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shoutogepi · 3 years

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A Million Times Over, part 2

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𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Todoroki Shouto x American!Reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 6.4k

[ ☀︎, ☁︎, ✘ (nsfw!) ] (series warnings)

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : NSFW references (no explicit smut this chapter)

𝐛𝐢𝐨 : You lose all memories from the past five years of your life due to an accident-induced coma, including any recollection of your beloved boyfriend and fellow pro-hero, Shouto. He’s devastated that you don’t remember him, but the both of you are determined to get your memories back, no matter how long it takes. In the meantime, you attempt to rebuild your relationship with him… while also nurturing the spark that’s still very much lit between you two.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 : Yaaaaaa babie so part 2 is finally finished! I’m wicked excited to finish the series next chapter and ughhh the smut is gonna be so good omg. Just wait.

𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 : shout out to @shotoh for beta-reading this for me, what a saint <3

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─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

🄸t was warm.

There was something heavy on your middle, but it didn’t feel like a nuisance— it was a welcome weight, one that somehow made comfort seep from your chest and fill the rest of your body with a quiet sense of peace. You hummed as sleep’s grasp on you lightened, the cogs in your mind beginning to turn. The hospital bed had never been this comfortable before, and the acrid smell of antiseptic and bustle of the doctors outside your door was peculiarly absent. Instead, a pleasant scent of laundry and cologne lingered on your pillowcase, making the corners of your mouth pull up in a droopy smile.

Your eyes opened as you recalled where you were, and whose arms you were lying in— whose gentle breaths blew at your hair and tickled the shell of your ear. Letting out a slow exhale, you blinked the sleep from your eyes, legs attempting to move, only to find them tangled with the muscled calves of your bedmate who, you prayed to whatever divine presence that was out there, was still asleep.

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However, when you tried to move away, a low groan sounded in your ear, scattering the stray hairs that laid out of place there. Like a sleeping bear, the arm around your waist curled around you tighter, pressing your entire body directly against the hard contour of his. You swallowed, blinking owlishly as you tried not to think about the sizeable semi-hardness poking into your backside, nor the rough fingertips that splayed out on the smooth expanse of your stomach at the bottom of your shirt, the very pinky dipping under the waistband of your sleep shorts and panties, palm warming your skin just enough to make your heart awaken for the day.

Your breath was caught in your throat, and you didn’t dare move another inch. Even if you didn’t have your memories of the man you shared your life with for the past few years, the moments the two of you had shared throughout the past week were enough to have butterflies fluttering to life in your stomach. The feeling of simply being in his arms, tucked under the sheets and cocooned in his warmth and his scent, it all had your body feeling like it was at peace.

At home.

Shouto’s hand was lying open beside your face, his arm tucked underneath your neck as he must’ve fallen asleep spooning you, and not since shifted away throughout the night. His fingers twitched in his sleep just slightly, and you took the moment to admire the long, slender digits. For a man of his size and stature, they were surprisingly thin, almost as if in another life he could have tickled piano keys for a living. But they were also marred with scars and calluses from his herowork— none open nor recent, seeing as he had taken the last month off to watch over you. Reaching for his hand, you traced the lines on his palm, trailing your fingertips over his skin and finding yourself lost in thought. You wondered if this was how you usually slept, if this was what you woke up to every day…

If that was your reality, you would happily accept it.

Being in Shouto’s arms made you feel safe, protected from the troubles of life. You already harbored silly feelings for him before you had even met him, and now that you had, those feelings had only been amplified, each day spent with him a catalyst to the reaction he triggered in your heart.

You bit your lip, twisting your spine so you could look at him. Holding your breath as you finally laid eyes on him, you took your time to admire him in all his slumbered glory. Your eyes loitered on his high cheekbones, the sharp angle of his jawline, and then the placid expression he donned while he slept, not plagued with the usual lacing of concern that he wore throughout the day. He was so… handsome. In all his hardened, heroic glory, he still managed to look like a prince straight out of every little girl’s storybook. And he certainly had the body to go with it as well— the fruits of his training on full display for you as you marveled at his naked chest.

Your heart leapt into your throat when he stirred, his arm around your waist coming to rub at his tired eyes. Watching his grey eye open slightly, your breath caught at the crooked grin that blossomed on his lips when he locked eyes with you.

“Mmm morning princess,” he rumbled, hand landing on your stomach to push your body backwards into his. He didn’t mind the little squeak of surprise you let out, nuzzling his face into your neck and slinging his leg across your hips once he flattened them onto the mattress. Your face felt like it was on fire, his morning… problem pressed firmly against your back now as he moaned in content, scattering lazy kisses across your throat.

You gasped when his hand on your stomach suddenly jumped up to grope your breast over your shirt, his fingers kneading tenderly as tingles fired across your nerves. It felt good to be receiving his unbridled affection— too good, really, as he started to suck at your neck. Your body cried out for his touch but you had barely even kissed last night— this was too much, too fast.

“Sh-Shouto!”

He paused, head rearing back as he detected the urgency in your voice, sleepy eyes locking with yours with his brows furrowed underneath his frazzled bed-head. It took him a moment before his eyes widened and horror replaced the slumber that had impeded his judgement before, his body jumping to the other side of the bed instantly as his cheeks flushed a bright pink. “I— I’m so sorry, Y/n, fuck— I didn’t…” he stammered, embarrassment evident as the pink turned to red, little flames sprouting on the left side of his head while his eyes flew about, unable to meet your gaze.

You instantly felt guilty, his demeanor apologetic. It was clear that he was frustrated with himself. “It’s okay, I’m not mad, I was just… it was just, um, unexpected?” you tried to laugh but it came out sounding more like a choke.

“Damn it…” Shouto mumbled, his hands coming to drag across his face morosely. The flames that licked at his side sizzled out, indicating that he was no longer so much shocked as he was contrite. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, muffled by his hands that still occupied his face. “It was just… I forgot for a second and... I didn’t mean to— to, well, come onto you. God, I’m sorry.”

You watched him for a second, your heart suddenly heavy with the sadness that leaked from his choice of words. For the first time in a long time, he had woken up with you in his arms, and he had forgotten about the absolute shitstorm of the month he’d had. That was probably how he acted when he woke up normally, as your sweet and loving boyfriend— showering you in affection was his first instinct of the day, and there was nothing wrong with that.

“It’s really okay, Sho. I was just surprised,” you peeped, trying to relieve him of some of the stress that he was so apparently harboring. “It’s not like I hated it…”

Shouto processed your words for a moment before one hand rose from his face, his brow contorted into a mix between accusatory and suggestive. There was a hint of a smile threatening to bloom on his lips, but he remained silent as he stared at you.

“I just meant that— well… we could lay here for a bit before we get up for the day. If… If that’s our usual routine or, if you would be interested in that!” You could feel your face getting hot now, the embarrassment transferring from him to you.

But Shouto chose not to tease you, instead scooting back over to you in the middle of the bed. “You always did like your morning cuddles,” he said, mouth turning at the corners into a smirk.

“Whatever, just— just keep your third leg to yourself, okay? Arms only!” You shared a quick look with him, the both of you shocked that you had really just said that.

But Shouto followed your request, flipping so he laid on his belly before his arm hooked out to bring you into his side, nose pressing up against your ear as you were on your back. The butterflies were back and busy again in your stomach— his touch just did something to you, it was both exhilarating and infuriating when he had hardly done anything.

“Never heard that one before,” he murmured lowly, snark lurking in his voice. “You’re usually quite fond of my third leg, dear.”

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The rest of the morning went more according to plan. After a considerable amount of time lying in the sheets with Shouto cuddling into your side, you finally parted ways and went about getting ready for the day. There was a sense of giddiness pumping through your veins as your boyfriend left you stationed in front of your closet, mumbling something about preparation before you headed out.

Mostly, you were looking forward to going on your date. But then, there was also the surprised excitement that came from the sight of your walk-in closet, complete with rows of neatly organized clothes and a built-in wall with shelves and drawers, even a glass display case full of glittering jewels and gems in designs all tailored to your taste. You took a moment to pat yourself on the back. Not only did you seem to have the man of your dreams, but you had also attained your dream closet? If this was truly a dream, you most definitely did not want to wake up.

It took you an absurdly long amount of time to piece together your outfit. It was partially because you stopped to ogle at pretty much every hanger you rifled through, and partially because you were completely unsure of what clothes Shouto particularly enjoyed seeing you in. There was a sneaking suspicion that his preference was for you to not be clothed at all… but it wasn’t like you could go out on your date in your birthday suit. And, that would mean exposing your bare body to him, and you weren’t sure if you were ready for that just yet.

But that didn’t mean you weren’t insanely attracted to him— because you definitely were. Just, the situation you were in was a delicate one, and when you did decide to indulge in the physicalities of your relationship, it would be after you had no more questions to ask him. You just weren’t quite there yet.

So, you decided on a pair of dark jeans and a flowy blouse that showcased your shoulders, matching the color of your shoes, belt, and purse. After a quick makeup routine, you chose to spruce up the outfit with a little jewelry, seeing as you had quite an ample selection to choose from. A shiny pair of hoops for your ears came easily enough, but you struggled to find a necklace which would pull everything together. Your eyes wandered over the chains of gold and silver, some shining with bright gems and some intricate enough with just the curve of the metal. It was then that you noticed a simple but very elegant necklace, its blue-topaz pendant catching your gaze. As you inspected the glittering stone, a warm feeling pooled in your chest, and you found your fingers reaching for the jewelry without thought. There was something special about this necklace, but what, exactly, you couldn’t identify.

It was incredibly frustrating. This was the closest you had come to remembering anything since you had woken up a week ago… and while it was certainly progress, it was infuriating to have the recollection dangling just barely out of your reach. You stared at the brilliant cyan gem for another moment before deciding that you weren’t going to remember based on willpower alone, securing the clasp around your neck. If that were the case, then you would have your memory back already, you were sure. You left the room with your shoes in hand, sock-clad feet padding quietly against the shiny hardwood floors while a sour taste dwelled on the back of your tongue.

Yet somehow, the second your eyes met Shouto’s, the feeling of self-loathing was instantly quelled, replaced with a pleasant wave of some feeling you couldn’t quite put your finger on. His eyes had locked onto the stone around your neck right as you walked into the kitchen, and immediately a smile graced his lips as he found your gaze.

You couldn’t help but return one, your eyes flickering to the floor before returning to him, overwhelmed with the tingles that zipped through you. He hadn’t really given you the chance to take in the outfit he had chosen before he left you to dress, and you found yourself appreciating the soft, cream sweater that fell just over his denim-clad hips.

“Wow, you look…” his eyes trailed down your form and then back up, his smile just as full. He let out a soft laugh, head tilting back before his attention returned to you, as if he didn’t quite believe the sight in front of him. “Beautiful. You’re beautiful.”

You already knew you looked good, but still, hearing the compliment roll off his tongue made your stomach leap up beside your heart. “Thank you, Sho. You look beautiful, too,” you teased, trying to downplay the effect his words had on you.

Even though his cheeks dusted with a light pink, his expression remained unchanged, gaze dropping to the pendant resting in the middle of your chest again. He looked as if he wanted to say something, but he held his tongue.

Just as you were about to tell him about the feeling you’d gotten earlier, he turned and grabbed some things from the counter behind him, whisking them into his arms. There was a curious look you shot him as you examined the numerous hats he offered to you, one of your brows rising at the variety.

Shouto didn’t give you the chance to ask, launching into explanation without your prompt. “You and I are technically celebrities. So it’s best if we conceal our faces while we’re out in public.” His gaze dropped to the brim of the gray suede boater in his hand, his thumb trailing across the soft material. “I don’t want you ambushed today. The public has missed you while you’ve been out of commission, so if we’re spotted, I’ll have to share you… and I don’t think either of us is ready for that quite yet.”

You nodded, ignoring the giddiness that bloomed in the depths of your stomach at his choice of words. Reaching for a floppy hat, your fingers brushed over his sweater as you grabbed your choice of camouflage. The fit was snug around your head, the silky ribbon tied around the crown the perfect match to your shoes. Shouto put on his hat as well, making sure to tuck the white half of his hair up and out of sight, giving him a faux monochromatic appearance. He wordlessly handed you a pair of large sunglasses, which you slid onto your face without protest. He mirrored your action, choosing a dark pair of aviators that helped disguise his famous scar.

“How do I look?” You asked, doing a little spin for full emphasis. The movement put a little smile on Shouto’s face, his eyes roaming your figure leisurely before he offered a thumbs up.

“Enchanting as always, love,” he replied stoically, the suavity and candor of his response aiding to the warm, swirling feeling in your stomach. But his expression morphed into a playful smirk, eyes twinkling with mischief. “What about me?”

A laugh trickled out of you as he copied your twirl, his execution somehow more graceful than yours. His pink lips curled into a genuine smile at your giggle, ending his mock demonstration in a curtsey. This only caused you to swat at him in exaggeration, taking the first steps towards the door.

“Equally enchanting,” you replied, not a hint of a lie in your voice. Your conviction made Shouto stutter, his grin melting to a flustered purse of the lip. It was then that you took his hand decisively, chuckling as you placed a swift kiss to his cheek. “Ready to go.”

It took him a moment to buffer, but he quickly recovered, a warm flush coloring his cheeks as his fingers squeezed yours. The digits of his other hand curled around the small of your waist, guiding you through the door.

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Your eyes widened as Shouto pulled the sleek car into the parking space, your surroundings somewhat familiar. When you had asked where he was taking you, he hadn’t revealed any clues, preferring to give a vague “someplace you’ll enjoy” before effectively killing the conversation. You probably should’ve expected it, but surprise overtook you as you turned the sidewalk corner and there stood the cat cafe the pair of you had passed on your way back from the hospital just yesterday.

When you turned to look at Shouto, his eyes were already inspecting your reaction, the excitement written obviously all over your face. He regarded you with a quiet, knowing smile as he opened the door for you, the bell tinkling overhead and the quiet mewls of kittens further inside distinctly ringing in your ears. Right as you stepped inside, a fluffy, smoosh-face cat curled around your ankles, brushing and sniffing at you in greeting. Shouto made a joke about the fluffy beast being the cutest host he’d ever seen, his smile only growing when you laughed in return.

Once you were seated, tucked in a comfy pair of chairs in the corner of the cafe, a waitress came over to take your orders. What took you by surprise was that Shouto ordered for you— the exact confection and drink you were eyeing when you peeked at the menu. He shot you a little smirk at the cuteness of your impressed expression, asking if you’d like to add anything and turning the staff person's attention to you. At your denial, they excused themself, leaving you alone with Shouto once more.

There was a palpable tension in the air between the two of you. Unbeknownst to you, the other cafe goers could practically see the sparks flying between you.

“So… do we come here a lot?” you inquired, taking a tentative sip of your ice water and training your eyes on the top button of his shirt. It was just too intense to stare him straight in the eye sometimes…

Shouto took a moment to reply, looking through his red and white bangs at you fondly, leaning back in his chair before shaking his head. “Truthfully, we’ve never been here before.” He gauged the surprise in your eyes, a little knowing smile resting on his plump lip before he continued. “You always wanted to try this place but we hadn’t gotten around to it… you even picked out the food you wanted in case we came. I hope your tastes remain unchanged? If I ordered something you don’t want, I’ll call the waiter over.”

It was then your turn to shake your head, a quick and decisive answer. “No, you got it right,” you reassured, hands wringing slowly underneath the table in your lap. “The only other thing I wanted to try was the drink you ordered, so it’s fine!”

“Have as much as you like,” he suavely suggested, his tone sounding more like a demand than an offer. Just as he focused his eyes on yours, he was interrupted by a fuzzy orange kitten jumping into his lap, settling into a tiny loaf across his thighs and staring up at him expectantly.

You and Shouto both buffered for a moment before you let out a laugh at the sight of such a tiny creature in your broad boyfriend’s embrace. Shouto began to chuckle too, giving the creature a little scratch under the chin. The kitten meowed happily in agreement, placing its head onto its paws and settling in for a nap. You let the comfortable silence last for a minute before you meandered back into conversation.

“So um, earlier, when we were getting ready to go out…,” your fingers absentmindedly wandered to the pendant resting in the middle of your collar bones. “I saw this necklace in my closet and I felt like it was… important? And then I thought I caught you looking at it earlier too maybe? Do you know if it has any significant meaning or anything?”

Shouto’s gaze remained on the cat in his lap for another moment before it flicked over to you, and once again, you were stunned by the amount of emotion in his mismatched eyes. “I gave it to you,” he answered, his free hand fiddling with the sunglasses that now hung in the middle of his shirt collar. “It was for our first anniversary.”

You didn't really know what to make of that, the newfound knowledge resonating through you as you tried to remember anything about that day at all.

“I chose that color because you said you loved it… the color of my eyes. Or— eye— I suppose,” he gestured to the piercing cerulean orb that rested on his hot side, standing out even more against the muddled skin of his scar.

Your head nodded as you processed his answer, your finger nudging at the handle of your cutlery absentmindedly. “You do have nice eyes,” you mumbled, your veins pumping with a warmth you'd come to recognize as his natural effect on you.

Shouto smiled at that, his gaze focused on the pendant gleaming in the sun’s gentle caress. You could feel the intensity of his eyes there in the center of your chest, the modest amount of exposed cleavage feeling hot under his inspection.

At his silence, you continued on, your flusteredness forcing your mouth to move without much reason. “And— you have great taste in jewelry too, I mean, this is really beautiful.”

“It suits you,” he replied instantly, as if such words required no thought whatsoever.

That just made your cheeks feel even hotter, and a surprised chuckle sounded past your lips, his compliment egging on the butterfly swarm in your belly. “Thank you… I’m glad you have enough rationale to avoid a cheesy heart with your name on it or something.”

Shouto’s eyes fleed yours at that, taking a tentative sip of his water. You watched his pink lips curl into a subtle, knowing smirk. He yelped when you kicked his ankle underneath the table, gaze returning to you. He regarded your inquisitorial expression for a moment before he shrugged, his cheeks tinged with the lightest of pinks. “I have actually given you something like that before…”

You bit your lip, now wanting to kick yourself for making fun of the sweet yet idiotic, classic boyfriend gift. Heart jewelry, of course…

“And you really liked it… maybe almost as much as me,” he finished, and you watched as his blush deepened a few shades.

The waiter chose that moment to deliver your drinks, the conversation halting awkwardly before they took their leave once again.

“I really liked it?” You parroted, perplexed. There was no way you would find such a cheesy gift endearing enough to actually enjoy it.

Shouto adjusted himself in his chair, clearing his throat awkwardly. His eyes once again couldn’t meet yours, his fingertips tapping on the edge of the table. “Yeah it— it’s an anklet… it um, has my initials on the charm…” he mumbled, suddenly shy. “You seem to enjoy wearing it when we… when I— when I take you.”

“Oh.”

Your face felt on fire, neither of you brave enough to look each other in the eye following his confession. There wasn’t much you knew about your sex life with Shouto— though you assumed it to be very much alive, and healthily so— but just by the way he phrased that, your thighs were clenching together at the image your brain so kindly painted you.

Shouto was a big, strong man… one who was very proportional, as you recalled from the incident that occurred this morning. The thought of him taking you made your insides squirm with interest, fluttering at the premise of being stretched around him. You took another sip of your drink before the food thankfully arrived, allowing the pair of you to drop the conversation.

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After you finished eating, Shouto took you to the trader’s market around the corner. There were people crowding the streets and trickling through the crosswalks, even though it was a late morning on a Friday and most of the population should’ve been busying away at their jobs. The bustle of the city should’ve been overwhelming for you— Shouto kept you close to his side at all times, his gaze scrutinizing any looks that lasted too long toward your direction. And yet, you were having a blast, flittering about and exploring the vendors’ stands and the numerous trinket stalls that lined the busy square. His hand was always holding yours. Even when you got more invested in the items on display before you, his fingers would linger at your waist, making his relationship to you apparent to any bystanders.

Sunlight streamed down in between the tall buildings surrounding you, reflecting off the windows like mirrors and making you grateful for the shade of your hat. That made you extra thankful for the ghost of Shouto’s hand across your skin, welcoming the coolness exuding off of his right side. There was a light-hearted conversation between the pair of you, and many grannies waved you over to inspect their merchandise by calling out to the pair of lovebirds. The repeated label made Shouto puff up in pride, aiding him to stand tall and retain the advantage he had on you in terms of height.

Whenever your gaze lingered on something for a second too long, Shouto was instantly handing bills over to the merchants, insisting they take the change or at least tipping them appreciatively. By the time the two of you had visited every stall, numerous bags hung from his left arm, all precariously stacked so the fingers on his other hand could remain laced with yours.

He noticed your wary gaze on the bags, your expression giving your thoughts away immediately. “Don’t worry love,” he reassured, squeezing your fingers in his, “they’re no trouble at all.” At your attempt to grab a few and lessen the load, he pivoted and held them above your head. He frowned, keeping them out of reach as you continued your attempt, swatting at him gently.

“Just let me have one at least,” you pouted, your voice morphing into a little whine. That got him to grin, conceding and handing you the smallest, lightest bag of the bunch. He feigned ignorance when you shot him a playful glare in response, choosing now to steer you toward another topic instead.

“Would it ruin the date if we stopped by my office? I just need to drop off the folders I finished up last night, and the building is just a block over. It should only take a minute.”

You shook your head, shrugging your shoulders. “Sure,” you agreed, allowing his fingers to slip back into yours. Having your hand in his felt natural to you, the warmth of his skin welcomed. “I want to see your agency, anyway!”

It was a short walk to his workplace, as promised. The building was one of the tallest in the surrounding area, with sleek windows paneling all sides and reflecting the orange light of the barely-setting sun. The security guards didn’t bother the pair of you, Shouto acknowledging them with a nod as he slipped off his disguise. The elevator opened and Shouto flashed his badge at the sensor, then pushed the button for one of the floors higher up in the building.

In no time at all, the doors opened again and he led you past the couple secretaries that were perched behind their desks. You could feel their eyes glued to your back, and you were sure that the second you were safely located behind the glass doors to the hallway, they’d launch into discussion. The thought slipped your mind as you came round the corner, Shouto guiding you through the nearest door and ushering you into a large sitting room. Two doors were situated on either side of the room, long glass walls dividing the quarters. One door led to Shouto’s office, as designated by the nearby nameplate. The other you were about to read just as it opened, and a familiar, sharp-toothed redhead bounded toward the pair of you.

Immediately you grinned, ripping your hand from Shouto’s as you launched yourself at the famed Red Riot, one of Japan’s finest heroes lifting you off your feet in an enthusiastic embrace. Your laughs echoed around the room, Kirishima’s chuckles following as he spun you around. Shouto watched silently, a small frown adorning his lip while your gleeful laughs met his ears. He hadn’t heard such a sound in what seemed like forever, and even though he was not the cause of it, he couldn’t help but relish in it.

After a moment, Kirishima put you down and pulled Shouto in for a quick half-hug, patting him on the shoulder as his eyes then returned to you. “Well look who it is,” he grinned, his pointy teeth on display, hands landing on his narrow hips. “It’s so good to see you up and about, Y/n.”

“It’s good to see you too, Kiri,” you mirrored his expression, taking in his appearance.

Shouto watched your eyes rove over him, a sour taste developing at the back of his tongue. You had recognized Kirishima immediately— fondly, even— when it had taken hard work and ample time for you to warm up to him. It had taken a week for you to call him by his usual nickname, and yet, you called Kirishima by his own instantly. He could feel himself turning green at the realization, his frown remaining as his eyes sharpened in scrutiny.

“Wow,” you exclaimed after you had fully appraised the hero, even taking in the scarlet costume that had been updated since the last time you’d seen him. “You look great! Five years has really done you well, hmm? You’re totally ripped. Last time I saw you I swear you were shorter!”

Kirishima laughed and toed at the ground bashfully— never one to handle compliments very well. “Ah, thanks Y/n… gotta stay in shape when your costume has you shirtless all day, right?”

Shouto couldn’t help the envy that rose up inside of him as he watched you chatter eagerly with his coworker… even though he knew you had no control of what memories you lost, it still stung to watch you engage with and compliment another man. Especially when he hadn’t received such easy affection from you in much too long.

“You look much better, too,” Kirishima continued, glancing at Shouto as he picked up on the temperature drop in the room. Somehow you didn’t seem to notice the frost gathering on Shouto’s wrist as a result of his displeasure. “Erm— last time I saw you was in the hospital when you were still in your coma. I was so relieved to hear you woke up! Then I figured it would be easier for you if you didn’t have any visitors, though… that’s what your f— um, Shouto said would be best, anyway.”

At the mention of his name, you glanced at the half-and-half man beside you, shooting him a thankful smile that had his heart fluttering and his jealousy waning. He cleared his throat and nodded, casting a forced smile at the other hero. “Yes, well… I have to step into my office quickly, would you entertain her for a moment?”

Kirishima opened his mouth to reply, but Shouto was already halfway through the door, leaving the pair of you slightly stunned. You could see him through the glass wall, eyes following him and wondering why his curt attitude left a bitter taste in your mouth.

“So um…” The redhead turned to look at you, prompting you to do the same. “You really lost all your memories of him?”

The question hit you like he had dunked you in ice cold water, and you stiffened up immediately. Kirishima panicked then, eyes growing wide and covering his mouth.

“I can’t believe I just blurted that out— I just… You guys are so in love, I can’t imagine you two not together,” he explained earnestly, his brow furrowed. His honesty made your stomach burst with butterflies, the premise of being loved by Shouto and being able to love him made you feel flustered as hell.

“We are together,” you clarified, and Kirishima nodded. “Just not as together as before, I guess? It’s just… he makes me feel so many things and I barely know him. But he knows me? Like, intimately. It feels like he knows me more than I know myself sometimes. I dunno, it’s just… complicated, Kiri.”

He smiled in understanding, eyes sympathetic as you spilled your troubles to him. It was nice talking to someone who wasn’t Shouto— as much as you liked him, talking to him was difficult because he made you fumble with your words. You said things you didn’t mean to say when you were with him. Kirishima continued, “If there’s one thing I know, it’s that you guys are crazy in love. Like, you’re the couple I aspire to be in some day.”

You grabbed his hand and grinned at that, his sincerity making your heart melt. “Awe, Kiri… It’s good to see you haven’t changed from how I remember you. You’re still the sweetest.”

Kirishima laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Just be yourself with him… I think it’ll put you both at ease. You’re really good for each other— he was devastated the whole time you were asleep.”

The admission made a lump appear in your throat, your eyes feeling glassy all the sudden.

“He hasn’t acted this frigid since his high school days… Long before he met you. I think you make him feel relaxed. I mean, that’s how he always looks when he’s with you, or thinking about you. I can tell when we’re on patrol and he’s daydreaming about you, ‘cus he’ll just walk right into a lamp pole.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the image, cursing the timing when the door opened and Shouto stepped out, his eyes landing on you and then hardening as they moved to Kirishima. He stepped toward him, but you intercepted him and laced your arms around his middle instead, stopping him with your embrace.

Shouto faltered at the sudden display of affection, his cheeks growing hot as he locked gazes with Kirishima, his eyes then dropping to the top of your head as you hid your face in his chest. He was frozen mid-breath, completely still as you held him. His cool, clean scent swallowed you as you kept your head nuzzled into his front, his fingers limp as your hand found his.

With a small step back, you ceased your embrace, your fingers squeezing his tightly as your eyes captured his and you gave him a shy smile. His cheeks only darkened, the grimace that had occupied his face long gone and instead replaced with an awed blankness. His lips parted and moved pointlessly, as if he wanted to say something but no sound escaped him.

“It was nice catching up Kiri,” you said, eyes still locked with Shouto’s heterochromatic ones before you turned to the red hero, who was awkwardly looking to the side as he shuffled his weight between his feet.

Kirishima looked at you and laughed awkwardly once again. You began to exit with Shouto in tow behind you, the hero’s crimson gaze following the pair of you. “Ah, yeah, you too! Let’s meet up soon!”

Then the glass door closed, and you were once again in the vicinity of the secretaries' blatant gawking. You pointedly ignored them as you strode toward the elevator, with their soundlessly boss still trailing behind you. As you waited for the elevator to ascend to your floor, you caught Shouto looking at you funny in your peripheral vision. Yet when you turned to look at him, he only reached out and pulled you into his chest.

Caught by surprise, a meek noise slipped out of you before you collided with his pecs once again, his arms wrapping around you to secure you in place. He nuzzled into your hair and inhaled deeply, uncaring of the secretaries' stares.

Only when the elevator arrived did he pull away, to guide you inside and away from the prying eyes. When the doors were closed, he leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on the crest of your cheek, a wisp of his peppermint-laced breath cooling your skin just as heat rushed there from his lips.

“Let’s go home, love,” Shouto murmured against your skin, knuckles nudging yours before your fingers curled around his. You nodded, holding his arm with your free hand and coming to stand by his side as the elevator rushed toward the ground. A peaceful moment of silence fell upon you and Shouto, giving you time for contemplation.

Any sane woman would've taken one look at Kirishima and felt at least a pinch of interest twirl inside her stomach. He was caring and handsome as they come, and yet he did absolutely nothing for you. Somehow when you were confronted with his chiseled abs and warm gaze, you felt less than when Shouto even glanced at you. You concluded that your body was definitely in love with him… and your heart longed to be the same. But part of you still had questions that needed to be resolved before you could really give yourself to him… and little did he know, you would find the answers to said questions so soon.

─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

ahh i love this sho so much, he’s trying so hard... poor babie 🥺 next part i will be much kinder to him <3 if you enjoyed please be sure to reblog and or leave me a comment •ᴥ•

➥ masterlist

𝐂𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 © 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐩𝐢 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟏. 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

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strangeinternetwasteland · 3 years

Text

Imprint- Werewolf Bakugo x Fem! Reader Pt 1

A/N: I wrote this for @chaoticyuna and her summerween event which can be found here …this probably will be a multipart series…

WC: 1.7k

Warnings: None really this part is pretty SFW

There were always stories about your college UA. The ghosts that moaned and haunted the hallways, the skeletons they found buried deep beneath the school, the vampires that roamed openly on campus at night. None were ever as exaggerated as the tale of the werewolf that runs through the forest at night.

Of course, you didn’t believe any of this. The closest thing to ghosts or vampires were the pale-faced, sleep-deprived students you attended the school with. The fact that wolves even lived in the forest around the school seemed absurd. So when you started your first year at UA, the seniors would try to scare the freshmen.

You never gave in nor did you believe the stories. So when you decided to join a sorority, of course your initiation was to spend a night in the forest. Honestly, it was pathetic that so many gave into the stories like this. You refused to do such an act and were not accepted into the Sorority.

You tried again with another sorority that seemed to align with your ideals concerning the “supernatural” existence of beings. Your initiation was similar to the other sorority, only you had to go to the forest on a full moon and spend the whole night there. To you it wasn’t anything, you’d been camping many times with your family since you were little. One night wouldn’t hurt.

So you packed your sleeping bag, a few snacks, water, and some extra clothes. The warmth of the fall day gave false hope. You had checked the weather and made sure that it wasn’t going to be raining that night or extraordinarily cold. Everything seemed to have been perfect.

After dinner, you took your stuff and ventured off into the forest. You found a nice clearing not too long after the sun had just set, just before it became too dark to see. You set up camp, built a fire, and let your thoughts take you wherever they pleased while looking under the starry sky. You had drifted off to sleep fairly quickly.

A few hours later, you were awoken by the sound of a low growl of a wolf. The sound meant danger, and even in your half-sleeping state, you knew something was wrong. You quietly, and quickly tried to pack your things without attracting too much attention, you backed up slowly and felt yourself press up against something soft. You held your breath as you slowly turned to face a massive carmel colored wolf with red eyes. The last thought you had before everything turned cold and dark was, ‘I am going to die here, but why does he look sort of humane?’

You woke up just after the sun rose, in a cold sweat. Unsure if you dreamt of the giant wolf, or if it really happened. You argued with yourself while you packed up your things, but a feeling of uneasiness settled over you, almost as if you were being watched. You shook it off and chalked it up to your imagination. You walked back to the sorority house and reported your finding of nothing.

The next two weeks passed quickly, without much of anything happening. You were part of the Sorority, participating in house parties, thinking of charity events, and of course school. It was almost two months into school when you got a new student in your business marketing class, which was normally not a thing that happened often. When he entered the room all the girls in class stared at him. He oozed confidence and cockiness. Whispers were murmured amongst the girls.

When you looked up to see the commotion, you saw him walking toward you. Something about his stance and aura made you not want to make eye contact with him.

“Is this seat taken?” He asked you gruffly while pointing to the one directly next to you. You shook your head no, and kept your head down and gaze averted.

“I’m Katsuki Bakugo.” He told you while holding his hand out to you. You really wanted to look at him, but everything inside you screamed not to. You ignored him as best as you could, but your interaction made the whole classroom whisper again.

“Alright, everyone settle down. Today’s assignment and your homework is to create a business model that you think would have sustainable growth in a five year model. You will be working with a partner. You have two weeks to complete this and present it to the class.” You swore you saw all the girls' eyes glued to Bakugo as the professor spoke.

“Bakugo, since you’re new to this class, I will let you pick your partner first.” The Professor said, but all the girls sat up a little straighter trying to get Bakugo’s attention. “I advise you though, that just because you are starting so late, I won’t make any excuse for you not to get your work done. You have quite a bit to catch up on.” He continued.

You saw Bakugo give a sly grin when the Professor said this. He nodded his head curtly.

“I choose Y/N as my partner for this assignment.” Bakugo spoke aloud, and you saw all the girls in the room deflate a little bit. You didn’t know Bakugo so how did he know you? You thought to yourself. When you looked at him after he spoke, for the first time since he entered the room, something about him seemed so familiar. His eyes softened a bit as you looked at one another before he tore his eyes away from you. You felt his whole mood shift from confident to anger. You couldn’t explain it, but you knew something was off with Bakugo.

After everyone was partnered up, and you heard a few quips from the other females about how unfair it was that Bakugo picked you, the two of you were set off to work. As uncomfortable as Bakugo seemed with you, or the classroom, he had a lot of ideas for the assignment. Just before class the two of you exchanged numbers and planned to meet at the library tomorrow night.

Every other night you and Bakugo spent time at the library together until close. He always seemed very tense when around you, and you thought perhaps, it was just your personality that he didn’t like. He’d walk you to your dorm or sorority house when needed. The night before your presentation to the class, you were supposed to meet him, but he never showed up.

You walked around the school looking for him. You caught up with one of his friends Kirishima, who told you that Bakugo wasn’t feeling well. You thanked Kirishima, and gave him a message for Bakugo. You noticed that it was a full moon, and a cool fall night. You walked toward the forest where you felt most at peace. As you felt the cool crisp air biting at your cheeks, and feel your troubles melt away, you walked aimlessly.

Suddenly, you were in the darkest part of the forest, where very little moonlight filtered through the trees. You felt that uneasiness once again, and realized you were lost. Behind you, you heard a branch crack and break. Your heartbeat raced and you realized that you heard a low, warning growl from a wolf. This time you knew you weren’t dreaming.

In front of you was a snarling shadow with the bluest eyes you’d ever seen. You were shaking from adrenaline and while you should have ran away, you heard the gruffest, “Don’t Move” inside your head. So you obeyed. From above you lept a lighter colored wolf, who placed himself in front of you.

The two snarled at one another for a bit, but seemed to be communicating somehow. The sight was incredible and unbelievable. When the other wolf left without your legs gave out and you fainted once again.

When you woke you were surrounded with the feeling of warm fur, and the smell of carmel that pulled you back into sleep. You didn’t dream of anything more, but hours later you woke up in a fit, and inside your dorm. When you exited your dorm to rush to class, you were greeted by Bakugo.

“Hey, Y/N. Are you okay?” You eyed him suspiciously, he wasn’t as tense as he normally was.

“I am fine. I’ve just had nightmares as of late.” You snapped at him.

“Alright.” He said nonchalantly. The truth was you had a million questions for him, but you knew you couldn’t ask him.

“I meant, last night, I found you passed out in front of your dorm when I was walking back from the store.” He told you. You opened your mouth and then closed it.

“You know what? I don’t need this fake sympathy from you. Let’s do this stupid presentation and then we will never have to speak again.” You shouted at him.

He fell behind you as you walked as quickly as you could to the classroom. You both gave your presentation and ignored Bakugo as best as you could for the rest of class.

After class, you were the first one out and ran straight back to your dorm. You turned off your phone and fell asleep for the rest of the day. Your dorm mates Momo, Mina, and Ochako came and went. Mina, whom you shared a room with, asked you if you wanted to join them. You told her no, and she knew that sometimes all you needed was space, gave you a head pat and left.

When they all left you were able to sleep again and at one point you swore you heard a knock at the door, but ignored it and everyone for the rest of the day. When you turned your phone on the next day, you saw the 5 missed phone calls from Bakugo. You were angry looking at that. The long apologetic text message didn’t seem to help either, nor did the box of Flamin’ hot Cheetos, which you assumed was Mina. However, you spotted the little note scribbled on top from Bakugo, you sat down angrily on the couch in the common area between your room and the other one, and ate the chips angrily. You were determined to ignore Bakugo for as long as possible.

#college au #Supernatural au #summerween event #bnha bakugou #bnha bakugo x reader #bnha x you #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugo x reader #werewolf bakugou #werewolf bakugo x you #mha bakugo x reader #mha bakugou #mha katsuki

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beyondspaceandstars · 3 years

Note

Hi!

I've been reading some of your posts and I am a big fan🥰

I was wondering if its okay, maybe you could do a Loki x reader where they were best friends and denied each others feelings all the time and when Loki was brought to the TVA, he found reader there and lots of angst and fluff🥰💞😁

Have a great day😁😁💞💞🥰🥰

Nothing Gold

Relationship: Loki x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: thank you so much for enjoying me work I am so glad that makes me so happy! thank you so much for the request. I really liked this idea and I think it came out okay - sorry the ending it a bit abrupt! thank you again :)

Masterlist

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Loki had to do a full-on, dramatic as hell, double-take while walking through the TVA library. He had come down to look for a variant file but had apparently ended up finding something else. More specifically — someone else.

You. You. You.

You, his best friend. You, the sweet girl he had a never-ending crush on. You, the one who had just gone missing one day.

Loki could never forget. It was like something wouldn’t let him.

He had invited you around the palace for breakfast before you left his chambers for the night. You two had been up late reading together. You frequently popped over, usually claiming to stay for a few hours, just enough for Loki to read to you some verses of a poetry book, but those hours got longer and longer each time.

Next thing you two knew, it was nearly morning and you needed at least a few hours of sleep in your own bed. He had walked you out, asking you to come back for breakfast in a few hours. You happily agreed, giving him a quick hug before parting. Loki didn’t want to let go. He remembered that detail very well. He wanted to pull you back in his chambers, just hold you for hours. Days. Months. Forever. But he didn’t. He let you go, watching as you made your way back to your modest home. He never realized that would be the last time he saw you.

Well, actually, it technically wasn’t. Because he was staring at you right now. You were at a table near the back of the library, head buried in some files but he could still recognize you. Could always point out that lovely, long hair and those soft, gentle hands. You were always a stark contrast against him.

Loki just watched you for a few moments, completely and utterly confused by the situation. The shock was wearing off and now question after question filled his brain. How did you end up here? What had you done? Were you okay? A million thoughts came over him but his legs had their own agenda. The next thing he knew, he was approaching your table. He almost didn’t know how he got there.

He stood opposite of your sitting form. You weren’t noticing him, apparently very invested in the file you were studying. Loki had to admit, that was quite like you. You were always one to get lost in the words, way deeper than he did.

Eventually, Loki cleared his throat, hoping that’d do something. Slowly, you lifted your head, brows furrowed in confusion as you looked at him from head to toe. You didn’t recognize him, Loki could see it in your eyes. He was just a variant turned agent to you. Something in him felt like it was stabbing his heart over and over again.

"Can I help you with something?" You hesitantly asked but your voice was still so sweet and kind, just as Loki remembered. You were far more patient and soft-spoken than he was.

He said your name like it was the greatest plead but you didn’t react. Loki didn’t know what to do then, realizing you were you but you also…weren’t. His face fell.

You were getting uncomfortable. "I-I’m sorry, I’m not sure I know who that is—,"

"You don’t?" Loki couldn’t help the hurtful gasp he let out.

"Sir, I’m sorry…" Your eyes began searching around frantically. Something was going on. You were getting scared, way past uncomfortable. You wouldn’t look at him anymore.

Loki said your name again, much forceful than the last. You jumped. You weren’t directly responding but Loki could see something in your eyes. He said your name again. Then again. Like it was the only thing he knew. Your eyes met one another intensely, hypnotically.

After maybe the sixth time, you snapped. You jumped out of your seat, breathing heavily, scared, surprised. It had all happened too fast Loki was also taken back. You two were more than just staring at each other. Your wide eyes were taking him in.

"Loki?"

He felt so relieved to hear his name just float off your lips. It was as sweet as he remembered. Like a little lullaby. The stabbing in him stopped.

Loki nodded. "It’s me."

"What…" You looked around as if you had no idea where you were. And maybe you didn’t but Loki hadn’t expected your name to just snap you out of it. This opened a lot of questions for him but he didn’t have time. He raised his hand, cutting off your words.

Loki nodded towards one of the bookshelf aisles further away from everyone. You nodded in understanding, following him down the rows.

Once you were a safe distance away, Loki wasted no time collecting you in his arms, his head buried in your shoulder. You were surprised for a moment at the gesture but then you fell into it naturally, like you had just hugged him yesterday. And really that was how it had felt. But Loki knew better. You had been gone for so long…

"Loki," you mumbled his name, your head pressed into his chest. "What is going on?"

Loki stilled. "Why don’t you tell me what you know."

You scoffed, breaking off the hug. You were a sweet one but Loki was no stranger to your tiny temper. You put distance between you two and Loki allowed it despite how much it hurt.

"What I know?" You repeated, folding your arms. "What I know is that I’m standing in a library with you." You looked around at the space, noting an actual lack of real books. "What kind of library is this anyway? How did I—,"

"Do you remember anything before you got here?"

Your gaze dropped as you studied your shoes. They were some nice black flats but Loki knew that wasn’t your style. You were not the business causal type, usually pleased with the feeling of Asgardian silk gowns.

Something was coming to you as you let out a soft gasp. "I was walking home. We-We had just finished a poem written by that Midgardian… Gosh, what was his name? Winter or something—,"

"Frost," Loki mumbled. "His last name was Frost and you enjoyed his poem about how nothing gold can stay. You found it relatable. I’ll admit, you may have been onto something."

A light had gone on within you. "You thought it was pretentious." Your gaze met Loki’s once more. "I called you a fool and laughed. Then we saw daylight breaking and… and I had to go home. I missed my bed. You wanted breakfast in a few hours. I agreed to come back."

Loki nodded, encouragingly, but your words had fallen off. "What happened next?"

You shook your head, that blank expression washed over you again. "I don’t know."

Loki let out a sigh and leaned back on the shelf. "Do you remember anything after that?"

You looked back down at your outfit. At least the pencil skirt was nice. "Yes," you admitted. "I was hired here. I report on variants to protect the sacred timeline." It sounded to Loki like you were reading a script. What the hell was going on here?

"But you don’t know how you got from Asgard to…here?"

You sighed, a bit annoyed. "How did you get here?"

The snippy temper was back. You were still you. Loki could’ve kissed you, a feeling that had come over him before but was suddenly more intense than ever. He would, he promised himself. He couldn’t leave you again without doing so.

"I had a bit of an…incident."

"Really? You? I never would’ve guessed," you said, the sarcasm on your words dripped heavily. Loki gave quite the dramatic eye roll. You let out a little giggle.

"Yes, well, never mind what got me here, I am here," he said, motioning towards nothing. "And I am assisting with the hunt of a variant."

"You’re helping them?"

Loki scoffed. "Don’t act so surprised." A beat. "I didn’t have much of a choice."

You bit your lip, trying to hold back a smile but failed miserably. Loki had missed this. If he focused really hard, it almost felt like you two were back in Asgard, lounging around, talking about nothing. Teasing one another. His heart was aching.

"What do you know about the variant?" You eventually asked.

Loki glanced away. "It’s me."

"You?"

He shrugged. "Well, a version of me. Another variant."

You slowly crossed the aisle, coming to stand right next to Loki, your shoulders pressed against one another. Loki’s breath hitched just a bit. He would never get used to this.

You asked, "Well, what have ‘you’ done?"

Loki resorted back to his witty humor. "Nothing good as you could assume."

"This mischief of two Lokis is unthinkable."

Loki let out a laugh which you followed suit with. You two were laughing over nothing in this random library in wherever this place was. He could barely understand it and you were absolutely clueless. But the moment of laughter was good, was familiar. Too bad it couldn’t last.

"I’ve missed you," Loki admitted after the laughter had faded out unceremoniously. You looked a bit surprised at the confession.

"Truly?"

He nodded.

You blushed and looked down. "I’d say I missed you too but I don’t feel like we’ve been apart. How long has it been?"

When Loki wasn’t giving an answer, you forced yourself to turn back to him. He was staring at you quite intensely. You shivered under the gaze. It was an expression you hadn’t seen before, he hadn’t allowed you to see. It was one full of love and interest and adornment.

"Too long," was all he said before his lips were on yours. Loki finally took what he had been craving and it was happening in the TVA library. The fucking TVA. Loki’s head was still spinning with worries about this whole thing but, slowly, he got lost in you. In your lips and softness. Your hands grasped his shirt as you deepened the kiss — you. You wanted more from him. And he was happy to give.

His hands caressed your sides lovingly, feeling and holding you in the way he had always dreamed. It was better than anything he could’ve conjured. It felt right and real. Good and… Too good. Too powerful.

An alarm was going off somewhere now. You hadn’t seemed to notice it, still captivated in the kiss, but Loki was aware. He forced you two apart, reluctantly. You looked at him, ready to protest, but before you could ask anything, Loki was placing a hand over your mouth.

Footsteps were approaching. They were coming towards your aisle. Whatever had happened here wasn’t good, something had gone haywire. Had he broken the timeline? Was that even possible here? Loki didn’t know but what he did know was there was an army on the hunt for them. Without thinking twice, he grabbed your hand, looking for an escape route.

"Loki," you finally were able to speak, keeping your voice hushed as you two maneuvered the maze of shelves, "what did we do?"

"We love each other."

"Love?"

Loki stopped despite there being no time to stop. "Am I wrong?"

You didn’t answer. That was all he needed. Now to only get the hell out of here. Loki couldn’t tell if his encounter with the TVA had been a blessing or a cure as he held you close to him, refusing to lose you again to whatever trap this place planned to lay.

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existslikepristin · 3 years

Text

Impromptu Review

Thanks for editing this one goes to momirene and Worldsover, and for helpful beta reading feedback from them and one dork who wants to remain anonymous.

Tags: TheLounge, Red Velvet, SNSD (Girl's Generation), Joy, Sunny, loneliness, potential traumatization of cats, a hoard of hell-themed sex toys, a strap on, a butt plug with Jiu's face in it, and bisexual problems.

The front door of Sunny’s apartment swung open so fast that Joy felt a breeze from the vacuum it left behind.

“Joy! You’re here!”

Joy blinked. “Yeah, I said I would come over.”

“It’s been so long since we’ve met up! Come in, come in!”

“It’s only been like a month though.”

Sunny grabbed Joy’s hands and pulled her through the doorway. “It feels like so much longer than that!”

Joy smiled and took her shoes off in the entryway. “You seem more excited than usual.”

“What? How so?”

“Well for one,” Joy said, pointing at the kitchen, “It looks like you prepared for a whole party in here.”

The kitchen’s island was covered in plates of snacks and several variations of alcoholic beverages. Additionally, Sunny was noticeably sweaty, like she had just run around the house preparing for guests. Joy figured it would be best not to bring that up.

“What? No. That? That’s… yeah, that’s a lot of food, isn’t it?” Sunny’s posture drooped, as if she’d already expended all of her energy on her greeting.

Joy pulled her into a side hug. Her height served to straighten Sunny back up. “What’s going on, girl?”

Sunny sighed and leaned her head on Joy’s chest. “I dunno. I’m just excited. Haven’t had a good social night any time recently.”

“Aw! But what about these cutie kitties?”

Sogeum popped her head out from behind the wall and gave Joy her signature droopy, grim stare without so much as a meow. As soon as Joy shuffled in her direction though, she turned and went back into the living room.

“Well, you know. Can’t really have a real conversation with the cats.”

Joy hummed her agreement and stepped into the kitchen. “I’m always happy to talk to you Sunny. They don’t call SM a family for nothing.”

Sunny groaned, loudly.

“Um. Okay,” Joy said when Sunny didn’t elaborate. “Not a family? Just a bunch of really close friends?”

“Yeah, that’ll work better. Not a fan of the family motif.”

Joy picked up a cracker and chomped down. “Gonna… explain? Family is normally a positive thing, isn’t it?”

Sunny grabbed a bottle of wine and yanked the cork out. “Yeah, totally, for sure. Hey, do you like Chardonnay?”

“I…” Joy didn’t want to skirt around whatever issue Sunny was having, but was well-aware of her stubbornness. “I sure do.”

As fancy glasses of white wine were generously poured, Joy made note of Sunny’s slow, unsteady movements. She worried that perhaps Sunny had already started drinking, or wasn’t getting enough sleep.

* * *

“Can you believe that, Joy?”

“No way. It’s just inhuman.”

“Completely! It’s not like green onions are suddenly more expensive to dry out!”

The conversation had started with gossip and cheese snacking when the sun was high. As the sun set, the discussion shifted to the price of instant meals, and the snack plates were all but empty. Joy had to fight the constant urge to fall asleep, as the topics were never much more interesting than that. But she let Sunny lead the talking as much as possible.

Joy was simply relieved that Sunny called her over before diving into her liquor storage. “You should start a petition to regulate the price. I’d be the first to sign it.”

Sunny’s tipsy grin matched Joy’s. Though the alcohol consumption had been slow-going, they had been doing it for several hours. “Oh that would be great press. ‘Washed up idol upset with ramen manufacturers.’”

With an exaggerated roll of the eyes, Joy pointed at a set of boxes in the corner of the living room, currently being used as a lookout tower by Sogeum. “You’re not washed up yet. Look at all of those sponsor gifts. Those weren’t here last time I came over… Wait, they weren’t, were they?”

Sunny giggled. “No, they’re, uh… new.”

Their corporate sponsors weren’t something that Joy, Sunny, or any of the other SM idols discussed often. There were usually so many vying for their attention that it was pointless trying to keep track. But Joy reasoned, somewhat drunkenly, that talking about it might be therapeutic to someone so down on their social status. “Who are they from, anyway?”

A blush deepened the red of Sunny’s already tipsy-glowing cheeks. “Uh… Nobody. Just a regular sponsor, ya know?”

Joy grinned. “Oh, come on. You can tell me. What am I gonna do? Call a press conference to tell the tabloids who’s contributing to your paycheck?”

Sunny rolled her eyes. She shot off the couch, spilling a drop or two of her wine in the process. From Joy’s naturally higher perspective, Sunny didn’t seem that much taller. “Fine,” she said, wobbling, “but you better not make fun of me.”

“I’ll make fun of you for other reasons, like how much I love you, bitch!” Joy blinked at her own shouting. She didn’t know when the alcohol had hit her, but she was beginning to think that she was a little more intoxicated than she previously thought.

Thankfully, the joviality in her voice seemed to encourage Sunny to play along. She set her wine on the coffee table and picked one of the smaller boxes off of the pile. “Disclosure first! We haven’t agreed to any deals yet. They sent me this stuff to try to convince me to shill it. I didn’t reach out to them.”

Joy waved the disclosure off like a mosquito, but Sunny still tossed the box in her direction. The weight inside of it was awkwardly distributed. Joy attempted to catch it, but it wound up ricocheting off the tips of her fingers and nearly knocking over an open, mostly full bottle of soju.

“The fuck is in this thing?”

“I’ve got some ideas but I just know who it’s from. Open it and find out.”

Joy tore into the box with no regard for the care that went into the packaging, which itself was surprisingly discreet. A smirk cracked her lips when she thought about what sorts of deliveries required such discretion. But the smirk faded right away when she got a view of the inside and realized that the packager apparently had the same idea.

Inside was a pair of plastic sheets wrapped asymmetrically around a roughly water bottle sized blob of blood red silicone. A small bit of pink cardboard advertised it as a five-speed, rotation-simulating, self-cleaning, pattern-switching, USB-charging, automatically-lubricating, remote-controlled vibrator with a speaker at the bottom for replicating a set of desired moans and a specialized charging dock.

Joy cleared her throat and stared at the horrifically fancy dildo, and its label, “Dante’s Dive,” unsure if she should toss it back to Sunny, considering it was clearly a personal item.

Sunny reached into what was left of the box, procuring a pretty little decorated card. “Dear Ms. Lee, we at Second Ring Inc were very pleased to hear your impromptu review of our products on a recent episode of ‘Welp, I Guess We’re Talking About This Now’ and wished to send you some additional items to show our appreciation. These are in no way a request for further public review,” Sunny was briefly interrupted by Joy’s disapproving snort, “but should you be interested in a partnership, we have included a phone number at which I, the chief executive officer, Lee Youngjoon, may be reached. Optionally, my username--”

Joy missed a few words as she was shocked by the extreme sound emitted by the vibrator when she pushed a button on the remote control.

“--is ‘worldsover’. As you know, Second Ring specializes in sexual wellness products, of which we’ve sent you a wide variety. They can be enjoyed by couples, or can serve as a fantastic outlet for power singles like yourself…”

Sunny trailed off. Joy was afraid she knew what was coming. “Damn, Sunny. You say so much as three words on national television and they scramble to get right up on your ass, eh?”

It was too late. Sunny was already tipping up the bottom of the soju bottle. A few drops spluttered back out of her mouth as Joy pushed it back down. “Sunny! You’ve said it yourself! You don’t want to get married!”

“Doesn’t mean I’m not still lonely!”

Joy wrapped her arms around Sunny. “You’ve got me. And a million other friends!”

“Fans don’t count.” Sunny’s voice was partially muffled by Joy’s shoulder.

“Ouch. Time for me to delete my Sone club membership. But fine. A hundred other friends. It’s not just me. It’s my members. Your members. And plenty of others. All of NCT would be--Okay, nevermind. Aespa though! They love you too.”

“But I don't want to inconvenience you." Sunny ended so matter-of-factly that Joy had to pause to process the short conversation.

"You know how… You know how you take a road trip, and there's a road block, or really bad construction, and you have to take a detour?"

"Yeah. I'm a detour."

"Come on, Sunny. What you are is the scenic route!”

There was a long silence.

“Was that the end of the metaphor?” Sunny eventually asked.

“I am very drunk.”

“You’re not that drunk.”

“Drunk enough to be shit at metaphors.”

“It’s…” Sunny extricated herself from Joy’s hug. “It’s okay. I think I know what you’re getting at, and I appreciate it. It’s just that a few words don’t really fix a brain, you know?”

Joy nodded slowly, watching as Sogeum casually stalked across the room. “Yup. But believe me. I’m here for you, at least. So if you need a friend, or some company, I’m at the top of your list.”

The cat plopped herself on the floor, right up against Sunny’s leg. Joy giggled. “Fuck off, kitty. I just said I was the top.”

It seemed the topic of conversation was ready to change. Sunny smiled, and it was enough to indicate her understanding.

“So!” Joy moved things along. “A pile of free, top of the line sex toys in your living room. What’s a young woman to do about that?”

Sunny snorted. “Well I’m not going to masturbate while I have company over, that’s for sure.” She grabbed another box from the pile and handed it over, doing her best not to disturb Sogeum’s new resting place.

The new box took mere seconds to open, this time revealing a black silicone butt plug with a red gem in the base. The casing suggested that a picture could be inserted beneath the gem, and it appeared there was one already there as an example. Joy had to flip it around to a variety of angles before she could make out that it contained a headshot of Dreamcatcher’s Jiu making finger hearts on her cheeks. She cocked her head, wondering if the image had actually been authorized.

Another box swapped between the womens’ hands. It took Joy a little longer to open than the last, but it turned out to be that way for a good reason, given that it was gently holding some fragile cargo: A red-tinted glass bottle of lube, labeled as “Juice from the Fruit of The Tree.” The lengthy product title had a snake winding through the letters.

“Well now they’re just really doubling down on this theme, aren’t they?” Sunny asked as she worked out how to open the next package, using her bottle opener as a makeshift knife.

Joy laughed and picked up yet another, now eager to see what kind of wild object it would contain. “Yeah, they really are! No lie, they’re starting to give me some ideas. Talk about sinful.”

“‘Oh I know,’” Sunny mocked the company, as SM artists often did, fingers still struggling to find their way under the first cardboard flap. “‘Let’s send Sunny a whole pile of sex junk. Bet she’s sinful enough to use it all.’ Like, come on Love-eye, or whatever your name is. What’s a single woman gonna do with all this? Hold up a pillow fort?”

“Hey, maybe he doesn’t know you’re single. Maybe there’s some stuff in here that takes two to tangle with… Fuck. Choerry’s got me using alliterations.”

Sunny barely managed to get her fingers inside the box, but her knuckles were turning white from the tightness of it. It seemed that she had left a portion of the packing tape uncut. “I said I was single on the show, though. I don’t think there will be any couples’ toys in here.”

“Oooh, I’m gonna make it a bet now.” Joy smirked. Her next sentence bypassed her verbal filter through the holes left in it by the alcohol. “If you get that thing open and there’s a strap on inside, you have to fuck me with it!”

A jerk of her arms snapped the remainder of the packing tape. Sunny chuckled. “You’re on. There’s no way it is.”

Joy had to admit that Sunny had a point, considering how small the package was. Surely it couldn’t fit a series of leather straps, or a dildo any larger than a couple of inches in any direction. The little voice in the back of her mind that told her making such an offer was stupid quieted down somewhat.

There was a moment of quiet. Sogeum rolled away from Sunny and made her way to the kitchen. Joy picked up another box, confident that she hadn’t just placed herself in an awkward situation. Sunny shook her head, amused. And then…

“J-Joy?”

Joy looked back, but wasn’t quite sure what she was looking at. It was a sort of mass of black string with some silver discs hanging off of it. Another piece of pink paper fluttered to the floor, where Joy picked it up and read aloud.

“‘The Obol.’ As Charon ferried Dante across the Styx and into the hole that is Hell, so too shall this state-of-the-art magnetic harness ferry our exclusive Dante’s Dive dildo into your… partner’s hole…”

There was more to be read, but both women seemed to get the point. The only sound in the room came from Sogeum chomping through some hard cat food in the kitchen. Slowly, their eyes raised and met. They both spoke at the same moment.

“That was a bet’s a joke bet right?”

Their drunken minds needed a moment to detangle their words into distinct sentences. Sunny’s “That was a joke, right?” and Joy’s “A bet’s a bet.”

Sunny started again first. “You know, we don’t have to.”

“I will if you want to.”

Every sentence being exchanged was followed by a palpable stillness. Joy’s heart beat loudly in her own ears, and she swore she could hear Sunny’s too.

“Do you… want to fuck me with that, Sunny?”

Sunny answered instantly. “Yup.”

There was a flurry of action, though it was slowed here and there by a tipsy stumble or two. Sunny gathered up an armful of the items on her coffee table, both sex toys and the bottle of soju, and sprinted for the bedroom. Joy rushed after her, messily attempting and failing to remove some of her clothes on the way.

Sogeum was spooked by the sudden kerfuffle and fled out of sight.

The bedroom was no less hectic. Sunny dropped everything on the bed except the soju, which she took one more swig of directly from the bottle before setting it dangerously close to the edge of her desk. She wiggled out of her shirt and bra, which attracted Joy’s attention instantly.

Joy struck at Sunny’s cleavage, wrapping her fingers as far as they could go around the legendary orbs, and her lips around one of the budding tips. Their differences in height made it awkward, but they very soon found their way to a horizontal state that eased that tension. Unfortunately, it was not on the bed, but on the floor, but they weren’t about to let something like that stop them.

What clothes they were still wearing exploded off their bodies. Joy’s shorts and shirt, Sunny’s pants and socks. All of it ended up in different sections of the room, thrown under and over furniture.

Joy was no stranger to encounters like this, and neither was Sunny. They had shared countless stories with each other… and some spit. But neither had considered their prior make out sessions to be precursors to explicitly sexual action. For her part, however, Joy considered this one differently, and Sunny’s hands searching half-blindly for Joy’s ass confirmed to her that Sunny thought the same.

Backs arched. Legs ground against one another. Open mouths met, trading the alcoholic scents that the women no longer cared to distinguish. Their minds had devoted themselves entirely to the search for physical pleasure.

A lot of exploratory prodding led Sunny’s fingers to the entrance to Joy’s pussy, failing to notice the number of pokes that ended up at Joy's exit. She took some time familiarizing herself with the drenched outer folds.

Joy, however, noticed the poking at her ass. Her mind swam with serotonin, thoughts of other people, and alcoholic fumes that seemed to rearrange the letters of her thoughts into nonsense. Or possibly into inspiration.

Inspiration relevant to the happenings at the prior year's award shows, that is.

Joy tried to pull back the moment Sunny’s fingers dipped inside her. She had opened her mouth to speak but instead groaned and arched herself further into Sunny’s grip on her sanity. "S-Sunny. B-bed."

At least that message was received loud and clear. Sunny dragged her fingers against Joy’s G-spot as she, disappointingly, pulled them out, nearly causing Joy to scream. The same fingers plunged into Joy’s mouth and quieted her as she diligently sucked her own juices from them.

The action transferred to the bed. Fingers immediately found their places again, and Joy bounced on her back in time with Sunny’s brutal shoves. Packaging bounced all around them. It was like a desperate, distracted game of Vegetable Shinobi for Joy, swiping at the jumping dildo. Sunny’s fingers were divine, eye-wateringly so, but Joy wanted something unholy.

Sunny muttered Joy’s name, catching her attention again. She lifted her head to meet for yet another imprecise kiss. Their legs twisted around each other. Joy could hear the desperation in Sunny’s moans, vibrating all the way down her throat, burning like the alcohol. She snaked a hand between them and found Sunny’s clit.

The moans freed themselves as Sunny bucked backward, almost out of Joy’s longer reach. Joy noted the exceptional reaction, and flipped Sunny onto her back, following immediately and putting herself in the position of power Sunny had initiated.

“You’re gonna fuck me with the strap on… right, Sunny?”

Sunny’s eyes widened, and she grabbed the toys.

“No, not yet,” Joy stalled in her most seductive voice. She slid down, nearly falling off the bed, and wrenched Sunny’s legs wide open with her elbows.

Sunny clenched her fingers around the hell-themed dildo for dear life. Joy’s name poured through her lips over and over again as Joy’s lips poured over her pussy.

Joy had to fight Sunny’s strength to keep her spread thighs from clamping around her head. She wanted to keep hearing her senior beg, loud and clear. To that end, she dug in her tongue, unable to penetrate far, but far enough to open Sunny up and feel the wetness flow into her mouth.

“Please… Joy… I’m close… Joy, please! Joy, don’t stop!”

The thought flitted through Joy’s head, that perhaps denying Sunny her orgasm would be fun, but something about the way she said it made Joy wonder if Sunny’s neediness was rooted in her loneliness, more than in her desire to get off. She shifted herself to wrap her arms under Sunny’s legs and pulled. It wasn’t possible for them to be any physically closer than they were, but she wanted to make it feel like they could be.

Sunny’s voice cracked, choked, and broke into a scream. Joy winced as her tongue was squeezed uncomfortably, but she wasn’t about to stop. The back arches, hair grasping, and pained gasps that followed were worth it.

Joy kept it up until Sunny’s body fell back down and her muscles relaxed. Only then, she removed herself to ask, “Need a break before my turn?”

A smile crept up Sunny’s mouth. Her fingers tightened around the dildo she still had in her hand. “Get… back down here.”

If there was any benefit Joy appreciated most about idol training, it was recovery speed, and Sunny still had it. Joy picked up the strap, quickly figuring out how it was supposed to fit and sliding it up Sunny’s legs. The motion doubled as her approach for another make out.

Of course, Joy was still immensely horny. Her interest in making out with Sunny was overshadowed by her desire to get fucked savagely, but she had the wherewithal to hold out, to let it happen naturally. She was always good at letting others take the lead. Whether they led from the top or from the bottom didn’t especially matter to her.

The alcohol made her more impatient than usual though. She forced herself to wait for the five-speed pounding she’d get, but she ground herself against Sunny’s leg in the meantime. Thankfully she didn’t have to wait long. Sunny threw her to the side and attached the vibrator to the unusual strap with very little trouble. Joy fingered herself as she watched.

“Fuck, yes, Sunny. This is going to be so goo--”

Sunny practically tackled Joy. Their lips collided again, strap hovering somewhere between Joy’s legs, but not close enough for her to feel it.

The moment she did, though, Joy grabbed Sunny’s ass and pulled. The lack of accuracy was made up for by the inhuman amount of lubrication present; both Joy’s and the curious synthetic compound that the dildo exuded seemingly of its own volition.

It was almost too much for Joy. The dildo was certainly longer than any she had used before, and bottoming out at full speed meant it hit her rather painfully in the cervix. She hissed, but otherwise just readjusted her legs in Sunny’s way to prevent the same thing from happening so easily again.

The strap held the dildo in place on Sunny’s body well. Despite its genuinely small frame, it seemed to prevent all wiggling. Every one of Sunny’s movements, including the less delicate, more intoxicated ones, translated to sensations that felt to Joy like a biologically attached dick, albeit with a plethora of extra features.

"You're so pretty, Joy," Sunny said. Even though she was doing all the work now, she wasn't nearly as winded as before. Knowing she’d affected Sunny made Joy grin into another kiss.

“No you,” Joy said with a smirk. She knew this would be good, but she truly underestimated how great it would be to see Sunny’s famous tits jiggling with the effort of fucking her. The sheen of sweat covering them would ensure the night wouldn’t be forgotten, even if Joy had another drink or two.

Joy’s first orgasm struck quickly and unexpectedly. Her breath stopped and a shudder spiked through her body from her core to the tips of her toes and fingers and head. The ability to think normally left her for a brief moment. She only kept the fleeting question of whether or not Sunny was able to feel Joy’s climax. Stars popped in and out of existence, obscuring Joy’s view of Sunny’s fantastic body.

It all faded relatively soon after, but it wasn’t enough for Joy. As soon as her lungs refilled, she screamed, “More! Sunny! Fuck me! Fuck me! Oh god!” She was practically numb everywhere, except for every square inch of her that the dildo rubbed, slid, and vibrated against. Her arms and legs wrapped around Sunny on their own.

Joy, eyes half closed, barely registered when Sunny slowed down to grab and open the extra package. She did, however, notice the sudden prodding feeling at her asshole.

“Sun--”

She couldn’t even finish Sunny’s name before something slipped its way into her butt. Her vision cleared up enough to see that even while she continued thrusting, Sunny had one hand tucked between them, and it was the source of the extra intrusion.

A couple more thrusts though, and Joy was lost to the pleasure again. She started to pant instead of scream or moan, or perhaps she was whimpering, or speaking fluent Polish. Joy couldn’t have said one way or the other. Another orgasm hit. And another. And another. She knew some time was passing between each one, but whether it was seconds or days between no longer mattered. Her mind was fading out of existence.

Until, that is, it wasn’t.

With seemingly no provocation, Joy suddenly remembered Cheungae. She had been meaning to talk to Sunny about him before they had gotten drunk. Her mind wandered, far, far more than it normally would during such intense sex.

Cheungae had taken her out several times since their first, less-than-professional meeting at the MAMAs with Wheein. Even though Joy knew he was struggling financially, he always insisted on paying for coffee, but would give up if he saw the bill when Joy took him to some of the much higher end restaurants.

He was always so polite, genuine, and humble. He didn’t even question when Joy told him they couldn’t be in a relationship, but instead insisted that they could be friends. Joy wondered if it was fair to him that she was treating him as a boyfriend in every way but name while she was still having a grand old time fucking everyone else in the industry. Cheungae knew about it, but wasn’t part of it.

And yet, sex with Cheungae made Joy feel good. Great, even. She could recreate the sensations in her mind for days afterward. His slim, toned figure hovering over her, his face contorted beautifully in adorable agony, his admittedly mediocre cock managing to hit her just right with every move. She couldn’t stop picturing him.

Another orgasm smashed through Joy’s illusion. The mental image of perfectly human Cheungae was instantly replaced with the very physical image of god-like Sunny. As tended to happen, Joy held her breath as the climax coursed through her. Her muscles contracted until she was holding Sunny in a deathly grip.

“F-fuck. Sunn-ny. Slow… slow down.”

It seemed that the request was desperately needed by both lovers, because rather than simply slow down, Sunny fell over. Joy’s pussy immediately craved to be filled again, but she knew she needed to clear her head. And besides that, she still had an odd full sensation. When her muscles relaxed enough for her to move of her own volition, she reached beneath herself and recoiled again at the feeling of a drenched butt plug. Her fingertips carried a puddle of mixed cum and lube back up.

“I’m sorry… Joy… I think that’s all I have left in me,” Sunny said between gasps.

Joy made note of her own throat and how dry it was. Whatever sound she was making while she borderline hallucinated, she’d be regretting it for a while. “All good. I was losing my sanity. That was unbelievable.”

Sunny giggled. It sounded painful. “The vibrator… or the surprise plug?”

Joy giggled back. “The plug was definitely a surprise. Was that the one with Jiu's face in it?”

“Mhm.”

“Cool,” Joy sat up, her head swimming in the aftermath. “But I just think it was you using the stuff that made it so good.”

Sunny seemed invigorated by the compliments. She smiled and reached under the bed, making some noise and bringing up a bottle of water. The two of them swapped it back and forth until it was empty and then collapsed into one another, idly feeling each others' bodies up the whole time.

“Does that mean you’re up for another… night like this? Or day?” Sunny asked as she fondled Joy’s tits. It sounded like she had sobered up, at least most of the way. Joy was too afraid of what she would see to look at a clock.

“You fucking know it,” Joy responded while she brushed her fingers up and down Sunny’s inner thighs. It was a reflex for her to agree, but she cringed inwardly as soon as she did, realizing how much more sober she had become herself, and how she wished she wasn’t. She was thinking about Cheungae again.

There was a barrage of light kisses all over her face, neck, and chest. Sunny looked far too happy for Joy to feel okay about retracting her statement.

“Maybe not right now though,” Joy said, just in case Sunny was already getting ideas. “We should really get to bed.”

She didn’t hear any arguments. They simply got up, and only long enough to flip up the duvet, flinging all of the remaining sex toys off, and jumped underneath.

It took a minute for Joy to realize she needed to remove the surprise butt plug. It was easy enough, and she ended up tossing it to the floor without looking at it.

Joy wrapped herself around Sunny. She was usually the big spoon, not that it bothered her. Sunny’s bare back felt comfortably hot against her chest and stomach. Cheungae liked being the big spoon too. He’d swap with her all the time…

“Hey, Sunny?”

“Mmm?” Sunny was on the verge of sleep, it seemed.

Joy lowered her voice, barely above a whisper. “Have you ever thought about… Settling down, I guess? Just being with one person?”

She didn’t expect Sunny to have an immense store of wisdom, but she hoped for more than what she got: a snore.

“Good night to you too, Sunny.”

#red velvet smut #snsd smut #girls generation smut #joy #sunny

156 notes · View notes

alpineglowx · 3 years

Text

Proposition | Din Djarin x Reader

Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader

Wordcount: 3K

Warnings: None except some sweet fluff and mutual pining!

Summary: You've been pining after the Mandalorian for months, and a quiet night under the stars might just be the night that changes everything.

Part 2: Placid

Part 3: Promise

***

“Where have you been?”

Glancing up, you could see the Mandalorian’s visor looking out at you from the opening of the Razor Crest. You blinked steadily, coming to a complete halt at the bottom of the drop ramp, unable to move any further. He watched you carefully, unmoving as even Grogu waddled to the edge of the ramp. The kid’s ears twitched as he caught sight of you, and you could even hear his soft murmurs from this far off.

Seeing them in the fading sunlight, safe and sound in the place that you had begun to call home the past few months, made tears well in your eyes. The Mandalorian had hired you as more of a mechanic-caretaker for the kid-scavenger for the better part of several months, but you couldn’t help the pull of being close to him. Mando was more of a compassionate soul then you had thought when you had first seen him on Coruscant, a hulking piece of metal with weapons at every reach. He had almost frightened you then, with his immense height and great reputation.... Until you had seen the kid. The little child that Mando seemed to adore so greatly, the one with floppy green ears and wide, beaming eyes. Mando always held him with such gentleness, the same gentleness that you sometimes found yourself being shown. It may have been a small comment of praise on your work, or a passing touch of the shoulder... Regardless, it had made the walls around your heart start to crumble and fade away, revealing a new affection for them both underneath.

But you hadn’t tried to relish in it, or take it too seriously. He probably only needed your work for a little while longer, and especially after he returned the kid and completed his mission, he wouldn’t need your assistance any more. You would go your separate ways... And he would forget you.

“Hey,” his soft voice came again, tearing you from your thoughts. You blinked, focusing on Mando. “You alright?”

Breathing deeply, you shrugged one shoulder, trying to blink away your tears. “Yeah, I’m fine. I, uh... I went into town to see if there was anything I could trade. I got some fruit... That was about it.”

“Good,” was all the Mandalorian said. “Come on. We’ve got to keep moving.”

You took a deep breath again, looking out into the ocean of trees and the sunset fading around you. You longed to spend more than a few hours or days on one planet, especially one as beautiful as this.

So, plucking up your courage, you turned to him and the kid, waiting for you on the Crest.

“I have a proposition.”

The Mandalorian settled one hand on his belt, shifting to rest his weight on one leg. “Alright.”

“Let’s stay here, just for one more night,” you said. “I’ll build the fire, and get the supplies, and everything. You can even sleep on the ship with the kid, I don’t mind.”

“... what are you proposing?” The Mandalorian asked, sounding mildly curious.

“I’ve always wanted to sleep under the stars... Even if just for one night.”

“Alright,” came Mando’s surprisingly fast response, making your heart beam with joy.

. . . .

“See that one? I think it looks like a womp-rat, what do you think, kid?”

You peeked at Grogu from where he was leaned against your shoulder, curled in the crook of your arm as you leaned against your pack, warm on the blanket you had spread out in the tall grass. Mando sat a few feet from you, one leg outstretched and the other bent at the knee, his arm hanging over it loosely. He looked more relaxed than you had ever seen him; he had even removed the jetpack and the cape.

You couldn’t deny your attraction to him, despite never having seen his face. He carried himself with such confidence, with his broad shoulders and slim waist and form that could easily crush you. He could have killed you, easily... You had seen others die by his hands before.

But he had never been anything else but gentle with you. Not the typical warm, motherly-kind of gentle, but a compassion and attentiveness that existed beyond just words. It was wordlessly offering you a blanket when you shivered, letting you have a spare blaster, or simply handing the kid off to you during times spent on the Crest.

Grogu cooed softly beside you, and you peeked to see his eyelids drooping.

“Oh,” you whispered. “Are you sleepy, buddy? You ready for bed?”

At his soft murmur, you gathered him up in a small blanket, gently rising on your knees and tucking him away in the pram that lay next to the blanket. Grogu held tightly to your thumb, resisting your pulling, so you let him hold it until you had pressed him snug into the pram, bundled up in the mass of blankets until the softness screw him away. As soon as his eyes fell, you smiled, gazing down at the kid whom you had come to adore so greatly.

You hadn’t even realized Mando had been watching you until you turned, going back to your original position but spotting the gaze of the visor locked on your face. You flinched, surprised to see him so eagerly staring back at you, not even moving when he realized you had caught him. In the silence, you shut the pram closed and placed your hands back in your lap, swallowing heavily. Mando’s gaze still didn’t waver, and you couldn’t help but admire the soft starlight beaming like silver on his Beskar.

“You’re smiling,” he said suddenly, his voice soft but cutting off your train of daydreams. You shook your head a bit, just to clear your throat and sit back down again, leaning against your pack. You stared at the stars again, trying to calm your thundering heartbeat. You couldn’t admit - although you desperately wanted to - that you were smiling because of him. It was all too much. He was too much, with all his hidden expressions under the mask and the not-so-cocky attitude he possessed most of the time.

“The kid likes you.”

You cocked a brow in his direction, slightly disappointed to see that he was facing away again, back towards the tree line.

“He’s not too bad,” you replied, smirking. “I like him, too.”

The Mandalorian’s shoulders lifted, just the smallest but, signifying the small laugh he would sometimes give in your presence. It made your stomach flip when he did that, knowing you had been the one to make him feel that way.

“Why were you smiling earlier?” He asked, making your stomach plummet.

You could feel your mouth go dry even before your lips had opened, but suddenly the words came tumbling out - and your mind was going a hundred parsecs per second - urging you on and on until you finally...

“You were looking at me, and I-I don’t know, you make me nervous sometimes, okay? Not like the, ‘oh, I’m so scared that you’re going to kill me’ kind of nervous... like you look at me and you’re all that I see and whatever’s going on just kind of fades into the background. And I feel like you’re the first and only person in this whole galaxy to actually see me, as I really am, and you don’t kick me out or push me away. You’ve let me stay on, and I could never thank you enough.”

You finally stopped speaking, folding your hands over your stomach as you dared not another look in Mando’s direction. You only stared at the stars, practically in awe of yourself and everything that you had revealed. You very well might have told him that you loved him.

He stayed silent for a long time, maybe five minutes, maybe more.

“... You’ve been more than a loyal asset,” he said simply, his voice soft.

You expected him to say more, but he stayed silent, letting you mull over his words.

“I’d like you to be more,” he said in a quiet voice. “If you want that.”

You blinked, your heart soaring at his words. Yes, yes, yes, a million times yes. You make me feel safe and wanted and I want to be with you too and help you feel safe -“

“I’d like that,” was all you managed to say without throwing up from nerves.

Suddenly he did move; you heard the shuffle of the blanket and the clank of metal as he shifted. Your gaze flickered for one moment, catching the gleam of Beskar in starlight as he suddenly hovered over you. Your heart pounded - so loud in your chest you swore he could hear it - as the masked man looked down at you, incredibly close. But he didn’t move, his hands didn’t even twitch as he simply gazed down at you... Admiring you?

Your lips parted to speak, but his hand shot up, his gloved thumb caressing the front of your hairline. You shuddered, blinking fast as the back of his knuckle moved down your face. It slid down from your temple, over your cheekbone, and past your jaw in one smooth take. You couldn’t help it - your hands shot upwards, holding your palms flat against the indents in his helmet. Mando flinched, going to grasp your wrists as quick as he could, but the grasp wasn’t tight, just secure, keeping you from lifting your hands.

Your face flushed, realizing your mistake. “I-I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to remove it. I-I just wanted to touch you.”

“It’s alright,” Mando said, his fingers sliding softly down your wrists. Moving your hands, he guided them down to his own hands, gently curling his fingers in between yours and holding warmly.

You couldn’t help it, the sudden rush of emotions coming full speed at you from every direction - relief, security, happiness, joy... Love.

“ Ka’ra,” Mando said in the most gentle tone you had ever heard from him. You blinked, focusing back on the helmet and dark T-visor as you felt warmth streaming down your face. You were crying, and he had noticed before you, saying some word in Mando’a you weren’t familiar with.

“I’ve hurt you,” he said, starting to lean back and sit on his knees, withdrawing his hands.

“No-“ you started, sitting up and going to grasp his hands, pulling him back. “You-you didn’t.”

He stared back at you for a long moment. “You’re crying.”

Your lips parted, and your mouth slowly transformed into a smile, and suddenly you were giggling, throwing a hand over your mouth to stifle the laughs and hide how badly you were blushing. Mando just stared back at you, unmoving, tilting his head just once.

“I’m... I’m really happy,” you admitted through tears. “I thought you didn’t like me at all... Not like how I like you.”

His shoulders dropped, and even the helmet sagged a bit on his head. “Can you... Can you close your eyes?”

Your brows shot up at the request, wondering his intentions. But you nodded anyway, shutting your eyes and sitting on your knees, hands in your lap. You fidgeted nervously with the belt loops on your pants, listening for any sound from Mando. He didn’t move for several long moments, but eventually you heard the small shuffle of material being removed, and a sudden warm touch on your face. You flinched, inhaling sharply as his bare hand caressed your face, knuckles moving down your cheek.

“Mando-“ you murmured, worried for him, for the Creed.

“It’s alright,” he assured through the mask, knowing your thoughts by the anxious tone in your voice. His hand was slow, his thumb swiping away your tears but suddenly moving to brush against your bottom lip. You shuddered, wanting to shrink away, but his touch was soft, secure, and you felt like melting into him.

“What’s that word you called me earlier?” You asked as his second hand rose, cupping your cheek.

“Star.”

Love expounded in your heart for him, and before you could stop yourself, you threw your arms around his shoulders, tugging yourself forward right into him. He grunted as you hugged him, squeezing tight into the patches of flightsuit beneath the Beskar. But something was off; you had never hugged him before, but you could feel scratchy patches of hair and warm skin against your cheek. Gasping, you pulled yourself away, throwing a hand over your eyes.

“What are you doing?” You spluttered. “Where’s your helmet? Put-put it back on!”

He laughed, actually laughed, and the undistorted sound of his voice was better than you had ever imagined, deep, raspy, but with twinges of softness as well.

“It’s fine as long as you don’t look,” he said, assuring the nerves in your chest. You slumped, still keeping your hand over your eyes, but you could feel him reaching for your free one.

“Mando?”

“Touch me here,” he said, guiding your hand upwards until your fingertips touched his skin, his cheek. He released your hand, hesitantly letting you follow the softness of his skin, your fingers prickling against what you assumed was stubble. You shifted on your knees slightly, using your other hand to press against his jaw, and when you finally did cup his cheek, holding his face, he shuddered, releasing a heavy breath. His head lolled slightly, and you tightened your arms to hold him, letting him relax in your grasp.

“It’s... Been a long time, hasn’t it?” You asked, not wanting to embarrass him.

“Yes,” was all he said, and his hands were back on your face, brushing over your lips for a second time. You shivered, allowing your hands to rise a little higher, brushing against the soft, wispy hair on his head.

You chuckled under your breath. “I’m glad you have hair.”

“Why?”

“Not really a fan of bald guys, Mando, I’ll be honest.”

He laughed, breathing deeply so you felt him exhale onto your skin. “ Ka’ra?”

“Yes?”

“... Call me Din.”

And suddenly you couldn’t breathe, because soft, slightly chapped lips were pressing hesitantly against yours, and your mind couldn’t function right because his bare face, the face you had been wishing to see for months, was pressed right up against yours - his nose smushed into the apple of your cheek as he cupped your face in his hands, tugging your chin up the slightest bit just to be able to reach you. You could feel wisps of brushing against your forehead, and stubble grinding against your upper lip and chin. Did he have a mustache, or a beard? What color was his hair? Why did he suddenly smell so nice, not just like the wafts of smoke from blaster fire or cold, hard metal?

You couldn’t even respond to the kiss before he pulled away, brushing the bridge of his nose into your cheek as he relaxed against you. He was breathing heavily, hot breath washing over your face like billows of clouds. His hand stayed glued to your face, and you had just realized how tight your fingers were digging into his shoulders. You relaxed your grip, ducking your head and feeling the heat on your face from the sudden kiss.

“ Dank Farrik,” he whispered under his breath. “T-that was bad, I’m sorry.”

You giggled, pressing the crown of your head into his chest. “First time for everyone, right?”

“I guess so.”

Taking a deep breath, you rose again, keeping your eyes closed as your hands rose to his face, mapping his features. He was shaking slightly, sweat forming on the hairline brushing up against his ears. Kriff - he was nervous, shaking like a teenage boy.

Feeling deep sympathy that mirrored your own nervousness, you leaned in close again, running your fingers over the hooked bridge of his nose, the tenseness of his brow, feeling his eyelashes tickle your knuckles. You ran your hand over his hair once, trying to calm him, lightly running your fingers through his hair. His whole body shuddered and moved forward, one hand sliding up to grasp your shoulder firmly.

“Din,” you whispered, remembering his name. You heard his sharp intake of breath, the tremor that wracked his back as you held onto him. You tried to smile, but tears only built in your eyes again, and after you had moved to wipe them away, you cupped Din’s face.

“ Din.”

Swiping a finger over his lips, trying to figure out where to kiss him, Din whispered back, “Keep saying that and I may just have to extend your lease.”

Your heart soared, and you laughed out loud, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. “Din.” Then to his nose. “Din.” And the corner of his mouth. “ Din.”

He took your jaw with one hand, pulling you forward and back to his mouth. You could kiss him back this time, moving your lips in time with his as his hands found your back, pressing him flat against his chest. Your hands tangled in his hair, fingers digging tight into his scalp to keep him as close as possible to you. He made a small, desperate sound when your hand pressed down flat on the back of his neck, making goosebumps race up your arms. He was everywhere, hands moving down your back and lips leaving you breathless. He was invading all your senses, every dark corner of your mind where fear and doubt had only resided. Din was there instead, sweeping you up into his arms and keeping you close to his heart.

When you pulled away to breathe, both panting against each other’s face, you only allowed yourself four seconds before you kissed him again, surprising him and making him flinch. But he was becoming more and more soft by the second, melting into you. The Mandalorian you had been pining after for months, the one person you could imagine yourself with, was better than you could have ever pictured.

“I wish I could see you,” you murmured when he finally pulled away.

He pressed his forehead against yours. “You will, some day... I promise.”

#the mandalorian #mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x reader #x reader #grogu #baby yoda #fluff #angst #mutual pining #confessions #first love #soft #pedro pascal

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tetralea · 3 years

Text

Ski date chronics 1.0

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

World count: 3K

Warnings: exhibitionism, fingering, unprotected sex, poor Harry on main but I gave him headphones, smut like a lot

Summary: You barely had your first time with Tom while skiing and you already up in the middle of the night, so turned on it’s unbearable. Tom is happy to help you out, if you keep quiet enough not waking Harry up. And in the morning he has to finish what you started.

A/N: This is a small addition to my Ski date fic which so many of you loved and thank you for that! It’s a pretty filthy scene which I didn’t include in the original fic but it kept coming back to me, so yeah! Here we go!

After sleeping with Tom you expected your lust and yearning for him to return, but you have never imagined waking up in the middle of the night, with shivers running down on your spine, your skin on fire and that sweet space between your legs aching to be touched.

You turned to your back with a sigh, looking at Tom sleeping peacefully next to you. His body was pressed to your on a million spots and that dull touch alone even trough your PJs took your breath away.

The two of you were still in your smaller bed, which you deeply regretted by now. Tom’s even breathing tickled the skin on your neck and your options were desperately entering and leaving your mind.

You tried to pull away, but it was impossible without more space. Calming down and going back to sleep wasn’t an option either. You could have sneaked into the bathroom in a desperate attempt to make yourself to cum, thinking about Tom as you did million times before, but who were you kidding? It never was enough, and now knowing how his touch and kisses and his skin on your own felt, it wasn’t really an option anymore.

You could have woken him up and you could have figured something out, but it was already too late. Tom’s breathing hitched, and he was consciously looking for you.

‘What’s wrong, darling?’ His voice was a raspy whisper, paired with a bit of an unconscious humm as he pulled you close again. Just as he did, his body stilled, hands fastly moving under the hem of your shirt as he felt just how hot your skin was. You heard him sucking in a breath and you almost heard the question if you were sick, but your shudder to his touch and the sharp breath made him stop.

‘I’m okay.’ You lied, almost shaking as you took every ounce of energy you had to not to jump on him.

‘I know, that’s not true.’ His whispering voice was a lot more awake now. He shifted to the side to give you enough space to lay on your back. Your hands were balled in a fist until your mind tried to decide itself on your next move. ‘Let me help.’

‘We can’t, Harry is here.’ The dim, almost blueish light coming through under the blinds on the window lit Tom’s face a bit, who was looking at your direction chuckling a bit.

‘I know, but he is sleeping.’ He started, his voice smiling. ‘Believe me, he won’t wake up, I know he won’t.’ Tom reassured you, and you made a mental note to ask him in the morning what on Earth he did to his sleeping brother before which made him so sure.

There was a bit of a quiet, you not knowing what to say and Tom waiting for you to say it out loud.

‘Do you need me, love?’ His voice sounded like honey, it was gentle, sweet and there was an unspoken promise in it.

‘I do.’

‘It’s okay.’ Tom leant down still smiling, slowly kissing you. The fabric of his shirt wrinkled in your palms, as you were clutching onto his shirt, pulling him onto you even more. He felt your impatience but didn’t give in just yet. He made you open your mouth for him, doing his best to muffle your sounds, with his kisses. When you finally gave in and followed his peace, his hand which was under your shirt already started to move down, lifting the waistband of your pants, his nimble fingers gliding down on your mound.

He didn’t have it in him to tease you, not when the warmth radiating from your body made his skin crawl with anticipation and when your heavy breathing made the air vibrate round you. He just wanted to give you a tiny bit of a foreplay when his fingers were tracing your inner thighs, but it didn’t last long. He growled into the kiss involuntarily when your slickness already smeared on your thighs made everything more obvious for him. It took only a second to lose his cool, suddenly his whole body feeling a lot more awake, his hips jerking against your thigh, chest pressing to your chest urgingly. It wasn’t enough, there was no space between the two of you but he still wanted closer. Suddenly he sat up and you could see Tom getting rid of his shirt, almost tearing the fabric in the franzy. Before he returned, your shirt was pushed up hard, the material pooling above your breasts, Tom’s eyes tracing your form until he laid back down to keep going. Now his smooth skin on yours felt like something you needed all along, yearning for it without really knowing. The small sound he made when finally your hands were on him mixed with yours.

‘It’s-, You are properly soaked, oh, god.’ He mumbled into your shoulder, while his movements were in sync with his words as he explored your wet folds, one finger sliding up and down on autopilot on your pussy. ‘Open your legs a bit more.’ His fingers poked your thighs demanding more space for themselves.

When you did he didn’t waste any time to start gently rubbing your pussy, leaning onto his hearing more than ever, to register every restrained sigh and whimper, to know when he made you feel really good.

It didn’t take much time until your chest was heaving, back arched from the mattress. It wasn’t an invitation on purpose but Tom leant down, balancing himslef on one arm and quietly suked one nipple into his mouth, coaxing a broken, soundless sobb out of you.

The pad of his index finger was drawing pretty circles around your clit, then he switched and ran his finger up and down on your silt, before going down again and stopping for a heartbeat. His mouth found yours and when you couldn’t take it anymore and bucked your hips, Tom slid one finger inside of you.

The muffled, dragged out moan was barely audible, and it was just enough to reassure him. He was doing good. He started to move in and out of you curling his finger, searching for that spot which made you tremble again.

Your impatience got the better of you again, your hand dipped into his messy curls, pulling onto them slightly, while the other one gripped the sheets. He couldn’t help it as his hip rutted into your thigh, his body searching for some kind of relief, grinding his erection to you.

‘I need you.’ You didn’t need to break the kiss to breath this small sentence onto his lips. Tom stubbornly just shook his head and pushed another finger inside of you, slightly stretching you out, trying to give you the pleasure, the fullness you needed from him. ‘No.’ You shook your head, sounding truly broken, but your back arched nonetheless again, pleasure washing over you as he was working your with two fingers, those skilled digits caressing that one spot inside of you. ‘I need you, Tom. You.’

He kept shaking his head and speeding up with his fingers, pulling them out and circling your clit again.

‘I want you too-,’ as a demonstration he pressed his rock hard cock to you, ’but that would wake Harry up, and we don’t want that.’ He was protesting trying his best to get you to the edge as fast as he could. It felt more and more difficult not to rut into you or, worse, just roll on top of you pushing his pants down and sliding into you. You were soaking his fingers, he knew he could have done it, it would have been so easy. A shudder ran through his spine to the thought alone, and he was sure he already was leaving a wet spot on his pants from leaking continuously in the last minutes.

It seemed like you didn’t have strength to protest, or more like your mind was occupied with something else. Your thighs were trembling and you were unable to control your breathing anymore.

‘That’s it, lovie, come for me.’ His fingers slid into you again, for one last time, making you feel full, before returning to your clit. He sat up in a second and his other hand, pressed against your mouth hard, to muffle your sounds. He could see that this movement alone pushed you over the edge without any warning. Your whole body shook violently, completely losing control, trashing under Tom’s touch, your hips jerking and pleading for more and he got it.

When your muscles finally relaxed he loosened his pressure on your mouth still not trusting you fully to remain completely quiet. It felt like the world had stopped and it was only you and him, his whole caring, loving presence surrounding you, making your body float. When he stopped he didn’t fully let you go yet, his warm palm slid onto your oversensitive pussy, cupping and covering it softly until you fully came down.

It’s been a few minutes until you stayed like that, before you cued him to let you speak.

‘Thank you.’ The words tumbled over your lips earning a small chuckle from him.

‘There is nothing to thank me for, darling. I’m always happy to make you come.’ His giggling filled your ear as he laid back next to you, peppering the slightly damp skin on your shoulder with tender kisses. He tugged his hands away from your pants, drawing you a bit closer. It made the both of you suddenly very aware of his painfully hard cock, and you reached out to return the favour, but he caught your wrist.

‘It’s not the best time-,’he shook his head, the adoration clear in his words,’I’m not particularly quiet.’ He confessed and you imagined him getting all flustered and red at the same time.

‘Oh, are you?’ You teased and turned to your side to be able to hold him better.

‘No.’ The ruffling of the bedsheets let you know that he was shaking his head.’ So how about now going back to sleep, at least you, and tomorrow, taking just a tiny bit more time in the bathroom together?’ He asked, not giving away what he had in mind exactly.

As much as you wanted to argue the tiredness quickly returned into your body, mixing with the high of your recent orgasm and Tom’s closeness made you sleepy again, and you were drifting to sleep before you knew it.

The sun was up a lot earlier than you wanted it but when Tom turned to his side to spoon you, holding you tight and secure to his body you didn’t mind it that much. Moreover when you felt the butterfly kisses on the back of your neck, paired with his thick accent and sleepy voice.

The events of the night quickly came back as your mind became more awake, giving a bit of a testing push with your butt, feeling Tom to be hard again.

‘Someone is impatient.’ He whispered and looked over his shoulder, seeing that Harry was still sleeping more or less. ‘Wanna give this day an early start?’ He asked cheekily, grabbing your hip and pulling you flush to his lap.

‘Brushing your teeth should be the first thing you do after waking up anyway.’ Fabricating an excuse which wasn’t really needed yet, added to the thrills of sneaking around like this.

Tom didn’t waste any time, he got up, giving a quick glance to Harry before grabbing your reached out hand and pulling you to the bathroom. The both of you doubled over from the restrained laughter as the door closed behind you.

‘It’s like we are teens sneaking around, doing something we shouldn’t.’ Your voice was still a whisper, your cheeks hurting from smiling so hard until Tom straightened himself and looked at you.

‘We are sneaking around.’ He said, seriousness and a hint of seduction coloring his voice. ‘But it’s something we definitely should do more often.’ He bit his lips playfully, his hands reaching out to grab your waist and push you to the cold tiled wall. It wasn’t very spacious, but if everything went as you planned you didn’t need much space anyway. ‘I hope you don’t mind if we do something more than what you had in mind during the night.’ His voice was low and his eyes were even darker, filled with lust and need, setting fire in your veins. ‘The thing is I just can’t take it out of my mind how absolutely wet you were.’ He was flush to your chest, hands caressing your neck and face when he spoke. ‘I’d lie if I said I don’t want your hands and mouth on me, but I’m afraid it wouldn’t do it right now, lovie.’ He spoke slowly and languidly, almost sneakily grinded his hips into you already.

Your answer was lost in the feverish, urging kiss which followed. You pulled him onto yourself, taking all of your clothes off in a frenzy, the want returning to your body from last night, your pussy pulsing and aching to be filled. Tom was impatient too, yet he did his best to prepare you, peppering your neck with wet kisses, leaving glistering marks on your skin, dropping his head to suck your nipples into that hot mouth, occasionally running the tip of his cock through your folds, earning the sweetest sounds from you. He knew that spot on your neck, the one made you tremble and close your eyes in an instant and your knees giving in. You told him during a drinking game, well you told everyone but he was the one giving it a test on a drunken night. He held you similarly and after a shaky breath he pressed his lips to your neck, just where you told him days ago to never ever dare to do.

And now he went back there again and heard your shaky whimper and felt your knees shake and now he could go on, now you wanted him to go on.

It was fast and a bit hurried, but you didn’t mind. Your skin was burning again, the only thought in your head was to have him filling you in seconds.

Those long fingers dipped between your folds making your head hit the wall as you let it fall for the sensation.

‘So wet again. Oh, darling, I could have you so easily right now.’

‘Please.’ The answer was way too fast mixing with a soft moan.

‘Turn around.’ Tom guided you to the sink, placing both of your hands on the edges and stepping behind you. ‘Look how wet you are.’ He opened his fingers showing them off in the reflection of the mirror. Before you could have answered you felt a gentle tap on your inner thighs so you opened them even more.

There was no more talking needed, Tom carefully guided his cock between your folds, looking up into your eyes in the mirror when he was ready. He started to push forward but you couldn’t keep your eyes open, it was too intense, making the little hairs stand on your arms, a wave of satisfaction washing over you, as his cock deliciously stretched your cunt. And Tom? He was watching you, he was drinking in all of your reactions from the little shudders to the silent ‘o’ of your mouth when he finally bottomed out.

He couldn’t wait a second to start to move, he had to feel you more. It was heaven when those large palms were gripping your hips, keeping you in place, his hips already giving you a stead, hard peace. The slight burn around your entrance, around his thick cock, him working you open was slowly soothing that unbearable ache in your belly.

His palm slid up on your body, pinching your nipple the slightest as it spread on your chest pulling you up to his strong torso. Your head found home on his shoulder, deeply inhaling his scent.

When his name fell from your lips like a prayer, he couldn’t hold it together any longer. The now somewhat familiar fingers found your clit, rubbing it fast, now knowing your sweet spots a lot better. The sink helped you to steady yourself against his now sloppy, heavy thrusts and kept reminding you where you were to try and keep your voices as low as possible. Tom on the other hand, he was loud even trying his best to keep it down. He hissed as you were pulsing around him and let out a broken moan when your hot lips kissed his neck.

You were already close but listening to his absolutely sinful, sweet noises pushed you over the edge, and Tom couldn’t hold it any longer either, he came, his body tensing, the feeling of his hot cum filling you only prolonging your pleasure.

When it was over he kept holding you close, his lips pressing to yours in a lazy, satisfied kiss. The both of you slowly come down from your highs, panting and your cheeks burning hot.

It took only a few minutes to clean up before not you walked out of the bathroom, finding Harry sitting on the bed, with headphones on, reading a book.

Now he looked up with a shit eating grin. ‘I swear to you, that was the world’s longest and loudest toothbrushing ever.’

Tags: @we--are---not--afraid, @storybookholland @champagneee-hills @annathesillyfriend @suckerz @tomsrebeleyebrow @hazofmyheart @thegirlintheswivelchair @hollandprkr @terrifictomholland @worldoftom @augustholland @greenorangevioletgrass

#tom holland #smut #tom holland smut #ski date #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x reader

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ybangtannies · 3 years

Note

Hiii💜💜💜i just want to start off by saying i love your blog, your stories are really good. I just got through reading the bts profiles and i don't know if you are taking request but if you are i was wondering if you could do a scenario where yandere namjoon and y/n are best friends and one night he comes over and they end up doing it, but the next morning they just joke around because it was a mistake and they are good friends, then two weeks later she calls him tells him she is pregnant, and namjoon try to talk to her about keeping the baby because he secretly love y/n and is crazy about her.

[Here it is! I'm sorry it took me months to write this, but I hope you enjoy it! I got a little carried away and it's way longer than what I intended to be lol]

Masterlist

Word count: 2.7k

Namjoon’s eyes open wide suddenly, and frantically starts looking for your figure, and even though he doesn’t find it, he knows you’re around and awake because he can hear the shower from your en suite bathroom. He lets out a sigh and savours the memories coming to him from last night, your moans and whimpers, how good he felt being completely embraced by you and your scent; every single detail about last night and you both enjoying and pleasuring each other is engraved in Namjoon’s mind.

He knows you usually take around fifteen or twenty minutes in the shower, so he relaxes on the bed and starts thinking. What does this mean for your relationship? It surely changes everything, right? This must mean that you love him too. He knows you used to sleep around -much to his dismay, he still doesn’t understand how he put up with it, maybe because it was just sex with strangers and you made it pretty clear you wanted nothing with them- but it’s been a long time since that and if you decided you wanted Namjoon, your best friend, someone you clearly know and have already a bond formed with, to be the person you had sex with after such a long period of time, then there must be a reason behind it. Maybe you weren’t sure on how to tell him you love him too for fear of being rejected and thought sex would be the way to let him know without words? Namjoon smiles at the thought, his sweet and pretty girl, if only you knew how crazy in love he is about you. He’s been waiting for this to happen for way too long, have imagined it millions of times but reality surely does exceed fiction and now that he got a taste of what it would be really like to be with you like this, he doesn’t think he’d be able to give up this feeling for anything in the world; there’s no way, he would be insane to turn down his other half.

His stream of consciousness is cut off by the door of your bathroom opening and your figure emerging from it, you stand on the threshold and look at him with surprise.

“Oh, good morning! I didn’t think you’d be awake already, it’s pretty early and you always sleep until it’s almost lunchtime” you chuckle while entering the room, going to lift up the blind and open the window a little.

Namjoon is looking at you in awe, you’re not wearing anything he hasn’t seen on you before -a shirt and some worn out shorts- but he can perfectly see the hickeys he gave you last night on your neck since you’re wearing your hair on a side plait plus you’re still yawning even if it’s been surely more than half an hour since you woke up and adding that to the fact that now he is your boyfriend... he wonders if you’d be up for round two before having breakfast.

“Hello? Earth to Namjoon! Are you sleeping with your eyes open again or what?” Your voice is once again bringing him back to reality, your glance focused on your phone rather than on him.

“No, no, sorry, I guess I’m still a little tired. What’s up?”

You roll your eyes playfully while looking back at him, “I was asking if you wanted to have breakfast now, but you can keep sleeping if you want, I have things to do anyways.”

Namjoon accepts your offer and accompanies you to the kitchen to make breakfast; he loves how he knows his way around your apartment and how domestic it feels waking up together after having been making love all night to have breakfast and spend the morning at home, like a long-term couple.

He is about to open his mouth and address the elephant in the room once you’re both seated at your table and drinking coffee when you beat him to it.

“So, I don’t want to make things weird after last night and I don’t really think this need to be said since we’ve been friends for quite some time now and already know each other and where we stand,” Namjoon doesn’t like where this seems to be going, “the sex was really good and I think we both needed it after the stress from college but -and don’t get me wrong please- I don’t think it’s a good idea to make it something common, you know?”

Nope, Namjoon is hating this. He is quite lost, what is happening right here? What do you mean you don’t want to have sex with him anymore? Are you already breaking up with him? And what do you mean by ‘making things weird’ and ‘we’ve been friends’? What the fuck are you even talking about? Is he still sleeping? Is this one of his nightmares? That must be it, a nightmare, the worst he’s had so far.

You must sense his confusion because you chuckle a little and even blush; Namjoon wants to smile at the sight, you just look way too cute, but your words have him very confused right now.

“The sex was good, really! Amazing even, Joonie! All I’m saying is that we both know each other too much to have a friends-with-benefits relationship without fucking it up -no pun intended by the way” you laugh again lightly while sipping from your mug and grabbing a toast from the plate in between you both.

Namjoon is really thrown back by your behaviour but as much as he’d like to talk back and confess how ardently he loves you, he realises maybe now is not the right time; he is already sure about his feelings for you and what he wants but you don’t seem to be on the same page just yet and he, being the gentleman he like to think he is, will of course give you some time to figure out your feelings for him. Because of course you must be in love with him too, but maybe you’re more stubborn than he thought you to be and preferred to think your feelings for him were only of lust and not love. It’s okay, you’ll come to your senses and if not, he’ll help you find the right way to his side.

“Yeah, sure. Don’t worry about it, y/n. I know what you mean.”

Days goes by, then weeks and before Namjoon realises it’s been almost a month since that beautiful and extraordinary night he revives almost every day in the solitude of his room. It’s during one of those moments when he is remembering the way your voice sounded asking him for more, to please don’t stop thrusting into your tight and velvety walls and he is about to climax, saying your name like a mantra, that his phone starts vibrating making him jump on his bed and let out a groan, who the fuck? He is tempted to ignore it, too occupied with his hard and leaking cock on his hand to bother with answering the annoying prick that is calling him right in this moment, but then he takes a glance of your name on the screen and it’s physically impossible for him to ignore you. Namjoon sighs and tries to even his breathing and even covers his naked body with the sheet of his bed even though it’s just a regular call.

“Hello, babe, what’s up?”

“Namjoon,” uh oh, you’re using his full name plus your tone is way too plain, this cannot be good, “are you busy right now?”

He looks down at his now less hard cock and shakes his head slowly, “not at all, why? Do you need something?”

“Could you please come over?” Namjoon is already out of his bed and looking for his underwear and clothes, he doesn’t need for you to give him more details about wanting him to go to your house, but he still asks.

“Sure thing, but is something the matter? You sound serious”

A silence follows his question and Namjoon stops his movements altogether, looking straight to the wall with a frown adorning his face, “y/n? Is everything okay?”

“Just… please, come quickly, okay? I need to tell you something.”

He is about to interrogate you a little more or even ask if he needs to bring you something, but you don’t give him time and hang up just as you finish speaking. He looks at his phone with a deeper frown now and hurries up out of his house and into his car.

Namjoon arrives in record time, he’s been thinking about what could have possibly happened for you to be that dry on the phone; yesterday evening when he last saw you everything was okay, and even this morning you sent him an audio telling him how excited you were because the books you bought online finally arrived and were going to start reading them. So, what happened?

You open the door as soon as he rings the bell and without any words, sign for him to come inside. Namjoon observes your attire: sweatpants, a Superman t-shirt and your part of your hair is on a cute little bun, you look adorable and if it weren’t for the frown on your face and your apparent inability to look him in the eye, Namjoon would be cooing internally at you.

“What is happening, y/n? You’re making me worried,” he is now sitting next to you on the sofa in the little living room of your apartment.

You sigh for what seems to be the tenth time since Namjoon got here and start fidgeting with your fingers, “I don’t know how this happened… well, I know how it happened, but I don’t know how we both could be so irresponsible…”

“What happened? What did we do?” Namjoon is more nervous with each passing second, several scenarios running through his mind.

“I’m pregnant”, you guess the best way to tell him is by just doing it at once, to rip off the band aid.

A few moments of silence follow after your words, nothing can be heard, and it feels as if the world has completely stopped. You look at him cautiously and find Namjoon looking at you with wide eyes, opening and closing his mouth like he was a fish. The image is funny, cute even, and you would have laughed have it not been a moment like this.

“What?” It’s the only thing that Namjoon manages to say, he’s not sure he heard you right and doesn’t want to get his hopes up like he did before, just in case.

You mumble a little ‘wait here’ and leave the room, in the direction of your bedroom. Before he can decide if he should follow you or not, you’re back with several sticks on your hands. Your face doesn’t show the same worrisome it did when Namjoon first got here but the frown is still present, and he has to physically restrain himself from softening it and give you a kiss on the forehead.

“Here, these are the pregnancy tests. I went out this morning to get them, they’re all positive. I’m three weeks pregnant, Namjoon.”

He takes them and indeed, they all show two lines, one of them even stating what you just said: 3 weeks pregnant.

“This… this is…” Namjoon is trying to find the words to describe how he’s feeling right now; he wants to cry, to scream, to jump, but overall, he wants to hug you and kiss you silly. He is going to be a dad! And you’re the one carrying his children! He could marry you on the stop. Actually, he should start looking for rings and think about a proposal. Would you prefer to wait until you give birth? Or maybe you’d like to do it quickly before your tummy starts showing. Either way, Namjoon doesn’t mind, that’s your decision to make.

“I know it’s not ideal, don’t worry. I’m going to start looking for abortion clinics today, I want to get rid of it as soon as possible. That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about, I think we should both pay it since, you know, we both did it.”

“What the hell are you even talking about?” Namjoon can’t believe what he’s hearing, ‘abortion clinics’, ‘get rid of it’?

“We’re not gonna keep it. I’m not gonna have it, Namjoon.”

You are both standing now in the middle of your living room, looking at each other, both with a surprised look in your eyes albeit for very different reasons.

“Why not? I want to be a dad; I want to keep the baby.”

“What? Since when you want to be a father?”

“Since always?” Namjoon is trying not to raise his voice and keep his cool, he doesn’t want to upset himself more than he already is and doesn’t want to upset you either, that wouldn’t do your children any good.

You scoff and roll your eyes at his answer, “you don’t have time for that. You barely have time to eat with how busy you are with college; how do you plan on making time for a baby? You surely won’t drop college; how would you find a job then? Look, if you don’t want to pay for it that’s okay, I can afford it, it’s no biggie”

“It’s not about the money, y/n. I don’t want you to abort our baby because I want to have it with you. I’ll make time for it, we have nine months to figure it out, okay? We’ll both see how we can manage it. Maybe next year I can take fewer classes at college, and you could stop your studies for a year until the baby is old enough to leave them in a nursery without too many problems. Let’s just focus on celebrating and making an appointment with your doctor, darling, don’t worry too much” Namjoon is making his way to hug you and finally kiss you, but you take a few steps back looking at him with wide eyes, as if what he has been saying is insane.

“What the fuck? What the fuck am I supposed to be celebrating? I don’t want to be a mother; you know that I’ve told you several times before. Once I get a fucking abortion it’s when I’ll be celebrating. Look, I’m sorry if you want to be a father right now, but I don’t and I’m not gonna do it.”

Namjoon is starting to get angrier with the moment, he doesn’t understand why you have to be so stubborn. Surely, you’ve told him before about your reticence towards being a mother and how you’d rather abort if you were to ever get pregnant, but he always thought you were saying that referring to carrying the children of another person, not his.

“There’s no need for that, baby, if you just…”

“Don’t ‘baby’ me, Namjoon! My word is final: I’m having an abortion whether you like it or not. Now leave, please”

That’s it.

He snaps.

“Shut the fuck up. You’re not fucking getting an abortion, and that’s final. Do you understand? You’re gonna carry my children and this is just going to be the first of many to come so you better get used to the idea, is that clear, baby? I gave you enough time to fucking figure out your feelings for me, but this is way too much, I’m not gonna let you murder our children just because you are way too stubborn to realise, you’re in love with me. Now stop fucking talking nonsense before I made you myself.”

With each word that abandoned Namjoon’s mouth he got closer and closer to you until he had you trapped against the wall. You’re looking at him with horror in your eyes and his chest is heaving. He raises his hand, and you flinch and close your eyes, a yelp escaping from your mouth, but the hit never comes. Instead, you feel his fingers on your stomach softly while his other hand goes after your neck in order to bring you closer to his body.

“We’ll be okay, baby. I get that you’re nervous, but we’ll figure everything out and be the best parents to our children.” His words are disturbing, but what scares you the most is the smile on his face and how his eyes are shining with excitement and utter happiness, as if just a moment ago he wasn’t screaming and threatening you. Namjoon is finally able to give you a kiss on the forehead and you can’t do anything but stay still and feel tears falling down your face.

#yandere namjoon #yandere bts #yandere jin #yandere yoongi #yandere jimin #yandere taehyung #yandere jungkook #yandere hoseok #yandere jhope #yandere suga #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere au

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serendipityjxmn · 3 years

Text

Mr. President

Chapter 20

TW: Explicit violence, mentions of guns, drugs trafficking, gory killing scene

Words Count: 3k

Link to Masterlist

Link to Chapter 21

At first, you’re more like a property to him. He learned that the only way he can keep something or someone around for a long time, is if he treats them like a property. Because human’s feelings change, and he needs to protect himself from hurting.

Everything that he’s told you, the reason behind the marriage, the purpose of you are all true.

He needs to marry anyway, as one of the stupid ancient condition his old father has set and he knows his father had set it to make him stay grounded.

He scoffs, wondering why his father doesn’t learn from his past mistakes. And that’s why he’s made a plan on his own, to marry someone without a powerful background, one he can easily dispose when it’s time, one who won’t be a liability to him. A tool.

And now that tool is missing. He pinches his temple, eyes shut close. He’s alone in his office, late at night because he doesn’t sleep well these days.

Since his wife had packed her bags, left him and gone missing.

He sighs thinking about the last argument he had with you. It’s your own fault for building castles in the air and mistaking those as his genuine gesture and fall in love with him. And he realises that because he is not stupid. And during that one night, he sees you, fully sees you and he can’t deny the desire it stirred in his mind. This may be a temporary marriage but it doesn’t mean that he can’t touch you. After all, you are his wife. He knows you are beautiful, he’d known it since the first day because he isn’t blind. Yet he knows he can’t touch you without your consent. Although he did slip up because he tends to lose his vigilance around you. And that’s how he came up with another proposal.

Yet the proposal took a very different turn and became your last straw to leave him.

He couldn’t believe that you’re stupid enough to fall in love with him. Don’t you fear him? You know he’s dangerous yet you still confess your love to him and he doesn’t know whether to worship you at your feet or spanks you for it.

He’s never led you on and has never failed to remind what you are to him, simply an object yet you still fall for him.

He lets out another heavy sigh. Because frankly, he doesn’t know what to do. All of these aren’t supposed to happen and you’re not supposed to love him.

He had put up barriers and boundaries around himself and that’d made it very hard for anyone to simply approach him. People don’t approach him unless they want something from him and he’s well aware of it because he knows how the world works. Not to mention the fact that he’s the leader of the biggest mafia gang, notorious for all sorts of services they offer; machinery, assassinations, bribery, illegal weaponry, drugs trafficking and namely everything else. That had made it a billion times more difficult for anyone to approach or him to let anyone in.

And you’re well aware of it.

But you still fall for him.

He just doesn’t get it; how you’re able to fall for him despite knowing who he is and what he’s capable of.

He scoffs thinking how he could easily kill you. You’re too soft, weak and fragile.

Yet you still fall for him.

Despite knowing how easily he could kill you.

And without asking for anything in return.

And Jimin doesn’t find that believable at all. And at the face of such genuine adoration, he doesn’t know what to do. Because who on earth would be stupid enough to do that?

But you did. You are his stupid wife.

And that makes it even easier to kill you, not just by him. And the thought of anyone laying a finger on you angers him. It makes him want to kill someone. Tear their limbs one by one. Burn them alive. There’s just too many options.

But first he has to find you.

He sighs, for the hundredth time. You’re such a headache.

And that’s when his phone rings. A call from a private number.

“If it isn’t Y/N’s beloved husband..”

Jimin could feel his whole body tensing. “Who are you?”

The person from the other end laughs. “Damn, I need to come find you more often so you’d remember. You beat me into a pulp before.. and now I want leverage. You think you can just take my sister for free?“

Jimin’s hand clamp in a tight fist. “Jay.”

“You remember.. not bad. You see, when you take my little sister, you’ve caused me some complications. You can say she’s my source of income. She’s a pretty slut, no denying that. And I could’ve earned fortunes from selling her off. And you-“

“How much do you want?” Jimin cuts him off.

“Ah.. you’re a smart man.” He laughs before his tone turns serious again. “100 million won would do. For now. And don’t bullshit me saying you don’t have money or whatever. I know you have that much.”

“Where should I meet you?”

“I’ll text you the time and place. And don’t think of calling the police or bring your little friends. I have someone powerful backing me. She’s my little sister, but I’m not gonna hesitate to do anything if you don’t listen to my words. Right, little sister?”

A shrieking scream piercing through the phone is the last thing Jimin hears before Jay hangs up. Jimin’s whole body filled with rage and he grips his phone so tight it almost breaks into two.

“He’s not gonna come...” you slur, your vision not entirely clear and your swollen lips making it hard to enunciate words once Jay finishes his phone call to your husband.

“We’ll see about that bitch. And if he doesn’t.. count your time now..” he says in full malicious tone.

You don’t know how long you’ve been knocked out again but you wake up when you hear commotions.

“And the knight is finally here.” You hear your brother’s voice.

You struggle to focus on your vision. Your whole body freezes when your husband comes into view.

There’s no way Jimin’s here.

Perhaps it’s just a hallucination.

It’s a whole level of pathetic, you think. Because even when you’re in this state, he’s all you could see.

Perhaps you’re really nearing the end of your life, and your mind conjures whatever it desperately wants the most.

“Clara, what the fuck do you think you’re doing here?” The person hisses.

And it’s weird because it’s your husband’s voice.

You blink several times.

And there really is your husband, walking into the warehouse alone. He can’t had possibly willingly walks into a lion’s den alone like that? It’s like a death wish.

Clara turns immediately as soon as she sees Jimin. “Ah.. Jimin.. my Jimin..”

Someone comes and pushes Jimin forward and makes him sit on a chair and tie his hands on his back.

You swallow thickly. You still can’t process the fact that your husband is here.

He finally turns to look at you and he stares at you for several moments, just taking in the sight of battered you covered in bruises and blood and you see the clench in his jaw.

You let out a gasp when the guy standing beside him takes out his gun and points the muzzle on the back of his head. You feel anger bubbling inside you at the sight of it.

Gathering all source of strength, you yell, “Leave my husband out of this Jay!”

Jay quickly steps forward and leaves a stinging slap on your cheek. “If you dare hurt him..” you start and earns another slap from him, making you whimper in pain. You cough several times, your throat feels like burning.

Jimin eyes you furiously. “Keep quiet. Don’t make any sound.” He says, jaw still clenched very tightly. “Clara, what the fuck is this? Why are you here?”

She comes and slowly sits on Jimin’s lap. You notice how he doesn’t flinch away or jerk from her touch. “Baby.. we’ve dealt for years.. good business, good sex. And then you’re suddenly married and you just.. I don’t know, changed?” She says as she runs her fingers across your husband’s cheek.

Jimin just glares at her. “Why did you help him?”

She runs her hand down from his cheeks to his jaw and then settles on his chest, palms flat against them. She shrugs then. “I don’t know.. you know I’m a little crazy. I like having fun. And things.. had been boring. Business is boring, you are boring.. and perhaps I’m trying to put you in place a little, you asshole.” She glares at him.

He gives a very murderous look. “I’m gonna make sure you regret this.”

She leans closer. “Awww shh baby.. I’m not gonna hurt your precious little wife..” and closer. You realize she’s about to kiss him and you hastily look away. You don’t want the last memory you have of your husband before you die is being kissed by another woman. She gets up from his lap, fingers still faintly brushing him everywhere. Then she smirks. “But maybe he will.” She laughs and then exits through the door.

“Did you come with what I ask for?” Jay asks and Jimin juts his chin towards a large black duffel bag on the floor beside him that you hadn’t realized. Jay grins. “Nice doing business with you.. brother in law.”

“Now let us go.” Jimin says.

Jay stops inspecting the money inside the bag and turns to look at him. “No, don’t think it’s that easy..” He signals something and one of his men comes forward. “See, perhaps you don’t really know my sister.. but let me tell you this. She is a fucking whore. And I’m gonna let her be a whore. And you.. you’re going to watch every single men here stick their dick into her pussy.”

Your whole body goes numb as soon as you hear that. Desperately, you glance at your husband. He doesn’t look at you but instead just stares at your brother. You’ve never seen him look so murderous before. Your eyes widen in panic when they pull you from the chair and then roughly push you till you’re kneeling on the floor on all four.

“J-Jimin-” you say, voice thick with desperation.

“Sshh.. shh little sister.. don’t worry.. perhaps your husband might even get hard from this. Don’t you want to please your husband?” Jay smirks.

You feel you eyes start to water when your brain reaches an end and think that there’s no way of escaping this.

He calls one of his men and several others starts to approach as well, all wearing the same look of lust. Jay grabs a handful of your hair and yank it backwards, forcing you to look up. “She’s all yours..”

The nearest guy smirks and licks his lips as he looks at you and starts to strip his pants. You look away immediately. You let out a cry when the guy kneels beside you and yanks your jeans down, exposing your bottom.

“No, no please, please-“ you start to beg and Jimin hisses.

“Keep your fucking mouth shut.” He grits. “Don’t beg.”

You look at him and find him staring right back at you.

“Just look at me.” He says and fresh set of tears run down your cheeks.

The guy smacks your behind making you cry in pain and you almost collapse to the ground but he holds your waist firmly, groping each side harshly. Then, you feel a hand slides from your shoulder towards your throat and slowly starts choking you.

Your head starts to spin from the lack of air supply and you want to scream so badly but no words could come out. The pressure on your throat is so immense and your lung starts to ache.

Then you see a knife hovering in front of you.

A moment of realization hits you that you’re really about to die and it suddenly makes it so imperative that you tell something to Jimin.

“J-Jimin- I love-“

But before you could finish your words, you hear people bursting the doors open and people in suits come rushing in large quantity.

You try to focus your vision on your husband.

His face is calm. Too calm.

Your sight moves towards the crowd rushing in again and briefly sees Taeseok among them and a rush of relief runs through you. The guy choking you eases his grip on your throat instantly as he gets distracted and you feel like collapsing immediately as you struggle to breath again.

Everything happens so quickly. Someone rushes to your husband’s side and unties him and then he’s beside you instantly while someone else unties you. You try your best to glance behind you and sees Jungkook frantically untying you after fixing your clothes.

“Y/N oh my god-“

Jimin quickly shrugs his coat off his shoulder and immediately covers you. He looks at you as he holds you tight. His embrace is so warm and you just want to close your eyes and lean against him. “Keep your eyes open, we’re getting out of here.” He says roughly.

You’re not entirely sure with your vision but you think someone gives Jimin a gun and he starts shooting at people and you freeze, sounds blaring so loudly in your ear. You let out a strangled scream and you squirm away under his embrace that he looks down immediately. Then he looks at Jungkook.

“Jungkook.” He says and Jungkook nods and you feel yourself slipping out of Jimin’s hold while Jungkook brings you flush against him.

For a moment, there are just sounds of guns, people screaming and punches being thrown.

Jungkook pulls you to the side where it’s safer but you just can’t shut your eyes when there’s too many things going on. You then try to focus on your husband. He’s a good few metres away from you and you couldn’t clearly see the face of the other person but you think Jimin’s holding the guy that was going to rape you just now. And then he shoots him right in the head without thinking. And then another shot right at his chest even though the guy’s already crumbling to the ground, lifeless.

Someone then comes up and thrusts your brother to Jimin, making him kneel in front of your husband. You don’t see it before but you now notice that he’s holding a knife on his right hand. Jay’s expression turns horror as Jimin nears him. And then slowly, your husband carves his face with the knife as your brother’s inhuman shriek fills the warehouse.

Your eyes go wide with horror as you watch the traumatising scene unfolds. You feel a scream bubbling from deep inside your throat yet they’re unable to escape from your lips. Your throat somehow still feels constricted.

“Holy fucking shit.” Jungkook mutters and you realize his grip on your arms tightens.

It’s slowly getting more quiet in the warehouse as most of your brother’s or Clara Kim’s men are now dead as they were hugely outnumbered by Jimin’s people. You then realize that he’s taking his time with your brother.

“What did you say you’re about to do to my wife? Cut out her face?” He chuckles. “Let me show you the real art.”

He leans close.

And then he carves your brother’s right eye out while he shrieks in pain.

“This is for touching my wife.”

And then he carves the other one.

“This is for messing with me.”

The scream finally escapes your lips.

“Fuck-“ Jungkook says and quickly covers your eyes and mouth.

The screaming doesn’t stop for a few more minutes and you think you’ll remember your brother’s inhuman scream till the day you die.

“Jimin stop it. She’s gonna get a trauma.” You hear someone says. Jin..?

You hear footsteps approaching you and then suddenly, Jungkook’s hand is being yanked away and your husband’s face comes into view. His forehead beaded with sweat and his expression furious.

You look at him in horror, frankly still traumatised and terrified at him.

But he doesn’t seem to notice. Instead, he thrusts a gun into your hand. “Do you want to kill him?”

Your panic immediately and clutched his arm desperately. “No, no please- let’s just go-“

“Ssh.. ssh I’m here.” He takes back the gun. “And we’re gonna get out of here.” He pulls you into his embrace, cocks the gun and fire a shot straight into Jay’s head.

Your entire body freeze. You watch in horror as your brother’s life starts seeping out, his breathing ragged until finally.. it stops.

“Good God- did you really have to shoot him in front of Y/N?” You hear Namjoon says.

“What?” Jimin asks, confused.

“God, you’re so stupid sometimes Park Jimin.” Yoongi says roughly.

Your husband finally turns to look at you and registers the paleness of your face. “Y/N, you okay?” He asks and then makes you stand to your feet. He keeps his hand steady on your waist and you’re thankful because you can’t feel your feet at all.

You don’t know how but from the corner of your eyes, you see someone who’s lying on the floor slowly lifts a gun and your eyes widen when you realize he’s aiming at your husband.

One of Jimin’s bodyguard sees it too and moves to kick the gun away and he did- but not before the guy cocks the gun and all the bodyguard manages to do is change the target, because the bullet hits you instead.

You fell to the ground immediately when the bullet cuts through your shoulder. It’s weird because it hurts so much that you almost feel nothing at all.

Jimin’s eyes widen when he sees you.

For a brief moment, you think you see your whole life flashes by in your mind very quickly.

If you die right now at the hands of your husband.. that you’d fallen in love with.. it doesn’t seem so bad..

You smile.

Then slowly, you bring your hand up to Jimin’s face to touch him one last time.

And then everything blacks out.

A/N: I rarely write post chapter notes because I’m afraid it would destroy your emotions lol but I just wanna thank everyone who had given support since day 1.. the story would not have come this far without the kind words you guys gave me. I feel a little bit emotional because we’re almost more than halfway through with their journey.. haha okay I’ll stop here. see you guys in the next chap! 🥰

Buy me a coffee here! 💜

Link to Chapter 21

Posted on 210516 9:00PM

#serendipityjxmn #serendipityjxmnmrpresident #mrpresident #mr president #bts fic #bts au #bts smut #jimin au #park jimin #parkjimin #kpop fic #jimin smut #jimin ceo #jimin mafia #bts mafia #jimin x reader

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tennessoui · 3 years

Note

Idk if you are still doing this. But 18 and 40?

i think you're my last one !!!

(all you need to know for this is that on monday i went to the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum and today i went to the Smithsonian museum of natural history)

18. Someone’s birthday + 40. “It’s just hard for me to forgive you after everything that’s happened.”

"You said you'd be polite," Padmé murmurs just loud enough for Anakin to hear. "Civil. I think your actual words were, 'Yeah of course, Padmé, I won't even look in his direction!'"

"This me being polite," her friend mumbles from next to her, scuffing the toe of his shoe against the lineloium of the floor.

"You glared at him so hard the second he came in that he didn't even approach me," Padmé points out, exasperated. "I'm the birthday girl! He came to see me!"

"You see each other all the time," Anakin defends gruffly, crossing his arms. "You work in the same building. Look even your exhibits are next to each other."

He gestures with a hand to the doors on the other side of the lobby. One reads Hall of Fossils--Deep Time. The other, straight ahead, reads Ocean Hall.

"First of all, you do know we don't actually work in those exhibits, right?" Padmé checks. "And second of all, with the new funding the Deep Ocean Exploration team has just gotten--"

Anakin cuts her off with an angry huff of derision. She hides her smile behind her glass of champagne as she takes a sip.

"Don't even get me started on that, Padmé. I don't understand at all how they chose deep ocean exploration over my team's proposal! I don't think I'll ever forgive him after everything that's happened now! You know we needed that funding! Our satellite designs are flawless! NASA approved, even! We could be out there now, exploring the galaxies! But Obi-Wan Kenobi says a few words about the fucking ocean and suddenly half the nation is putting on flippers and oxygen tanks?"

Padmé has to bite her lip to control her urge to burst out laughing at the angry, petulant expression on Anakin's face.

"I bet he slept with someone," Anakin mutters mutinously as Padme watches him watch Obi-Wan Kenobi move across the room, talking with party-guests and waitstaff interchangeably. The man, in an appropriately tailored and casual suit, throws his head back when he laughs at something someone says to him, and he pats her on the arm. Anakin's jaw flexes.

"I think it's quite telling that you think he's attractive enough to sleep his way into millions of dollars," she says, taking a sip of her champagne. "I can't think of a single fuck in my entire life worth that much money."

Anakin splutters and his face turns red. "That's not what I--" he gets out.

But Padmé has had enough of both of them pretending that they don't think the sun revolves around the other. As much as Anakin hasn't taken his eyes off of Obi-Wan since the man walked in, Obi-Wan has been shooting just as many surreptitious glances at Anakin when he thinks the blond-haired man is looking somewhere else.

It's been years of this. Two years exactly, actually, of Padmé in the middle of two men who are at each other's teeth professionally but can't seem to stay away from each other in their private lives. She's lost track of the amount of times the two of them have broken into deafening arguments over lunch or dinner or drinks because "We should be spending more resources on exploring space!" "Only 5% of the ocean has been explored!" "I can tell you what's down there! Fish!" "And I can tell you what's in space! Rocks!"

Padmé is, quite frankly, sick of it now. She'd like her life much more if her two friends could decide what exactly they wanted from each other. But no, they argue and hate each other when they're together, but she'll post a photo to her Instagram of her and Obi-Wan and a new intern, and Anakin will be texting her not even five minutes later, asking who that guy is and why he's holding Obi-Wan's waist in the photo. Or Anakin will publicly and loudly declare his intention to get back into the dating scene, and Padmé will spend the next two or so weeks fielding questions from Obi-Wan about if Anakin's found any space nerds to date, how those days may be going, if anyone's come back for seconds....

"You didn't let me finish," Padmé says quickly, when she catches Obi-Wan's eye and smiles at him, certain that this will get him to come over. "I was saying that with the new funding, Obi-Wan might not be working at the museum anymore."

Anakin freezes beside her. "What?" he breathes out.

"There's an open position in a research facility in Hawai'i. He's been tapped for it. I don't know really if he plans to accept yet..." she says leadingly, but it's pretty clear pretty quickly that Anakin isn't listening anymore.

"He never told me that," he says in a very small voice.

He sounds so unsure, hurt, that Padmé almost regrets what she's about to say. "Why would he?" she asks anyway. "You were just saying how you would never forgive him for winning the funding. This just be perfect for you. He leaves, you never have to see him again."

Anakin's eyebrows furrow and he looks confused. Hurt. Angry. The perfect expression for Obi-Wan's arrival in front of the pair of them.

"Padmé!" Obi-Wan smiles as he leans in and kisses her cheek. "Happy birthday! Amazing celebration, I cannot believe they allowed you to host it in the museum itself."

"Well, you only turn 35 once," she smiles at him.

Obi-Wan nods seriously with a teasing grin on his face. "Now you're old enough to run for president and everything."

She laughs. "Me? A head for politics? I'm not sure. But," she says slyly when it's very clear Anakin isn't going to say anything himself, too busy staring at the side of Obi-Wan's face with an intense, creepy sort of glare. "If anyone I know does, I think it'd be you. Ani and I were just talking about how they granted funding to your proposal the other day. Congratulations!"

"Thank you, thank you," Obi-Wan says graciously, but his smile has become fixed and his eyes dart over to Anakin.

Anakin, who decides to take this moment to figure out how to speak again. "When do you leave?" he asks in an angry, harsh tone. Padmé sighs to herself. She should have known a surprised and hurt Anakin turns to fury before he turns to acceptance, especially where Obi-Wan Kenobi is concerned.

"Pardon?" Obi-Wan asks politely, turning his body to face only Anakin. Padmé tries not to sigh again. She should be used to this, the way their eyesight narrows to only each other.

But on her birthday, really?

Anakin's jaw flexes as he gnashes his teeth together. There's nothing Ani hates more in the world than someone acting as if his question is a silly question.

That's not what Obi-Wan's doing of course, but Obi-Wan's done it enough in the past to rile Anakin up that Padmé can understand the confusion the astrophysicist is going through.

"To Hawai'i. Padmé said all your water money is gonna get you a fancy new position on the West Coast. Just wanted to know when you're going to go."

Padmé has half a mind to tell Obi-Wan that that is not, actually what she said, but Obi-Wan looks as if he wouldn't even realize she's spoken if she tried.

"Would you miss me?" the oceanologist murmurs, stepping closer to Anakin. "Were I to leave, would you miss me, Anakin?"

Anakin looks like a deer in the headlights for a second, before his face shuts down. "I wanna write it on my calendar, celebrate the day."

Obi-Wan's face flashes with something that leaves his eyes colder than before, and he steps back. Away. Padmé winces and tries to take a sip from her champagne glass before realizing it's empty.

"Well, that certainly makes things easier," he tells Anakin shortly before turning his full attention back to Padmé. "I meant to come over and say goodbye. It's a bit of walk home, and I have an early day tomorrow."

"But you just got here," Anakin sounds confused, as if he'd expected to keep Obi-Wan's attention for much longer.

Obi-Wan summarily ignores him and leans into kiss Padmé's cheek again. "Happy birthday again, Padmé," he tells her gripping her hand in both of his for a second before dropping it and turning back into the crowd.

"What was that?" Anakin says gruffly, crossing his arms. "Why'd he kiss you? He's leaving so early! And ignoring me! What?"

Padmé shakes her head and puts her hand on his arm. It looks like she's going to have to spell a few things out to her silly astrophysicist. "That was you fucking up," she says slowly.

Anakin scoffs. "What? No. We say that shit all the time to each other."

"Anakin, listen to me," she waits until his eyes are on hers and not trying to catch Obi-Wan's receding figure. "Today at lunch, he told me he hadn't decided if he was going to take the position yet. But I think he just did."

Anakin blinks at her. Men are stupid. These men especially.

"If you want him to stay, you have to tell him."

"Tell him--I...why do I--don't be ridiculous--"

"Anakin, I've known Obi-Wan for four years. The only thing he talked about the first two was the ocean. For the last two, it's been the ocean and you."

Anakin stares at her and then stares at the people around them. Padmé knows he's trying to find Obi-Wan in the crowd. "But...he's leaving."

"But he came here wearing a coat," she points out, giving him a little push towards the unmanned coat room.

"I--right," Anakin mumbles to himself.

Feeling like the best friend in the whole world, Padmé takes his champagne flute from him and pushes him harder forward. "Go get him, Ani," she encourages, but she gets the feeling Anakin isn't even listening to her anymore as he moves across the lobby to the coat room.

She watches just long enough to see Obi-Wan emerge from the room wearing his tan coat and Anakin pushing him furiously back inside. The door closes behind them, and Padmé hopes it comes with a lock.

But if it doesn't, that's their problem. She's done enough for one night.

#asks #prompt fill #this got sooooo long #but i love it!!!#jury's out on whether or not they've been sleeping together for a while now or if their first kiss takes place in that coat room #obikin #astrophysicist anakin #oceanologist obi-wan #oh look theres even alliteration #smithsonian au

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amiedala · 3 years

Text

Something More (the mandalorian x reader)

CHAPTER 3: TO TRUST

Rated: Explicit (not this chapter, but future chapters will be)

Warnings: descriptions of violence

Summary: “What…” he starts.

“You got hit—” you interrupt.

“…Are you wearing?” Mando finishes, and your cheeks flush, looking down at his giant shirt you never changed out of.

“I was—when you called, I was in the fresher,” you say, scooting slightly closer to him, resting on both knees. “I didn’t have time to put anything else on before you told me to hide.”

“Oh,” he sighs, and then he’s pushing himself off the floor despite literally every single warning you spurt at him, and finally, he’s up against the same wall you’re leaning against. The space is small, small enough that two people would be pushing it, and the fact that one of those people is much larger than the other and in giant beskar armor means that your forehead is almost flush against the visor when he turns his head into you. Your breath catches in your chest. It’s not lost on you that in the heat of the moment, you didn’t run. You ignored where you were, and you forged on to save him. That didn’t happen the last time you were on this planet and the fact that belonging to something—to someone—was enough to push past the fear and do it anyway sung inside you.

The baby is in your face. You startle awake to a sea of green. He babbles as you jolt up, clapping his tiny hands together in celebration. He’s all swaddled up in his own robes, but he’s so much warmer than you are, and you groan as he hops up against you, fingers beating around your arm as you bring him in closer to your chest, hoping to leech off his warmth. Slowly, painfully, you push yourself off the ground and push on your neck to make it crack, the pain shooting up behind your eyes like starfire. You don’t want to see what shape your belly’s in.

“Good morning,” you slur through sleep, as the baby giggles and pushes into you. You just stay there, half awake, slouched against the wall of the ship, when suddenly the baby is being plucked from your arms and you’re staring into beskar.

It’s not lost on you that you’re at eye level with the Mandalorian’s crotch, and while you try your hardest to not let your gaze linger there in an obvious way, your eyes stutter once or twice looking up to where the helmet is.

“You’re awake.”

“Barely.”

He kneels so that you’re almost at eye level, and he’s dangerously close to you again. You feel your cheeks flush, the rush low in your belly, deeper than your injury, deep down somewhere warm.

“I need to see you.”

“Huh?” You manage, and hope it’s not as croaky as it seems.

“Your stomach. I need to make sure you don’t need a shot or to get checked out by a professional.”

You nod as his fingers slip under the hem of your shirt, going slow, giving you a chance to stop him if you want. You want to sit on your hands and just let him take it all the way off, but you try to focus your brain elsewhere. Literally anywhere else. You fail. His hands are just as large as last night.

“You’re telling me you’re not a professional?”

“I know how to take care of injuries. I mean… a nurse droid, or something.”

“Last time I checked, this was an injury,” you pressed, a smile breaking out of your face faster than you can control it. “And you hate droids.”

“The injuries I usually take care of are my own. I can gauge how bad the pain is, how deep the cut goes. I’m not inside you,” he says, and it’s so fast that you think you imagined it, “so I can’t tell how bad it is.”

You blink at him, stunned into silence. Your heart is so loud and fast you’re terrified he can hear it. In the background, the baby is staring at you with his giant, magic eyes, and you know he can hear it, the little womp rat, the way he’s smiling at you. “Not bad.”

The Mandalorian taps your stomach, not enough to really hurt you, but enough to startle the bruise. You wince. “Bad,” he says, simply, point proven.

You let him check you out and argue about how it wasn’t that bruised, and it ached but you could move, and finally, very begrudgingly, he let you stand. You tried to gesture him up the ladder to the cockpit, but he shook his head, arms crossed.

“You first.”

You squint at him, shocked by his brazenness, shocked that he’s insinuating watching below you as you ascend the ladder, and your tummy does full back flips before you realize that he’s probably waiting to make sure you have enough working muscles in your abdomen to keep yourself upwards as you climb. You’re thankful you’re going up first, now, with the way you’re blushing again.

The ladder is a beast, but you’re up, and you’re not hurting that bad, so you make your way over to the chair where you usually hold the baby and fall into it. The ship is hurtling through hyperspace, smoother than the X-Wing did, but still shakily, and you have to avert your eyes from the rush of it because it’s starting to make you dizzy. Something brushes your leg, and you realize it’s the Mandalorian’s cape, worn and tattered, but fluttering past you even in the cockpit, and you bring a knee to your aching chest to hide your smile as he breezes past you to the pilot’s seat.

“Are you hungry?”

You can’t tell who he’s talking to until the baby looks at you, bug-eyed and questioning. “Not really.”

“You need to eat something.”

“I will. I can’t eat too soon after I wake up or I get sick. I don’t think vomiting would do my stomach any favors.”

He cocks his helmet back at you and you smile again, jutting your chin into your hand. He’s silent, but it isn’t an unsettling one. After sleeping a foot from him last night, you don’t think his silence will ever make you feel unsettled or uneasy again. It’s just there, permeating, surrounding both of you. You want to ask him a million things, and you don’t know which one to pick, but you also don’t want to force anything through the quiet.

It feels like hours have passed by the next time you open your mouth. You want to ask him where you’re headed again, but what falls out instead is, “Do you even know my name?”

He looks back at you, swings his helmet back to center, and then spins the entire chair around instead. “What?”

“I’ve been living here for almost a month,” you realize, counting the days on your fingers. “I babysit your kid. You trust me with your ship,” you say, looking up at the stars flying past the Crest. “Do you know my name?”

He stares at you. The helmet is obscuring his vision, but you know he’s staring at you. You can feel his eyes on your face, looking how your lips are parted, your hair still piled in a mess on your head.

“Of—” he starts, and then both of you are thrown sideways. Something on the dashboard is blaring, and before you can haul yourself off the floor, the Mandalorian is extending a hand to you as he navigates the ship out of hyperspace. You scramble back to the chair and buckle in, grabbing onto the baby’s floating cradle so that he won’t get knocked around either. You want to ask if the Mandalorian needs your help, but as quickly as the ship fell into disarray, the beeping stops. Your heart is hammering.

“What was that—?”

“I forgot about the shields,” he muttered under his breath, and then you look outside the window, and you realize where you are. You swallow, looking out at the planet in front of you, wide and purple and all-encompassing. You fold your legs up under yourself, not focused on anything except where you’re headed. There’s a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, hungry and roaring.

“Hey,” his voice filters back in, and it’s sharp, and you look over at him, trying to look neutral. You can tell it’s not working. “Did you hurt yourself when you fell again?”

“No,” you whisper, and then repeat it louder, “No, I’m okay. I just wasn’t expecting to…be back here anytime soon.”

The Crest pulls through the planet’s atmosphere, and you breathe a sigh of relief that you aren’t anywhere close to the heart of Galactic City, that wherever the bounty’s new coordinates were, it was on the opposite side of where you had been the last time you were here. Besides, you were staying on the ship, and you didn’t have to breathe any of the air of the planet if you didn’t want to. You swallowed, and as he pulled into a landing bay, you realize the Mandalorian’s helmet is still trained on you.

“You’re not a fan,” he says. It’s not a question. “Of Coruscant.”

“No,” you say, and you don’t elaborate because you’re not sure if you can without your voice shaking.

He keeps his visor trained on you, and you try to smile, but you’re afraid it’ll come out looking more like fear. “I’ll be quick,” he says, and his voice is low, honest. It reminds you of the way he talks to the kid, not to you, but you’re too shaken by being thrown out of hyperspace and landing on the planet you almost died on to understand the significance of his cadence. “Come downstairs with me.”

You follow him, aware of his gaze on your body as you descend the ladder. In any other circumstance, you could feel it burning straight through you, but you were too focused on trying not to fall. Silently, you match his footsteps as he walks over to the armory. His body is so large, so present, that you focus on the beskar and try to keep moving. The Mandalorian pushes a lever and the armory opens, and you blink at all the metal as your eyes adjust.

“Pick one.”

Hazily, you remember he told you to pick a weapon last night, and you let your eyes survey all the glinting metal before you settle on a small blaster, one that looks like a cousin of the one you lost in your crash landing. Similar enough to be strapped to your thigh in the same belt you still have around your waist, and you fit it in there triumphantly. You give the Mandalorian a half smile, and he nods, shutting the case.

It’s dark in the Razor Crest, even in Coruscant’s glitz and glamour. You rest your head against the wall, suddenly exhausted.

“I’ll be quick,” the Mandalorian repeats after prolonged silence, after you’ve made it clear you aren’t going to say anything else. “You stay here, with the doors locked. Sleep more, if you need it.” He tosses you something, and you don’t catch it in time. You bend down to grab it, but his hand is already around it, glancing off your hand for a second too long as he presses it into your palm. “This is to be used for emergencies,” he says. You stare at it. It’s a commlink, a new, fancy one. You nod. “If… if something happens, or if…” he trails off, cocking his head at you, “if I need you to come get me, you just press this button, and you can talk to me.”

He lingers for a second longer and then descends the gangplank, and it isn’t until he’s gone that his words fully register.

If you have to come get him? That’s new.

“Hey!” you call, and you know he can’t hear you anymore, but you can’t help yourself, “what constitutes as an emergency?”

Hours pass. One, slowly, and then two, and then three. You finally eat, you make sure the baby has too. You think about showering, but you haven’t been able to lift your arms above your head since you got your stomach bruised yesterday, so you lay spread eagled on the floor babbling halves of songs and whatever random thought runs through your head. You do everything you can to not look outside at the planet around you, to ruminate on the sleek buildings. You haven’t been on Coruscant for years, not since you were first out on your own when you were still a teenager, and you’ve tried everything in you to forget what happened the last time you were on the planet’s surface.

The baby coos at your feet, and you prop yourself up on your forearms, still sore. It doesn’t ache as much as it did this morning, and your bruises have turned this ugly yellow color around the edges, but you can flex without agony, which definitely means you’re just banged up.

“Hi bug,” you say, and he giggles, climbing up onto your sore belly, and you groan. “Hi. What’s up?”

He makes a series of noises, and you can’t understand him like his father clearly can, but you can gather the gist of what he’s saying. He’s babbling away, now pointing his tiny finger up to the ceiling, and you pretend you know exactly what he means.

“You’re absolutely right. Mhm, yep, I know. Is that true?”

He claps his hands together.

“You’re right, again, you little womp rat. Excellent point.”

He giggles.

“You’re much cuter than a womp rat, you know.” You pause. “I gotta tell you though, buddy, I don’t know what a womp rat looks like.”

He gasps, all awe. You look at him. There’s something about the kid, something magical, something that feels…elevated. You look into his big eyes, and you see yourself. You know that it’s because the things are huge, but it’s that same gnawing intuition in your belly that you had when you first met the Mandalorian, the same one that told you to crash land on Nevarro instead of trying to make it somewhere else, the same one that got you out of Coruscant the last time—you shake your head, trying to clear it from your head. You softly touch the baby’s nose, just once, and he giggles and climbs into your arms.

It doesn’t take long until you start itching for something else to do, so you peel yourself off the cockpit’s floor and start cleaning, using part of your torn shirt to dust off the dashboard and the pilot’s seat, humming ancient lullabies under your breath. You stop short when you realize you’re singing, and you double check the air locks, making sure you’re safe in here. You don’t dare to put on the radio, and you don’t sing louder than under your breath, because even though you have the new blaster strapped to your hip, the memory of yesterday is still too recent in your head. It isn’t long until you find yourself in the tiny room where the fresher is, looking at yourself in the mirror for the first time in days.

Your eyes are wild, that’s the first thing you notice. Frazzled, on edge, the kind of gleam that you used to get flying in the Alliance, but without the pride and the adrenaline. Your hair is a hot mess. You touch the lock of hair the Mandalorian pushed behind your ear last night, reverently, softly. Your shirt is ripped and stained to hell, and your necklace is hanging at a strange angle, the chain link touching the insignia, totally off kilter. You see the small blaster on your hip catch the light, and you pull it out of its hold. It’s shiny, sturdy, and much newer than the one you lost in the fire. You’ve never been a perfect shot, but the gun fits in your hand as well as the old one did, and when you hold it, you feel confident enough to know how to cock it back and pull the trigger, and you think you probably hit the target.

You look forlornly at the shower, and before you can think about how sore you are, you strip the rest of your clothes off, leaving the gun and the commlink on the small counter beside the mirror. You’re planning to be quick, just a rinse and scrubbing soap off of the leftover blood and grime from the night before, but when the water hits, it’s warm and inviting and it envelops you. You let it unfurl your messy hair from your head, let it permeate into your sore shoulders and all the way down your spine, temporarily washing away the years of nights spent sleeping in uncomfortable positions on makeshift beds. You touch your fingers over your belly, following the scar straight down to where it drifts off on the left side of your stomach. It doesn’t hurt anymore, but the bruises resist your fingers. You reach for the soap, and it’s blindly, and you don’t realize until you’ve been scrubbing for a minute that it’s very much not the subtle lavender scent you picked up a few bounties back, but the Mandalorian’s. It smells like clean wood and leather and strangely, cinnamon, that amalgamation of freshness that fades off skin slowly. You push the full bar up to your nose, and when you breathe in you can almost see it lathering into his skin, can almost feel your tongue licking clean up against it if he was in here with you—you catch yourself. Again. It’s there again, the arousal and want that had been long dormant before you ever met the Mandalorian. He’s infiltrated everything. You shake water out of your hair and think of anything else while your hands slip down the rest of your body, trying and failing to forget the way his voice got low when he found you hurt, how he touched you, how he held your throat with a singular hand—

Something is making noise, and you force yourself out of your fantasy to the sound. “Hey,” comes a disembodied voice, and your wet hand fumbles for the blaster before you realize it’s coming from the commlink. You sigh, turning off the water, tripping out of the fresher, scrambling to pick it up.

“Are you okay?”

“I need you to come get me.”

You stare at the commlink, then at your reflection in the mirror. You don’t have clothes on. Come to think of it, you don’t know if you have clothes to change into, and you’ve suddenly been promoted to getaway driver.

“Can you hear me?”

Even through the modulator, his voice is deep. You startle yourself out of your reverie.

“Yes. I’m sorry. I need a minute—”

“I’m going to give you coordinates,” the Mandalorian says, and then there’s a huge blast, and silence.

“Hey. Hey! Mando—”

“I’m here,” he says, but it’s gruff. “Dank ferrik. I’m hit. Here are the coordinates.”

You scramble out of the fresher, looking for clothes. You can’t find anything, and your bag must still be upstairs in the cockpit, so you shove open the alcove where the Mandalorian sleeps in a desperate attempt. There’s a shirt, just a shirt, but it falls to your knees and you make your compromise with the underwear you stepped out of before the shower. “I’m coming. Please hold on. Pleaaaaase hold on,” you whisper, low enough that you hope he can’t hear your wheedling, and then you’re up the ladder, your hair wet and wild, dripping on the cockpit floor.

“Do you have your blaster?”

“Um,” you say as you navigate the Crest out of the landing bay—hell, this ship doesn’t know how to move. “Yes?” You scramble down the ladder and back up again with your blaster in hand. You punch in the coordinates and let the ship go into autopilot as you scramble back down the ladder and grab the gun, wrapping your wet hair up in a towel.

“Grab the kid and put him in his cradle,” the Mandalorian says, and you do, and the wild look in the baby’s eyes makes you give him a quick kiss before you shut the crib and push him into the darkest corner.

“I’m almost here,” you say, and you can see what he was talking about. You’re still not near the hustle and bustle of Galactic City, but Coruscant has layers, each of them grittier than the last. The Mandalorian is attached to what you hope to the Maker is his quarry, lugging the conspicuous body up a hill, blasting at what looks like twenty other men. “I’m here. I’m gonna land—”

“You need to get out of sight,” he manages, and the commlink goes quiet. You do your best to land the ship—it’s not handling well at all—and then scamper down the ladder for the third time in wet feet. You grab the baby’s floating egg and your blaster, strapping the commlink to your wrist, and scrambling into the little alcove that holds the Mandalorian’s bed.

There’s a minute before he enters the ship, and everything is quiet. You huddle at the back of the chamber, the baby next to you with the blaster in your hand. Your towel has come loose and there are wet chunks of hair in your face, and you wait in the silence before he comes in. The cot is tiny, and not that comfortable, but this small space smells like his soap and the dirt he carries around, and despite it feeling lumpy in all the wrong place, you could absolutely fall asleep here, surrounded by him. It distracts you, and you hum lowly in your throat before you hear the hiss of the gangplank and you swallow all the air.

You’ve been seen by bounties before, they’ve made comments about you, and then they’ve been frozen in carbonite. A few looked dangerous, a few were just creepy, but the Mandalorian always let you handle yourself around them. This is the first time he’s ever told you to get out of sight, and you don’t know if it’s because the events of last night are still fresh in his mind, or because whoever he captured was dangerous. You wait with bated breath as you hear blows land, and when it’s been quiet for what you gauge is long enough before you peek out of the alcove. The Mandalorian is on the ground, and you can’t tell if he’s just resting after a fight until someone peeks back at you and you pull the trigger the second the alcove doors fly open. You rocket up on your knees, punching one arm out at a swaying body before he hits the ground, and the Mandalorian comes to. The man on the ground is livid, swinging at your bare feet, and you kick him backwards, not gracefully, but powerfully enough, and he collides with the carbonite gas, and before the Mandalorian can get to his feet, you press the button. The blue faced bounty is frozen, instantly, and you gasp in air as you sag back on the Mandalorian’s bed.

“What did I say about getting out of sight?”

“I did,” you manage, between gasps, “and then you got knocked out.”

He trains his visor on you, and you smile victoriously for a full second before you realize his hand is bloody. You follow it down to the slip in the beskar and see that there’s a nasty gash under where his hand is pressed.

“You’re hurt.” You scramble forward, grabbing the towel off your head. Your hair falls in your face, and it definitely smells like his soap, but you’re not sure if he’s conscious enough to notice. “Hey. Hey you. Mando. Stay awake.”

“’M fine,” he slurs, and you want to pull the helmet clean off his head and look into his eyes when you tell him to shut up.

“Definitely not fine,” you say, pulling him down to the ground with you. It’s messy, you know that much, and you know he has some bacta patches hidden around you, but you need the bleeding to stop. “Hey. Listen to me. I have to take this off,” you say, gesturing at the plate at his midriff. “You’re hit, I think it was a blast, but I need to make sure.”

“No,” he says, and you grab his visor and drop to your knees on his left side, pushing your palm flat against it.

“I’m not going to look at anything except the cut. You weren’t hit in the head, were you?”

“No,” he repeats, and you nod.

“Okay, then I’m not gonna see your face. I won’t look at anything else except the cut. But you’re losing blood, fast, and there’s definitely people shooting at the ship, and I need to make sure you’re okay before I get us the hell out of here.”

He nods. It’s small, but you catch it.

You inhale sharply when you lift the small piece of armor. He’s bleeding, but the wound is small, and you’re able to shove the towel on it to suffocate the blood while your hand flutters around in the small hold behind you until you can find ointment and the bacta patches. “Hey. Mando.” His hand finds your free wrist, and you stop investigating the ointment to look at him. “What?” you ask, your voice softer.

“Cauterize,” he manages, and you look back and forth between him and the wound, and you shake your head.

“It’s not that bad,” you promise, checking to see if the blood has started to clot around the wound. “Look, it’s gonna hurt for a few days, but the bleeding is slowing down, and I can give you this ointment and then put the bacta patch over it, and you’re going to be okay.”

He flails at your arm again, and before you can realize what you’re doing, you straddle him, one hand on his abdomen against the stifled wound, and one reaching up to touch his helmet, as lightly as you can, in some desperate attempt to soothe him, “I promise, I know when a wound needs cauterizing.” You point at your own stomach, hoping he’ll remember the scar. He nods again, and you exhale. “I swear, I’m going to fix it right now, okay?”

You pull the towel away and press the ointment into his skin. You can tell it stings, he hisses and groans through the modulator, and if you weren’t so preoccupied with trying to save his life, your brain would have fixated on the noises he was making as you straddled him. Once the bacta patch was secure and you were sure that it held, your fingers grazed over his bare skin. It was golden, soft to the touch, such a stark contrast to the shiny silver beskar exoskeleton that you stopped just for a moment to stare at it. You touched as lightly as you could, and once you were positive that he had stopped bleeding, you pulled his undershirt down and reattached the armor, sliding sideways off of him, resting against the same wall for the second time in two days.

It took a few minutes and lots of nervous babbling from the baby, but the Mandalorian finally eased himself back into consciousness, and when you heard him stir, you whipped around.

“What…” he starts.

“You got hit—” you interrupt.

“…Are you wearing?” Mando finishes, and your cheeks flush, looking down at his giant shirt you never changed out of.

“I was—when you called, I was in the fresher,” you say, scooting slightly closer to him, resting on both knees. “I didn’t have time to put anything else on before you told me to hide.”

“I know,” the Mandalorian says, and you inhale, hoping you didn’t just unintentionally say all of that out loud.

“What?”

He sighs, and it comes out through the modulator, but he’s not annoyed. You can tell that much through his filtered air—you know when he’s exasperated, and more and more lately, it hasn’t been directed towards you.

“Your name.”

You swallow. “Say it.”

He does. Perfectly. “It suits you. Names…Mine has only been shared once since I became a Mandalorian. I was on my deathbed, and that’s the only reason. I haven’t named the kid. He might already have one, but I don’t know it, so I don’t use it.”

You nod against the visor, your head touching his helmet. The beskar is surprisingly warm, and you pause there for a second, not wanting to move it away.

“Names don’t hold significance to me,” he whispers, and it cuts through the darkness of the hull of the ship. “I don’t need them to trust someone.”

You want to say you understand, even if you don’t entirely get it, but he sighs again and then you think he’s asleep, his helmet sliding down to the crook between your head and your shoulder. If you reached with your pinky, it could interlink with his gloved one, and you wait a few minutes to be sure he’s okay. When you hook his pinky with yours, he breathes, cinches it at the knuckle, and fades off into sleep.

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian fanfic #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din dijarin fanfiction #star wars #fanfiction #i hope y'all enjoy!!!!!#see you all next saturday for the next chapter update!!!

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ushidoux · 3 years

Text

Not Enough - Oikawa (Haikyuu) x Reader x Gojo (JJK)

Summary: Your relationship with Oikawa feels more like a curse than anything else as it comes to a close. (~4.2k words) or tl;dr gojo is mr. steal your girl

Warnings: breakup, idk Gojo is a warning, cracky angst?, pegging mention, yandere themes

A/N: Ngl I’m patting myself on the back for making a crossover fic work somewhat LOLLLL, you can roll your eyes if you want this is hella melodramatic.

(if you wanna commission more niche things, you can always dm me <3)

---

“I-I think it’s best for us to end things here, Tooru...”

Oikawa’s fingers tightened around the cell phone in his hand at the sound of your shakily delivered proposition, and further at the abrupt pregnant pause thereafter - not because he was angry, nor afraid, but out of an all-encompassing confusion.

Two things were wrong with this situation. First of all, it was late enough for you, thousands of miles away, that he was genuinely surprised that you were still awake in the first place and the fact that your voice was thick with tears was particularly upsetting, implying that you’d been up all night before you decided to call. Second, you had to be feeling unwell because you were talking pure nonsense.

He must have not heard correctly. You wanted to ‘end things’?

End what? You and him? That couldn’t possibly happen.

Moments passed, maybe even a full minute, and Oikawa stood perfectly still in spite of the uncomfortable combination of a weightless sensation in his legs and a feverish pounding in his chest as he tried to let himself understand what you were saying. Suddenly lightheaded, he realized he had been holding his breath while you remained quiet on the other end of the line. Maybe he was hoping for you to fill the silence, but he knew you wouldn’t offer anything additional; he could tell from the single soft sniffle that betrayed your sadness.

He sucked air into his lungs.

“I... don’t know what you mean,” Oikawa replied, his voice steady even if his body wasn’t.

You continued.

“I don’t think I can do this anymore. It’s really hard… and I get so lonely, and I know it’s wrong, but sometimes it hurts to see you so happy without me…”

Your voice was smaller still, enough that he strained to hear you past the rush of blood past his temples. For a moment, he considered pretending he couldn’t hear you say such unpleasant things just so that he wouldn’t have to deal with the reality unfolding in front of him in this disdainfully sunny early afternoon, while he stood in the middle of the hallway right outside of his high rise apartment.

The fact that you had finally given up on him after all this time.

In a small way, Oikawa couldn’t blame you. While he had been gone chasing his dream, the emerging star had just as quickly been running further away from you day by day. He knew this was mostly his fault: he called you less frequently and whenever you did talk, the conversations were shorter and less substantial until you and he both felt like your interactions were a simple chore, a checkbox on his never-ending to-do list.

But yet, he could and would absolutely blame you. Long distance was hard but you had promised you’d stay by his side, hadn’t you? You’d promised him, rain or shine, through drought and storm. What could possibly be the issue now?

Even if you hurt, it would only be temporary, and he could always make up for it in full or even twice-fold. In fact, he was on his way to come see you in person this very second; it would just be mere hours before his flight would depart. Coming suddenly on holiday like this was meant to be a surprise, and his suitcase beside him was filled with gifts and souvenirs for you that would, at least partially, assuage your hurt.

At least he thought. Maybe the issue stemmed deeper, starting with the very fact that you weren’t such a fan of gifts - what you really craved was loyalty and quality time - and that too, he had chosen to ignore. Because it was easier to love you the way he wanted to love you, rather than the way you wanted to be loved.

You were often indecisive anyway. Did you ever truly know what you wanted?

“___, stop being silly. I love you -”, he paused at this last declaration for emphasis, gauging your reaction, of which you gave him none, then continued, “-and I’m coming to see you before the sun sets tomorrow,” he insisted, a stern edge in his voice to further supplant the denial that was keeping him able to breathe. Strength returning to his limbs, he resumed his path to the elevators, dragging his belongings behind him.

You were silly. You missed him and you were delirious from loneliness and sleep, and that’s why ridiculous things were coming out of your mouth, that’s all it had to be, he figured. End things? What you had was something precious and irreplaceable. Nothing could be better than what you were together.

It would be you and him for life, at least to him.

Unfortunately for you, that ideal had long since perished.

Any other time, you would have paused, your breath hitching in your throat, your heart pounding as you conjured up the image of your Tooru coming to be in your arms once more, to cross the vast distance and be yours again as it should be. He’d be quick to show you that he chose you over crowded gyms full of adoring spectators, a perfect set, the rush of victory, or a pretty Instagram model.

Any other time before, but time had run out with both you and him unsuspecting, in a flash of clear blue eyes.

---

A few months earlier...

“I’m not interested.”

Your voice was flat and so was your expression. Muttering a soft ‘excuse me’, you walked past the tall young man who had taken the fact that he’d helped you reach an item on the highest shelf (despite the fact that you were still somewhat tall, you still had struggled), as an invitation to follow you around the grocery store.

The stranger had started off indiscreetly at first, and you had to admit, when you’d passed him in the aisle, you had given him a double-take, and it wasn’t just because you were wondering how he could see the food before him with a black blindfold wrapped over his eyes, so you hadn’t thought too much of it. He was admittedly handsome - at least the lower part of his face was - and his relaxed voice and posture as he reached over and handed you your box of cereal reminded you just a smidge of your Tooru.

Your Tooru wouldn’t be caught in that nondescript dark ensemble, though.

Saying “thanks” and continuing on your merry way should have been enough. But instead, this same man had immediately started walking besides you as you pushed your cart as though he knew you, making comments about your groceries.

“I’m not particularly fond of eggs, but they’re a good source of protein.”

“You seem to have a sweet tooth, just like me!”

You probably should have been concerned about this man’s mental state, but he didn’t exactly seem harmful or delusional, just weird. But you were almost done with your shopping trip, and now he was in line with you with a single bag of chips in his hand, and it occurred to you for a while that this stranger might try to follow you home.

“Do you need something, sir?” You told him in exasperation.

He furrowed his eyebrows in mild confusion, still a smidge too close behind you and raised his bag of chips. “No, I’m fine.”

“Why are you following me?” You finally said, bolder than usual in this semi-crowded grocery store. You had had enough of being polite and you’d tried very hard so far. Today had been a long day and you just wanted to cook a meal and sleep, not argue with strangers.

“Oh, I was trying to be friendly,” he replied, shrugging, as though that were normal behavior, and thus here you were, switching lanes abruptly while making it clear to him that he needed to leave you the fuck alone.

Checking out of the store with your items occurred without incident but you had to admit you were both irritated and confused about that encounter, and again, while you didn’t exactly feel malicious intent or really any sort of ‘creepiness’ from the young man, the behavior was nevertheless alarming. You surreptitiously glanced over your shoulder just to make sure he wasn’t still in sight, only to catch him walking in the other direction, whistling again with the single bag of chips in his hand, now paid for.

Again stunned, you found yourself lost in a stare for a moment, a million questions in your head.

What was he trying to accomplish? And most importantly, how could he see with that blindfold?

What did he look like without it?

Quickly realizing your questions were getting absurd, you decided that whether he was attractive or not was a completely inconsequential thought, because the fact of the matter was that he had to be clinically insane. Absolutely.

With that thought in mind, you texted a friend briefly sparing the least salient details.

Call me in about thirty minutes if I don’t call you first. I’ll fill you in later.

Just for safety’s sake, but thankfully, you didn’t think you’d ever seen him again.

You may have brought up your odd encounter to Tooru that night, if he had managed to return your call.

---

“Go to sleep, I’ll talk to you when I land tomorrow. I love you, ____.”

Before you could protest, the line cut off abruptly and you lowered your phone to your lap. Now it was no longer just your voice wavering, but your entire body trembling as you sat over the side of your bed. You lurched forward, the pit of your stomach heavy with guilt.

Your Tooru was coming to see you and for once, he was the last person you wanted to see.

---

You had left your home a little later than usual but given that you would rather die than miss your morning coffee and croissant, you still stopped by your neighborhood bakery.

Noting that the line was a little longer than expected, you queued up, humming softly to the beats of your favorite song, not registering that the man standing before you had turned slowly in your direction and was now smiling down at you.

“Fancy seeing you here again.”

Your eyes furrowed as you looked up, then almost yelped in surprise when your eyes registered the same white-haired stranger who had stunned you at the supermarket lined up just two paces before you.

What the-

Of all the coffee shops in this city, why here? The hairs on your neck stood up on end, worse when he decided to keep speaking.

“Let me buy your coffee,” he proposed, tentatively. “Only condition is that you have to drink it with me.”

Today, the strangest of strangers almost looked normal; rather than a blindfold, his eyes were hidden by a dark pair of sunglasses and his hair had been allowed to fall into a slightly windswept cut. He was also dressed less eclectically, in a loose-necked long sleeved shirt and a pair of fitted dark jeans.

Like this, you could call him fashionable. He was definitely forward, at the very least.

He was obviously flirting and normally you would have a curt prepared answer for him, but the manner in which he leaned forward, smirking with hands on his hips, again felt too familiar. Like Tooru, who had forgotten to call you back and instead sent you a quick text that promised he’d get back to you.

If he remembered.

Before you knew it, and almost embarrassed as soon as it left your mouth, you blurted out, “I… have to go to work.”

It wasn’t a lie but for some reason it came out like one. Perhaps because what you would have normally said was, “I have a boyfriend,” without giving him a second look.

He frowned nevertheless.

“That’s too bad,” he finally said, letting out a loud sigh, excessively dramatic for the situation. You stared at him, dumbfounded, and he suddenly clasped his hands together, preparing to say something else but the barista had called for the next customer.

He made a motion for you to go before him, and flustered, you obliged, giving the barista a look that implored for help in any way he could offer it. The barista knew you well enough to ring up your order before you even asked for it, but not well enough to sense that the man behind you was actively harassing you.

“I can buy my own coffee, sir,” you murmured once you saw him rummage in his pockets and pull out his wallet while the barista went off to toast your pastry.

He grinned widely.

“Call me Satoru.”

---

“A drink for you, sir?”

The flight attendant’s voice betrayed a hint of irritation under her sweet tone of voice, hinting that she had been waiting for him to answer a while, and Oikawa realized that he had been staring at his phone for a lot longer than he expected. He flashed her his classic pearly whites before nodding, but the wheels in his head were still turning.

A mere couple of hours into the first leg of his flight back to Japan, he had taken to poring over his last few conversations with you.

Conversations that, at least from his end, had become pressured, short, and at times, he had been downright dismissive.

But he loved you - you had to understand that! It was a lot to manage: being available for you but also giving 150% of himself to the game.

So what if he missed your calls but kept his Instagram up-to-date? So what if he was a little bit too cozy with his fans (and known to be so)?

There was always you, and you were supreme. He’d do anything for you.

“Wine?” The attendant offered him the higher octave in her voice making it clear that Oikawa had managed to charm her back into her retail persona.

Maybe a glass, but he’d limit his drinking. He wouldn’t want to disappoint you when you met.

---

You were shocked.

Satoru stopped a car that was meant to crush you, and you were still trying desperately to comprehend what had just transpired.

You were possibly too eager to escape that coffee shop, to get away from the young man whose presence both unsettled your stomach and made your face grown warm, that you’d hurried out into the crosswalk, somewhat complicated drink and slightly crisped pastry in hand, and right into the path of a car hurtling through a red light.

You didn’t have time to scream or rarely even time to drop your drink, but the impact of your carelessness and preoccupation, between him, being late to work, wondering why the fuck your boyfriend had yet again forgotten to text back, never came.

Instead, the car seemed to halt to a stop almost immediately before you, before him who now stood before you with lips held into a neutral expression, and one hand in his pocket. Even if time seemed to stop for a split second, the force that should have struck your body didn’t, instead hurtling around you in a terrifying gust of wind.

But you were safe.

There was a shatter of glass windows as energy redistributed and the car took the brunt of the shock, and airbags deployed, engulfing the driver who could have possibly ended your life.

When Satoru finally turned to you slowly, looking at your cowering form, you finally caught a glimpse of piercing blue. For once he wasn’t smiling, and he was suddenly much more terrifying than anything else.

As though the mask had come off.

He didn’t ask if you were okay. Instead, he asked you to control your grief.

---

You shouldn’t be able to love anyone so much that your heart breaks repeatedly.

Something about you had to be pathological - it couldn’t be normal to feel the pain of separation this acutely. It was just a long-distance relationship, even if he was just getting more famous and less available by the day.

You shouldn’t wake up wondering if you could still breathe without him.

You shouldn’t.

---

“I’m a sorcerer,” Gojo revealed as he stirred a warm caramel latte, as though he had said the most natural thing in the world.

You tilted your head over so slightly, knit eyebrows betraying your confusion.

“... Like a circus performer?”

The repetitive turn of his wrist halted almost immediately and he looked at you, the constant smug smirk immediately awash from his features.

“Do I look like I belong in the circus?!” He half-exclaimed, half-whined, as though you were the only patrons in this bustling coffee shop. Part of you was bent on saying yes, but you kept mum yet staring at his face in distress, you find yourself stifling a giggle.

Now that he’d saved your life, you felt (and probably erroneously so) obligated to at least indulge him in coffee, and your curiosity about the young man sitting before you a whole day later now waffled between morbid and genuine.

Cursed energy? Leaking from you? Sorcery?

He cleared his throat and leaned back in his chair once he realized you were more entertained by his distress than anything else, crossing his arms and raising his legs on the table. You stared at the bottom of his shoes with mild disgust but instead focused on his face.

He really was like your Tooru, the boyfriend that slipped away from your reach in your nightmares, causing you to wake in a cold sweat. You shook the thought of your head, a quick barely perceptible movement, and crossed your own arms.

“You’re sad enough that I can sense it, which despite the fact that I am obviously quite gifted, can be a bit of an issue long term.”

“Why would it be an issue to you?”

“Because grief creates spirits and spirits are a pain in my ass.”

You furrowed your eyebrows again.

“So you followed me because you thought I was sad?” It sounded far fetched enough but absolutely on brand for a weirdo like the man before you. You took a sip of your tea - you’d picked chai for this… meeting. It wasn’t a date.

He grinned, an elbow rested on the table propping up his chin as he leaned back towards you.

“No, it’s because I thought you were beautiful.” ---

For the first time in a year, Oikawa’s first step back on Japanese soil did not immediately bring him joy but anxiety.

It was odd for him to feel anxiety, this unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach, but of course it would dissipate the moment he saw you.

But first, a warm shower in his new hotel room. Then he’d go to see you.

It felt odd not to have you waiting for him, your million dollar - no, priceless - smile on your face, so he could kiss you dramatically in the midst of all watching to again reassert that you are his, and his alone.

But you were upset, and understandably so.

So he would come to you, as a good boyfriend should.

---

“I have a boyfriend,” you told him immediately and indignantly, as you got up to leave. “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you I’m not interested.”

He didn’t rise as fast as you did, watching you calmly instead as you balled your fists in irritation. It’s so shameless how he flirts, you thought. He’s so bold and rude and even if he’s a ‘sorcerer’ as he claims, there’s no spell that he can cast onto you that will make you leave Oikawa for him.

Not your Tooru, whose last Instagram post features a beautiful, tan, large-breasted and bikini-clad woman you’ve never met.

“Where is he then?” Satoru said in a low voice. He didn’t necessarily mean to cut but it did anyway. A lump formed in your throat.

“Overseas.”

---

The sound of chirping crickets is surprisingly loud for this part of the city, Oikawa considered, as he made his way towards your apartment building. It was an atypically warm evening for this point in the spring and he briefly mused if that is what excited them. Maybe they were cheering for him. They sounded a lot like the crowds if he closed his eyes.

He also hoped you had room for the gifts he carried with him, the most important of which was a Cartier bracelet he would hand to you once he departed, with a solid gold T for Tooru.

If he was on the search for fame and glory, he had to spoil you too, right?

To think that you were so angry with him that you had not yet contacted him since he had landed.

He knocked on your door finally, noting the shuffling of too many feet towards the door. This was the right door. He didn’t understand. Did you have friends over?

He called, and you didn’t immediately pick up.

---

“You have to leave!” You hissed. The statement was a plea and it was a command and it was a curse.

The blue of Satoru’s eyes was less electric in the dim moonlight, now more of a cool ice. Bare naked like this and barely visible save for the cracks of the illuminated city through your blinds, he was unfairly beautiful, as though he were carved out of marble. Again like your Tooru. Like, not better.

But still, he was there when Tooru wasn’t.

But Tooru was there now, knocking on your door, having traveled thousands of miles despite the fact that you had broken up with him just yesterday.

It was too little, too late.

But you didn’t love Satoru. He was just a band-aid for the loneliness that wrung agony out of you.

Right?

“I don’t want to leave,” your makeshift lover replied, flatly.

Your glare was sharp and instant, but Satoru matched your look, less pointed but unwilling to sway.

An unstoppable force, no different from the day he’d saved your life.

But he’d caused the problem in the first place, hadn’t he? Would you have run out so carelessly if not for him?

Your voice softened as you slipped on your clothes. The fight was lost before it started.

“Please? I… I can’t do this to him.”

Only a plea was left.

Your phone started to ring and your throat felt as though it would close up.

“___?”

Before you knew it, you heard your front door open and your heart dropped into your throat.

---

“What the fuck-”

Blue eyes were cruel.

Oikawa prided himself on his height but Satoru was taller, and his smirk was wide, while Oikawa’s face was ghostlike, devoid of any appreciable expression. Stunned.

“So you’re the boyfriend?” His voice dripped with mock amusement and he patted him on the shoulder before swinging open the door wide, letting Oikawa into his own girlfriend’s apartment, only to stand face to face with you whose feet seemed glued to the floor in shock.

“I.. T-Tooru..”

“Are you fucking serious?!”

His voice came out as a cry and his tears hot and fast. You never thought you’d see him crumple so fast, for you, for anything.

Your mouth opened and closed, and your hands shook but again, you stayed planted to the same spot while Satoru, still shirtless (but at least with the decency to have worn a pair of pants before answering the door), settled himself on the couch.

Before you could open your mouth to find a word to defend yourself to your sobbing boyfriend, your visitor let out an exaggerated yelp.

“____, you really showed no mercy on my asshole, did you?” he jeered. Then covering his mouth, he made a gesture of ‘Oops.’

What could you do?

Oikawa looked like he would stop breathing any second. He wanted to fight and maybe scream, but what use was that?

You had broken up with him yesterday.

You approached slowly, attempting maybe a touch, anything that would make your mistake less grievous.

You’d only been seeing Satoru for several weeks to… you weren’t sure why, really? Tooru was the one you loved. And to see him curl up like this… someone who was normally so proud...

You were disgusted with yourself.

“Tooru-”

“You said you’d wait for me.”

It was shocking how quick he rose, broken dignity, gifts and all.

“Tooru!”

He turned to leave, while Satoru contented himself on picking the earwax from his ears. It was easier to be like this, insufferable, than to gracefully accept the idea that his object of affection loved someone else.

He’d coveted you from the day he’d met you.

“Tooru!!!”

You were running after a man who gave 150% to everything, yet again.

Everything but you.

But had he at the very least given you 100%? You weren’t sure.

Oikawa was the last person who could accept the thought of someone else. You weren’t sure if he’d call you ever again. You weren’t even sure you wanted to break up.

Cursed energy. Maybe you didn’t just leak cursed energy. Maybe you were just cursed.

Heart shattering to pieces once Oikawa was no longer within view, you made it back to your room. Satoru was there waiting, and you couldn’t see the look in his eyes, but his arms were open, and so you fell into them.

#oikawa x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #oikawa tooru x reader #commission work #crossover fic #haikyuu x reader #jjk x reader #haikyuu x jjk #mae.writing

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skiller0dani · 3 years

Text

Bad Girl| Ethan Nestor

MASTERLIST YouTube Masterlist

smut requested requests info

hey guys it's been a while! Got this amazing request recently and I had to write it asap. love you all xx

Ethan didn't have many rules for you, but the most important one by far was to not bother him while he's streaming.

With the two of you keeping your relationship a secret there's just too much that can go wrong. He's live so if you came into the room, people could hear, rumors could start. More than anything Ethan wants to protect you so you coming into his recording room while he's streaming is completely out of the question. Normally you respected this rule without question, it was his YouTube channel after all, so he got to call the shots. More than that however, Ethan called the shots in other aspects of your life.

When it came to the sex, he called the shots in that too. But you always did what he said, and frankly, you felt like being a bad girl.

All day you've needed him, from the very second you woke up and the gentle morning sex he'd provided wasn't nearly enough to satiate you. You still felt that uncomfortable throbbing from between your thighs, and it lingered for most of the day. Any attempt you made to get his cock resulted in a soft kiss on the head and a "sorry baby I'm too busy today."

You laid back on the couch, irked to all hell. How could Ethan not see that he was depriving you? You pushed the heel of your hands into your eyes and groaned, your pussy was damp and aching and there wasn't a damn thing you could do about it. Spencer sat happily at your feet chewing on a squeaky bone. At least one of you was happy.

You heard Ethan laugh from inside his recording room, he was currently streaming Among Us. You feel so frustrated you want to cry and when you glance at the clock you feel like crying all over again. It's only 1:30, and Ethan is only 20 minutes into his stream. Meaning at this rate Ethan won't be able to help you until later tonight. You whined to yourself, snaking your hand under the sleep shorts you were wearing. Your fingers found your clit and you began to rub small circles just like Ethan does. It does little to nothing to relieve the pounding in your core. Only Ethan can.

You stand from your spot on the couch to go grab a bottle of water, hoping that some cold water will help calm you down. You lean against the counter, sipping at the cold water when you remember the night before. Ethan had come home from filming with someone he doesn't know very well. The recording session was frustrating and he hadn't gotten any good footage, meaning the entire day was a giant waste of time. By the time Ethan had gotten back to the house he was beyond frustrated and the first thing he did was bend you over the kitchen counter and slam into you mercilessly. You feel a shudder run down your spine at the memory and you groan softly in annoyance. You're not going to survive the day like this.

You went upstairs and into your shared room with Ethan and sat on the edge of the bed, you're always such a good girl. You followed every rule and every command without too much complaint. And today Ethan told you to wait. His rule today was to be a good girl and wait for his cock until that night. But damnit you're so turned on right now you feel like you're going to combust into flames.

You don't want to be a good girl today. You feel like breaking the rules.

With a smirk you stand from the bed and creep down the hallway, nearing his recording room. Once you're stood outside the door you feel a rush of adrenaline rush through you, you've never broken this rule before. In all 12 months of your relationship with Ethan, you've never interrupted him while he's live streaming. You almost turn back but when you hear Ethan groan in annoyance it sends tingles down your spine and a fresh wave of arousal dampening your panties. Gritting your teeth you quietly open the door and watch as Ethan's surprised eyes flicker to you for a second.

You bite your lip and sink to the floor, luckily Ethan's desk doesn't have a back so you easily crawl underneath it.

Being careful not to bump the desk you slowly crawl in between Ethan's legs, and he instinctively spreads his legs wider for you. When he glances back down at you, you feel heat rush through your entire body at the angry look in his eyes. He raises a warning brow before turning back to the game and for a second you consider leaving, but the pulsing from between your legs stops you. You bite your lip and reach forward, carefully unbuttoning Ethan’s jeans and slowly pulling his zipper down.

Ethan tenses, his heart hammering in his chest as he does his best to act natural. This isn’t a regular video, he can’t edit anything out. This is being broadcasted live to nearly a million people. When he feels your dainty hands reaching into his jeans he sucks in a breath through his teeth.

“Ethan you okay?” Bob asks, unfortunately for Ethan they decided to play Among Us with proximity chat on. Ethan clears his throat, “yeah stubbed my toe.” He lies but he knows it doesn’t sound very convincing.

You wrap your hand around his hardening cock and you nearly moan when you finally free it from his jeans. The sight of it makes you even more wet then you were before, it’s hard and precumming. It’s beautiful. You lean forward instantly and wrap your lips around the head, sucking softly. Ethan clenches his jaw as he focuses all of his attention on the game in front of him. He keeps his eyes firmly on the screen because he knows if he looks at you it’s game over. Ethan would end the stream and have you bent over this desk in less than 30 seconds if he saw the beautiful sight happening under the desk.

You keep your lips wrapped around him as you suddenly take all of him in your mouth. Ethan gasps softly in surprise, and this is when he notices the comments on his stream.

Ethan flashes a smile to the camera, doing his best to pretend he doesn’t notice that every single comment is about him and not about the game. Embarrassment floods through Ethan’s body as he keeps his eyes on his monitor. You continue to slide him down your throat, and Ethan’s eyes briefly flutter shut. When one comment pops up, Ethan panics.

what’s wrong Ethan??? he looks like he’s in pain someone should tell the other people on the stream bc ethan does not look okay right now ethan are you okay?

Shit. Ethan continues to ignore the comments, when did his fan base become little detectives? You bob your head down the full length of his cock, taking him into your mouth fully. It’s becoming increasingly harder to keep the sounds quiet so that nobody notices. When you swallow around him Ethan groans softly, “fuck.”

does eef have a girl over?? ;) omg ethan’s totally getting sucked off rn ngl ethan looks super fucking hot

“Ethan?” This time it’s Mark. You pull off Ethan and smirk as you pump his cock with your hand. The arousal is coating your thighs at this point and you nearly moan out loud just thinking about what Ethan is going to do to you after this.

“Ethan I’m getting some pretty interesting comments on my stream about you,” Jack says with a teasing tone to his voice. Ethan remains quiet, he doesn’t trust himself to say anything casually. “Got some company Ethan?” Jack says causing a chorus of laughter to ensue afterwards while everyone waits for another round to start. “His silence is...suspicious.” Steven adds through the laughter.

Unable to focus any longer, Ethan releases a breath he’d been holding as he finally glances down at you. The sight before him stops him cold, you’re sitting on your knees with his cock in your mouth. Your breasts are spilling from the tight tank top you’re wearing and he can see the damp spot forming on the crotch of your shorts. His pupils blow wide as he quickly ends the stream and turns off the camera. The second he’s sure everything is shut off he pushes back from the desk and yanks you to your feet.

“You think that was funny?” Ethan growls when he sees the smirk on your face. In an instant Ethan has you pulled over his lap, “you think it was funny to suck my cock when I was live? I can’t cover any of that up baby.” Ethan says, his voice low as his hands find the waistband of your shorts.

“I need you.” You whined as he yanked your shorts down. Ethan hummed in satisfaction once he sees your glistening pussy. “Yes I can see that.” He hums, spreading your lips apart so he can look at you better.

“I just fucked you this morning baby girl, you couldn’t wait? I’m pretty sure I told you to wait until tonight.” He says, the dominance beginning to seep into his tone. You moaned in delight when you feel Ethan spank you hard. “I couldn’t wait Ethan, I needed you now.” You explain, with a pout on your face.

“Now all my friends know what a dirty girl you are, and now so do all my fans as well. We aren’t going to be a secret anymore baby, you just outed us.” Ethan explains, his fingertips brushing through your folds. You whine desperately as you try to grind back into his hand, but he pulls away. “It was time baby, oh my god Ethan please just fuck me please.” You plead shamelessly.

Ethan continues to rub the globes of your ass as you moan and wriggle in his lap, “hm I’m not sure you deserve it now baby. You didn’t listen to me, I’m not sure you deserve my cock anymore.” He says, a small smirk on his face when he sees the look of pure desperation cross onto your face. “No Ethan please, I’ll listen now. I-I will I promise baby!” Ethan taps on your hip, signaling you to stand. Once your stood in front of him you moan again, you’ve never seen him look sexier then he does right now.

His hair is messy and his chest his heaving, but the best part is between his legs. His cock is hard and his legs are spread wide, and the heated look Ethan is giving you makes you want to melt into the floor. “Go wait for me in our room.” Is all Ethan says, and you immediately scramble out of the room and down to hall to yours and Ethan’s bedroom. You sit on the bed and anxiously wait for him, your entire body buzzing in anticipation. When 10 agonizing minutes pass Ethan finally opens the door, his jeans still opened. “I’ve thought of a fitting punishment for you Princess.”

Ethan walks to his side of the bed before sitting down, pulling you to stand in front of him. “Since you don’t seem to like my rules, why don’t you be in charge then baby?” Your heart sinks, and you immediately shake your head.

“But I love it when you’re in control, I love following your rules.” You argue but Ethan shakes his head with a teasing smile on his face.

“I seem to have lost my authority, you don’t listen to me anymore baby. So you try being in charge, tell me what to do.” Ethan reaches forward and yanks you towards him. You fall against his chest, your lips a hairs length from him, “boss me around.” He whispers and you swallow a thick lump in your throat. You stand again, feeling anxious and unsure of what to do. Normally Ethan tells you what to do, but he just relinquished all control to you and you already hate it.

Ethan watches with knowing eyes, he knows already that you have no idea what to do. “Well? What do you want me to do baby?” Ethan asks, watching the blush crawl up your neck and tint the edges of your ears. You tremble, “um...I-” you feel your throat close as tears well in your eyes. In a second Ethan is pulling you into his arms, smoothing your hair down and pressing kisses to your head. You melt into his embrace while he mumbles loving words into your hair. “I’m sorry baby I didn’t mean to upset you.” Ethan whispers, pressing soft kisses to your head.

“Is that how you felt on the stream? Embarrassed?” You ask hesitantly and to your dismay, Ethan nods.

“Kinda, but it’s okay baby.” You lean up to press a kiss to his lips.

“I’ve learned my lesson, I promise. I know why you make those rules now.” You say softly and Ethan brushes hair out of your face with a small smile. “Can you be in charge again?” Instead of answering Ethan flashes you a smile before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Lay down baby.” In an instant the heat floods through your body again as you scramble to lay down on the bed. Ethan stands and swiftly yanks his shirt over his head, and motions for you to do the same. Sitting up you quickly pull your shirt off, watching as Ethan kicks his jeans and boxers off as well. Ethan hovers over you, and you feel his cock nudging at your entrance and in an instant you spread your legs wider for him. Ethan slides just the head of his cock into you and he stills. You wriggle your hips, “Ethan please,” You beg in a gasp.

Cupping your cheeks, Ethan turns your head to look him in the eyes. “No more bothering me while I’m live got it?” He says and you nod instantaneously. With one sharp thrust, Ethan slides the rest of the way in and both of you release a moan. Pressing his lips to yours he begins to thrust into you and you feel the heat building already. You wrap your legs around him, locking your ankles behind his back as he slowly picks up speed. Ethan pulls out, “bend over.” He gasps and you move to bend over the bed, already missing the stretch his cock provided. As soon as you’re bent over in front of him, Ethan grasps your hips and thrusts back into you.

Your face is pressed into the bed as you cry out softly, Ethan slamming into you again and again. “Fucking took my dick in your mouth in front of the entire world, you’re lucky they only saw me. If anyone else saw how beautiful you look with a cock in your mouth I think I’d lose my mind.” Ethan growls and you can only moan in response as your fists twist the sheets in your hands. You feel the coil in your abdomen winding tighter and tighter and when Ethan reaches around your body to softly pinch your clit you’re crying out and convulsing around him, leading him to his orgasm as well. You collapse against the bed and Ethan rubs a hand up and down your back before gently pulling out with a wince.

He helps you into bed and lays down next to you, pulling your bare body against his chest. “I’m sorry I embarrassed you.” You say softly, but Ethan merely presses a kiss to your lips.

“Only a little, I couldn’t be bothered too much I mean you were sucking my dick. Doesn’t get better than that.” Ethan shrugs, causing you to blush. You sit up when Ethan stands from the bed, reaching around for his clothes.

“Now if your unusually high sex drive has been fully satisfied, I have some explaining to do.” Ethan teases, causing you to giggle. With a kiss to your sweaty forehead Ethan is exiting the room, and you lay back against the bed with the widest smile stretched across your face.

#ethan nestor #ethan nestor imagine #ethan nestor smut #crankgameplays imagine #crankgameplays #youtube #youtuber smut #under the desk

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psychedellic-phase · 4 years

Text

Perfect

A/N: this is a request that i got forever ago!! so sorry that it took me so long:(

ReidxFem!BAU!Reader

word count: 2.2k

tw: SMUT (unprotected sex, oral (road head, male recieving) , degradation, slight exhibitionism, all around rough sexy vibes plus a sweet ending)

Masterlist :)

The roads were always empty when you’d finally leave work. Your job was never nine to five; it was more like nine to midnight. Not that you minded; the company was always good.

The company was always Spencer. When everyone else would finally give up and go home for the night, he’s the one who always stayed. And once you started your torrid love affair with him, you stayed too. Most nights he’d take you in an empty conference room, or a bathroom stall. Everyone wondered why you two always seemed to have so much paperwork to do, when in actuality it wasn’t about the paperwork, it was about each other.

It started out how most friends-with-benefits situations do. You were both stressed, full of pent up frustrations and sexual energy with no outlet. It started after a case, him showing up at your door unannounced and practically jumping on you the second you let him in. That night ended with two earth-shattering orgasms, and sleeping next to your coworker.

You both swore it would just be that once.

“A moment of weakness,” you had told your girlfriends, but soon that moment of weakness turned into days, turned into months, turned into nearly a year of weakness. Nearly a year of janitors-closet hookups and concealer-caked hickies. Nearly a year of sexting and countless trips to the mile-high club.

It had been nearly a year, and even though you swore it was nothing, it was definitely something. Sure it was sex, but it was also the way he looked at you and the way he’d take care of you afterwards. It was the way he’d burn toast in the morning and kiss your cheek when you woke up. It was more than what either of you had bargained for, but neither one of you had gathered up the nerve to admit it.

You were hopelessly, desperately in love with each other, and neither of you even knew it.

“Staying late again?” You asked him, half sitting on his desk.

His eyes trailed up your legs, admiring how your skirt slid up. He cleared his throat, “Actually, I’m going home.”

You were taken aback. The matching bra and underwear under your clothes were counting on being taken off by him tonight.

“Oh, well, okay then.”

He smiled at you, that awkward smile he always does that you insist looks like a frog.

You made your way to your desk, embarrassed and red, wondering if he was suddenly tired of you. God, you hoped he wasn’t.

The two of you entered the elevator together, the air thick and awkward. Usually, you would’ve been halfway naked, doing god knows what right now, but instead you were standing three feet apart and wishing the elevator would fall through the floor.

When the doors opened, you exited simultaneously.

“Let me drive you home,” He said, delicately grabbing your wrist.

Your interest was piqued, “Oh?”

He pulled you a little closer to him, but not so close that security would see what he was trying to do, “I have plans for you.”

You giggled, “I like the sound of that.”

He pulled you to his car. The old, yellow thing must have been from 1926 and you were amazed it even functioned.

You followed him eagerly, dipping into the passenger seat with ease. He started the car, looking over at you with a gleam in his eyes that you swore was more than just the moonlight.

“So, what’s the plan, Reid?” You asked as he pulled out of the parking garage.

His hand met your thigh, stroking small circles on your bare skin, dangerously close to where you were already throbbing.

“I was thinking, maybe you could do something for me. I mean, since I am driving you home and all,” He looked over at you, devilish grin.

You bit your lip, “And what would that something be, Dr. Reid?”

He took his bottom lip into his mouth, “Surprise me.”

You took that as your opportunity to reach over, glide your hands up the inside seam of his pants and palm him. He was already rock hard, you could see the pants straining to contain him. You deftly moved your hand up, the same way you had a hundred times, and unbuckled his belt. Then you pulled down his zipper at a ridiculously slow rate.

“C’mon baby, the ride’s only so long,” He said, his voice strained and his breath already heavy.

“Then take the scenic route,” You whispered, biting at his neck as you dipped your hand into his boxers and pulled him out.

The moonlight allowed you to see the gleaming tip, mouth watering as you twisted your body so you could bend over. He tugged his pants down slightly and moved the seat back to give you more space and access.

Your tongue teased the tip first, swirling around the head and dipping into the slit. He tasted musky and salty, the same way he always did. You quickly used your lips to take the entire head into your mouth, sucking hard while your tongue touched anything it could reach.

The sounds coming out of his throat were animalistic, “God, stop teasing.”

He used one hand to gather up your hair and tugged on it gently, your mouth opening up wider. You hit a bump in the road, his cock forcing itself up into your throat and causing you to gag. You kept him there, as far in your throat as he could go. Your hand found whatever your mouth couldn’t reach and moved in the same rhythm as you did. You nipped and sucked at him, tongue drawing broad stripes up and down and up and down.

You removed your mouth for a moment, your hand smearing your saliva and his precum around as you jerked him. Your tongue found his balls sucking and squeezing each of them between your lips.

He bucked up into you, the car jerking.

You giggled, tongue still poking out to lick at him, “Watch the road, Reid.”

He groaned as your mouth and hands switched places, hands toying with him while you bobbed your head up and down. He thought he was going to explode.

“Get off,” he ordered, yanking your hair again, this time pulling you off.

You were confused, mascara under your eyes, cheeks puffy and hair a mess, “But—“

Spencer pulled off the side of the quiet road, “You’re going to go bend over the back seat.”

You wriggled in your seat, “But I want to—“

“You heard me. Back. Now.”

You got up on shaky legs, your neck aching slightly from the angle of the road head.

You opened the door, and bent over, allowing your skirt to ride up.

You felt Spencer behind you, his large hands warm on your thighs as he trailed his hands under your skirt, finding your panties and yanking them off. The air was cold against your wetness but you didn’t feel it for long. His hand traced the curve of your butt before grabbing at it roughly.

“You’re so desperate, pretty girl,” He whispered, sliding the tip between your folds, “You’ll let me fuck you here, in public, for anyone to see.”

You couldn’t do much but whimper. The way he could use his words to build you up and simultaneously tear you down was enough to make you push towards him.

He roughly grabbed your butt again, “Oh, very desperate today, aren’t we pretty girl?”

You nodded, but he couldn’t see.

“I said, aren’t we, pretty girl?”

“Yes!” You yelped, “Yes! Please, please, I need you.”

He pushed into you then, leaving no time for adjustment. His hands fit in the dips where your hips met your waist. He started at a brutal pace, your knees rocking back and forth against the rough seats, destined to be cut and bruised tomorrow. You didn’t mind it.

He grabbed your hair again, pulling your head back so he could look at you, “You like that, don’t you? For such a pretty girl, you’re so dirty.”

You nodded, “Only for you.”

The words meant more than you intended them to, but he didn’t notice, too busy palming your ass and muttering insults at you.

You could feel him in your stomach with every thrust, your wetness spreading around, no doubt dripping onto his seats.

“You’re really just a whore, aren’t you? A pretty little whore, but still a whore.”

Your arms were growing weak, unable to hold you up anymore. You slid down onto your elbows from your hands, arching your back as high as you could.

He yanked your hair, the pain melting into pleasure that flooded down your body, “Look at me while I fuck you.”

You turned your head slightly to catch a glimpse of him. He was sweaty, hair stuck to his forehead and beads dripping down his face. His shirt was half unbuttoned, a peek of skin poking out, tie undone lying across his shoulders. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing the veins that line his arms and hands.

He looked like a God.

You turned back around, not able to handle the feeling in your chest in conjunction with the feeling in your lower belly.

“I’m close,” You muttered between groans, Spencer taking his fingers to your puffy clit and drawing fast figure eights.

“Cum all over me like a good whore. My good whore.”

That was enough to push you over the edge, pulsing and groaning beneath him. With a few extra sloppy thrusts, he was pulling out and cumming all over your ass.

You sighed, feeling the high that always came with him, but the low that always came the second he left.

You didn’t move. He was opening the glove box in search of tissues, wiping himself and you off before fixing your skirt.

He helped you up, knowing that your knees and elbows would be sore from holding yourself up. When you stood, he grabbed your hands to steady you and ran his hands through your hair. You saw that same thing in his eyes again, a lightness that could easily be mistaken for love.

“You know, you really are a pretty girl,” he said, his hand tracing from where he tucked your hair behind your ear to your chin. There he cupped the side of your face softly, pulling you into him for a kiss.

You’d kissed him a million times before, but they were different. They were always hot and heavy and frustrated and passionate. This kiss was light, sweet, kind. The kind that could be mistaken for love.

When he pulled away, you smiled at him.

“I-“ you started, before cutting yourself off. This wasn’t healthy, but if this was what you got, you’d take it. Any time with him was valuable time.

“What? What is it?” His voice was low, the moon above his head.

You blushed, realizing just how close he was to you. You wondered how you’d slept with him many times and this somehow felt more intimate than all of those experiences combined.

“I-we should get home.”

He smiled, “Right.”

When you got in the car, you turned away, knees facing the door. He instinctively put his hand out to find your thigh, but found nothing.

He sighs, “Did I go too far? I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’m so so sorry. I thought you liked–“

You laughed, voice only cracking slightly, “No, you were perfect.”

“Then what’s the problem?” He asked, voice high and nervous, nasally and wary.

“That is the problem,” You sighed, turning to look over at him. Even driving, he was somehow the most beautiful thing to ever grace this earth, “You’re perfect.”

He chuckled lightly, “Far from it.”

You reached out for where his hand was on the stick shift, placing your fingers over his, “Perfect.”

He looked over at you for a moment too long, car swerving as he did so.

You smiled, “Watch the road, Reid.”

He glanced between where his eyes should’ve been and where they wanted to be, “It’s hard to pay attention to the road with you here.”

“Really? Why’s that?” You said, sliding effortlessly back into the usual flirty banter. But the words left unsaid were on the tip of your tongue.

“Because I love you.”

He said it easily, honestly, more like a promise than a proclamation.

You squeezed his hand, the words falling over just as easily, “I love you too.”

He grinned, looking over at you once more, “I mean it. I don’t know when or where or how, but I fell in love with you, pretty girl.”

You leaned over to kiss his cheek, “I don’t know when or where or how, but I fell in love with you too, pretty boy.”

——————

Taglist:)

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#spencer reid smut #spencer reid #spencer reid fic #criminal minds #mgg #cm #reid #dr spencer reid #spencer x you #spencer reid x reader #matthew gray gubler smut #matthew gray gubler

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upthenorthmountain · 3 years

Text

Where the World is in the Making - Chapter 13

I wrote this for the Summer 2021 Frozine, huge thank you to @punkpoemprose for putting that together! And to @karis-the-fangirl as always. Here we go

Previous Chapters

Chapter 13

The Solheims had been good people. Still were, Kristoff was sure. It was Mrs Inga Solheim who had nursed his mother through her last illness, who had said to Kristoff, after - Well, get your things together. Don’t you want to see what it’s like out West? And he had - not that he had anything else to do or anywhere else to go - so he’d pulled together the few things that he was sure were his and joined them in the back of their covered wagon. They’d inched their way across the country, along with the other two wagons of Solheims (all three were brothers, and each had a wife, and between them six children when they set out and seven when they arrived, not counting Kristoff), and he’d been quiet and anxious, desperate to prove he could be useful, that he was worth taking all that way. He’d worked hard for them and learnt a lot, and until the day he died he’d be overwhelmingly grateful for the chance they’d given him.

And now, for something else.

There was an interesting item in the newspaper last week, Mrs Solheim had written. An article about how there aren’t enough women out West. Good men with good farms who can’t find a wife. And some have apparently been placing advertisements in the newspaper to find one! What an idea! But it seems some have been successful. You should try it, Kristoff! I’m sure you must be lonely.

What an idea, indeed. He’d rolled his eyes and ignored it, but she’d mentioned it again, and again, and eventually he’d done it just so she’d stop. He’d never in a million years thought he’d actually get an applicant. He hadn’t thought he’d wanted one.

Anna was weeding the vegetable garden. The plants were all full-grown now, tall and green, and she was kneeling - she never had much regard for her skirts - between them as she worked.

With her help, he’d been able to repair the fields after the storm, and lost far less than he’d feared. With her help, the chickens were happy and gave plenty of eggs; the cow was happy and gave plenty of milk (and the goat was happy, too, though his high spirits were not usually a cause for celebration). With her help, the garden had flourished, and was producing enough that she and Elsa had already spent a day with Marta Ogg preserving and canning and would have plenty more to put up before the season was over.

Anna suddenly jumped back onto her heels with an “Ouch!” and Kristoff hurried over.

“Are you alright?”

“Oh - yes - thank you -” she peered at her finger. “A little bit of something just ran under my fingernail. But it’s not bleeding so I guess it didn’t go too far. Is it nearly dinner?”

“I’ve been out in the fields, you tell me.”

“Elsa’s cooking. I keep thinking I smell something but I can’t work out what.” She waved her hands at him until he backed up, then shuffled along on her knees to the next section of the vegetable bed. “I like it when she cooks. She’s a much better cook than I am.”

Kristoff opened his mouth and then closed it again, choosing to kneel next to her rather than speak. Anna laughed. “Thank you.”

“I don’t mean - the two of you have different talents.”

“Okay.”

“You complement each other.”

“Well, maybe that’s true.”

“She wouldn’t have much to cook without you here, doing this.”

Anna sat back and hugged her knees. “Sometimes I still can’t believe I’m here,” she said. “Sometimes everything before seems like a dream.”

She looked at him, and no matter how muddy her skirts or how much of the dirt had found its way to her face, her eyes were always that same perfect clear blue.

“And I’m glad,” she said. “I’m glad I’m not there any more.”

“Glad to be out of the city? Away from - people that were unkind?”

“No, you don’t understand. Before…” Anna sighed. “I didn’t do anything. I mean. I called on people, and I went out and danced and talked to more people, and I embroidered and I looked pretty and none of it had any point. Nothing I did made anyone’s life better, or easier. I was just - passing the time. My whole life. Looking pretty and passing time.”

Anna sighed again, then reached over and plucked another weed from the soil.

“There you go,” she said. “I pulled up one weed, and I’ve already been more useful than I would have been in a whole week back in the city.”

“You like to be useful.”

“I don’t like to be useless. Or pointless.”

They both sat there, among the green plants, beneath the endless sky. Kristoff could feel it, building, and he was leaning in towards her ever so slightly when Anna said abruptly, “I want to mean something,” and turned her eyes to his again, blue as the ocean and clear as the running stream.

It’s slow, sometimes, but it wears away bit by bit - or comes crashing through all at once - and nothing is the same after.

He leant towards her again, just as Elsa called them to the house for dinner.

-----

The narrow bed in the tiny room was familiar enough now. It almost felt cosy. Before coming here Anna had had her own bedroom for years, but it had never been quiet - there was always noise on the streets outside, or people passing in the corridors. Out here, being alone would have been deathly silent without the sound of Elsa’s breathing.

It wasn’t silent outside tonight, though. She could hear someone singing.

Or rather, not ‘someone’. It was a man’s voice, and there was only one man within miles, so it must be Kristoff singing. Anna couldn’t make out any words. She’d heard him whistling before, around the farm, but never singing.

She wriggled out of the bed. Elsa stirred and opened her eyes.

“I just need to, um,” Anna said, knowing that Elsa would assume she was going to the outhouse; sure enough, her sister gave a little nod and closed her eyes again.

The summer air was warm and Anna barely regretted not picking up a shawl. As she pushed the barn door open she felt a brief pang, remembering another night that she’d come out to the barn in her nightdress - but that quickly disappeared, replaced by the sight in front of her. Kristoff was sitting against the far wall, with his straw hat upside down in his lap, and the hat was full of kittens; and he was singing to them in the warm glow of a lantern.

Anna stood there for one long, breathless moment. She didn’t know the song. She didn’t even know what language it was in, although she could guess that it was Norwegian. It was a soft song; a lullaby. The kittens seemed to be appreciating it, cuddling up together in the hat, and for a second Anna thought she was going to cry. Then Kristoff finished his verse, looked up and saw her.

“Anna,” he said, and cleared his throat, sitting up straighter to a chorus of irritated meows.

“I heard you singing,” she said, walking all the way into the barn and closing the door behind her.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you -”

“You didn’t. What song is that?” she said, sitting down next to him and tucking her feet beneath her.

Kristoff looked at his hands for a moment. “My mother used to sing it,” he said.

“When you were little?”

He smiled. “Yes.” He hesitated again, then said “I don’t want to forget it.”

Sometimes Anna got so caught up in the everyday that she forgot all kinds of things. Like, for example, the fact that they were both orphans. She knew Kristoff’s childhood had been very different to her own. If she tried, Anna could remember her mother tucking her into bed with a soft lullaby, but she could more often remember a nursemaid putting her to bed and blowing out the candle. A goodnight from her mother was usually a brief kiss; a goodnight from her father was a nod. And every day it grew fainter and her memories rearranged themselves to match the handful of photographs in the bottom of her and Elsa’s trunk.

It was better to think about the present and the future than the past. She knew that. And her mind obligingly presented her with an image - Kristoff singing that lullaby to a baby. Or maybe to an older child, as he tucked the blankets around them, and then he’d look at his wife and smile -

Anna turned her face away - she knew she was blushing. Now she remembered long ago asking a nursemaid where babies came from, and being given a confusing story about storks and cabbage patches and parcels sent directly from Heaven by God Himself. Now she was here in the warm soft lantern glow with her husband, and when she looked up he was watching her. He’d nearly kissed her in the vegetable patch earlier, she was sure. Not too far from the cabbages. The thought made her laugh and she swallowed it in a yawn.

“You should go back to bed,” Kristoff said. He’d put his hat down, and the kittens had escaped; one was sitting on his foot.

“I’m not tired,” Anna said, sitting up straighter. “I couldn’t sleep, actually.”

“Really? I thought I was working you hard enough. Obviously not.”

“I’m surprised you can sleep out here at all.”

“I’m used to it.”

“It’s not fair. You work hard too.”

“I’m a man.”

“You’re a person.”

He smiled at her indignance. “Well, if we have a good harvest, maybe I can get some lumber.”

“Mr. Ogg said they’d help!”

“I can manage. I did the rest myself.”

“Mmhmm. Like you darned your own socks. A person can be too self-reliant.”

“What’s wrong with my house?”

“Nothing! Except -” Except we don’t have our own bedroom. No, she would never be bold enough to say that out loud, and now she was blushing again.

If he kisses me now, Anna thought, there’s no one to stop us. Every other person and animal within miles is sleeping. The thought made her heart thump in her chest, and she couldn’t think of anything to say to cover her embarrassment so instead she turned away, pretending she was watching one of the kittens.

She looked up when Kristoff put his hand on her left shoulder. “Anna,” he said, and ran his hand down her arm, stopping at her hand, raising it so that her ring shone in the light of the lantern. There was an ache in her chest when she met his gaze, and everything before this moment felt like a dream. The only thing that was real was right here and now, where all her choices had led her, to the perfect moment -

He kissed her. Anna knelt up, eager, and her slipper fell off and she caught her knee in her nightdress but Kristoff wrapped an arm round her waist and kissed her again. She still stumbled a little, and steadied herself with her arm on the floor; and then it only required Kristoff to make the smallest movement and they were lying on the blanket, side by side.

For a second they blinked at each other, his arm still round her waist, her hand on his shoulder. Then Anna pressed forward again, pulling herself towards him, kissing him with her whole body against his. She half-expected him to draw back, but he didn’t; instead he ran his hand up her back to her shoulders, holding her in place.

She felt giddy. There was no one to stop them and she didn’t want them to. Alright, maybe there was only a rough blanket over a dirt floor and whatever was in that sack Kristoff used as a pillow, maybe this wasn’t exactly how she’d pictured this, but -

But there was someone to stop them, and that was them. Kristoff pulled his lips from hers and rolled onto his back, exhaling deeply. He closed his eyes for a long second, then opened them and held out his arm. Anna hesitated.

“Come here,” he said. “You didn’t - do anything wrong. It’s just…”

Not like this, was what she knew he meant. As her heartbeat slowed back to normal, Anna realised she had a piece of straw poking her through the back of her nightdress, a kitten trying to climb her braid and a draught through a gap in the boards going places she wouldn’t care to mention. Much as she wished right now that her husband was slightly less considerate, he did have a point. She wriggled over to Kristoff and lay down with her head on his shoulder, smiling a little as she felt him pull the pointy straw off her back and throw it away.

He put his arm around her, his hand on her waist. Anna could hear his heart beating, feel his chest rise and fall with his breathing. It was so comfortable.

She opened her eyes when Kristoff said “Hey. Anna. You don’t want to fall asleep out here.”

Maybe she did. “I‘m good.”

He opened his arm to release her. “Go to bed. It’s late.”

“You don’t want me to stay?”

He looked pained. “I want you to go to bed.”

So she left and went inside. But when she got into her bed, it somehow felt at once both too small and too empty.

#WTWIITM #where the world is in the making #my art #fanfic

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libermachinae · 3 years

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Night Shift

Also on AO3! Summary: Prowl and Jetfire analyze leads on a Decepticon smuggling operation, working together late into the night trying to find the missing connections. A sleep deprived slip of the tongue leads Prowl to revisiting old choices. Word Count: 2146

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Prowl didn’t keep track of his chronometer this late in the night. Morning was inevitable, and he knew he could rely on a burst of messages from Orion to let him know when it had arrived. As such, he had no idea what hour it was when Jetfire broke through the productive silence.

“How did you come up with these predictions?” Jetfire asked. Worst of all, he was speaking with his mouth full, apparently too incensed by Prowl’s logic train to be bothered with common decency. “Every gun you’ve pulled in has been running on fumes; I’ve had to scrape the insides of the barrels just to figure out what they’re fueled on.”

The impressive thing about Jetfire was that even as a voice over the comms, he sounded like the biggest bot in the room. It wasn’t just that his voice was deep; Orion, who wasn’t that much taller than Prowl, had a voice you could feel through the floor panels. It was something about the way Jetfire talked, deliberate and straightforward, rarely stuttering even when caught off-guard. It was refreshing.

“I’ve outlined the logic process in my report. I won’t be repeating it,” Prowl said, scrolling back through his files.

“What are they teaching in the enforcer academy that reports don’t need to communicate anything?” Jetfire grumbled

It would be a reasonable estimate to say they spent 50% of these near nightly calls complaining about their targets, their coworkers, and the administration, and another 40% about each other. Prowl sat through them strictly as a matter of convenience, being a faster mode of communication than the intermittent data bursts preferred by the sanctioned enforcer agencies.

Having someone at the other end of the line also assisted the rust sticks and nucleon microcubes in staving off recharge protocols.

“It’s as I explained to Tumbler: it communicates everything I intended it to.” Ideally, very little to anyone who couldn’t have worked it out themselves. That way, the important information stayed with those who could actually use it, and the rest—

“Who’s Tumbler?”

Prowl lost his train of thought as the rest of his processor caught up to what the .5% he reserved for conversation had said. He froze, rust stick halfway to his mouth.

“No one,” he said.

“Okay.” Jetfire drew out the word. “Did he buy that line?”

No, of course not. Tumbler was always relentless about that sort of thing. His curiosity and drive could have lent to the makings of a detective or captain if he’d dedicated them more often to investigations and less on critiquing Prowl.

“He was young and failed to grasp the necessity of efficiency in our line of work.” Prowl had tried to be patient, but he’d been young too, and Tumbler was the first partner he’d had who would listen to him. Even if it was just to argue that Prowl’s opaque writing was the cause of their inefficiency.

“Hmph.”

Jetfire liked to intersperse their conversations with meaningless noises, and although Prowl needed more samples before he was certain of his explanation, he believed they meant Jetfire didn’t agree with something he’d said but was ending the discussion prematurely. It was illogical, leaving a matter unsettled for which a solution existed, but normally Prowl’s priority queues were ordered such that work came before ideological disagreements.

“What?” he asked, finally setting down the rust stick.

“You’re normally terrible with names,” Jetfire said without hesitation. “I’m just trying to imagine what a bot would have to be like to leave that much of an impression on you.”

“He was talented,” Prowl admitted.

“Do you keep in touch?”

“No.” Prowl straightened his back and flared his sensory panels, ready to move on. “It was not a practical partnership. Being together diminished our respective abilities and prevented us from fulfilling our responsibilities. It was for the betterment—”

“Hey, hold on, Prowl,” Jetfire said, his rolling voice enough to draw Prowl up short. “I know that you—but, you know what that sounds like, right?”

Prowl frowned, immediately recognizing Jetfire’s social theory tone.

“Pragmatism,” he said. “We can’t have everything we want in an ordered society. I—we did what Cybertron needed of us.”

“By disposing of a part of yourself?”

Tumbler hadn’t liked that explanation either.

“We weren’t conjunx.” And for very good reason. There were more important things in life than feelings or fleeting commitments, and it was idealists like Jetfire who—

“Just because it didn’t have a name doesn’t mean it wasn’t important.”

Prowl’s thoughts stumbled. He hadn’t expected Jetfire to say that, not because it was out of character but because he was right. That was the exact sentiment Prowl had tried to put to words maybe half a dozen times and now it was being turned on him like a spotlight.

“There are things that should never be sacrificed,” Jetfire went on. Prowl felt his silhouette thrown into sharp relief. “Things we’re worse off for letting go of.” He paused. “A while ago, I was made an offer: instant entry to the academies. No exams, no fees. Everything I’d ever wanted. In return, though, I would’ve had to give up my wings. My… sponsor, I guess, knew I had the processor for science, just not the frame. They asked for me to give up one part of myself to let the rest go free.”

Prowl shook his helm, leaning away from the speaker. Jetfire’s tone was the same one he occasionally used with Bumblebee. With Prowl, he was hard edges and warning lights. They weren’t this for each other. They didn’t do this.

“You were nearly the victim of a scam,” he said, searching blindly for familiar ground.

“I’m sure it seems that way,” Jetfire said, unperturbed. “Do you get it, though? Giving up any one piece would’ve meant tacit agreement with the Functionists, that I wasn’t fit to do my work in any form but what they prescribed. Even if I’d told myself it was for Cybertron, it really would’ve been a sacrifice in their honor, and nothing would ever be worth that.”

Prowl wasn’t entirely obtuse. He understood what Jetfire was saying, but he couldn’t afford to hear it, not with everything he had already done and the plans he had yet to set in motion. Maybe Jetfire had found a way to live that allowed him to maintain his idealistic commitments, but most mechanisms weren’t so lucky. Everyone had to give up something.

“And now you’re here, working on behalf of the Senate,” Prowl said, just to prove that point.

Jetfire made his noise again.

“Right, I forgot,” he said. Annoyed or frustrated: the usual feelings they brought out in each other. “Waste of time. Forget I said anything.”

Prowl wouldn’t, but he also wasn’t going to give Jetfire an excuse to keep pontificating.

It would have been a waste of their time, anyhow, because however sincere Jetfire was in his admission, Prowl had never understood the hypocrisy of bots who would claim to reject Functionism while maintaining an almost fanatical devotion to their frames. In some intangible sense, maybe he did enjoy the opportunity to go for a long drive, but he couldn’t imagine himself grieving his tires for their own sake. He tried to compare it to what he had felt when Tumbler had said going to Kaon was a selfish, pretentious idea and immediately recoiled.

“Results are exactly what I told you,” Jetfire said. Prowl realized he hadn’t gotten any work done in the last several kliks. “Not nearly the concentration of materials to support your theory the Decepticons have contacts in Uraya, and a few that will probably trace back to Kaon, like everything else.”

“I’d like to see for myself,” Prowl said, standing. He didn’t often get this badly distracted, and it was easy to pin it on the state of his desk: used energon cubes and wrappers from the cheap snacks he kept fueled on littered the spaces he should have been using for case notes and displays. When was the last time he’d cleaned?

“Really?” Jetfire asked. “The data’s pretty clear.”

“Humor me.”

“What do you think I’ve been doing?”

Neither said goodbye before they hung up: another of their customs.

Prowl cleared the mess into the trash. Exhaustion was nibbling at his processor like a corrosive. Another couple shots would get him through his morning meetings, and then a regular midday fueling would carry him over until he could recharge properly in the evening. Before that, though, the day had to begin, an event he discovered was closer than he’d expected when he stepped outside and saw the horizon just tilting toward the pale blue of an oncoming dawn.

The air was gentle, the pleasant cool that foreshadowed a blistering day. Jetfire was a dot over the Rodion skyline. Prowl glanced up at the few stars that could punch through the light pollution and was reminded, suddenly, of the time he and Tumbler had discussed getting a little patch of metal out on the Tungsten Moors. The barren sparkfields had felt nonetheless fertile with possibilities, and they had gotten hung up on whether it would be more practical to live in a house with two stories or just one. It had been a fantasy, nothing more; even on their joint income, it would have taken millions of years to save up. But there had been something, if not fulfilling, thrilling about it, making plans that didn’t hinge on work or promotions.

He wondered if Tumbler remembered that conversation.

Jetfire’s slow approach gave Prowl time to dwell while keeping an idle optic on his teammate. There was nothing spectacular about Jetfire’s flying: Prowl had worked with and chased down fliers who were faster, more maneuverable, and flashier in every way. But there was something resolute and sure about the way Jetfire coasted, a steadiness that Prowl would have appreciated sooner if he’d noticed it, his thoughts of Tumbler and past mistakes and pointless sacrifice sliding away as he watched Jetfire’s flight.

Jetfire’s flying was beautiful, in its own way. Its understatement reminded Prowl of his own assembly line colors, but with an underlying confidence that left Prowl feeling inadequate. Though technically strong, his power was limited to what he could siphon off Orion and their other high-level contacts. He’d experienced a taste of the real thing under Sentinel, but that had been an especially tenuous connection, liable to snap had he ever tugged too hard. Jetfire’s power was all his own. Not overwhelming, not enough to make the changes Cybertron needed. Incomparable, really, to what Prowl had wielded. But it radiated from the tips of his wings to the burn of his thrusters, self-realized, without reservation or concession.

Prowl’s tac net pinged him with the results for a problem he hadn’t realized he’d plugged in: 50% Prowl should have been strong enough to find another way, 50% choosing Tumbler would have made him stronger.

A perfect 50-50 meant his systems were badly in need of defrag. He cleared the cache and set his tac net to reboot, shaking his helm to dispel the resulting vertigo as Jetfire landed on the steps below him. Prowl waited patiently for him to complete his mode switch, taking two steps back so they would be at optic level with each other.

“Pleasant flight?” he asked.

“Wouldn’t trade it for anything,” Jetfire said with a smugness that allowed Prowl to scoff as he motioned for the datapad.

Jetfire handed it over. Prowl knew he was being watched as he powered it on and reviewed its contents, but he took his time, using Jetfire’s results to run through a few warm up calculations as his tac net came back online.

“You didn’t check for copper fluoride,” he commented.

“No,” Jetfire said slowly, “because it wasn’t one of the compounds we were investigating.”

“Run the tests again.” Prowl tried to return the datapad, but Jetfire refused to take it. “The chances we would find evidence of materials native to the Urayan region were always slim to none. However, the old blackmarket pipeline between Kaon and Yuss ran directly underneath the city. Does that make more sense?”

Prowl saw the moment Jetfire finally saw the case as he did, a knotted web of deceptions meant to dissuade even the most seasoned detective from untangling its core. Jetfire took the datapad from Prowl and stowed it, though the hard look in his optics did not waver.

“Could’ve said that from the beginning,” Jetfire griped.

Prowl didn’t bother to respond. What was done was done. Talking so much about the past was a waste of time neither of them could afford, because for all that it might have mattered, nothing they said could change any of it. All they had was the future, and the possibility of starting each day stronger than they had the one before.

#finally remembered to upload!#maccadam #transformers #prowl #jetfire #my writing #oneshot

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