hissing in pain as he tended to his own wounds.

But this time, he comes back and collapses outside of the ship, unable to even pull himself up the ramp, much less the dead weight of the quarry. There’s hardly a thought in your mind as your feet scurry to his side, sprawled across the ground beside his target. You don’t wait for permission before you’re reaching for the gloved hand pressed firmly to the side of his stomach. 

“No,” he grits out between his teeth, groaning when the tiny word seems to tear him apart where he’s already been gashed. “The quarry.”

You frown, almost rolling your eyes at his stubbornness. Always the job first.

Still, no arguments pass your lips when you turn to pull the heavy, unconscious Trandoshan by his bound wrists. It takes all of your strength to drag him up the steep incline of the freighter’s ramp, through the main corridor, and into the supply closet, Mando’s makeshift prison. You’d asked him about it before, one of your many questions, wondering if he should consider more secure holding quarters. And he’d responded with a surprisingly long (for him) statement, “Not as good as a mobile carbonite freezing system, but it does the job.”

After chaining up the quarry’s hands and ankles and locking the closet, you nearly trip over yourself while sprinting back to the groaning Mandalorian. You kneel beside him, pulling the hand pressed against his stomach over your shoulder to lift him on his feet. A harsh, metallic scent suddenly fills your lungs, drawing your gaze to the blood-stained palm of his glove dangling over your shoulder. You do your best to ignore it, refocusing your energy on lugging him into the ship. As soon as you reach the top of the ramp, your strength gives out, sending both your bodies collapsing to the floor with a dull thud. It’s a challenge disentangling yourself from his heavy limbs but once you manage, you quickly turn to examine him before his hand stops you again.

“Gang on our tail,” he rasps, coughing then groaning in pain. “Get us out of here.”

Your lips press into a straight line, a war waging behind your furrowed brow as you decide whether or not it’s smart to leave him alone, bleeding on the floor of the main hold. But his hand shakes as he squeezes your wrist in what you think is meant to feel comforting. You release a deep sigh before getting up to close the ramp and set coordinates in the cockpit.

When you return minutes later with a medpac, you find him stretched out on his back, his neck arching with a groan, and his glove clutching his stomach once more. You kneel beside him to assess the damage, reaching your hand to his waist before he grabs you again.

“You don’t have to,” he grunts. “I can do it.”

“I know you can,” you say, gently removing the glove trapping your wrist. “But so can I. And I can actually move my limbs at a normal, painless speed, get the job done quicker. So, please, let me.”

He sighs, giving a quick nod of his helmet before allowing you to partially remove his armor.

You start with the breastplate, remove the thick padding over his stomach, then grab the ever-present pencil behind your ear and use the dull end to lift the edge of his brown undershirt, just enough to reveal the knife wound in his side.

“What happened?” You gasp, quickly gathering antiseptic, a laser cauterizer, and bacta patches from the medpac.

“Ambushed,” he grunts, wincing as you clean the cut, your breath sliding across his skin as you lean in close.

“I’ve sustained some pretty bad knicks myself. Nothing as bad as this,” you joke lightly, switching the antiseptic for the cauterizer. When the laser touches his skin, he gasps and curls in on himself as you burn the wound closed. Instinctively, you grab his hand, the one not stained with blood, and interlace your fingers with his on the ship’s floor, letting him squeeze your palm as a distraction. “Nothing I couldn’t fix up. When you’re surviving on your own, you have to learn how to take care of yourself.”

“I know,” he says quietly. I work alone, he’d said when you met. 

Even through the shadowy visor of his helmet, you feel his eyes on yours and stare back openly. But as always, you only see your own warped reflection in the silver gleam of his beskar.

“It helps to have the proper supplies,” you chuckle, tearing your eyes away from his helmet to finish closing up his wound. “This bacta patch should fix you up real good.”

After smoothing the gel bandage against his skin, your fingertips linger only a second too long on the exposed warmth of his tanned stomach. You pull down the hem of his shirt, starting to reach for the pieces of iron covering his arm but feel him stop you by squeezing your joined hands.

“They only got one jab in,” he says, his voice sounding more relaxed, almost cocky. But when he sees the worry on your face, his thumb sweeps lightly across your hand and he squeezes once more. “I promise. I’m fine.”

“You’d better be,” you warn, shaking your joined hands in front of your face like a cranky geezer. “Because I’m not carrying two unconscious bodies off this ship when we land.”

He huffs out a short breath, only wincing slightly at the movement. Without another word, you pull his arm around your shoulder once more, limping him toward his sleeping quarters to rest. But you stop just outside the door, not wanting to encroach on his privacy.

“Thank you,” he whispers, leaning his hand against the doorway.

“Your gloves,” you say, his helmet tilting in confusion when you stare at his hand pointedly. “Let me clean them for you.”

He tries to argue but you won’t have any of it, simply extending your palm out toward him until he reluctantly pulls at the yellow leather tips on his fingers and hands them over.

“You can leave your shirt outside your quarters, too. I don’t want you stinking up the ship with your bloody clothes. Wash up. Get some rest. And be more careful next time,” you say, smiling and walking backward as you talk.

“I’ll do my best,” he says, and you swear you hear a ghost of a smile in his voice.

Before you can question him on it, he presses the button to his quarters and slips inside.

 —

iii.

Time seems to pass quicker on the Mandalorian’s ship since the Trandoshan incident. And this man of few words quickly becomes a man of… just slightly more than a few words. Nevertheless, as his crewmate, you’ve learned quite a lot more about him.

One, he never stays in one place for long. He’s a bounty hunter, of course, and he takes multiple jobs at once. That means, together, you visit at least four different planets in the span of a few weeks, expertly flying around New Republic and Imperial scanners without a hitch. Two, he likes your cooking, a lot. You can tell because, by the end of the night, after a soft “thank you” buzzed from his helmet, his dish would always be licked clean — two dishes when you’d made his favorite. Sometimes, he’d even surprise you and try to recreate your recipes, generously leaving bowls of delicious food at your door. But he never eats where you can watch, enjoying the meals in secret and quietly washing up for you when you’re on the other side of the ship and can’t argue with him about it. Three, he doesn’t remove his helmet when you’re around, maybe even when he’s alone. “This is the way,” he’d mumble on occasion, a Creed that sounds like a foreign language even falling from his lips. Four, although he says he works alone, you see the way his helmet leans toward you when you speak and notice how his knees point in your direction when you sit side by side in the cockpit, gravitating toward you yet deeply cautious of drawing too close. And five, he’s lonely. You know because you’ve carried the same sadness in your chest almost all your life.

Several months on his ship have opened him up to giving more detailed answers to your numerous questions, and you take each opportunity where you can, desperate to unveil new pieces of his mind.

Tonight, Mando is particularly relaxed after capturing the last of four bounties, coordinates already set to turn them in. An empty bowl of bone broth sits beside his first helping. He leans back comfortably in his pilot seat as the stars shine off his chest plate and you ask about his past adventures.

“Has it always been just you?” Your voice comes out as a whisper, not wanting to disturb this content stillness, but thinking of all the times you’ve found him sitting alone in the cockpit clutching onto a silver ball.

He’s silent for a moment, thinking over his words. He doesn’t turn to face you when he answers, “No. There was... a child. Not long ago.”

You think back to when you had first met him, how he’d said, “I work alone,” how those words had seemed devastatingly true — in the way only a person who’s lost everything could say them so honestly.

“Yours?”

A beat. “Yeah,” he answers, a small crackling sound coming from his helmet. “Yes, a foundling. But he was as my own.”

“What happened?”

The cockpit stays silent save for the dull tones of the control board’s beeps and ticks. Mando reaches for that silver sphere, leans forward in his seat, and he holds it to the crown of his helmet.

“I... had to let him go.”

His voice breaks over the vowels, just slightly but you hear it: the familiar shattered sound of loss. It radiates off of him in waves, penetrating your skin and crawling through your bloodstream until your own heart aches for the ghost this child left behind.

“What was he like?” 

He’s quiet again and you wonder if you’ve crossed a line. But suddenly, Mando swivels his chair to face you, the silver ball clutched tight against his chest, and he chuckles. It’s fleeting but it’s a sound you’ve never heard in all your months aboard his ship. A lovely sound you’ll never forget.

“This was his favorite toy,” the Mandalorian says, lifting the ball in the air for you to see. “He was a stubborn kid. Always getting into trouble.”

You smile, begging him to continue.

“He could do things I couldn’t even imagine. He saved me, in more ways than one. We were a clan of two.”

“A family,” you agree.

He stills for a moment, ponders your words, and hangs his head. “Yeah, a family.”

“What’s his name?”

“Grogu.” You can almost hear the smile in his voice. “His name is Grogu.”

“Grogu,” you whisper, testing the name on your tongue. “Can you describe him for me?”

You pull out a small, worn booklet of parchment from your pouch and the short pencil from behind your ear. His helmet tilts toward you curiously and you can almost imagine his eyes squinting behind the visor.

“Remember when I said I was crafty? Not a load of bantha crap,” you chuckle, waving the pencil at him. “I made a trade with some stingy Jawas to get these relics.”

He nods, quietly examining the antiquated drawing pad.

“Tell me,” you plead.

His helmet’s gaze drops back to the silver ball and he sighs a wistful sound.

“Grogu was — is special. A green, wrinkly, big-eared... very special little kid.”

“A green, wrinkly child?” You ask, looking up from the paper.

Mando laughs again and you can’t help but smile too. He describes Grogu like he’s a father mooning over his son’s first steps. You’ve never heard him talk so much, so joyfully yet sorrowfully all at once. There’s a wistfulness in his voice, a rasp that tells you he’s not used to putting it into words, at least not out loud, but he still wants to honor Grogu with every word he has. As he speaks, you can feel — almost see the image of Grogu in your mind. It’s crystal clear like your brain is reaching out and can somehow access every archive in Mando’s memories. It’s like a trance and you have to physically shake your head to release yourself.

“He means a lot to you,” you say, a matter of fact, tearing off the weathered page and giving him your quick sketch, your hand resting on one of his pauldrons. “I’m sure you mean a lot to him.”

Mando silently turns back to the controls, his fingers still clutching the little ball as he grips the page in the other hand.

He’s especially glad to have his helmet at this moment because he feels water pooling behind his eyelids as he stares at the uncanny drawing.

“That’s him,” he whispers, looking upon his boy. It’s almost an exact likeness, although in grayscale (he’ll have to find you other colors somehow). But it means everything to see Grogu again, even on a page, after months of only seeing him in fleeting dreams and distorted nightmares. 

“Thank you,” he says, his hand with the drawing joining your hand on his pauldron.

You smile as he neatly, delicately folds the paper and tucks it into the small pouch on his shoulder harness, keeping the drawing close to his heart. You sit together in comfortable silence as the ship drops out of hyperspace.

“I guess you weren’t lying when we met,” he finally says.

“What do you mean?”

“You are… crafty,” he chuckles, his fingers tenderly stroking the leather pouch on his shoulder. “And you’re a good person to talk to.”

 —

iv.

The Mandalorian doesn’t ask you to stay on the freighter while he works anymore.

He doesn’t want you with him while he hunts, can’t afford the distraction. But he doesn’t want you to feel trapped either. So, he tells you to explore villages and draw landscapes of forested planets with the set of pigmented chalks he’d sweetly gifted you after finishing a job one day. (“I saw them at some backwater trading post. Thought you might like them,” he’d shrugged.) 

He doesn’t say it out loud but you know he trusts you even more now, trusts you won’t get into trouble, trusts you can take care of yourself if it finds you anyway. And he knows you appreciate it after being stranded on Tatooine your entire life. Each time he lands on a new planet, he sees entire galaxies reflected in your awestruck eyes and he gains a new page of artwork to add to his growing collection.

His latest quarry leads the pair of you to Felucia, on the hunt for some scum who — according to the Mandalorian — is probably hoping to harvest the planet’s Nysillin, a valuable healing herb, to trade for hefty credits. 

Felucia is a beautiful world you could never have even conjured in your dreams. A dense jungle of flora extends toward the upper atmosphere, kissing the yellow-tinted clouds and glowing orange and teal when night falls. Vibrant purple fungi tower high above the ferns, providing shade that did little to combat the damp heat.

You felt a strange energy running through your veins the moment you stepped off the ship, blaming it on the humidity instantly sticking to your skin like honey, a welcome discomfort compared to the sands of Tatooine.

On Tat, the sand made a habit of blowing and whipping around your ankles, scraping slashes and slivers into your skin. You’d hardly ever felt it, soft skin having evolved into a numb armor over many years on the desolate planet. Even as crystal particles would fly into your eyes, fill your lungs, nestle into your hair — you’d hardly felt it.

Sand is nothing compared to the sinister shudder that would run down your spine as you’d make haste through dark alleyways. The hairs on the back of your neck would rise and stiffen. You’d feel it more than you’d see it: the mass of darkness constantly looming over your shoulder, disfigured shadows merging with yours on the sand. And a voice would ask you each time: are you willing to do what you must to survive?

You almost had that night you met the Mandalorian. You remember your attacker’s voice like you just woke up from a nightmare, coarse and rough, burying itself under your skin like the Tatooine sands. His hands had felt slimy and sticky like the Felucian air as he’d gripped your waist. That same question of will had rung in your ears and your soul had urged you with a whisper: “Survive.” Your hand had quaked as you’d lifted it and focused your thoughts on your attacker’s throat. 

Then, before you could save yourself, you’d heard blaster fire and exhaled a staggered breath, gazing upon the Mandalorian as your hand had dropped limp at your side. You never turned back.

Now, you explore more systems than you knew existed, a Mandalorian warrior at your side, filling your weathered drawing pad with sketches of worlds beyond imagination.

Felucia would be a quick job, he’d assured you when he’d left. Easy and clean. Besides, no matter how beautiful the planet seemed — you couldn’t afford to stay longer than one rotation.

The Mandalorian had warned you of carnivorous plants and mysterious beasts. He hadn’t asked you to stay on the ship, but you knew he’d feel better if you kept close by. In the low shrubs and behind sky-scraping stalks, a deep grumble echoed through the jungle — something hungry and menacing. You stayed far from the sounds, choosing to explore the other colorful flowers that lived nearer to the ruddy soil, not straying too far into the mystifying wilds. You scribble away in your booklet, airways filled with a fresh petrichor that reminds you of a watery star system the Mandalorian brought you to a couple of months back. Your chalks fly across the tiny page as you capture this planet’s inimitable beauty as best you can.

Hardly four hours pass before you hear the Mandalorian’s heavy footsteps returning. Behind him trudges a stout man, wrists in binders behind him as he follows the bounty hunter in defeat.

“You’re getting slow, Mando,” you say, grinning when he comes to a stop in front of you, hands on his hips, a slight tilt to his helmet.

“What are you drawing?” He asks, ignoring your previous comment. He kneels beside you, silently studying the chalk-smudged red flower on the page as you stroke the final flourishes of your sketch. You hand him your booklet, noticing how the quarry leans over Mando’s shoulder to sneak a peek as well.

“Beautiful,” Mando says, tone even, as if speaking a fact instead of opinion.

“Well, it’s easy to see beauty when it’s all around,” you answer, cheeks heated as you gesture to the plant life surrounding you.

“It is,” he agrees, tenderness seeping into his modulated voice. When you look up at him, his visor is already trained on your face, unwavering as you crouch eye to eye with each other.

“Hate to break it to ya,” the quarry says, coughing dramatically behind you. “But all this ‘beauty’ wants to eat us alive, so I suggest we get off this hellhole before we all become dinner.”

The Mandalorian sighs, tearing his gaze to probably glare daggers at the quarry. 

“Makes you wonder what you were doing on this ‘hellhole’ in the first place,” he says, sarcastic to a fault.

“It wasn’t my choice,” the quarry argues, lifting his hands in defense. “I’m here to do a job, just like y—”

A shrill, deafening screech cuts through the jungle like a blade and the group of you shrink at the violent sound. 

“Let’s go,” Mando says immediately, helping you on your feet and pushing the quarry into the freighter.

You watch from the ground behind him as Mando runs in to lock the quarry inside the storage closet, turning only when the screeching sound suddenly stops. Your eyes squint as you try to find a sign of movement in the dense jungle.

“Watch out!”

Before you can register the anxiety in the Mandalorian’s voice, you’re knocked on your back into the red soil by a hulking creature.

It towers over you, casting you completely in its shadow as it slowly stalks forward. Your vision blurs as the horrifying monster draws closer — wrinkled white skin stretching the expanse of its belly and blue spine-covered leather painting its face and shell-armored back. 

“I’m guessing this is the rancor you were telling me about?” You grit through your teeth, inching away like a pathetic crab along the shoreline. Drool leaks from the rancor’s jagged teeth in dangling strands as it reaches long, webbed claws toward you. 

Before they can reach your body, you see the Mandalorian’s whipcord wrap around its arm. On the other end of the cord, Mando yanks the rancor away from you, rapid blaster fire whizzing through the air, hitting the beast with deadly precision. But the blasts bounce off its thick, impenetrable skin as it continues prowling toward you with renewed anger.

“Good guess,” Mando grunts, flying above the rancor with his jetpack, shooting at it in quick succession.

The rancor turns its attention away from you to the shiny flying pest blasting at its leathery skin. It’s at least six times the Mandalorian’s height but seems worlds larger from your view on the ground. 

“Stars, I thought you said these things were peaceful!” You shout.

“The Felucians don’t mind them. You must have scared it with your aggressive craftiness,” he quips, and you imagine what his smirk might look like under his helmet, even as the rancor approaches closer.

Mando launches miniature whistling explosives at the beast, but they do little to deter it. He throws grenades but the rancor swats them away like insects. It stomps toward the Mandalorian, its maw gaping wide as it releases a petrifying roar.

“Mando!” You scream when the rancor’s claws grab him by his jetpack, plowing his body into the ground with brute force.

The Mandalorian groans as he tries to stand back up, falling on his back when his bones prove too weary to support his weight.

“Get to the ship,” he rasps, voice crackling through the helmet with static. He raises his arm, flamethrower igniting at the rancor’s face, making it fumble backward with another roar. Only seconds later, the fire sputters and dies out. “Dank farrik!” He curses, reaching for his hopeless blaster once more before the monster’s claws slap it from his hand. “Get to the ship!” He yells.

Rooted to the ground like the surrounding plants, you’re helpless bantha fodder as you watch the rancor slowly creep forward, stretching to its full height above the Mandalorian. It feels like you’re sinking in quicksand — your feet and your mind hopelessly going under.

Then, you hear a soft voice ask a familiar yet distorted question:

Are you willing to do what you must so he survives?

You don’t hesitate. Anything, your soul resolves.

Steadily braced on two feet, you throw out your hand like a whip, focusing all your energy and emotions toward the blue beast. It sends the rancor flying backward like a ragdoll, wailing as it crashes through the thick jungle, loud cracks echoing from the mist as its body breaks every plant in its path. It lands far away with a heavy thud, but you feel it in your veins when it immediately gets on its feet, vengefully sprinting back toward you.

“Can’t say it isn’t persistent,” you mutter.

“How? You—” Mando grunts, a thousand questions on his tongue that will have to wait.

“I’ll explain later,” you huff, yanking his arm over your shoulder and pulling him to the ship. “We need to get out of here.”

“What’s happening?” The quarry yells from inside the locked compartment when he hears footsteps boarding the ship. You drop the Mandalorian onto the floor of the main hold rather unceremoniously, a metallic clanging sound ringing through the freighter. You punch in his code to retract the ship’s ramp before running to the cockpit. Outside the freighter, the rancor’s screeching grows louder and your fingers flit across the control panel to get the ship in the air. The engines whir to life and you swear it’s the second most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard.

With one final glance at the glowing jungle outside the viewport, thunderous roars softening into a low rumble, the ship finally launches out of Felucia’s atmosphere. Sinking back in the pilot’s seat, you let out a breath you’ve been holding for what feels like years. A labored dragging sound echoes behind you and you snap your head back, instinctively on defense.

But your shoulders relax when you see the Mandalorian gripping the walls of the ship as he attempts to limp closer. You run to his side, carrying his weight as you lead him to sit in the co-pilot’s chair.

“You need to rest,” you whisper, standing in front of him to quickly scan his body for signs of a major injury. “Looks like you got away with just a few shallow cuts and bruises. Nothing a bit of bacta can’t soothe.”

Your words come out like the rapid firing of his blaster before a gloved hand on your wrist stops you from speeding off. 

“What happened back there? How did you...” He asks, his visor lifted at an uncomfortable angle to meet your eyes.

Your lips press into a straight line, brows pinched in worry as you turn away from him to rummage through the medpac.

“I don’t...” you start, letting out a long exhale as you gather your words. “I don’t know. Since I was a kid, I’ve been able to do things I can’t explain — move things without touching them.”

You turn back to him, bacta in hand as you study expressionless beskar.

“Sometimes, it frightens me. I have no idea where it comes from or why it happens or how to control it. I never do it around other people. I didn’t want them to know,” you admit quietly, dropping your gaze to his vambrace, wordlessly asking if he still trusts you to remove it. He nods, visor watching you with masked curiosity as you roll back his sleeves and expose bruised, tan skin. “I’m afraid of what could happen if people knew.”

You don’t tell him how you don’t sleep well most nights, your thoughts eating away at your mind as you wonder if your abilities are the reason why you’ve always been alone… if they drove your family away before you could understand and just explain.

It stays silent while you tend to his wounds, applying bacta wherever your hands coax sharp hissing sounds from his helmet. His armor lies on the floor of the cockpit, sleeves pulled up to his elbows and the hem of his shirt lifted just enough to reveal a shallow cut and smattering of bruises on his abdomen. It’s not the worst you’ve seen and the bacta seems to already be easing most of the discomfort, allowing him to sit up straighter.

You leave him for a moment to allow him to tend to the bruises on his legs himself, walking to the supply closet to make sure the quarry is secure in his makeshift prison. When you return, you sit in the pilot’s seat, facing the zooming stars as if they hold the answers to every terrifying question you’ve held inside for so long.

You almost don’t hear the soft way the Mandalorian calls your name. It takes all your strength to pivot your seat in his direction.

“Do you remember when I told you about the mudhorn?” He asks.

You nod. The story of the mudhorn, of course you remember. After he’d first told you about his child, he seemed eager to tell you even more tales of their adventures across the galaxy. The mudhorn felt like their origin story, the birthplace of his connection to Grogu. 

“I didn’t tell you the whole story,” he says quietly, piquing your attention. “Grogu saved me. Not the other way around.”

You stare at him dumbfounded. “But how? He’s just a baby.”

Mando stands from the co-pilot’s seat, testing his leg’s stability before walking to the control board, leaning back on it, his knees brushing against yours.

“Grogu had powers too. He could heal people. And he could move things without touching them,” he mirrors your words, making your jaw drop as you take them in. “Just like you. I was quested to bring him to others of his kind.”

“You mean?” you ask, and he doesn’t miss the flash of hope in your eyes.

“Yes. There are others like him — like you.”

You listen with rapt attention as he unravels the legend of the Jedi — a fierce warrior he’d met named Ahsoka Tano and the hooded figure who had single-handedly defeated a platoon of Dark Troopers and became Grogu’s new mentor. He tells you the few fragments of what he knows about laser swords — lightsabers — the bright colors he’s seen them radiate. But he leaves out the heavy weight of the darksaber locked away in his weapons cabinet. Besides that, he tells you everything he knows, which he regrets isn’t much.

“The Force?” You ask in confusion.

“The Force is what gives you your powers,” he says, reciting the words like folklore passed down through generations. “It is an energy field created by all living things. To wield it takes a great deal of training and discipline.”

Ahsoka’s words have been imprinted on his brain since she first spoke them.

“I can take you to a place where you can communicate with them,” he whispers. Truly, he doesn’t want to do as he says, doesn’t want to repeat the heartache he’s still not fully recovered from. He wishes he could snatch the righteous words out of the air before you hear them. But he knows what it would mean to you to find others, a family when you’ve had none your whole life. “The… Jedi, I mean. On a planet called Tython. If you want to be trained.”

He imagines a familiar hooded figure leading you by your hand, leaving him behind.

“I… I’d like to hear what they have to say. Get some answers,” you say. “If you’ll take me.”

“Of course.”

You stand up, allowing him to take his place in the pilot’s chair.

“After we drop off the quarry, I’ll bring you to Tython.”

His breath stops when he sees your hand reach out to cradle the side of his helmet. His eyes screw shut, imagining the plush warmth of your palm caressing the skin on his cheek instead.

“Thank you, Mando,” you say, a gentle smile on your lips.

“Din,” he offers, grinning beneath his helmet when your chin tilts in silent questioning. “My name is Din Djarin,” he clarifies. “But you can still call me Mando if you want.”

You smile, so wide and so bright it could blind him.

“Thank you, Din,” you say, unexplored galaxies sparkling in your irises. For the first time, he lets himself daydream what it’d be like to discover each one of them with you, for as many years as you’ll give him. Even as he fears his time with you is ending. “Thank you for doing this for me.”

As you walk to your sleeping quarters, the soft sound of controls beeping and ticking in the ship, you don’t hear when he whispers:

“Anything.” [READ PART II HERE]

#din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #din djarin #pedro pascal #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x you #reader insert #taole #mine*