#Would it float? Would it rest inside the lower jaw? Would it attach to the neck vertebrae??

[sukirichi]

sweet lies (m.)

His lies were way too sweet – and you were too addicted to make him stop.

cw. oral (f receiving), fingering, slight body worship, public sex, multiple orgasm, orgasm denial, dirty talk, praising, titty sucking, nsfw, toxic megumi, fwb, slight angst, the traditional unedited fic

note. choose your fighter, megumi or sukuna 😈 and thank you to besties nie and ellie for editing this STOP SHOWING YOUR ANKLES CHIRREN

series masterlist | 01 | 02 | 03

Megumi slides your shirt down your shoulder to press kisses on the bare skin. Your head tilted to the side to give him easier access. You hate that you feel so weak around him, your hands gripping his thigh you’re currently straddling, already so breathless from his teasing ministrations. 

“You should move back closer to campus,” he mutters at the juncture of your neck, pulling another soft gasp from you the moment his fingers dip inside your damp underwear. You feel him smile at your skin, using his deft fingers to push two of them inside your sopping hole. He pumps them in slowly, teasingly slow, coaxing your arousal to coat his fingers while you grind against his palm, eyes shut tight from the pulling knot in your stomach.

“It’s hard to fuck you when you’re a half-hour drive away.”

You scoff against him and roll your eyes. “I wonder why I got kicked out from the dorms in the first place.” Exactly two weeks ago, Megumi snuck in drunk and horny into your dorms, shaking you awake to get rid of his boner. 

It was a sloppy quickie, mostly because he’s eaten brownies and got fuck drunk before stumbling beside your bed. The insensitive idiot left his rum bottle under your bed just as he wobbles back to his frat house, and as if things couldn’t get worse, there was a surprise dorm inspection the next day. Not only did they find cum stains all over your sheets, but your bed also reeked of weed and alcohol, resulting in a quick expulsion from the dorms.

If it weren’t for the help of one of your professors, Gojo-sensei, you wouldn’t have been able to find a decent, cheap apartment. It came with the price of rooming with one of his old acquaintances, a muscular, heavily tattooed guy who seemed to be a few years older than you.

He really wasn’t a bad roommate. Other than the fact he seemed really intimidating, the dude mostly kept to himself, either locked in his room or away for work that you don’t really get to see him that much. His place was decent too, your room bigger than the last, so it was a good deal, but as Megumi said, it’s really hard to fuck around when you’re so far away.

“Not my fault, you’re so weak for me, baby,” he taunts as you tighten around him, his pace increasing with his lips sucking love marks on your skin. You can’t help but snicker at his actions; if you didn’t know better, you’d say he was jealous. 

But this was Megumi you were talking about – everyone knew he never got jealous. 

“I don’t like you here.”

“Aw, sucks for you.”

“I’m serious,” he grips your waist tighter, drawing a drawled-out moan from you. Megumi rubs your clit with his thumb and swallows your moans through open-mouthed kisses, your fists balled into his hoodie. Fuck this, you’re completely aware he’ll never like you the way you like him, but it’s so hard to feel sad about that when he’s knuckle deep inside you and playing you like a violin. As much as you hated him and his pretty face, you have to admit his fingers were fucking magical.  

Megumi nips at your lower lip before thrusting his fingers in and out of you at a numbing pace, not taking long until you’re creaming all over his hands. You pant at the orgasm, head falling back into his shoulder. 

He brushes your hair away from your eyes and kisses the side of your head, the gesture way too sweet for someone who insisted on a ‘no-strings attached’ sexual relationship. But you don’t complain – this is like a dream come true for you – allowing him to leave a trail of kisses down your jaw instead, his wet hands squeezing your thighs in a possessive grip.

“You should just live with me. I’m not comfortable with the fact you live with a man.”

There’s a trace of jealousy behind his voice that you’d normally swoon at, but he’s pushing you to the edge and fucking around with your feelings so much that you can’t even enjoy the rare moment. You push yourself off him and reach for your discarded shorts on the floor, sliding the material over your legs while Megumi shamelessly stares at your ass behind you, his head resting on his hands.

“Megs, I barely even talk to the guy; he’s always away at work. You’ve really got nothing to worry about,” you tell him, making quick work of tidying your school packets just to ignore his heated gaze. “Besides, you and I aren’t even dating. Don’t get your panties in a twist.”

“You never hold back with your words, huh?”

You shot him a look, an angry glare that should be threatening, but the glint in his eyes just tells you he’s enjoying every second of it. “You like it.”

“Hmm, maybe I do,” Megumi tugs you back to the bed, effortlessly, as he flips you under him. In this position, he’s situated right between your bodies, hands clasped against one another. He’s absolutely stunning, bathed in the sliver of the moonlight, in your bed, no less. You’re a flurry of emotions – stuck between wanting to fuck him and kissing him, and then scream at him to let him know he should stop playing with your heart. 

Megumi’s eyes darken as he traces over your silhouette, watching the way your chest falls heavily at his touches. He uses one hand to trace the tip of his finger from your breast down to your clothed core, a smirk painting his lips when you buck your hips up at the contact. 

Fuck him, fuck him, fuck him. 

“Just promise me you’re not letting others see your pretty pussy okay?” he tugs your shorts to the side, tongue darting out to lick at his lips at the sight of your glistening folds. You’ve lost count of the times he’s made you cum tonight with just his fingers; the raging hard-on hidden behind his sweatpants is proof that he’s quite different today by letting you get fuck-drunk on him first. Perhaps it’s his way of keeping you so helplessly wrapped around his finger, fucking you good enough that no one else comes second to him, and he knows this. He sees this from the desire pooled in your eyes. 

Megumi scoots down lower to stare at your pussy, which is already embarrassing since you’re so wet down there. He simply sighs at your bare cunt before him, using two fingers to pull the lips apart, followed by a groan at the apparent slick. “This is all mine.”

In your lust-filled haze, you scrunch your eyebrows and sneer, “How about you mind your own business?”

“The fuck did you just say?” he chuckled, his warm breath tickling your inner thighs. “You’re mine, babe. Haven’t I fucked you enough to drill in that in your pretty little head?” Megumi doesn’t waste his time diving straight to your eager, awaiting core. Your hands fly down to tug at his hair as you grind your hips to his face, legs weak from his lips wrapped tightly around your clit. “You know I’ll get mad if you touch anyone else.”

“Fuck off, Megumi,” you spat out, “We’ve been fooling around for a year, and you still refuse to date me every time I ask you out officially. Listen, I understand you’re not ready for that kind of relationship, so you could at least respect that you don’t get the exclusivity of keeping me all to yourself.” Truly, this rebellion is so uncalled for and unexpected. The moment you had your eyes on him and made it your life’s mission to win him over, not once had you complained that he never wanted to take things a step further. But it’s been too long, too fucking long, and too many no baby’s already – your pride was beyond crushed. It was about time you set the boundaries this time, and you quiver around his skillful tongue, strong and firm as you rasp, “I’ll fuck whoever I want.”

“You’re lying.”

“What?”

“You love me,” Megumi pulls away from your clit with an audible pop, his face glistening from the smeared juices all over his cheeks. However, his eyes are narrowed, almost as if he’s scrutinizing you. You can’t focus on the fact he denied you of your orgasm because he’s looking at you so seriously, only to tilt his head to the side, a smirk playing on his lips. “It’s written all over your face.”

“Maybe I do, but are you deserving of it?” you push his head away and ignore the aching in your chest. Megumi shuffles close to you, pulling you in for another cuddling session before you hide under the sheets, making it clear you were not to be touched anymore. “Go home, Megs. I’m tired.”

In all honesty, you want him to stay. You want him to fight harder to win your approval back. He’s not a big cuddler, more of the type to pass out beside you after he’s gotten his own orgasm, but you’ve been so sure that maybe he might be different today. Under the sheets, your lip trembles in anticipation, eyes blinking wide at the dark silhouette outside your metaphorical shield. But as Megumi playfully slaps your ass, his warmth leaving the bed, you’re not really surprised. 

He never stayed the night before – why would he do that now? 

Silly girl, you chastised yourself. 

“Fine. But I’ll be back tomorrow,” you hear him scuffle for his shoes outside, a smile evident in his voice as his words float around the silence of your apartment. “Wear my favourite set like a good girl for me?”

“Go away!”

Megumi’s laughter echoes all the way to where you curl yourself into a ball. You hate that his laughter alone makes your heart skip a beat, even if it doesn’t carry any affection behind then. “See you then, baby,” is all he says before the door slams shut, leaving you alone to your thoughts and insecurities all over again.

His lies were way too sweet – and you were too addicted to make him stop.

You’ve really hit rock bottom; that’s the only explanation for your actions. Megumi was coming over in a few hours, unsurprising that he chooses 3 AM of all times. Not only did it mean his frat brothers would be asleep, but it also meant that his other side bitches would assume he’s doing the same. You know, of course, you fucking know you’re not the only one, but it didn’t hurt any less.

The pain just keeps getting worse every time you think of him, said thoughts always comprised with your shirt trapped between your teeth and your hands down your pants. There’s no denying you’re addicted to him, though being addicted to a never-ending heartbreak was a different story. 

A story which you’re not ready to find out yet, so you dress up in your sexiest dress and take the nearest cab, heading to a place where you definitely shouldn’t be.

Two more hours before Megumi arrives. Two more hours before you fall into that endless cycle of fucking and him leaving you alone, promising he’ll be back tomorrow, before it all repeats and traces back to square one. He’s not going to stop, and neither are you, so where was any of this supposed to go now? He doesn’t want you, not in that way, that very much is clear – so why was it so hard to let go of him?

Deep down at the back of your mind, you know your answer. It’s because, like the lovesick fool you are, you’re still hoping that maybe someday he’ll look at you the way you look at him.

Fuck it, is all you think of as you flash the bouncer your ID, not missing the way his eyes fall down your tits that are so close to popping out of your dress a minute longer than welcomed. Snatching your card away from him, you push against the crowd, immediately regretting coming here as the loud thumping of music and stench of sex and alcohol washes over your senses. 

You make a beeline for the empty bar, save for the bartender who had his back turned to you as he wipes the glasses over.

You clear your throat to make your presence known. The first thing you see is a broad back, thick lines of dark tattoos outlined even in his white button-up shirt. He places the glasses down and moves expertly before you, sliding shot glasses next to others before procuring a drink out of nowhere, a greeting about to leave his lips when you both make eye contact.

The drink stays still on his hands, blinking for a moment at your equally stupefied face before he says, “It’s you.”

“S-Sukuna,” you greet back, smiling at your roommate. You’ve barely seen the guy the past few weeks other than sleepy good morning’s, and I’ll take the trash out tonight before both of you disappeared into your own worlds. 

Sukuna is...well, you don’t know, exactly. It’s not like he’s around much for you to make a proper judgment of, but he’s a pretty nice roommate, filling up the fridge whenever you guys run out of beer. There were times he nods at you as a greeting before leaving for work, too, leaving you alone at the house from midnight all the way to the morning. Other than thinking your roommate is pretty unique from his face tattoos and roguish handsomeness that contrasts his rather frequent sleepy mumbles, you’ve failed to realize he could actually be like a normal human. Seeing him stand before you, his forearms lined with veins and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, taut waist emphasized by a black vest, you swallow audibly.

He’s entirely different from the guy you often see passed out on the couch, but it’s a welcomed sight, nonetheless.

Sukuna’s actually...pretty hot.

Hiding the thumping of your heart – whether out of nervousness or it’s just trying to match the beat of the music – you beam up at him,  eyes glossed over with curiosity as he reciprocates with a more mischievous grin. 

If he’s easily read your mind that you are indeed attracted to him, he makes no comment about it, focusing on hearing your voice over the music instead. 

He leans over to you, not pulling away even as your lips faintly graze his ear. Fuck, he’s got piercings too. You greedily drink in his masculine scent, thankful that the music thumping is so loud he won’t hear the frenzy mess inside your ribcage. 

“I didn’t know you worked here. Heck, I didn’t know you were a bartender, but I guess the irregular sleep patterns make sense somehow.”

“What did you think I was, sweetheart?”

His deep voice reverberates all the way down to your toes, his throaty chuckle hoarse. “I-I don’t know,” you pull away nervously, blinking up at him way too innocently. “A gangster, to be honest,” you blurted out. Sukuna tilts his head to the side, and you immediately raise your hands beside your head as you mull over how offensive your words might’ve been. “I don’t mean anything offensive by it, I swear! It was just my first impression!”

“First impressions are usually false. Anyway. It’s fine,” he shrugs, resuming his task of wiping over the glasses. 

His hands were so big, his fingers long and slender...your attention is drawn to the adept manner of how he wipes the cloth using the tip of his finger, reaching behind him to get another glass, all without keeping his eyes off of yours. It leaves much room to muse about what else he could do with those hands, and you squirm at your seat, opting to look at his face instead since that would be more polite than eye-fucking his hands.

Sukuna smirks, that cunning twinkle in his eyes matching the dim lights of the bar. Somehow, you suddenly feel so lightheaded. 

“If it makes you feel better, I thought you were a shy girl at first, but your boy toy brings a different side of you every time he comes around.”

You squeak in embarrassment, “You’re home by then?!”

“Only sometimes,” he reassures with a laugh. “But I’ve heard enough,” Right. He’s older and definitely more experienced than your sexual escapades with Megumi – this must be nothing new to him by now, and yet, your skin flushes heated. “Don’t look too flustered, sweetheart. It’s not the first time I’ve heard of that,” he nods at you, “You don’t look very happy with him, though.”

“Tch, now you’re assessing my relationship status?”

“I don’t have to,” he shrugs, the gesture so damn reassured. Chuckling at your apparent frown, Sukuna shakes his head to himself. “It’s written all over your face you’re not satisfied with something. You wouldn’t be here if you were feeling good in the first place.”

“How much have you heard?”

“Oh, I don’t care about how you scream his name. That’s none of my business,” he grumbles under his breath rather bitterly – but that could just be the music messing with you. Sukuna holds your gaze as he sets the final glass down before you, his elbows languidly resting on the counter that separates you both. You’re left staring at him in wonder, watching the way he pours the drink right in front of you, the movement of his lips so intoxicating and even erotic you nearly didn’t hear him say, “But as your roommate, I wish you’d stop inviting him around and just kick him out already. He doesn’t like you, you know.”

He doesn’t like you. Megumi doesn’t like you – you know that already.

Glare deepening at your surprisingly nosy roommate, you take the glass from him and down it in one go. Sukuna’s brows shot up in awe, arms crossed against his puffed-out chest as you slam the glass down. 

You were fuming. 

“You don’t know a single fucking thing about me.”

“That’s right, I don’t,” he answers without skipping a beat, “But we men, we understand each other,” You open your mouth to retort, silenced by Sukuna’s finger pressing against your lips. You freeze at the contact, and Sukuna makes use of your state, continuing right where he left from. 

“Listen, take it from me as free advice. I’ll even put your drink on the house.”

Really, nothing is stopping you from biting off this guy’s finger, but he looks like he knows something you don’t that you just choose to keep your mouth shut.

Satisfied at your decision, Sukuna smiles sweetly, reaching over to tuck your hair behind your ear. The gesture puts you under his spell, and he lingers there a little longer, massaging the lobes of your ears before he pulls back just as fast, almost as if he never touched you in the first place.

You fight back the urge to huff. 

Why were men so complicated? One moment, they were hot, then cold the next. You would just never get it.

“That guy you’ve been mooning over for who knows how long? He doesn’t give a fuck about you. You’re just someone who warms his cock every now and then, but I guarantee he’s thinking about someone else in his head when he’s with you,” he announces straightforwardly, not giving you the time to recover before he shrugs like his words didn’t just slap you in the face. “Just call quits on him, sweetheart. There’s really no need to waste such a pretty face. Ever heard of the saying – there’s plenty of fish in the sea?” he pushes another drink to you, “Drink up and loosen a little. With a face and body like that, you’ll find someone better soon.”

“I highly doubt I can find someone better when all everyone sees is my appearance.”

“I don’t,” he hinted with dark eyes, “But I assure you it might be what people see first. You do have a face of an angel; men are into that shit.”

Taking the drink from him with a loud sigh, you feel yourself weaken. You bury your head in your hands, replaying all the memories you’ve had with Megumi. It’s foreseeable that almost all of them consisted of you two fucking, nothing but a faint memory of two where Megumi actually cared enough to perform aftercare. The thought makes you wince; he really is an ass, but you’re also so hopelessly infatuated with him that you refuse to acknowledge the truth.

“Megs and I...we’re just complicated, okay?”

“Sure.”

“I swear!” your defenses are hopelessSukuna’s knowing smirk, the man holding back a snigger from your silent rage. “Besides, maybe his disinterested nature is what made me attracted to him in the first place. I like the mystery. It’s not bad for a girl to enjoy searching for answers every now and then.”

“Except he’s already given you a concrete no, and you’re the only one still hanging onto him,” he reminds you. At your dropped jaw, Sukuna has the audacity to wink. That motherfucker –“Pressed a button, kitten?” he pats your head, leaving you to be even more riled up. “Don’t be sad. It’s not like he’s the only guy who can make you feel good.” As if a light bulb went up in his head, Sukuna hid his smile by turning his back to you, pretending to be engrossed in the drinks all laid out in front of him. But even with his face obscured from your view, his words rang thick and clear: “In fact, I bet you your cute ass someone else can change your former perspective on what pleasure really is.”

“Yeah, like who?” you snorted sarcastically, “You?”

“I wouldn’t be opposed to that,” he faces you, absolutely shameless as he eyes your cleavage. Sukuna clenches his jaw at the tempting view before him, sliding his gaze back to yours to look for the answers in your face. “If you want a demonstration, that is.”

Sukuna hasn’t really touched you or even spoke explicitly, but you’re breathing hard anyways, subconsciously clawing the countertop. 

You don’t know if it’s your voice or his that’s ringing your ears, the words what’s holding you back? the last thing you hear before grabbing him by the collar, leaning over the counter to taste his lips. Sukuna smiles at the kiss, his large hands cupping your face in them. His thumb traces circles over your jaw as you greedily suck on his lip, uncaring that you’re making out with your roommate in a public place.

As if remembering that he’s still at work, Sukuna pulls away for a moment, diving in for one last peck that has you giggling adorably. Sukuna’s grin grows wider at your flushed cheeks, snapping his fingers at someone from a distance. “Geto, break!” 

The guy who must be Geto popped his head out of the backroom, frowning at Sukuna’s words when his gaze lands on you and the not-so-subtle needy grip you have on Sukuna’s collar. His mouth forms into an ‘o’ shape before he gives a thumb up, disappearing afterward. 

That’s all Sukuna needs before he’s leaving the counter, breathing in your panicked squeals as he picks you up, your legs flailing to wrap around his.

You’re giggling and laughing all the way to the back of the club, your hands tugging at his undercut and his own squeezing at your ass. Sukuna kicks the door of the restroom open, which is thankfully clean (you made the right choice choosing a luxurious club), settles you down before him, and locking the stall.

His lips are on yours in an instant, his hands tugging off your dress and scowling at it as if it’s offensive. “Calm down,” you tease him, “They didn’t do anything wrong.”

“They were a fucking tease the whole night,” he glares at the lacy cups of your bra, his breathing laboured as he cups them. You throw your head back until it thumps at the door, teeth muffling the moans that threaten to erupt. Sukuna unclasps the material in one swift movement, surprising with just how many times he’s done this before. “Fucking gorgeous tits – why the fuck does your boy toy not want to keep you to himself?”

“He’s – oh fuck,” you scrape Sukuna’s scalp, his tongue wrapping around the swollen bud. He caresses the other one not to leave it unattended, and he’s grinding you against the door so hard, his dick poking at your dress leaving very little to the imagination. 

Sukuna chuckles at your broken response, rutting his hips in such a sensual manner you didn’t think he was capable of. “You were saying?”

You glare at him from under your chin, but he can’t take you seriously while he’s sucking at your tit like a child. This man is brave enough to nip it with his teeth, the sting making you hiss and buck against him. “He’s possessive,” you breathe through your mouth, a little in disbelief you’re casually thinking about him while Sukuna gets down on his knees. “He wants me to be exclusive with him, but he’s free to fuck who he pleases.”

Sukuna rubs both palms in front of his face as if preparing to devour a meal, which he’ll do so soon enough. He pushes your dress and bunches it at your waist, tugging your underwear to the side before he groans. The sound is so deep and masculine, so utterly frustrated for some reason you can’t understand.

“Now that’s unfair,” he mumbles absentmindedly, peppering your pelvis with kisses. The feverish touch of his warm lips on your already burning skin has you clutching at the door, feeling your legs weaken.

His eagerness and distrait acts of body worship drive you crazy. Megumi is good at making you feel desired and fuckable – that much you know from his habits of pushing his pants down at pretty much anywhere as long as you were around, claiming you’re a walking ‘boner trigger.’ Sukuna, on the other hand, was a lot more patient and attentive to his movements, taking the time to make you feel you were more than just a body and a hole. It’s odd, hella fucking odd, because this man is older than you and a friend of your professors, but did you care? No. Did you want him to fuck your brains out in a public restroom? Fuck yes.

A wanton moan paints the wall as Sukuna slides your thong off just above your knee, his eyes closed as he buries his cheek in it. You look down with wide eyes, hands grabbing at nothing and everything at the same time. From the looks of it, he’s sniffing your sex, the sight so outright erotic that you only moan louder.

How was it possible to be this much turned on?

By the time he’s opened his eyes, his entire demeanour’s shifted. Gone was the enthusiastic and sly bartender, now replaced with a much more animalistic entity residing beside it. 

Before you could make yourself comfortable, Sukuna hooks one of your legs over his shoulder, the tip of your heel grazed against the tight walls of the stall. He licks a flat stripe from your hole that clenches around nothing, moving upwards in such a passionate, languid manner he’s making you forget you’re literally in a fucking restroom. Your breasts heave up and down from how you’re struggling to breathe, his tongue pushing past through the tight ring of resistance until he’s plunged through your core. You wobble above him, remaining upright only by his arm pushing your back flat on your under boob.

Sukuna slurps at your cunt yearningly, the hums he gives every now and then, making your core vibrate. You grind your pussy on his face, the black marks lined on his face glistening.

He moves to suck at your clit, transitioning after each beat to slurping the swollen bud and kissing your lips as if he was making out with it. You’re sure you’re making a mess on his face, but he doesn’t give you time to feel embarrassed about it. He spreads your legs further until your muscles ache from the stretch, the pain accompanied by your stomach tightening.

“S-Sukuna, oh, oh yeah,” you bang your fist on the door, his smug chuckles sending you over the edge. Your pupils blow wide as you feel the impending orgasm weigh down on you heavily, about to send you into overdrive by his tongue swiping at your lips, teasing you to give it to him more, give it to him harder. Turning your head down to warn him you’re coming, the words die on your throat because he’s already looking at you, his cheeks and nose smothered with your shining slick, and the brat is smirking. “Shit, you’re a little—” Sukuna cuts you off by generously sucking your clit one more time, pulling the muscle taut just to show you that it’s rolling between his lips. It looks fucking insane and filthy that you come right there and then. 

Your orgasm is so strong that you actually slip from your heels. A scream from you is knocked back into you just as fast, Sukuna moving quick and graceful in one fluid movement. He catches your leg and shoves you against the door, gripping at your hips until you’re bending forward, ass perked, and wiggling just for him.

For a split second, you’re sure you hear the unbuckling of a belt, but it all fades in your clouded mind.

Sukuna enters you in one thrust, the sensation of being filled up so soon rendering you speechless. Literally absolutely silent, palms flat on the door and tongue lolled out, all the burning in your body focused on your centre.

He releases a grunt at finally being inside your plush, warm walls. Sukuna allows you to get used to his length for a solid minute, both of you catching your breath in the meantime. Your tits are sprawled out, and you’re a shaky mess, feeling nothing less of dirty yet so aroused that you can’t do anything about it. Sukuna thrusts in slowly at first, and that’s when you feel the size difference between him and Megumi. Megs was definitely blessed in the dick department, and he’s always been so cocky about it, but goddamn, Sukuna was beyond huge.

You think you could cum again just from him filling you up. He was stretching you out so well that he leaves behind a faint burn, making you feel as if it’s your first time all over again – all for the good reasons.

He soon begins to set his pace, one of his hands tugging at your ponytail so he could see your glossy eyes and mouth hanging open. Sukuna scoffs at your fucked out state, too cock-hungry even to form coherent sentences. His length is slipping past your folds in such a tantalizing, delicious state, the prominent veins of his cock kissing the bumpy ridges of your walls. He was right – you’re definitely changing your perspective on pleasure because you don’t think you’ve felt this good in your life. 

With Megumi, it was mostly always about his own release. With Sukuna, he’s making sure you get to feel inch by luscious inch slipping out of you before he slides them back in, his deep moans the dirtiest thing you’ve ever heard.

“Aw, look at you,” he coos, kissing you sideways sloppily. Sukuna reaches the edges of your lips but licks at your skin anyway. His canines revealed to graze at your skin. It’s so animalistic, so carnal, and he’s fucking you with such primal need that you forget everything you once knew about sex. “Your pretty pussy is drooling for cock, sweetheart. Such a dirty little thing, taking me like this.”

Now, this was lust as its purest form, the rhythm of his hips so sinful you’ve lost faith in everything but how he’s making you feel. 

The walls are pounding with the bass boosting outside, but soon even the loud volume of the synthesized music is drowned by your whimpers. Sukuna lets go of your hair to place his hands on your hips. If he was dominant before, he only encourages you to scream his name louder, realizing that he was still being nice seconds ago, but now he’s the one controlling you. 

He pounds roughly into you until you’re crying, your drool dribbling from your lips and small patches dropping to the floor. It’s the same with your cunt. You’re so wet that you can feel squirts of cum staining his pants and your legs. Sukuna doesn’t stop praising you on how you’re so perfect, how your cunt is the tightest he’s ever fucked, and now he gets why your boy toy could never really let you go. In the middle of it all, he manages to slip in a comment that maybe Megumi’s dick isn’t big enough to stretch you out because you’re wrapped around him like a vice, to which you respond that he’s just massive.

“Fuck yeah, I am,” he agrees cockily, eyes narrowed at where his length kept being swallowed by your pussy. “I’m fucking destroying you, sweetheart. You’ll be broken by the end of this, fuck.”

His words are like ambrosia you’re getting drunk on, the filthiness of his mouth fuelling your desire. Your body heats up at the same time that familiar tingling tightens in your stomach, and you blindly stretch your arm out behind him. Sukuna easily reads your mind and takes your hand, looping his fingers with yours. His palm is right above your knuckle, and the angle hurts your arm so bad you cry harder.

“Please, please, please,” you beg him and snap your hips back to meet his dick thrust by thrust, “I’m so fucking close, please—”

“I got you, sweetheart,” he leans down for a quick peck at your hand, increasing his pace as he twitches inside you. Sukuna is thrown off rhythm by the way you grip down on his dick harder, his breath stuttering as a result. You wrap your fingers around him as your second orgasm that night crashes down onto you in waves, his cock on the brink of being spent from how you’re milking him. 

He pounds deep and slow into you, relishing in the warmth of your cunt that he’s losing his mind, basically in the same state as you are now. You’re panting and sweating, cursing at each thrust, and he stills for a moment, pulling out so fast that you wince at the emptiness. Sukuna pumps his dick with his free hand and shoots his load onto your back, his moans guttural and hoarse. You grimace at the warm cum now coating your back because there’s no way you’re using your dress to wipe that away. 

Sukuna chuckles at your silence, probably noting in the way you frown at him. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he runs a hand through his hair, his cock growing hard despite releasing a huge load. “Next time, I’ll cum in your mouth. I want to see you swallow me like a good girl.”

“Next time?” 

You think you’re so sly by scoffing at him, but Sukuna isn’t stupid. He sees the way you light up at his implications, and he walks closer to you, a hand wrapped around your throat before you pull you flush against his chest. You gasp at the lack of air, blindly patting behind you, but your hand only grazes at his cock, which twitches excitedly at the contact.

“Yeah, next time,” he affirms with a low growl, licking from your jaw down to your neck. It’s so hot, he’s so hot, and you’ve never felt this sexy in your life that you soon become on par with him, pussy clenching around nothing. “I’m not done with you yet. You’re not leaving unless I’ve changed your mind,” he teases the base of your throat to squeeze it tighter, the swift movement of him filling you once more escalating to a tenfold. Your struggle to breathe causes you to clamp down on him hard and Sukuna’s chuckles falter into a quick inhale that’s so satisfying to witness. “What do you think? Still need more demonstrations?”

“Yes,” you choke out. Sukuna’s victorious and award-winning smile is hidden at the sweaty column of your neck where he leaves little kisses in its wake, ones that soon turn into something of a harsh bite. “Yes, please, show me more. Need you, need you so bad, you fuck me better than he does.”

Sukuna does more than show you that night. He makes you feel a thousand more nerves set on fire until you’re nothing but a moaning mess. After all, what better way to change someone’s mind than to mess with it on the inside?

In the end, when it comes down to it, your lies were way too sweet – and he was too addicted to make you stop.

#megumi x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi x reader smut #sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader smut #sukuna smut #ryoumen sukuna x reader #ryoumen sukuna x reader smut #fushiguro megumi smut #fushiguro megumi x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #sukuna x reader imagines #megumi x reader imagines #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen x reader imagines #jujutsu kaisen x reader smut #ryoumen sukuna smut

[harrysgloves]

Three to tango

story summary: You, Harry, and Florence have a good time in your makeup trailer.

warnings: Language // THIS IS P*RN WITH LIKE ZERO PLOT // Threesome // w|w // spitting // oral (female receiving) // i have no idea what a production company is so don't come for me.

a/n: Brushing off the metaphorical cobwebs and finally getting back into writing! Woo-hoo! Ending could have been better but... meh. Also, I'm posting from mobile. If it looks weird, blame Tumblr ✌😍

REQUESTED: by @iwannaholdyoutight- and @hazgoldenstyles

And also by all these people... sorry it took so long.. 😁

>>><<<

"Stop movin'." You grumbled for the millionth time that morning. Your focus on covering up all these damn tattoos that you loved had become one of the worst things you had to do almost every morning.

"It tickles." He whined as the makeup brush ran over the inside of his arm. He instantly flinched away from the brush the moment it glided against a particularly sensitive spot.

"Harry!" You groaned, your eyes closed in frustration when he shot you the most adorable puppy eyes.

"'M sorry, kitten." He cooed, his lower lip pouted out when you sighed loudly, grabby hands tried to enclose around your waist before you smacked them away.

"H, I gotta get this done or you're gonna miss set time." 

"Wanna kiss." Those big green eyes flashed up to you from his spot in your makeup chair and you knew there was no way you could say no.

"One kiss." You clarified, knowing damn well he'd use kissing you as a distraction from being tickled again. 

He nodded eagerly before leaning slightly up to your level. Your eyes narrowed, still not sure you could trust that he wasn't going to divert your attention but his lips. 

God, his fucking lips.

They looked so memorizing. The light sheen of chapstick he'd applied earlier was still lingering across the plush pink cushions. His tongue wetting them, taunting you to come closer, and it worked.

You were so naive to think he wouldn't do this.

You squeaked as his hands gripped the fleshy curve of your hips. His lips twitched up into a smile against your own when he pulled you forward onto his lap as quickly as he could. 

You knew you should have tried to protest a bit more. You should have attempted to keep him on track but when his thigh pressed against your clothed core, you knew you were done for. His tongue licked into your mouth as his hand got a firm grip on the round flesh of your ass.

"I see what you two do in here." That sweet voice floated through the thickening air in your makeup trailer as she opened the door. Your eyes lazily blinked open to see your smug boyfriend smile wide across his face. 

Whatever snarky come back that was sitting on the tip of your tongue was quickly choked down to the back of your throat when you looked up to see her wearing that. 

Who knew a robe could turn you on so much?

"Damn." Harry finally commented after your not so subtle shifting of your hips against his thigh. Now he completely understood why you'd suddenly gone silent. 

"Shut up." She mumbled under her breath. Her cheeks flamed red from your shameless stares. 

"You look great, baby." You smiled brightly, your hand extended out for her to take. "Mhm." Harry's quick agreement had both you and Flor rolling your eyes, but a small smile formed at the corner of her lips.

"Wait til you see what he's got to wear." She smiled brightly, her silky soft hand wrapped tightly in yours as she walked towards the both of you. 

"Better hurry up then," you practically jumped off Harry's lap, his lust filled eyes quickly turned fearfully as your eager hands reached for your set of brushes. "Hold him down for me."

"Gonna pay for this later, sweetheart." Harry grumbled as Florence's hand held down his arm. 

"Sort of counting on that, Harold. Now, be a good boy and hold still."

>>>

The rest of your day had been absolute torture. Your core ached, your underwear were beyond ruined, and you couldn't wait another minute for the both of them to finally be off set. 

Instead, the both of them casually took their time, leisurely hanging around to talk to other cast and crew while you were basically jumping out of your skin to get them back into the privacy of your trailer. 

After 30 minutes of them both shooting you sweet smiles and well disguised sultry eyes, you'd had enough. Your feet carried you as quickly across the lot to your haven, your fist clenched in your hand almost as tightly as your core.

You were dripping and the both of them knew you were having a hard time keeping your hands to yourself.

It started out innocent enough, Harry's tattoos needed to be touched-up about a million times with the edge of his suit rubbing away the makeup there. You had been practically drooling over the both of them all day but when he saw your legs tighten together, he could help but lay it on thick. His hand rested on the small of your back as he circled around you, nose pressed almost completely against your ear as he whispered a raspy thank you. 

Florence was just as bad and she wasn't ever the instigator out of the three of you. She couldn't help it when she heard a soft whimper leave your lips when she brushed a few hairs off your forehead when you were redoing her makeup after lunch. 

She smiled sweetly, too sweetly, before those plush lips pressed tightly against your own. Her hand laced around your jaw to pull you tighter into her kiss. 

She pulled away from you before you were even close to being done. "Only fair that I get to makeout with you in this chair if Harry gets to do it all the time." 

You felt like you could combust from how turned on you were and you were done waiting for them to do something about it.

You practically slammed the door to your trailer behind you, making sure to lock it before laying yourself out across your couch that sat in the corner of your room.

If they weren't going to do something about it, you would. Your hands fumbled around with the pesky pants that covered your legs, until you were finally free enough to touch where you needed.

The sigh of relief, shuddering feeling that ran through your body from the contact you were craving only lasted a moment before you heard a metal key fumbling around with the locks on your door. 

"Couldn't wait for us?" Harry chuckled, his keys to your trailer thrown on your table top.

"You two were taking forever!" You glared at him through your open legs. 

"Told you she couldn't wait any longer." Florence giggled as she pushed her way past Harry. Her hands on her hips but a smile danced on the corner of her lips.

"Are you two going to help me here or?" You were cocky, impatient, and your fingers weren't anywhere near as good as theirs was.

"Might just watch." Harry shrugged with a smug smile as he plopped down on the end of the couch. The furniture was barely big enough for the three of you to sit normally. His hands moved your legs to lay over top of his own. Your eyes could have shot daggers through him as he loosened his tie, his legs spread wide enough that your hand bumped his thigh with every slow circle around your clit.

"Baby." You whined, your pleading eyes flashing towards Flor. Who was already wearing nothing but a smile, her robe abandoned on the floor, and if you weren't so insanely turned on you would have turned to stick your tongue out to Harry. Gloating that at least one of them was nice enough to help you.

Having sex with them always seemed to be frenzied, blurs of quick paced moments that seemed to fly by.

Her thighs rested on either side of you as Harry peeled away the drenched lacy fabric between your legs. 

Her tongue dominating your own as she pulled down your top enough to free your breast. Her hands pinching and kneading across them as your back arched further off the couch.

You could hear Harry mumbling out a slur of curses, followed by the sound of his zipper. Your legs were bumped up and down in time with his strokes along his swollen cock.

"Soaking my leg, kitten." He groaned at the sight of your cunt soaking the thin material of his brown suit.

"Thought you were just gonna watch." Florence chuckled, her perfectly pouty lips swollen from how hard she'd been kissing you. The edges of them barely touching your own as she talked to Harry.

"Was gonna but she's so fuckin' wet, Flor." His voice was deeper than usual, gravelly, slow, "Bet I could jus'...." 

Your jaw fell open, your back arched off the couch when his fingers filled you. A wild moan ripped from your lungs when he curled them just right.

You could already feel the cord tightening in your lower stomach. You had been so wound up all day long from looking at them you were practically ready to snap within seconds. 

"Awe, poor thing's already about to cum." Florence cooed, her hand around the back of your neck, teasing your jaw with the edge of her nose. 

You always loved hated how well they could read you. How their teasing words made your face burn and your pussy flood with need. 

When she was harshly shifted down further into your chest, her own sweet sounding moan falling from her lips, you couldn't help your own snide remark, "who's the one going to cum too quickly now?"

She probably would have snapped right back at you but she couldn't utter out anything more than whimpers. You knew the feeling, Harry's tongue had a way of doing that, making you both shut up and he had proudly used it on more than one occasion to get you two to stop bickering about dumb stuff. 

Your hand laced through her blonde locks, her lips attached to your neck whenever she could control her mouth long enough to kiss your sweet spots. Your nipples peaked at the contact of her breast against your own, Harry's hand still pumped lazily against your sweet spot, his thumb running tight circles around your clit, and while it wasn't enough, you weren't complaining. You weren't ever sure how he managed to focus on eating one of you out while fingering the other when you knew damn well he was about to combust himself.

You knew she was close when her breathing became erratic, her chest heaving against yours. Her whole body shaking as her orgasm washed across her, her panting barely broke when you felt his warm tongue slipping through your folds.

You moaned at the feeling, your hips instantly shifted downwards, craving every bit of contact you could get from him. 

You could feel your walls fluttering around his fingers with every thick swipe of his tongue across your clit. Your eyes barely staying open when soft kisses were pressed lazily against your neck. 

Such a contrast to the harsh grasp of Harry's free hand digging into your one thigh. His gruts and groans were only muffled by the deafening sound of your soaking core.

Florence perked up her head from your chest, carefully turning herself completely around. Her legs on either side of your head as she draped herself across you to watch Harry at work.

Her sweet honey only inches from your face and fuck did you want a taste. You wet your lips, hands pushing her thighs down but she wouldn't budge.

Your huff of protest was quickly choked down when Harry's tongue ran tight circles around your clit.

"Gonna share?" That sweet voice asking that innocent question about broke you. Your walls clenched tightly trying to not get Harry to stop his fingers from slipping out of you, almost crying when they did anyway.

"Course, baby." 

You squeaked, your legs pushed backwards by your thighs, your body almost folded in half.

"Fuck, you got her soaking the couch." 

You were suddenly very appreciative about the fact neither one of them could see the embarrassment burning through your face. Your forehead pressed to Florence's leg as you whined, not wanting them to point how just how turned on you were.

You heard two simultaneous shushing sounds before your lower lips were pulled apart, the cool air licked across your slick, only making you whine louder.

When you heard and felt Harry's spilt against your core you thought you were done for. Lip tucked so tightly between your teeth you could taste the faintest hint of metallic against your tongue.

Then the softest kitten lick had you losing your mind, her tongue collecting all of his saliva on your clit before swirling around your entrance.

"Fuck," you cried, your nails digging crest moons into the flesh of Florence's thighs. "please, just fuck me already!"

"Don't think she can take anymore teasing Flor." Harry chuckled, yeah, chuckled, from between your thighs. 

"But I was having fun." She pouted, her tongue stopping its mesmerizing movements.

"Can 'ave fun with her after." Harry said as he started to shed the layers of his suit. 

"I'm literally right here!" You complained, your huff of annoyance jammed down your throat when Harry pulled up by your legs. Your face now exposed to his smirking, mischief filled eyes. 

"We know, baby," he cooed, almost too sweetly, something about the look behind his eyes made your pussy flutter but your mind anxious about how sore you'd be tomorrow. "Ass up for me."

You eagerly nodded your head, trying to roll over in your place before the tsking clicks of his tongue stopped your movements. 

"Like this." He said, pulling you off the couch. Your knees on the hard linoleum floor, your elbows resting on the seat of cushion in front of you. Giving Flor just enough space to sit pretty right in front of you.

Your arms instinctively circling around her thighs, pulling her core down to mouth. Her moans filled the small space around you. Vibrating off the walls with an echo. 

"Should 'ave done this in 'ere before." Harry mumbled more to himself than to either one of you as his tip teased your entrance. Your hips swayed instantly at the contact, slowly backing up the little bit you could to feel him slip inside of you.

He hissed, his fingers gripped the round flesh of your ass tightly before he surged forward, stuffing you to the brim with his cock.

"I ruin this pussy 'most everyday and you're still so fuckin' tight." He gritted out through his teeth, your walls clenched down around him at his words.

"Guess you're not fucking her good enough then." 

Your eyes widened in disbelief belief, disconnecting from her core so your mouth could gape in shock.

Did she hate you being able to walk?

"That so?" 

"'S what I said."

"Kitten," You squeaked when you were lifted by your shoulder, your back against Harry's chest. His hands snaked under your shirt just long enough to rip it off. "you can thank Flor tomorrow for why you won't be able to sit." 

"She'll probably be thanking me." The blonde rolled her eyes playfully teasing but enjoying the fact she was getting under his skin.

"Need me to stop, just tap my leg," his deep voice husked into your ear. Your hand tapping his leg, showing him you understood,  before you were hurled back in front of Florence's core by the back of your head. "good girl, now lick." 

You had Harry go hard on you before but when he sheathed himself fully inside of you in one go, you knew you were really going to be in for it. 

Your tongue tried to desperately get Flor off as fast as you could, your fingers slamming into her sweet spot, as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. You had a hard time knowing where to focus. Her addictive taste or his marksman worthy precision thrusts into your g-spot.

Your body felt like warm liquid was being pumped through your veins. Both of them gripping onto you at different ends, his hips grinding against your ass as he sat balls deep in your pussy. Her hips dragging against your mouth, fucking herself against your face. 

The sound of their collective moans slicked through the sticky, sex filled, air around you. Your mind lost in that space of non-thinking as your body moved back and forth between the two of them.

"Gonna cum all over my cock, sweetheart?" Your walls tightened around him as her fingers dug deeper into the back of your head. Her own cord snapping only moments before your own.

The white burning light washing through your body followed by the familiar gush of fullness in your lower tummy. 

"Holy shit," Florence breathed out, her arm dropped across her forehead. 

"Why haven't we done that here before?" Harry asked through short breaths.

"'S company property." You mumbled against the couch, your head buried into the soft material as your legs gave out to lay on the heaven-like cold floor below you. "We literally just said fuck you to New Line Cinema." 

You heard chuckling from either side of you, both of them still slightly out of breath.

"Hope we don't work with them again then." 

#harry styles x reader #florence pugh x reader #harry styles x florence pugh x reader #harry styles x you #Florence pugh x you #Florence pugh x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #florence pugh fanfic #florence pugh fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #mine #writing #threes company #three to tango #in the middle

[jean-kayak]

Anon Request: heyyy! so like i LOVED the haikyuu x thick black gf, do you think you could do it for the generations of miracles too? if that’s a lot maybe just akashi because i love that man

A/N: Here it is, anon! And I did all of them for you, so I hope you like it! (and yes it is 2 am)

Word Count: 2.5k

Haikyuu!! version here and here!

》Poor baby would be overwhelmed

》He wouldn't know what to do lmfao, and he probably be a stuttering mess when he first meets you

》He's probably nervous to touch you at first because he doesn't really know where to start and because there's so much of you

》But once he gets comfortable enough, he always wants you on top of him or on him in some way shape or form

》He always denies you when you think you might crush him because he really loves the weight of you on him, and he probably prefers to be the little spoon

》I feel like he's not big on getting head, but when you do, he feels like his life has changed

》It feels so good, he doesn't know what to do or where to go lmfao, so he just ends up squirming a ton, the moans he's making completely out of his control

》His body definitely feels like jelly when he cums, and he probably won't move for a while lmfao

》Now when he goes down on you? He was mesmerized by how much slick you had produced and all you guys had done was made out

》He'll just lay there between your legs, gripping your thighs tightly when you squirm under his gaze, but he can't help but watch

》He'll play with your nipples, run his fingers just shy of touching you where you want him just to see if you'll get even wetter

》And when he finally tastes you, he wonders why he wasn't doing this sooner, and you don't think you've seen him move with such enthusiasm off the court before

》He's moaning into your folds, his hands digging into your thighs as he eats you out with more fervor

》In that moment in time, he was content with staying in between your legs for the rest of his life

》But then you finally slept together, and he really thought that the air had been snatched from his lungs

》He can barely last long when he slides in, and he doesn't even move when he bottoms out lmfao, he just rests his face in your neck

》His hands are just scrambling and grabbing all over your body as he tries to stop himself from cumming and he hasn't even moved yet

》He obviously doesn't last long 💀 but he makes sure he cums, and the moment he slides out, he's out like a light lmfao

》And he definitely goes and buys you a ring the next day

》Fangirls, who? Mans forgets them the moment his eyes land on you

》Like seriously, he literally ignores them and only talks to you, walking right past them, and he probably doesn't realize that they're standing there

》Your boobs are definitely his favorite part of you, he'll lay on them, touch them, squeeze them, doesn't matter, his hands are always on them

》He's eccentric in public, but the moment you go down on him, he's nothing but a stuttering mess, moans and whimpers the only thing coming from him

》It literally takes everything in him to not buck up into your mouth, which feels like heaven,

》Puts a hand on your head to try and ground himself because he definitely feels like he's floating

》When he cums, the world seems to just disappear, and you have to rub over his face to make sure he's okay because he hasn't moved in a while

》And after you've made him feel spineless, it's only right for him to return the favor of course

》Once he starts though, he doesn't really plan on stopping and he never does it to just return the favor

》His eyes widen when he realizes how soaked you are when he brushes his fingers over your folds, his ministrations soaking his hand and wrist

》You're producing so much that he can't let it go to waste, so he's sliding in between your legs, and he freezes in shock for a second before attaching his mouth to your folds

》He definitely wants to stay there for the rest of his life, practically drowning in your slick, not really caring if it kills him

》Coaxes you to orgasm quickly just so he can taste more of you, that becoming his only priority

》And he makes sure to catch every last drop, the last thing he wants to do is waste it

》And when he's finally inside you, he tries to chuckle, thinking that there's no way you can feel this good, but it's cut off with a garbled moan

》You really do feel this good, your cunt hot and wet, sucking him back in every time he pulls out

》He feels a shudder run up his spine, his body practically shaking with euphoria as he can't focus on anything else but you

》His eyes roll when you clamp around him, and his orgasm comes out of nowhere, his body going rigid

》He can barely catch himself, his forehead resting against yours as he tries to calm his heartbeat down. "So, you wanna get married tomorrow?"

》Please, this man would have such a hard time making basic conversation lol

》He has a hard time trying to focus on talking to you because he keeps focusing on your body

》Definitely just freezes in place whenever you wear shorts or anything that shows off your thighs

》You're pretty sure you saw his nose bleeding one time, and he brushed you off when you asked, his face as red as a tomato

》He's like Kuroko, hesitantly touching you because he doesn't know what to do because you're so thick

》Once he gets comfortable and over that completely flustered phase, his hands are continuously on your thighs

》You find him squeezing them softly or laying on them, totally mesmerized by how soft they are

》When you offer to go down on him, he's quick to say that you don't have to, but you insist that you want to do it

》Needless to say, he never tries to convince you otherwise again

》The blush on his face spreads down to his chest, sweat coating his forehead as he has trouble controlling the noises he's making

》And the pleasure is so great that he actually goes silent, the only indication that he's cum is when you feel him shoot down your throat

》You actually have to check on him, and you chuckle softly as you fix his glasses, his breathing ragged

》I feel like he's one of the guys who's never really understood the appeal of going down on somebody, but he's not opposed to it

》And his opinion changes when he finally sees how soaked you get from just a tiny amount of foreplay and when your slick lands on his tongue

》You've actually never seen him put more emotion into something, and he's actually urging you to squeeze his head with your thighs, pushing them together as his fingers dig into them

》You actually have to pull him away from you when you cum, the only thing he's focused on is tasting you

》He really doesn't think you could get any better, but then he feels your walls around him, and he feels his heart skip multiple times

》He really doesn't know what to focus on, and he actually forgets to move, and you have to jolt him out of the trance you put him in

》Even after that, it's like his brain has stopped working lmfao, literally the only thing running through his mind is how warm and tight your walls are

》He groans when he sees your slick all over him, and he hits that spot inside of you, making you clench around him and that's what sends him over the edge

》And he didn't even realize he was that close 💀 "Marriage sounds like a good idea, doesn't it?"

》Ooh boy, this man, literally jaw drops open, hits the floor, and then he's quickly running over to you, trying to flirt with you to the max

》He's actually pretty surprised that he managed to get you, but he's definitely showing you off, making sure everyone knows that you're his

》He loves your ass, literally the only thing he'll pay attention to

》So, if you're back is towards him, you can totally forget about him following the conversation

》Expect him to smack your ass randomly, like outta nowhere

》He'll be the pettiest boyfriend in the world saying shit like "I'll do it if you suck my dick" stupid shit like that 🙄✋🏽

》So, then you do...you suck the soul of out him and this man literally buys you whatever you want

》He can't help but cant his hips, thrusting into your mouth, but it doesn't last long because he's cumming after a couple of thrusts, a deep groan coming out of his throat

》While you're making out, he teases your folds with his fingers, but he stops kissing you when he realizes how wet you are

》His attention is quickly shifted to your cunt, as he slides down your body, pushing your legs to your chest before eating you out like his last meal

》He loses himself in your taste, your juices coating the lower half of his face and dripping down his chin

》You whine from the overstimulation when you cum, and he pulls away but once you recover, his mouth is right back on you

》And he'll either be there or fucking you into the mattress, holding your legs in the same position

》His eyes are rolling in the back of his head, trying to hold back as he fucks into you, a white ring appearing at the base of his dick

》How much slick you produce always amazes him, no matter what he does, and it's all he pays attention to as he fucks you

》He cums way too early for his liking, surprising himself

》But at the same time, it's not like he could really control it with how good you feel around him

》He fucking you through his high, bringing you to yours, and then he's pulling out of you, resting back on his haunches

》"Looks like I'm gonna have to marry you."

》This man tries to act like he's not floored by your body, but he absolutely is

》His eyes are always running over your body whenever you're not looking his way

》Your thighs and your ass are his favorite parts; picks you up so that he can feel them around his waist, his hands splayed on your ass

》Is always laying on your thighs, literally does anything while he's in between them

》When you give him head the first time, he's pretty patient because come on now, my mans is packing

》But he jumps slightly in surprise when you fully take him down your throat, digging his nails into his palm when he sees himself in your throat

》He's literally sinking into whatever furniture he's sitting/laying on because he's never been with someone that could actually take all of him before

》He doesn't really know how to react because he's never felt pleasure like this before

》Got this man's legs twitching lmfao

》He doesn't even move after he cums, just lays there, and there's no way you can move him so you just leave him there 💀

》Now, one thing you'll have to be ready for is when he eats you out

》The first time he gets his mouth on you? His snacks are being thrown out the window

》You're his snack now, and he literally will push your legs up and out of his way, and there's literally nothing you can do to stop him

》He gives overstimulation a new meaning when you meet him, and he doesn't let you go until he's gotten his fill

》He's eating you out more so for his pleasure than yours. Period.

》This man is still lazy though, and he makes you do all the work, so he'll just lay back and let you do all the work as you sink down on him

》But then he feels your walls pulsing around him, and his hands are twitching as he tries to control himself

》The only thing he can do is rest his hands on your hips as you ride him, and he really can't do anything else even if he wanted to

》He starts fucking up into you once he starts reaching his climax, a deep "fuck" leaving him as he shoots into you, and you're not too far behind

》"It's not that big of a deal, but you wanna get married?" (It is that big of a deal 🙄✋🏽)

》He tries to seem cool, calm, collected when he first meets you

》He's not like Atsushi, who tries to pretend like he's not amazed by your body

》He's just trying to play off how you affect him

》I feel like he doesn't have a favorite body part of yours, wanting to show love to every part

》His hands run over every single inch, literally no part of you goes untouched by him

》Like Midorima, he's not really all about receiving head, but that confident persona is gone once you go down on him

》He's never been the one to become speechless, but you literally render him just that, his brain completely blurred, the only thing he can think about is how amazing your mouth is

》He starts to back away from you a little bit lmao because of how good he feels, the pleasure building up in his spine quickly

》He squirms a ton when he cums, and that's all he can do lol, and he doesn't deny you in the future if you want to go down on him

》He wants to pleasure you too, so he'll easily go down on you, but he chuckles in disbelief when he sees your glistening folds

》And he's amazed by how it seems like your arousal is endless, the juices coating his tongue and his face

》Moves his hands out of the way so that he can feel your legs squeezing his head like Midorima

》He eats you out with so much energy, smiling against you when you fall apart, living for the feeling of your legs twitching against his ears from overstimulation

》The first time you sleep together, his plans to take it slow are quickly forgotten

》Your walls seem to swallow him quickly, practically sucking him in, and he groans in surprise

》He wants to move, but if he does, he knows he'll cum in record time, but even the warmth and pulse of your walls is nearly enough to send him over the edge

》He just tries to aim for your g-spot just in case he cums way before you are able to, but that only sends him higher because your walls are clamping around him

》He knows he's not gonna last long, and he'll make it up to you later, but at that moment, he picks up the speed of his hips, his eyes slipping shut

》He has to brace himself when he cums, his hands on either side of your hands, his lungs feeling like they can't get enough air

》"Doesn't marriage sound like an amazing idea to you?"

Tags: @that-chick212

#kuroko tetsuya #tetsuya kuroko #kuroko smut #kuroko tetsuya headcanons #kise ryota #ryota kise #kise ryota smut #kise ryota headcanons #midorima shintarou #shintarou midorima #midorima shintarou smut #midorima shintarou headcanons #aomine daiki #daiki aomine #aomine smut #aomine daiki headcanons #murasakibara atsushi #atsushi murasakibara #murasakibara atsushi smut #murasakibura atsushi headcanons #akashi seijuro #seijuro akashi #akashi seijuro smut #akashi seijuro headcanons #knb smut #knb x black reader #kuroko no basuke #kuroko's basketball #kuroko no basket

[fruitcoops]

Hi Eve! Just wondering if you could write a coops smut where one of them wears lingerie? You sort of explored the concept in the Valentines Day smut where Sirius wore thigh highs, but i was maybe thinking a fic where one of them wears a full set. Its all completely up to you!

How about both? Happy smutty Monday, folks! Coops credit goes to @lumosinlove

TW for smut, subspace/ subdrop

It was Friday, and Remus was learning the glory of stockings on hockey thighs.

It was Thursday, and he began to wonder how to repay his lovely fiancé.

It was Sunday, two weeks after Valentine’s Day, and between flashes of thunder outside and damn near howls of pleasure into their traumatized pillows, Remus was still thinking about the socks.

It was Tuesday, a bye week, and the last piece of his plan clicked into place as Sirius hefted him further over the countertop by the muscle of his thigh with one hand keeping his chest flush to the cool marble.

It was Wednesday, and Remus smiled to himself as Sirius snuggled closer in the darkness of a quiet night in. He ran an absentminded hand through inky curls, relishing the soft puffs of Sirius’ breath on the hollow of his throat while their legs remained comfortably tangled. You have no idea what’s coming, he thought, letting his lips linger on Sirius’ forehead. No idea at all.

It was Sunday, and Remus had spent two minutes hyping himself up in the bathroom mirror. The rustling from their bedroom had stopped long before. “Alright, you can do this,” he murmured, leaning his hands on the edge of the sink. “You look hot. This isn’t weird. He’s gonna lose his fucking mind.”

“Mon loup?”

Anxiety leaped in Remus’ stomach. “One second!” he called back through the closed door. He stared at himself for a moment longer, then sighed. It was a stupid idea—there was no way Sirius would want to see him in something as silly as this. He looked ridiculous, and it wasn’t even worth it; any clothing would be off in a heartbeat anyway. Sirius always preferred skin-to-skin contact.

The lacy edge of the garter belt itched the peak of his hip as he blew out a slow breath. Did Remus still dream about Sirius’ thigh highs over a month later? Yes. Did that guarantee Sirius would have a similar reaction to seeing him in actual lingerie? Not necessarily.

Remus liked guarantees. They were safe. Soothing. Unquestionable.

“Are you alright?” Sirius’ voice floated through the door on a wave of concern.

Fuck it. The bathroom lights caught the silver buckles. It’s now or never. “You can’t laugh, okay?” he warned, closing a hand around the knob.

“I won’t. I have a surprise for you, too.”

That bit of curiosity gave him that last push of courage he needed to open the door and step out of the safety of the bathroom. His pulse skyrocketed, though whether it was from the sudden feeling of absolute exposure or the sight of Sirius waiting on their bed in some sort of sheer, lacy top, Remus couldn’t tell. Sirius stared at him, lips slightly parted. Remus cleared his throat and spread his hands. “Surprise?”

“Oh.”

“You look—you look great,” he managed lamely. There were a million better words to describe the lavender fabric cascading over the planes of Sirius’ chest, but his brain had been replaced by the blush prickling up his neck and face. Going for the basic black garter belt and underwear suddenly seemed subpar instead of classically sexy.

Sirius shifted on his knees and reached for him. “Viens ici.”

“It—” Remus faltered. His chest and legs were bare, save for the satiny clasps holding the garters in place on his thighs. Sirius was just staring, like he couldn’t believe his eyes. It had been a long time since he felt self-conscious around Sirius; every bit of missed embarrassment flooded back at once as he sat on the foot of the bed. “I liked your socks on Valentine’s Day, and I figured—I dunno. This is the surprise, by the way.”

“C’mere.” Sirius’ eyes finally flickered up to his face without a trace of judgement.

“I’m here.”

“Here,” Sirius repeated, tugging him over to straddle his lap with an arm around Remus’ waist. He kissed him, soft and slow but undeniably wanting, before he leaned back. “You look so handsome, mon coeur.”

“Yeah?”

“Ouais.” And, god, if Remus didn’t love the way his voice curled around that word, turning it into a million perfectly lazy syllables.

He rolled the hem of Sirius’ top between his fingers and hummed against his mouth. “This is new.”

“You like it?”

“Mhmm.” It was hard to tear his eyes away from the shadow of muscle beneath the delicate fabric.

Mischief flickered over Sirius’ face. “It’s called a ‘babydoll’. Thought you might get a kick out of that.”

“Babydoll for my baby,” Remus teased, kissing his nose with a playful tug to the lace edges. Sirius’ gaze slipped back down to his lap—no, his legs—and his fingers toyed with the seam of the accompanying underwear. Remus placed a light kiss to the shell of his ear, watching every twitch of his hands. “What do you want?”

“To look at you.” There was nothing but honesty when Sirius glanced back to him. The intensity of it sent a spark up Remus’ spine; he had grown so used to Sirius’ general aura of focus that he had nearly forgotten what it felt like wholly directed on him.

“And…?”

“And nothing. Just to look.” Nervousness flickered across his fine features as he settled back against the headboard and pulled Remus with him. “Just for a minute, and then we can do whatever you—”

Remus silenced him with a kiss, bracketing his waist with his palms. The babydoll was like water under his touch, but Sirius was as solid as ever. “This is for you,” he said when they separated. “You can look for as long as you like.”

Except Sirius didn’t only want to look—he wanted to touch. That fact was made clear within seconds, when the hands smoothing up and down Remus’ thighs in rhythmic motions began dipping beneath the straps of his garter belt and sliding up to his narrow hips, then hooked around the backs of his bent knees. Sirius pressed one palm flat over his abs and Remus shivered, trailing his lips down his neck. He wasn’t aroused in the lightning-fast please please I need you now kind of way, but more of an I’m about to float into space if you don’t keep touching me like a treasure buzz.

“Re, honey,” Sirius murmured. It was only then that Remus realized most of his breaths were coming in short pants instead of kisses. The nickname was one of his favorites, reserved for the times when he was well and truly gone; it was more tender than mon coeur, and worlds more intimate than his own name or even sweetheart. He nipped the edge of Sirius’ jaw and felt him gasp.

Remus licked his lips as he pulled away just enough to speak. “D’you want me to take it off?”

“Never.”

He smiled. “It has to come off if you want to fuck me.”

“Deux pièces.” The arm around his lower back tightened as one hand came to rest on his ass, which was still fully covered by lace-lined black fabric. Remus had opted for the ‘boyshort’ choice, as it looked to be the most likely to prevent slippage.

That, and it had fewer strappy bits. The buckles were hard enough to figure out—adding an accidental wedgie into the mix seemed like a poor idea.

“Yeah, but the important piece can only come off if I take the fun one off first,” Remus explained, snapping one of the ties. Sirius stared at it for a long moment before blinking slowly.

“Are you sure?”

“Giving me puppy eyes isn’t going to flip this inside out, babes,” Remus laughed. “Two seconds.”

“But you’ll keep the fun part on, right?” Sirius slid down to lay next to him while he wrestled with the garter belt, hissing curses each time the buckles pinched his fingers. It was, quite possibly, the least sexy thing he had ever done. That did not seem to deter his fiancé—if anything, watching Remus struggle with black satin strips in the dark while laying flat on his back appeared to be the highlight of Sirius’ day.

The fog in his head cleared a bit as he worked his underwear down his thighs, being careful not to mess with the garters too much. It had taken him five full minutes to get the damn things on in the first place, and he wasn’t exactly in the mood to waste another five that could be spent in much more pleasurable ways. “The ‘fun part’—” Remus couldn’t spare a hand to do air quotes, but he hoped Sirius got the gist. “—is a lot more trouble than it’s worth.”

“Nope.”

He paused. “You’re not the one losing a fight to a few scraps of fabric.”

Sirius met his eyes, looking every inch the fallen angel with his hair splayed over the pillow and his lavender whatever-the-hell-glory pooling at his mid-chest. “Do you want me to take it off for you?”

“I thought you wanted the fun part to stay on.”

“Here.” Remus barely managed to kick the underwear off his ankles before Sirius shuffled over to lay between his thighs and attach his mouth just beneath the left garter.

“Oh, fuck me,” Remus huffed, letting his head fall back against the pillows.

“Gimme a minute,” Sirius said into his skin while he licked a stripe up to the first buckle and carefully pulled it down to hook into its proper place. Remus arched his back, only to be pushed down a moment later as Sirius electrified patches of skin he didn’t even know he had. Teeth slipped along the curve of his muscle and nibbled just above the back of his knee; Remus clenched his hands in the sheets with a shuddering inhale and tried his best to keep his wits about him.

By the time Sirius moved on to his other thigh, he was a goner. He could practically feel his pulse through his dick and the fog had returned with a vengeance, blurring the world at the edges while he let go of the tension in his back. How could he possibly be stressed when Sirius was saying such pretty things? The warmth of lips on his thighs disappeared and he stretched his arms above his head, relishing in his own contentment and Sirius’ light laugh. “You’re lovely,” he mumbled. Really, it was the only appropriate word for the occasion.

There was a rustling sound next to him, but Remus didn’t bother paying attention to what it was—Sirius’ weight all around him was more than enough to occupy—

“Oh.” His eyes flashed open as a lube-slick finger pushed into him to the first knuckle. “Oh.”

“Were you listening?” Sirius sounded faintly amused. Remus smiled lazily; he must have missed a joke (or a warning) somewhere in the tumble of words from that lovely pout. He rocked his hips onto Sirius’ finger, stretching one leg out as the other remained bent and tilted away. It was only kept in place by Sirius’ free hand, but even the idea of being held sent a tingling feeling all the way to his toes.

“How many?” Remus asked, looping his arms under Sirius’ to pull him closer. He needed warmth, and the smooth familiarity of Sirius’s chest against his own. He needed the encompassing feeling of being covered, which had yet to fade, no matter how much more muscle he gained.

Sirius smiled into the side of his neck. “Two.”

“Really?”

“Mhmm. Are you still with me?”

“Sure.” The world zoomed back into 3D focus when Sirius’ fingers brushed his sweet spot and Remus gripped his shoulder blades with a hitch of breath—his free leg jerked inward at the sudden shift. “There. There, now.”

“I have other plans, sweetheart.”

“Now,” Remus insisted. He would give Sirius anything he wanted if it meant he could feel that thrill again. Their bedroom was dim, but the lights popping at the corners of his vision as Sirius closed a hand around his shaft and continued sliding two fingers into him were so very bright. Remus moved his hands down from Sirius’ shoulders to his hips, then lower to give him a hint. “Now?”

“I was going to do three—”

“Now,” Remus said, brooking no room for argument. He pushed Sirius’ chest until he rolled onto his back—bless the man for his quick thinking skills, because Remus’ new muscle still wasn’t enough to manhandle him properly—and settled himself into his previous position on Sirius’ lap.

A dark eyebrow arched, though his dilated pupils gave away Sirius’ true feelings. “Like this?”

“You said you wanted to look, didn’t you?” Thinking back, Remus couldn’t imagine how he could ever have been worried about this. He took a few deep breaths as he sank down, biting hard on his lip against the dizzy want prodding the edges of his mind. This needed to last. Sirius’ mouth was cherry red and wet when he glanced down, fully seated and feeling rather confident about the whole thing. “Then look.”

The first rock of his hips brought a whimper from plush lips and Remus grinned; he took Sirius’ hands and planted them on his thighs before bracing his own against the broad planes of his chest. Silky fabric parted under his palms and his smile widened into giddiness as he slid his hands beneath it to rest on warm skin. Sirius pushed the side of his face into the pillow with a huff of breath.

“No,” Remus panted as he continued to move, pulling Sirius’ chin back up. His hands were shaking when he cupped his face. “Look. L—look at me.”

Sirius’ brows pitched and his silver gaze flickered down to the garter belt; Remus let his head fall back as long fingers toyed with the straps, sometimes tugging gently, sometimes snapping fireworks through his legs. The power shift between them ebbed and flowed like the tide. He wanted a tsunami.

He worked the words around in his mouth for a moment, unsure of how to ask for what he wanted. One of Sirius’ hands traveled to his back and began moving in steady presses up and down his spine. “Fuck me,” Remus pleaded.

A synchronized roll of their hips made them both moan. “I am,” Sirius said breathlessly.

Remus licked his lips and made a valiant effort to get air back into his lungs. “Please.”

His expression must have made the message clear enough, because understanding rippled across the puzzlement on Sirius’ face in mere moments; with a firm squeeze, Remus’ hips stopped cold. Mistake, his brain thought immediately as Sirius’ dick rested directly on his prostate. Mistake, mistake, keep moving or you’re gonna—

“Remus.”

The whine that tore from his mouth would have been embarrassing if he had any self-conscious braincells left to spare. He bit his lip again, teetering on a knife’s edge while his thighs shook and his knees slid on the sheets.

“Deep breaths.”

One.

“One more for me.”

Two. He was wheezing slightly with the effort of keeping down his moans.

“Try again.”

A frustrated grumble built in his chest, but he obliged. Three. The air was warm and smelled like Sirius; it was intoxicating. His next breath was even deeper, and he let it fill him.

“Good job.”

Something in Remus perked its ears up and he managed a lopsided smile, blinking his eyes open to look down at Sirius. His face was still soft, but his eyes had a tarnished edge to them that sent a shiver down Remus’ spine and nearly undid all his hard work.

“Color?”

He didn’t hesitate. “Green.”

“Are you slipping?”

Slipping, slipped, gone for good, he thought. “Mhmm.”

Sirius laid him back down, catching himself from sliding out at the last second. Remus arched his back at the slow press in. “How do you want it?”

“I already told you twice,” he said, planting a kiss to Sirius’ upper lip. The warm touch around his thighs had not faltered yet. “Come on, Captain, you know what I want.”

Sirius positioned his legs to wrap around his waist and kissed him fully, stealing the breath from Remus’ body in one fell swoop as he began to move his hips again; the pace increased so steadily that Remus nearly lost himself in it. The lace of the garter belt no longer itched, but slid in a blissful rhythm instead. The bits of cold where the small buckles rubbed against his skin were a mind-melting contrast to the cocoon of warmth he sank into.

“M—” Remus didn’t even get the word out before Sirius gave him a hard thrust and pressed their tangled fingers further into the mattress. He muffled a shout into the dip of his shoulder and sucked a mark there between moans. “Oh, fuck, Sirius.”

His head was spinning with the mixture of sensations—he had been so focused on being full that he almost forgot about the hand still moving terribly slow along his shaft. One leg kicked out on its own accord and he twitched, one hip canting upward until Sirius held it back down without breaking stride. Remus’ breaths were little more than staccato moans; he knew bringing out Sirius’ dominant side was an easy switch to flip, but he hadn’t been expecting the change to be quite so sudden. Not that he was complaining, of course.

Sirius let go of his hand to drag his leg back up, fingertips digging in just below the garter as the new angle drew a desperate ‘holy shit’ from Remus and a squeak of protest from their bedsprings. He had forgotten how long it had been since Sirius truly railed his lights out—the tingling sensation racing through his thighs and up to his chest was a welcome companion.

And he began to laugh.

Breathless and practically hiccups, but a laugh all the same. He could see Sirius’ confusion in his mind’s eye despite the fact that he had given up on trying to keep his eyes open several thrusts prior. The movement slowed. “What?” Sirius asked. “What’s so funny?”

“I fucking love you,” Remus said between gasps.

“Why are you laughing?”

“I don’t know.” Something warm slid down his cheek. “It’s so good and I can’t—I don’t know. Keep moving, please, please.”

Sirius’ thumb swiped across his cheekbone and he picked up the pace again; Remus’ shocked laughter faded back into panting and babbling within a few seconds, but the pure elation didn’t slip until he felt his orgasm approaching and resorted to leaving a trail of sloppy kisses along the line of Sirius’ collarbone and neck. Sirius liked his mouth, liked feeling it on him, and Remus could tell that he was getting close by the heat building under his palms where he struggled to find a handhold.

“I l—I lo—I love you,” he managed, adding a love bite to his collection around a groan. They were both sweaty messes, but the salt on his lips was exactly what he wanted.

“I love you, too.” Sirius’ voice was just as labored as his own, buzzing against every pleasure center Remus had.

“I lo—” He broke off with a strangled shout as Sirius squeezed the sensitive part of his thigh at the same time as a thrust. There was nowhere for his mouth to go. He bit down hard on instinct.

Sirius hissed in pain and Remus immediately pulled away, feeling frantic and worried and awful. “Ow.”

“ ‘m sorry,” he said, still a little wild as he covered Sirius’ cheek in apologetic kisses and searched for a hand to hold. “ ‘m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I promise.”

“It’s okay,” Sirius assured him, soothing his hands as they skimmed across his body. “Just surprised me.”

“Didn’t mean to hurt you.” Horror tried to push in around the tangle of joy-want-need-more, but there simply wasn’t room. Remus settled for running his trembling fingers through Sirius’ hair and kissing him gently. He hoped it would be enough.

“You didn’t hurt me,” Sirius said against his lips, rubbing circles with his thumb in the crease of Remus’ hip and thigh. The whirlwind in his head calmed to tv static—the world tunneled to them and their bed. Remus buried his face in Sirius’ neck and slid deep under.

He registered the pressure of Sirius’ hands and the feeling of his own throat pouring out nonsense; he felt his muscles clench and the slide of satin on sweaty skin before balling his fists so tight in Sirius’ babydoll top that it nearly tore. He heard his own breaths become shallow, knew it was Sirius’ hand running along the crown of his dick, and finally, finally shuddered apart with a hitching whine.

“Re, honey.”

Remus sighed through his nose and held him close. He was beyond comfortable, if not a little sticky. Again, his body suggested.

No, his brain answered immediately.

Yes.

No.

Yes.

No.

“I can’t,” Remus slurred.

Lips pressed against the corner of his mouth. “What can’t you do?”

“Go again.”

He felt laughter from the weight above him—Sirius, his brain supplied with a happy fizz down his back—and let his legs be pulled back down to the mattress. “Yeah, not a chance.”

The warmth inside him slipped away and he winced. “Put it back.”

“Nope.”

“Why?”

“Cause we’re definitely done.” The laughter returned, bright as a summer day, and he rubbed his face in the hollow of angular collarbones where the vibration was strongest. “How are you feeling?”

“Noodle.”

“Okay, sweetheart.”

Remus closed his eyes and stifled a yawn; the world could wait until he was done with his nap.

“Hey.” Someone tapped his hip and he frowned. “No falling asleep yet.”

“I’m tired.”

“I know, but we need water and a shower.”

Remus squirmed around until he could fix Sirius with a look. “Can’t stand up.”

“You hate sleeping while you’re sweaty.”

Fair point. Remus became suddenly and harshly aware of how sticky he was and pulled a face, flexing his fingers on Sirius’ back. The high was softening; he felt more settled in himself already. He nudged Sirius until he laid down, then curled into his ribs with an arm and a leg slung over his body. The aftershocks raced in pops of lightning down his legs. “Teddy bear.”

“Hmm?”

“Teddy bear,” he repeated. “ ’s all you are, at the end of the day. I love it. I love you.”

Sirius pulled him closer and kissed his temple. “How are you feeling?”

“Better.” He stretched all four limbs and felt his elbow pop, then relaxed. “Much better. Alright, I need to get this thing off.”

If trying to put the garter belt on had been difficult, it was nothing compared to forcing his unsteady and sweat-slick fingers to get it off. “Do you need some help?” Sirius asked, amused.

“No.”

He struggled for a moment longer, spoiling the sweetness of the drop with frustration, before Sirius’ hands replaced his own and carefully untied each strap so he could get it off properly. “There you go.”

Remus kicked it to the floor and glared balefully at it. “I love you, but I’m never wearing that again.”

“Never?”

“Maybe one more time,” he conceded. The confidence boost had been dizzying. “As long as you keep this.”

Sirius looked down at where Remus’ fingers were tugging with the hem of his slip. “I really like it, too.”

“The color’s nice.”

“C’mere.” Sirius wrapped his other arm around Remus’ shoulders and drew him in for a snuggle, rubbing his back with one hand. “Let me know when I can get us some water, okay?”

“You can go, if you need to.”

���Really?”

He hesitated, then moved his head to rest above Sirius’ heartbeat. “No.”

“D’accord.” Sirius kissed his forehead again.

Remus lasted three minutes before he couldn’t stand the tacky feeling of the lube any longer, but those three minutes were the coziest he could remember. Sirius was warm and traced patterns over his bare skin; his soft lips decorated Remus’ face, simultaneously lulling him and keeping him from falling asleep. With a sigh, he detached his arms. “Okay.”

“I’ll be right back,” Sirius promised. The room was darker without him—the bed stayed warm. Remus scooted over into the indent he left and basked in the memory, cataloguing his aches. Abs? Sore. Arms? Still good. Thighs? A bit chafed from lace, but alright. Neck? Scattered with love bites he couldn’t recall receiving, though that was a fairly common occurrence.

“That was quick,” he mumbled when the other side of the mattress dipped.

Sirius shrugged. The babydoll shift was tragically absent. “The usual two minutes, actually.”

“Must have zoned out,” he hummed, leaning into the cool washcloth on his face. A few tears always slipped out when they dipped into rougher territory, though he never felt sad. It was just…overwhelming, in the best way.

Sirius cleaned his thighs with the same careful touch as his face before handing him a cup of water. “Are you hungry?”

“Nope.” Remus downed the glass in two gulps and opened his arms. “Bedtime.”

“No pajamas?” Sirius asked with a laugh, though he obliged and let Remus laminate himself to his side.

“Unnecessary.”

“No shower?”

His instinctive response was god no, cuddles take precedence and I’m dead on my feet, but a shower did sound nice. Sirius washing his hair, scrubbing the last bits of shakiness and his drop away, going to bed clean…

“Alright,” he agreed grudgingly. “We’re probably going to need to change the sheets, too.”

“That can wait until we’re done.” And before he could even attempt to stand on his own, Sirius gathered him into his arms and hoisted him off the bed. If he wasn’t afraid he’d fall flat on his face without help, Remus would have protested. “Mon dieu, I forgot how muscly you are now.”

“Says the man who can’t stop ogling me whenever I take my shirt off,” Remus teased, then frowned when he saw the purpling bruise on Sirius’ neck. “Holy shit, my dentist could identify me with that thing. Are you sure you’re okay?”

Sirius paused in the bathroom doorway and kissed him hard, stirring the last dregs of arousal in Remus’ gut. “You have blanket permission to do that whenever you like.”

Remus gaped at him, speechless. “Well, that’s not fair,” he managed. “I’m tired.”

“Not a bad way to spend a Sunday night,” Sirius mused. His sneaky squeeze of Remus’ ass did not go unnoticed. “In my personal opinion, of course.”

“Of course,” Remus said drily. Maybe a shower wasn’t the worst idea after all. His knees weren’t nearly sore enough yet.

#remus lupin #sirius black #coops #smut #my fic #fanfic #sweater weather #vaincre #lumosinlove #lingerie #subspace #subdrop

[sly-merlin]

Chewy peaches |• jung jaehyun

Characters : thief! Reader x stranger! Jaehyun

Words :2.1k (1.8k smut)( rest is drama)

Genre : erotica. Just filth. One night stand. No attachment between characters but a sweet surprise at the end.

Warning: dom! jaehyun, lip biting, slight choking(jaehyun’s throat), jae has a shoulder biting kink?, aftercare(it’s a warning yes), oral(female receiving), restraining her hands behind her back, unprotected sex(stunt not to be performed irl). Him being sweet and dubblabblabblah. he calls her chewy bcs of her bubble ass

Summary: you. Him. A bar and a room.

a/n: @lofied muafii meri jaan. Your soulmate is also a slowmate. Accept this birthday gift muah muah.~happy birthday to you~

As soon as you both entered the room, jaehyun had you caged in his arms against the door, lips fervently finding yours in a fiery yet soft kiss as if you both were some long lost lovers. Except you were not. You had found him or rather he had discovered you while you were busy messily executing your even messy dance moves against bodies of strangers. A look at him and you had decided you wanted him to shake your core up with the same intensity his gaze followed you with. A drink with him had transformed into five and now you couldn't wait to be under him, ready to forget about your life for a little while with the handsome stranger.

Cupping your chin with his three fingers, his tongue traced your luscious lower lip and your hands gripped his shirt a little too tightly.

"I don't like strawberries." He bit your lip, his crude fingertips running over the edge of your jaw.

"Yet here you are. Dying to devour me" looking at his demanding eyes, your tongue forced itself into his mouth and very gratefully, he let it in. His unsteady hands found your ass as your hungry tongues danced with each other without any tune. Throaty gasps resounded in the small room of the bar and reached your somewhat deaf ears.

He sounded like heaven and you wanted to hear more of him.

Slowly tracking your hand up his chest to the throat, your middle finger softly pressed itself there, earning a hiccupped gasp from him.

"Fuck.do it again."

Caging his throat in your hand, this time your thumb did the deed and he hiccupped again but whined when you removed your fingers completely to run them over his cheeks.

"Don't wanna kill you before you ruin me, pretty boy."

He chuckled against your detached lips and took the breathing time to focus on the curves of your ass but your tight dress didn’t give him the access he wanted. looping your arms around his neck, he ran his fingers on your inner thighs and in one swift motion, pulled your dress upto your waist, freeing your lower half of the restraining cloth. Your legs shivered at the sudden lack of coverage and your thighs hugged each other.

“I like your chewy butt.” He chuckled deeply, squeezing and releasing your ass cheeks multiple times, clearly enjoying himself too much.

“and can you sell me your lips?” biting his lip once, you managed to catch a strained whine from him. studying his eyes blazing with desire, you kissed him again minus the teasing.

“You are tasty,” he commented, pulling you closer. Your breasts were now enfolded under your dress, ready to pop out at any chance given. You moaned into his mouth when his fingers, ghosting over the string of your thong, jammed into the material to touch your wetness from behind. Your folds shuddered at the soft pats he fingers gave, your stomach and abdomen tightening to glorify his ministrations. Your lips buzzed at the foreign sensation breaching your insides and you tugged at his nape.

Humming, he croaked out, “jump”

With a push of your heels, your legs ended up encircling his belted waist but as he jerked his thumb towards your hole and as a result, your lips slipped from his due to the sensitiveness, head falling on his shoulder, breathlessly.

“you look so deprived” you felt his chest vibrating.

He moved you towards the bed, fingers still buried in your underwear. Tossing you on the single bed, his fingers left you throbbing and he didn’t waste any second in stripping away the useless material. Soon, your heels were discarded too.

“you are dripping woman.” he voiced his thought. “fingers or lips?” he breathed and you cursed loudly at him for giving you such a hard choice.

“I thought I already told you!” you snapped and he let out a harsh breath before settling himself between your legs, parting them ever so slightly. He lowered his head to blow at your clit and you felt yourself floating as your back arched itself, giving him more of you.

He spread his tongue over your heat to lick it in one go before sucking at your folds with his skilful lips. your breathy, needy gasps harmonising with his lips were sinuous enough to create knots in your stomach. You kept cursing and he heed none, instead inserted his two fingers into your cunt. His mouth and fingers synced together, turning your legs jelly and your lower body puddle under the pressure.

"Don't stop"

His fingers just brushed against your g-spot, not reaching it properly but it did it for you.

“I’m close jae” you whimpered his name that he had introduced himself with. by now, your short dress was feeling like an adhesive, clingy and annoyingly sticky.

He said nothing, just increased his pace and the very next second, you hips buckled and you coated his chin and hands with your cum, earning groans from him.

He panted, gazing at your fucked up body, mentally patting himself for what he had done to you.

"Relax" he mouthed.

With the back of your hand, you cleaned the sweat off your forehead before closing your legs to save yourself from the sudden cold.

“you did good.” He said and right when you thought he was leaving already, he started undressing himself in front of you. as your chest rose and fell with rapid breaths, you gawked at him, teething your lip once again.

His godly built was exposed to you as he unbuttoned his black shirt, unbuckled his belt and liberated his hips. You thought you heard a jingle and your mind automatically went to your bag which was probably lying on the floor near the door but when you saw his freed member being pumped in his hand, the haze returned to ground your eyes on him.

“you good?” he asked, hopping on the bed, hovering over your body again.

“want more.” Voice mirroring the mess you were, you tried to push your back, hand reaching for his cock but he laid you down again.

“I’m short on time, chewy. Maybe some other day.” Bobbing his head to the side, he chuckled before dropping his face to nibble on your ear. You giggled at the tickle.

“then stop playing.”

Hearing your serious tone, he straightened his back, eyes suddenly darkening.

Hurriedly ridding you of your dress and the bra, his hands moulded your breasts, eliciting nervous gasps from you.

“do you have any plans of fucking me or is your dick just for show?” you groaned. He threw his hands up in the air and clicked his tongue when you whined at the lack of attention.

He seemed like a silent lover, you wondered but before you could think any further, his hands on your hands turned your around, hoisting your ass up in the air. with your face squished down, you tried to create a balance with your elbows but he grabbed your hands to tuck them beside you.

“don’t move too much or it might hurt.” folding your wrists into his one palm, his knees drew your one thigh apart, inserting his full length into you without any further remark. Your jaw clenched feeling him plugging you from behind.

You couldn’t see him but the grunt he let out while adjusting himself made you lightheaded just by visualising his contorted face.

“tell me to stop whenever you want but I doubt your poor pussy would want that now.”

You roughly pushed yourself on his dick in answer and with a bursting ego, he started ramming with rubbishly fast pace.

“you like it rough?hmm?” driving his hips, he penetrated your hole in uncalculated rhythm. He kept grunting and rambling before he stopped but only to lean into your trembling body. Placing a quick kiss on your back, he moved further to bite on shoulder, receiving an ear piercing hiss from you.

“what the fuck are you doing dickhead?” breathing out of control, you choked out.

“leaving my mark.”

“don't eat my shoulder then!.” he chuckled at your frustrated tone and futile attempt at fucking yourself on his dick.

Ignoring your incoherent words that followed, he released your one arm to let you ease your pulsating cunt. Rubbing at your clit, you moaned louder than before but the pillow muffled some noises for you. Contrary to his crazy hips, his hand on the softness of your ass was warm and sweet.

“I'm close, princess.”

You heard him mumbling but your head wasn’t ready to form any words so you just whimpered some pleas.

“don’t stop. Right there. I think I’m gonna-

For the second time that night, your orgasm blurred your surroundings. He left your hand and grunted loudly before filling and warming you with his cum. Releasing your waist, he let you fall on the bed softly and your mouth instantly opened with relief. He pulled himself out and busied himself with admiring your glinting self.

“you are more insane in bed” he whispered, blowing kisses on your shoulders. You hummed again as his hands rotated you to face him. brushing your sweaty hair aside, he kept mumbling to you.

“we need to get up chewy. I don’t like this bed too much.” you tried to chuckle but a tired sigh betrayed you. He giggled before your sore arms got his attention and he began massaging them to soothe the ache. Your eyes fluttered shut at the gesture and it felt like eternity after which he got up.

you opened your eyes after a few minutes to find Jaehyun locking his belt in place.

“wait for me dickhead.”

“I ain't going anywhere without you chewy.” You grimaced at the ridiculous name.

Raising yourself up, you hooked your bra and were looking for your dress when a cotton cloth met with your face.

“you are all sweaty.” He laughed for the nth time at you and you couldn't understand why he found your existence so amusing. His considerate hands cleaned your face delicately, dressed you up and with the same hurry, pulled you to your feet, his actions getting weirder with each passing second.

“I’m not stopping you if you wanna go. Stop treating me like a doll,” he winced at you screech.

“no, you are coming with me.” Saying that , he placed his hand in his back pocket and everything that happened after had your jaw dropping on the floor, especially when he opened his mouth,

“y/n aka yves, you are under arrest for stealing the paintings last week.” Unfolding the cuffs, he forced your wrist into it. “Hello,I'm Officer Jung Jaehyun, a new transfer." grasping the adjoining cuff, he addressed your dumbfounded figure again, “you are going with me. To jail and if you don’t wanna flash yourself to all the officers there, I can get you a decent complementary pajama before that” The wink he shot and the way your code name had rolled off his tongue had your blood boiling and you tugged at your wrist harshly, protesting to this act.

“so you people now fuck your criminals before arresting them? and I don’t see a lady police officer here so you better open this before I start screaming.” Exasperated, you sternly said.

“so I guess you don’t want a change of clothes then. lemme call my colleague, she’ll be here in like 5 minutes.” He smiled menancily.

You threw your head back as the realisation dawned over you. There was no choice but to go!

“now a woman can’t even fuck without having to worry about being arrested!” you screamed at his face, stomping your foot on the floor.

“lets go chewy. Your new home is waiting for you.”

He let out a mirthless laugh before dragging you through the back door.

“we just arrested her like three hours ago! How can she run away so easily.” Sending the files to the ground, jaehyun raked his hands through his hair, crying out loud at his juniors.

“we do-don’t know sir. she also left a note in her cell.”

“HOW THE HELL SHE GOT A PAPER NOW?”

“like she got keys!” another officer spoke.

“What does the note say?”

As the officer read the words, Jaehyun felt heat rushing to his cheeks, in embarrassment and shame.

“get my dress dry cleaned before my next visit. Btw you have a nice dick. It’d be a shame if I don’t use it again. signed by dear yves”

And jaehyun knew he had to be more than just ready for your arrival.

#nct-writers #neowritingsnet #neosmutcollective #cznnet #kafenetwork #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct fluff #nct smut #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun smut #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun x reader #nct x reader #nct 127 reactions #nct reactions #nct drabbles #jaehyun drabbles

[separatist-apologist]

Aaaaand part 6 ideas - I think the timing works out and Starfall is coming. Lucien says he can’t come (a calculated lie), but Elain sends down the bond that she went to that shop along the sidra to wear under her dress. They manage to secure a private balcony. Smut ensues.

You know, I thought about doing a serial where like, Elain accidentally accepts the bond and her and Lucien hate fuck for a while before they get to know each other, but I guess we're doing this instead.

Time has no meaning in this ficlet, do not ask me about the timeline or seasons, they change based on a whim and my needs so anyway WELCOME TO COLD WEATHER AGAIN (I think? I'm unsure when Starfall actually is? And honestly, it doesn't matter).

This is, as per usual, NSFW, 18+ and unedited beyond me just glancing at it to make sure there were no red squiggles in word.

--

--

He hadn’t meant to be gone for so long. Spring had fallen to shit and what was supposed to be a two-week stay had morphed into months of trying to convince Tamlin to eat, to legislate, and enforce his border all while Tamlin used him as his personal punching bag. Lucien was exhausted and irritated when Feyre’s invitation for Starfall dropped in his lap.

No I don’t want to go to a party, he thought privately, quickly scrawling back a much politer response. What he wanted was a week of uninterrupted alone time with his mate in which he did every filthy thing he’d been fantasizing about while she begged him for more. Lucien could still taste her in his mouth, could still smell her in the air. She was a brand on his skin, a ghost trailing him everywhere he went. He wondered about her constantly. Was she thinking about him? Did she miss him? Want to see him?

Lucien hoped openly declining an opportunity to see Elain might spur her into reaching out to him in their game and admitting she not only wanted him, but she needed him, too. He was playing aloof, like always but she was just silent. He couldn’t pretend that didn’t disappoint him.

Feyre sent back her disappointment two days later and let the invitation open if he changed his mind. She swore up and down Cassian wanted to chat with him and perhaps the General did. Their friendship was an odd one but comforting and a little familiar. Of all of Rhysand’s inner circle, Lucien liked Cassian best.

He was walking to the stables to patrol Tamlin’s border when a vision slithered down the bond. Elain, standing in front of a mirror, wearing a gown that seemed to be made of pure starlight. Silver and low cut, with capped sleeves and a skin colored lining made it seem as though she only wore the glittering diamonds and nothing else. His mouth went dry at the sight. Had she meant to send it?

Yes. A note followed the image, appearing in the air before him.

Starfall?

That was all she’d written. She might have written pages and pages, for the effect that one word had. Lucien tugged his response back, a resounding yes, absolutely, if I have to crawl I will— and turned abruptly to let Tamlin know he was officially retiring from Spring, and to write if he needed any more assistance.

Back in Velaris, Lucien paid an obscenely large amount of money to secure one of the last private balconies in Velaris. It was far from where Rhysand and his ilk would watch, but still very much out in the open. The edge of the balcony, cut from smooth, gray stone, was thick enough he could hoist Elain up and fuck her brainless if he wanted to.

Lucien very, very much did.

The day before Starfall, Lucien sent Elain only the address and nothing else. There would be no polite teasing, no stolen glances. They would be together…maybe even talk and get to know each other outside of just kissing and touching. The thought of hearing her speak excited him more than anything else, though seeing her stripped of her dress was a very close second.

He dressed in a jacket of silver and trimmed in white to match the fitted white pants he’d worn. He’d neatly combed his hair and tied it off his face after debating for too long whether he ought to leave it down or not. He slipped on clean, black boots that hugged his calves, slipped a knife inside his boot just in case, and forewent wearing any other weaponry.

He’d just made it to the balcony he’d rented when the glass, double doors that led from the building they and others were borrowing, opened, and Elain stepped out. Lucien made no show of dropping to his knee, one hand pressed against his chest, jaw hanging open. He’d lost all rational ability to speak or stand when Elain, his goddess, stepped onto the balcony, a vision in silver stars.

Her cheeks darkened with what he hoped was pleasure, though she made a big show of rolling her eyes. “You’re dramatic,” she accused as he staggered back to his feet.

“Absurd. You’re beautiful,” he replied, caressing those same, heated cheeks. He suddenly couldn’t stand the thought of marring one inch of her body and wondered if perhaps they’d just have a nice, romantic evening with nothing else between them.

She walked to the balcony, illuminated beneath floating fae lights. Lucien stood beside her, resting one of his hands over her own, unable to resist. She smiled faintly at the touch and pressed her shoulder against his.

“I missed you,” she told him without looking up, her eyes still firmly focused on the city below. His heart pounded in his chest at the admission.

“Not half as much as I missed you,” he promised, squeezing her hand. A smile bloomed fully on her face, lighting her up like the sun across the sea and Lucien thought he was ruined entirely for anyone else, regardless of what happened between them.

She turned, suddenly, her sweet smile morphing into something wicked. His body instantly tightened as anticipating thrilled up his spine. What was she thinking? She ran her hands up his chest, dragging her eyes up with them until they were firmly focused on his lips. She didn’t need to ask him to kiss her. He’d happily spend the rest of his life attached at the mouth if she wanted.

That first, sweeping kiss wrecked all Lucien’s promises to himself. She tasted like citrus coated in honey and somehow like sunshine. He was frantic, unable to get enough and all at once, desperate for more. His tongue caressed her own, licking in time with the hips he was grinding into her beautiful gown.

Elain broke the kiss with a gasp, her fingers yanking on the laces of his pants. “Before everything starts,” she said, making quick work of them. He began hiking up her dress but Elain swatted his hands away.

“The first time you have me will be private,” she informed him, her brown eyes glittering with promise. “And somewhere nice.”

He started to ask what her plan was, then, but Elain dropped to her knees and Lucien’s head immediately emptied. The last remaining shred of rationality snarled at the sight of her kneeling when he thought it ought to have been him while the animal that typical slumbered in his chest roared with appreciation at the sight of his mate eye level with his cock.

“I borrowed one of Nesta’s dirtier books,” Elain informed him, her breath curling along the skin of his hard, twitching cock. “I don’t suppose this requires any amount of skill.”

Lucien took a shallow breath as her hand cupped the base of him. She ran her tongue up the broad side of his shaft and he reached for the railing behind him in an effort to keep himself steady.

She hummed softly to herself, pumping him once. She could have done only that and nothing else and he’d have come quickly, undone at just the sight of her. She glanced up at him, her lips moistened, her eyes mischievous.

“Will you beg, Lucien?” She asked.

“Would you like me to?” He choked in response. She smiled, lowered her mouth, and sucked just the tip of his erection into her mouth. Lucien concentrated all his effort on remaining utterly still despite his body’s urge to thrust into her mouth and fuck her throat. It was her first time, he reminded himself. He didn’t need to scare her.

“Yes,” she replied, withdrawing her pretty little lips to lick his head like a piece of candy. Lucien groaned loudly.

“Elain, please—”

His words choked into another groan of need as she took as much of him as she could into her mouth, her cheeks hollowed and her hand making up the difference. Her mouth was hot and wet and utterly intoxicating in its softness. Lucien was desperate and somehow building hotly towards release despite how little time and effort she’d put into the act of sucking him.

She hummed again, the noise vibrating along his skin and settling in his tightening sac. Saliva from her mouth pooled around her hand, making it easier for her glide up and down the length of him as she licked and sucked.

First time? His mind demanded, unable to believe she hadn’t done this before. Had it been so long since someone took him in their mouth that he’d forgotten? Was the act made better when it was his mate who sucked?

Shut the fuck up, the animal in his chest demanded of his wild, out of control thoughts. Lucien’s hips jerked a little as he built higher, fire racing through his blood.

“Elain,” he gasped, unsure what else to say. She quickened her pace and Lucien hung by a thread just long enough to offer a warning. “I’m going to come, Elain—”

She didn’t pull away, didn’t withdraw and a moment later Lucien exploded into a million pieces, yelling so loud he was sure Feyre heard him, wherever she was. He pumped hot into her mouth and Elain, the angel, took all of it without moving her mouth. She waited until he relaxed to withdraw, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

“You,” he gasped, pulling her to her feet so he could kiss her. “Next, you next—”

A shooting star streaked through the sky and Elain twisted in his arms, her swollen, red lips parted with delight. Lucien quickly pulled up his pants and retied them, swallowing against the aftershock of his release.

“Another day,” she replied, letting him pull her against him, her back resting against his chest, his arms wrapped around her. He kissed the top of her head, aware of what she’d done.

She’d put him in a situation that forced him to see her again.

Did she not know Lucien wanted to see her all the time?

She wiggled a little, sighing sweetly, content in his arms.

He’d show her what he meant.

#elucien fic #elucien smut #elucien prompt #elucien #PART SEVEN #???????? #do we want to see them do it or like.... #are we all good

[feferipeixes]

Child I Will Hurt You

One of the weirdest things to Alcor about being a father was how automatically Toby trusted him.

Which really freaked him out because he didn’t feel he should be trusted to raise a child. After all, he was practically still a child himself.

(See the most updated version on AO3!)

===

The thing that scared Alcor the most about raising Toby was how fully the boy trusted him.

He’d experienced and marveled at that kind of trust before. When Mabel found him after that fateful day in 2012 and threw herself at him, sobbing with relief that he wasn’t gone after all, he felt it. When Stan took him and Mabel into his home a few years later, patted him on the back and said “It’s no problem, kid”, he felt it. When he warned Mabel that he shouldn’t be trusted with the triplets’ true names and Mabel shouted him right out of his self-flagellation, he felt it.

The first day he brought Toby home after finding him alone and shivering on the street, he felt something very different.

Panic.

Panic over who the child in front of him truly was underneath that thin layer of flesh. Panic over what would happen if he didn’t stop whatever Bill was planning. Panic as he remembered Weirdmageddon over and over again in complete, horrific detail.

“Listen kid,” he said, floating a few feet off the ground so he could better tower over the child, “no funny business, okay? You hear me in there, Bill?”

Toby only cocked his head, scraggly and unwashed golden locks tumbling away from his face to reveal his scarred eye. He still wore the half-scared half-curious look he’d had when he’d first caught the demon’s attention, but there was something else bubbling up. Something that tasted suspiciously like trust.

It really freaked Alcor out because he didn’t feel he should be trusted to raise a child. Trust was something you gave to adults who knew what they were doing, after all, and he was practically still a child himself.

Alcor grimaced, and lowered onto his knees so he could look the boy directly in the eyes. “I mean it. I’m watching you. I’ll know if anything bad happens.”

To his surprise, Toby smiled at that. “You can make the bad things stop?”

“Yes,” Alcor replied, his voice cracking like it hadn’t in centuries because he was already messing this up, he was sure of it. “N-no getting into trouble. Not on my watch.”

The boy’s face lit up, trust shining brilliant from both eyes, and before Alcor could tell what was happening, Toby had reached up and hugged him around the neck.

And the demon remembered

Bill’s little pipe cleaner hands iron-clad around his neck,

Squeezing the life out of him,

Blue fire rushing all over his body,

Over and into his soul,

Screaming until there was no more breath left in him,

And the little boy’s smile radiated such trust and hope that Alcor was left completely speechless.

“Thank you,” Toby squeaked, and Alcor felt it.

---

“Oh stars, I can’t do this, I can’t do this!” Alcor was in his human disguise, head in hands, elbows resting on the counter, rambling like the world was ending. “I’m way in over my head. Raising a child? Me? I mean I looked after Mabel’s triplets but this is so different…”

“...Sir?” The cashier’s hand hovered over Alcor’s head, unsure whether it was appropriate or comforting to actually pat him. “Are you alright?”

“No!” he fumed, lashing out and knocking over some of his groceries. “I have a six year old at home and he trusts me to look after him and keep him safe! How could this possibly have happened?”

“Uh…” The cashier peered behind the man to the customers in line, most of whom looked some degree of disgruntled or confused. She gave them a little wave to indicate that they should probably move to a different register, and then turned back to the man who appeared to be hyperventilating now. “Do you have a partner? Anyone who’s helping you?”

“Of course not, I’m alone, I’ve got no friends,” he moaned. “There’s no one who I trust enough to foist Toby off to. The poor boy has such bad karma -- he needs me to protect him from that or he’ll get eaten alive!”

“Well… it sounds like you’ve got the right instincts at least. You want to keep him safe.”

“That’s just it! I don’t!” Alcor picked his head up and the cashier saw streaks of a strange yellow liquid running down his face. “Everything I’m doing for him is just stuff I picked up from watching my sister raise her kids! I don’t have any kind of adulting instincts -- none at all! I transcended when I was fucking twelve and that’s where I’ll be stuck until the end of time. I’m just a pointless child! I’ve got too much power and no actual ability to help anyone!”

The cashier sighed and -- after the man nodded to say it was alright -- put her hand on his shoulder. “Listen, man, all of that stuff sounds normal.” (Except for the parts that made no sense to her at all but she opted to ignore them.) “No one knows how to raise a kid, and no one ever feels like they’ve grown up. You learn it as you go. Trust me, my kids ran me ragged and I had no idea what I was doing. But they turned out alright. So will yours.”

Alcor’s voice began to wobble, and he pressed gloved hands to his temples. “But he won’t! I’m developmentally frozen. I’m not capable of learning anything! Seriously, what kind of adult buys this much candy?”

She glanced at his cart, which indeed was half filled with Giddy Cowboys and Sneakers bars. “That is a lot,” she admitted. “I would not advise giving your kid that much candy.”

“What? No.” Alcor stopped sniffling and pulled a face like he’d just smelled poo. “That’s for me. I’m buying all these vegetables and milk and chicken for Toby. He’s a growing kid, he needs to eat healthy, get all those food groups in, you know. I’m not stupid. But I am childish for liking candy so much that I’d eat this much of it in a week! I mean, seriously! Oh stars, I’m hopeless!”

The cashier lifted an eyebrow and removed her hand. “You eat all of this… in a week?”

“I know, I know, I’m ridiculous!”

“That’s not what I meant,” the cashier cut in, before he could start gibbering again. “I’m just worried about your teeth. Your… teeth…” She trailed off as the man suddenly yawned, exposing two rows of jagged knives that could sink into her flesh in an instant. “Your, um, your- your-”

Alcor pulled a mirror out of seemingly nowhere and started picking at his teeth. “What, do I have something in them?”

The cashier’s eyes widened even more as the man’s gloves came off. “My… what pointy claws you have…”

“Thank- wait.” Alcor froze, one long blackened nail still pressed into his gum. “Wait a minute. Pointy. Sharp. Cutting and slicing and ripping open oh stars!”

“Um- um- um-” the cashier tried to say, but with every word she felt like she was shrinking until she’d be swallowed up by her clothes. “Slicing?”

Alcor shook his head furiously, and this time his fist was positively trembling when it came down onto the counter. “I haven’t child proofed the knife drawer in the kitchen!”

He flipped his hat off of his head and pulled out a wad of cash, which he then thrust into the cashier’s hands just as her lights went out. Before anyone else could react, he vanished into thin air, taking his groceries and the shopping cart with him.

“I can’t believe I didn’t think of this before,” Alcor grumbled as he zeroed in on the offending drawer. He pulled it open and there they were -- obscene, dangerous implements that he was a wicked and cruel caretaker to have potentially exposed his child to. He couldn’t stop imagining what might’ve happened if Toby had tried to pull open the drawer and it had fallen on him -- couldn’t stop thinking about his little boy sticking his adorable hand in and receiving cuts and lacerations and awful, awful sobbing filling the house…

With a snap, child locks were in place. Alcor tested them out by trying to pull the drawer open -- and it took a few tries before even he was able to. Sighing with relief, he leaned against the counter and slid down to the floor. His feet bumped up against the shopping cart sitting in the middle of the kitchen, overflowing with Reece’s Mugs and Chortle Taffy and Quasarbursts.

He couldn’t do this. He was too irresponsible.

Alcor dug a hand into the cart and pulled out a candy bar. He sank his teeth into it, enjoyed the rush of sweetness that was almost as good as flesh and bone. Slowly he began to unclench his muscles -- even though his form was imaginary, the cramps shooting throughout his body still hurt. He slid down the counter a little further, almost letting his head touch the floor -- and then he noticed it.

The stairs.

Bolting upright, Alcor let the candy bar fall from his hand. The stairs. How hadn’t he thought about that before? What if Toby fell down and tumbled into the banister and lost his other eye? What if what if what if?

Not a minute later, the demon was wrestling with child safety gates, somehow struggling even with all of his considerable power just to get them to attach to the wall. At one point he tipped his jaw back and used his tongue to line the edges with spit, which then solidified like glue. The stairs had to be safe. He couldn’t risk Toby getting hurt.

And with that thought came even more thoughts that sent Alcor racing through the house. What if Toby slipped in the bathtub? What if Toby climbed on top of the fridge and couldn’t get down? What if Bill slammed his arm in a drawer again and again and again and again until it was full of forks and then he poured soda into his eyes and laughed like a maniac while Dipper drowned in the vast emptiness of the Mindscape???

Alcor stiffened. He set down the intricate contraption he’d been building to keep Toby safe from wild animals in the backyard. And he looked into the mirror.

What was he doing?

This was Bill’s soul he was fretting over. It was always him, on the inside, and he’d known it from the very first day he’d seen the boy. He knew what was lurking beneath the surface, what kind of monster slept in that innocent form waiting until one day he could reach out and traumatize his father once more. Reach out and steal his beating heart, and laugh, and live, and die, and laugh, and live, and die, in a way he’d never be able to again.

A chill passed through Alcor’s body. Something had to be wrong with him, because he knew what Toby was and he’d spent the entire week worrying about the boy. Why did he care so much?

Quietly, he crept down the hall, and peered into the bedroom on the right. There he was -- the beast himself -- sleeping soundly in a bed decorated with race cars and rocket ships. A few more steps, and Alcor could see how small he looked, how even in his sleep he seemed so broken. And the demonic instincts that had rushed through Alcor since the day he’d gone up in flames were quelled, because every fiber of his being told him he needed to protect this child.

He rested a hand on the boy’s forehead, and watched him dream about running around in a field of grass, playing catch with his new father.

---

Thus started a new routine. A demon, trying day-to-day to take care of a small child. Playing grown up even though he felt so utterly unprepared for what he was doing. But Alcor’s life didn’t stop when he became a parent.

Neither did any of his other regular obligations.

“Oh, you’re asking for it now!” Alcor roared, jumping to his feet. “I’m gonna run you through with my sword! Die die die die!”

The dungeon master -- Damien -- peered over his half-rimmed glasses at the demon and smirked. “Not gonna work, I’m afraid. The slime beast’s armor is too thick to be pierced by a sword such as your own.”

Alcor gaped with disbelief. “Whaaat? I call foul play! You let Anushka do it!”

“Anushka’s sword has a fire enchantment on it. Slime armor is weak to heat.”

“Also, I said die five times,” Anushka added with a shit-eating grin on her face, jabbing Alcor in the side with her elbow. “Die die die die die!”

Alcor snorted and dropped back into his chair. “Well, you got me there.” He looked at the other players, disappointment rolling over into amusement. “Can I change my move or am I locked in?”

Damien shrugged. “Go for it. I don’t think you’ll be able to beat it this turn though, and you’ve only got one hit point remaining.”

Nat leaned over and whispered in his ear. “Yo, I’ve got an idea. You should defend this turn and try to survive the slime’s attack, and then on my turn I can fire enchant your sword.”

“Huh. Maybe…” He patted his head to get the spittle out of his ear, and surveyed the map of the dungeon they were in. Then he sat bolt upright in his seat, a large exclamation mark appearing over his head. “Damien. How many sword actions do I get this turn?”

Damien rolled a die. “Two.”

“Yessss. Okay. First, I lunge at the slime again! But with the blunt end of my sword so it gets knocked back.”

Damien rolled another die. “Yep. That works. Are you gonna use your free movement to approach it again?”

Alcor shook his head. “Nope. I’m gonna throw my sword -”

“Your sword doesn’t have enough piercing damage to make a difference from that distance, I’m afraid.”

The room’s dim lighting glinted off of razor sharp teeth. “- at the cable holding up the chandelier.”

Anushka and Nat dropped their pencils, and looked straight up, momentarily forgetting that they were not actually in the dungeon they were traversing. “You what?”

Damien rolled a die again, and sucked in a sharp breath. “Alright. The chandelier falls onto the slime beast before it can react. It quickly catches on fire, leaving it too weak to attack. Congrats!”

Beaming, Alcor scribbled some numbers on his character sheet. “Heck yeah. No slime beast is strong enough to get one past the Dreambender.”

“You’re so creative, Al,” Nat said. “Seriously, wow. I never would’ve thought of that.”

He wove off the compliment. “Naw, I’m just basically a large child. Being silly and immature is what they’re good at.”

Looking up over his dungeon master partition, Damien furrowed his brow. “Why do you say you’re immature -”

There was a ringing in Alcor’s head -- a tug on a bond -- and he held up his hand. “Wait, hold that thought. Speaking of children, my kid’s calling me. I’m gonna have to leave early this week.” He stood up, and did a dramatic bow. “I’ll see ya all next week! Don’t lose my summoning circle!”

Toby -- lying flat on the floor of the Mystery Shack -- perked up at the sight of his adoptive father walking through the door. Tyrone looked about as human as they come -- a man in his mid-thirties with soft brown eyes, no wings, and feet that always touched the ground. He opened his arms and Toby came running to hug him.

Right away there was that trust again, that total trust that Alcor still couldn’t believe he deserved. How could someone like him -- someone who’d just spent two hours playing a tabletop role playing game and laughing about memes -- be trusted to take care of a child?

Gingerly, he took Toby into his arms and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “How are you doing?”

“I’m boooooooored!” Toby whined. “Can we play a game? I wanna play pretend!”

Chuckling, Alcor put Toby down and then sat beside him on the floor. “Sure thing, kid. You know, I’m pretty good at playing games like that. I was playing one with my friends earlier today.”

Toby’s jaw dropped. “Whoaaaaa! You have friends?”

A vein bulged in Alcor’s forehead. “Of course I- never mind. What’s the game, kid? What are we pretending?”

Toby jumped up and started pacing in a circle. “I wanna make up a story! It’s gonna be great! I’ll be the hero and you’ll be the bad guy -- an evil king who wants to kill all of the good people in the land! Is… is that okay?”

There was a mirror mounted on the wall behind where Toby had been sitting. Without the boy in his way, Alcor found his gaze fixed on it. He could see Toby gesturing as he walked and he could see the nostalgic decorations hanging on the wall of the Shack. But there was no Tyrone to speak of.

It took a moment for him to realize that Toby was talking to him. “What? Oh yeah. Of course, kid. I’ll be the bad guy.” He took a deep breath, discarding the voice in his head that furiously objected to him being the villain to Bill’s hero. “What’s my motivation?”

Toby cocked his head. “Moti- what?”

“What’s my backstory? Why am I evil?”

The boy continued to stare at him with a blank look on his face. “You’re evil cause you’re the bad guy and bad guys are evil!”

“That’s kinda boring- never mind.” Alcor grimaced and looked back at the mirror. “So you’re the hero, eh? How are you going to defeat me? What’s the hero good at?”

“Everything!!!!” Toby squealed, and his reflection grabbed onto something invisible. “The hero is the good guy so I should always win and I’ll have all of the magic and the biggest swords ever!”

Alcor shifted so that Toby was hanging onto his shoulders rather than around his middle. “Everything? But if the hero always wins, what’s the point?”

“The good guy always has to win!” the boy chirped, squeezing tight around Alcor’s neck. “Always!”

Oh my stars this is so boring, Alcor thought. How fricking uninventive is Bill’s soul? Children are supposed to be good at being silly and creative. I guess all Bill’s soul can think about is being powerful again.

A figure stepped into the room on the other side of the mirror. It was short -- looked to be about 12 years old -- and had clawed hands, bat wings sprouting from its hips, and a fancy suit that looked out of place for someone so young. Alcor’s jaw dropped as he watched the figure pick up Toby’s reflection, pat him on the back, and then stare directly out of the mirror at the demon.

“This is a game for children,” the figure said in a low growl.

“What?” Alcor yelped.

Toby giggled at the interruption. “I said that all the evil people should die because they’re mean! No one should ever do a bad thing!“

“This is what children are like. They see in black-and-white because they know nothing about how the world works.” Cold, black eyes bored into Alcor’s skull. “Have you forgotten what that’s like?”

“B-but I’m silly,” Alcor stammered, sweat starting to drip down his face. “I’m irresponsible. I love playing games and coming up with interesting stories. Those are childish things for someone as old as me to be doing.”

“Dad?” Toby asked. “What are you saying? I can’t hear you.”

The figure sneered, baring two sets of sharp teeth uncomfortably close to Toby’s head. “Whoever told you that must’ve really hated the idea of growing up.” Toby stirred, and it spent a moment cradling him so he’d calm down. Then those eyes -- now bright and full of gold -- flicked back at the demon. “Who said it? Was it you?”

Alcor gasped and fell over. Toby shrieked as he suddenly found himself tumbling to the ground, and the sound broke Alcor right out of his trance. Quick as a whistle, he pirouetted and caught the boy in his arms, pulling him close to his chest in a tight hug.

“Oh no, oh Toby, are you alright?” he fretted. “Did you get hurt?”

“I’m okay!” Toby squeaked, his face pressed against Alcor’s collarbone. Alcor loosened up on his hug, and took in Toby’s smile. “That was fun! You always catch me! That’s how I know you’re really a good guy.”

“I’m a good guy?” Alcor gulped, and glanced back at the mirror. This time he saw himself, in his present human disguise, holding Toby close, and looking so, so utterly responsible. It freaked him out.

“...Dad?” Toby asked, brow crumpled. “Daaaaad what are you thinking?”

“I think…” Alcor sighed, and gave his son a little kiss on the forehead. “I think it’s time you got some friends your own age.”

---

From that day on, things were a little different.

Alcor bought a house in the physical plane, because a memory of a shack in the Mindscape was no place to raise a child.

“Dad?”

He doctored forms and documents so it not only looked like a certain Tyrone Pines actually existed, but also that he and his adopted son Tobias Pines were legal residents of a sleepy town in the middle of Washington. This let Toby attend school with kids his own age.

“What is it, Toby?”

He went to the library on the weekly to check out parenting books, having long exhausted the meager supply of advice his omniscience had to offer -- as it turned out, parenting was very much a learn-as-you-go experience with few absolute truths to guide you.

“What’s a demon?”

Alcor froze, his hand halfway in the process of turning a page in his book. He started to turn his head around to look at the boy, and remembered just in time to turn his body around with it.

“Where did you hear that?” Alcor asked carefully.

Toby kept his head down, opting to study his father’s shoes instead of his face. “I, um...”

There it was again, that emotion bubbling up inside of Alcor, that instinctual distrust he couldn’t help but feel for the soul who had once taken everything from him. It was all he could do not to jump up and yell “Aha! Caught you red-handed, Bill! I knew you were in there all along!”

He got out of his chair and knelt in front of the child, using a finger to gently raise the boy’s head so they could see eye-to-eye. “You can tell me,” he said softly. “It’s okay.”

Alcor saw Toby reach into that pure, automatic trust he had for the monster who was raising him. The boy gulped, and squared his shoulders.

“Um... Devon’s dad said it to Devon.”

Alcor blinked. “Is that so? Devon, the kid in your class who asked you to play baseball with him?”

Toby nodded. ���H-he was asking me again, and I know you said I wasn’t allowed to, but he started showing me anyway. He got his bat and swinged it and it looked really cool. Then his dad yelled at him and said ‘Devon, you little demon, cut that out right now!’“

Alcor could only stare, mouth agape, in response. Toby started to tremble as he continued speaking. “Then Devon’s dad took the baseball bat and Devon got really sad and I didn’t know what it means but it looked bad and I don’t want to be a little demon and I’m really really sorry I said I wanted to play baseball I don’t want to be a demon I don’t I don’t -”

He cut off with a squeak as his father took him into his arms and hugged him tight.

Alcor was a being with access to more power and magic than almost anything else in the universe. He could level mountains, he could turn cities inside out, he could institute universal basic income on the moon with a snap of his fingers.

But when he held Toby in his arms, when he saw the awestruck look on the boy’s face when he played the violin for him, when he listened to Toby babble excitedly about whatever he’d learned in school that day, Alcor felt powerful.

All of his magic crumbled beneath the obscene power granted to him by way of this child’s trust in him. He had the power to protect this child, to support and encourage him to grow up to be the best person he could be. He could also betray Toby’s trust so, so easily.

He could punish his son for no reason if he needed an emotional pick-me-up. He could disregard the boy’s concerns and laugh in his face. He could even raise his voice just a little too much, caught in a moment of frustration, and leave Toby wincing in distress -- an ephemeral moment in Alcor’s life but an upsetting and formative moment in Toby’s which could forever mar their relationship.

That would be childish. That would be immature of him.

Alcor had killed reams of cultists, had bestowed disturbing curses on people who’d only sort of deserved it, had terraformed the western coast of the United States in a fit of rage. He’d done a lot of horrible things with his magic, but.

This power, this power he had to shape Toby’s life.

This power horrified him.

“You’re not a demon,” Alcor said, (and it felt so unfair to be saying that to him of all people -- so cruel and dirty that he wanted to scream until his hair fell out. But he didn’t.)

“Don’t cry,” (even though no one had held him when he cried that day in 2012, because he’d simply slipped through their fingers, and he wanted to repay that favor. But he didn’t.)

“Daddy’s here,” he whispered, before kissing Toby’s tears away. “You’re not in trouble.”

The words came so naturally, as if he knew exactly what he was doing. As if he had the experience to understand what was upsetting his son, and the power to make it better. As if he had the maturity to push past his own conflicted feelings, because he was an adult, and this was a little child.

He set Toby down, and kneeled to meet his eyes. In that moment, he felt tall. Sort of grown up.

Toby sniffled. “You’d never yell at me? Even if I do something wrong?”

Alcor thought once again back to the day he’d seen Bill Cipher on the side of the road. Thought about the furious, vengeful part of him that enjoyed the boy’s suffering because that’s what he deserved. Remarked on how the universe had served him up his greatest enemy in the most vulnerable form possible, giving him the opportunity to take Toby’s trust and do unspeakable things to him.

“Sure thing, kiddo,” he said, ruffling the boy’s hair. “I promise.”

Remembered how he’d instead chosen love.

---

It was a dark and stormy night that found Alcor wandering the streets of a mostly-abandoned city.

He’d been summoned -- it always started with a summons -- and he’d been angry. It didn’t even matter what had made him angry, because there were so many things these days that people absolutely would not stop doing no matter how much he screamed and threatened and threw flaming balls of plasma into their twisted places of worship. They never learned. And neither did he.

Alcor couldn’t stand how many people had to die because of him. How many people were killed in his name. How many lives he’d taken with his own hands because he couldn’t seem to stop, like an immature brat who throws tantrums when things don’t go his way. He wondered if he could ever change, or if he was just stuck this way.

It was deep in these thoughts that the demon heard a little noise. A squeak, barely audible over the rain. He dismissed it at first, because his grand thoughts were more important than the world around him, and right after a bad summons was the perfect time for self-hatred. It felt good -- it was one of the only things that still did. He considered burning the entire city to the ground. Maybe that’d feel even better.

Something told him that it wouldn’t.

He heard the squeak again, his eyes darting over to a heap of trash bags between two buildings, and that’s when he saw him. A little boy with golden hair, no older than six. He was dressed in rags. He looked like he hadn’t seen a scrap of food in days. The left side of his face had been eaten away by flame, leaving it patchy and discolored.

Alcor had seen right through Bill’s disguise, of course. There wasn’t a meatsuit pitiable enough to blot out the sins his soul had committed. Perhaps that was why he had been abandoned on the side of the street to begin with -- karma was finally catching up with him. Alcor wanted to laugh, but he couldn’t. Something strange was going on inside of him. Some sort of instinct buried within him -- not one tipped with blood and claws, but one that creaked and groaned under centuries of exertion.

It was this feeling that prompted him to gather up the child in his arms. He felt how fast the boy’s heart was beating; saw in his past how much he’d been hurt without an adult to protect him. He knew that feeling well.

“It’s okay,” he murmured as Toby began to fuss. “Things will be better now. I’ll protect you. I might only be a child myself, but I promise I’ll protect you.”

One year later, one year of introspection, growth, and unbroken promises later, he had to admit he’d been wrong.

(AO3 link)

#gravity falls #transcendence au #dipper pines #alcor the dreambender #toby pines #tobias pines #fic #my stuff

[winchesterxxi]

My Favorite Ghost (Poe Dameron x Reader)

Rating: T (Teen and Up Audiences)

Type: Angst

Summary:  What happens when a Resistance fighter gets trapped on Republican grounds and the man in charge of her torture is none other than her ex-husband Poe Dameron, former Leia Organa’s protegée turned First Order Admiral?

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: Force-sensitive reader, torture, graphic descriptions of violence, blood, injuries, swearing, death.

A/N: Poe Dameron angst??? oof

MASTERPOST | REQUEST HERE | KO-FI

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The mission couldn’t’ve gone more astray.

It was a simple and easy task for a single person to carry out. Fly below the cruiser, get in, get their coordinates for their next targets and get out. Hand the coordinates over to Holdo, and prevent the StarDestroyer from blazing those planets.

Simple. Until it wasn’t.

It all went astray when a face scanner crossed your path. The blueprints didn’t mention any face scanner on that door. You panicked, trying to get your face to scan and let you in, resorting to fiddling with the wires on the side of the device looking left and right to make sure no one would catch you. Except they did.

4 stormtroopers rounded the corner and, hands full with a small screwdriver and needle-nose pliers, you couldn’t have moved fast enough to reach your blaster before they had pinned you against a wall, face against the cold metal.

Next thing you knew, a dark sac is being put over your head and right after your body is pulled away from the wall, a hard object hits the back of your head and you are knocked out cold.

You don’t know how long it had passed before you regained your senses, eyes struggling to open due to the immense brightness that was aimed at you from a light above.

You scanned around the room as much as your body allowed you to, for you soon enough came to find everything below your neck strapped to a metal platform that stood upright in the middle of the room you were in.

You could spot a few cameras pointed at you, and you could also hear steps and muffled voices outside as well as a distant and low rumble of the ship’s engines – you should be close to the cockpit. Most torture rooms tended to be. That way, the commanders and soldiers don’t need to walk far to deliver information obtained from those captured.

The thoughts in your head didn’t have much more time to run wild as the big double doors in front of you opened and gave way to a silhouette to step into the room before they closed again behind them.

For as much as you forced your eyes to read them, it was practically impossible because of the light pointed directly at your face, coming from above. All you could see was the bottom of their uniform – knee-high dark leather boots and black pants, either a general or an admiral, and the clenched fists in shiny leather gloves - as they stood in front of you, hidden from the light.

“Are we getting this over with anytime soon?” you question bitterly while resting your head back and closing your eyes. You’d be damned if you were going to show any fear to anyone within this ship.

“Although I won’t blame you for just standing there, I know I’m pretty pleasant to look at.” Confidence, fake it until you make it. Or until you piss someone off, which is a better description of what you were aiming at.

“Can’t argue with that.”

Your blood runs cold.

Head snapping back down, facing forward, your jaw tightens and your whole body tenses at the reverberation of those words against the metal walls. And that is when the person you dreaded the most to run into again, in your whole life, steps into your sight.

His eyes meet yours and for a moment you think your mind is deceiving you.

This isn’t him.

Those eyes do not belong to the face in front of you. They aren’t his eyes. His eyes had a constant sparkle in them with the life that bubbled inside of him; they were big, brown, kind and caring.

These are hard, dark and cold. Lifeless.

“Poe.”

Despite his name leaving your lips in something little above a whisper, you know that name no longer refers to him. Not in the way it was engraved in your mind. Poe was your husband, the lively and witty resistance pilot that Leia Organa had assured you were meant for you. And maybe he was. But this isn’t Poe. This is someone – something else.

“It’s Admiral Dameron.”

You grith your teeth together and have to muster all the strength in you to not let your bottom lip quiver at the coldness and lack of emotion in his voice, so distant from that you were used to in the sweet nothings that would reach your ears in the mornings you’d wake up in his arms.

“What do you want?” you ask him, voice tainted with both pain and disgust.

“I could ask you the same thing. You were the one caught in our ground, trying to break a facial recognition system. What exactly were you looking to get?”

“It was outside the navigation system room. Take a wild guess.” Your anger-powered wit met a halt, as a sharp pain ran through your whole body with great intensity.

A pained screamed was let out of your mouth, muscles tensing and thrusting your body forward against the metal boundaries that enveloped your ankles, thighs, wrists, middle and upper torso.

Once the sting stopped, you threw your body back, chest rising and falling rapidly, trying to catch your breath, as Poe circled where you stood.

“Being a smartass won’t get you anywhere.” He taunts from behind you.

“Because being honest and cooperative will get me a congratulatory snack after this, right?” you weren’t about to give in, and apparently neither was he as another violent ache ran across your body, this time for a few more seconds longer.

“You really don’t listen to people’s warnings, do you?” he snaps his intimidating eyes at you while coming back around to stand in front of you.

“I had a good teacher.” You manage to jeer through gritted teeth. That gets a reaction out of it. One that would be imperceptible to the common person, unless they had been married and in love with them, so much so that they picked up on every little quirk.

“You do realize you’re not getting out of here alive.” It wasn’t even a question, more so of a statement as his lowered head allowed his eyes to look up at you through his lashes, and your heart sinks to the pit of your stomach at the realization, and you have to blink away the tears that threatened to make an appearance.

“You would do that? Kill me?”

“It’s protocol. Resistance scum dies, either if they deliver a confession or not.”

“You won’t even say my name, but you’re okay with having your hands being the ones that put an end to my life?” he doesn’t answer, breaking the wall he had put up for a fraction of a second when his eyes wander around, away from yours. “And Resistance scum? Wow, your ego really is something.”

“Shut up.”

“The only scum I see here is the one standing in front of me, who betrayed friends and family to save his own ass”

“I SAID SHUT UP.” His left-hand slams against the metal behind you, just a few inches away from your face and you flinch, eyes closing at the sudden movement, the fleeting possibility that he could hit you crossing your mind.

When you open your eyes you see his face just inches away from yours, heavy breathing fanning against your face, his hand still rested next to you.

Your eyes are distant, looking somewhere above his other shoulder as you shift your right hand, as much as the restraints allowed, palm facing upward and fingers spread. Between your faces surges a ring, attached to a silver chain that surrounded your neck.

You bite the inside of your cheek and a single tear spills out of your right eye, his attention remaining on the object floating in front of him.

That is his mother’s wedding ring, or rather, it was, until the day he gently put it around your neck, the day that was now so far behind in time that, together with the present circumstances almost felt like a fever dream. He had insisted that you both didn’t need wedding rings as the simple act of you wearing his necklace, the one everyone knew was destined to rest against the sternum of whoever he’d end up deciding on spending the rest of his life with, was enough.

And you never took it off. Not after he started to seem more distanced. Not when he’d started to snap at you. Not when the fights started. Not when you started to sleep in separate rooms. Not when he turned on you mid-mission and started to shoot at your X-Wing. Not when, moments after that, he turned his X-Wing around, killing a few other Resistance pilots. And not when he flew away, following the First Order fleet.

You never took it off.

Closing your eyes, you relax your hand and let the ring fall back against your chest and Poe pushes his hand off the metal, taking a few steps back. He looked… ill at ease.

“What happened, Poe?” you whisper, voice begging for an answer, his name sounding on your lips for the second time today, the most it’s had in little over a year. And, surprisingly, he doesn’t correct the way you address him.

“There was never a chance of us winning. We were outnumbered, our technology wasn’t as advanced… It was either surrender or joining them.” Something tightens inside of you at the way he used us and them to reference the Resistance and the First Order. He was referring to himself as Resistance. Probably unconscious. You decide against pointing it out or correcting him.

“And you chose to join them.” You slowly nod “Was it all so meaningless to you that you could just turn your back on us?”

“The Resistance will forever be doomed.” He utters bitterly.

“You wanna talk about forever?” you question, eyes red and glazed with how wet they were, and he stares at you.

“THIS –“ you raise your voice and look down, motioning to the ring resting against your flight suit, before looking back up to meet his gaze “WAS FOREVER.”

Your words and the silence that followed hung between the two of you almost as making the air in the room thicker by the second.

“Do you ever even think about me anymore? Or does your every thought revolve around these people?” tears sting your eyes once more and you take a shaky breath in “Every morning when I wake up I still expect to have my cheek resting against your chest, but there’s only a pillow. When I go to Leia I expect you to be standing next to her, planning some sort of strategy. When I fly in my X-Wing I still expect the commlink to crackle with your voice. When I see BB rolling my way, I still look up in hopes of seeing you walk up behind him. I hate you. I hate you so much. I hate you with every fibre of my being. But I also love you in equal measure.”

Poe remains immobile, standing a few feet ahead of you, the device that controls the electric shocks tightly fisted in his left hand and he is looking at you, straight ahead. At this point, you are panting with the effort of mustering out all of those words and feelings through the tears and sobs that rattle your whole body.

“Somehow, after all the shit you’ve done, I still love-”

You don’t manage to finish those words, the second time you’d be uttering them in over a year as they die on your lips and are replaced by a glass-shattering scream of pain, as the sharp burst of electricity travels your body once more during a much more excruciatingly long time. All your muscles tense as much as they can and you forget what breathing feels like.

Once Poe’s thumb slides of the control button, your whole body jerks forward, panting, tears falling to the ground beneath your hovering feet, head down. Despite the rational choice being to shut up you need to say this. You know that he is still there, somewhere, below all that darkness that took hold of him. He is still there. And you need to get him out.

“I still lo-“

Poe’s thumb slides over the button once again, inflicting another piercing wave of torture to your already spent body. Something is, indeed, still in him as this time around he can’t bring himself to look at you and at the way the electricity is slowly but surely bringing you closer to a point of no return. And despite the tears blurring your vision, this fact doesn’t go unnoticed.

After he relieves the pressure on the button, your body no longer jolts forward but instead goes limp against the metal board, the back of your head resting against it, mouth starting to taste like blood, which peeks through the corner of your mouth.

“You won’t even look.” You struggle to get the words out, voice coming out raspy and hurting as it passes through your throat.

“If you’re going to kill me, at least be man enough to look at me when you do it.”

Your whole body is pulsing with aftershocks of pain and you are struggling to keep your eyes open, feeling your eyelids grow heavier. Just when you are about to close your eyes, just to rest them, you told yourself, you hear Poe’s voice for the first time since he told you the Resistance was doomed.

“After all this, do you still love me?” Your brain can’t quite comprehend if by this he means the torture or all the events that you crying about earlier, the ones that led him to join the First Order.

Either way, the answer would be the same.

“Yes.”

Jaw tensing, Poe pushes the button in his fist one more time, watching your body light up with the blue electric jolts that ran your full height up and down, side to side, travelling through each of your limbs eating away at the remaining life in your body. His lips were trembling just the slightest and his eyes, lit with the image in front of him, started to be glazed by tears.

He didn’t let the button go for much longer than he previously had, being completely lost inside his mind and out of it at the realisation that even after all the shit he put you through and the hurt he caused you, you still loved him.

It wasn’t until he stopped seeing you squirm that his finger release the button and your body fell completely limp against the metal, head falling down, the metal loops preventing you from falling forwards completely. He hesitated in stepping closer to you, scared of you moving or rather not, he wasn’t sure.

But his heart gave in to the breaking of itself when the latter possibility turned out to be the truth.

You weren’t moving.

You weren’t breathing.

There was blood dripping from your mouth onto the floor.

You were gone.

And he did it.

A trembling hand of his came up to push your head back against the platform holding you.

That’s when he took a good look at your lifeless face, and a shaky exhale left his lungs.

Oh, how he still loved you.

He wanted to cradle your face in his hands a lay a kiss against your forehead, run his knuckles against your cheek and wipe the blood away from your soft lips.

But they were watching him. The cameras were pointed at him and the microphones were on, preventing him from freely displaying any kind of affection towards you.

Blinking away the tears and trying to keep his body language as much stoic as possible, his gloved hand reaches up for the ring that hung from the chain draped around your neck and he pulled it down, breaking the silver link as it released the hold it had on you.

He slid the ring into the chest pocket of his uniform before walking away, towards the door, and out. Leaving the lifeless body of the only person who could ever allow him redemption behind, limp and broken.

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TAGLISTS

PERMANENT TAGLIST

@blondekel77​ @pedrobreakmyback​

POE DAMERON TAGLIST

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#My Favourite Ghost #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron #star wars #angst #poe dameron angst #oscar isaac x reader #FirstOrder!Poe x reader #fo!poe dameron x reader

[kashimos-hajime]

sawdust and plastic | g.t.

summary: you learn two things from your first real fight with goro. 1) he apologizes through cooking. 2) he hates it when they argue.

WARNINGS: spoilers for the gimme danger main job, swearing, slight angst, theye just communicating pairing: goro takemura x fem!street-kid!v word count: 2.2k

a/n: written with a fem!street-kid v who used to be a corpo kid. also dont yell at me but i rearranged v's apartment so the couch goes on all 3 sides bc comfortable :^) crossposted on ao3! enjoy :) 

part of the tales of a two-bit thief series

Sitting down on the couch, you kick up your feet for the first time in what you feel like has been ages. From Jackson Plains to reconnaissance on the Arasaka warehouse, you haven’t eaten shit besides the yakitori Takemura had ordered at that booth which already felt like ages ago. It’d been good—better than the trash you’ve eaten as a kid so you don’t really get picky—but you can’t help but recall the disgust on Takemura’s face when he had taken a single bite.

“Sawdust and plastic.”

You snort, running hands over your face and tilting your head back. Stupid fucking Japanese man with an endearing sense of dry-humour and… zero tolerance for your cheeky smiles. 

Then he had to go ahead and bring up Jack.

His words, cold, callous, echo in your skull like a goddamn radio and you squeeze your eyes tight, raking your hands down your face and melting into the couch. No matter how much you wanna stop it, you can’t help hearing it over and over and over.

Grabbing the remote, you’re about to switch on a channel in hopes you catch something that cna take your mind off everything when there’s a knock on your door.

For a moment, you truly debate telling them to fuck off but then, there is a pause.

“V.”

Eyes widening, your body goes rigid at the sound of his voice.

“V, let me in before I look anymore foolish.”

In the back of your head, you tempt the idea of just leaving him out there, pretending like you’ve fallen asleep, but then you get up anyway against your better judgement. You drag your feet over the floor, picking up old takeout boxes you haven’t had time to clean up and tossing clothes into a hamper to make your apartment look more like an organized mess than the dumpster fire you know Takemura will scold you for.

When you reach the door, you let him in without a word and you note the bags he holds on, hoisting them over to your living room counter.

“What’s this?” you question wearily. “Goro, I’m not hungry.”

“I realized I must apologize for my harsh words.” Beginning to pull out the groceries, you walk over and peer inside the bag, frowning. All the stuff inside is cheap synth shit, nothing you haven’t eaten before, but you’re still confused as to what’s going on since you don’t exactly have a kitchen in your place, but then out of one of the thicker bags, Takemura pulls out a big box.

“For saying them?”

“Yes." He sets the box down before continuing with groceries. “Earlier, I told you if I had time and resources, I would cook onigiri.”

“With cod, or grilled salmon. Or umeboshi plums, because they were Saburo’s favourite,” you finish and he sends you a look that could’ve been a smile if his lips had curved more and his eyes meant it. “I remember.” Helping him with the big box, you cut it open and find a rice cooker within. Eyeing the contraption with an arched eyebrow, you can’t help but ask: “Where’d you find this stuff?”

“It was difficult. I had to lower my standards.” 

“Lowering standards,” you echo dryly, unable to help your empty smile. “Yeah. We do that a lot in grand ole NC.” He doesn’t seem amused by you even trying to help as you sit down on the couch, twist to watch him work. “Are you sure you don’t want me to help?”

“I am cooking to apologize. It would not be honourable for you to help me,” he replies shortly and you nod to yourself, turning back around to watch the news. Nothing about a break-in with the floats, nothing at all indicating… anything.

For some reason, it makes you uneasy. The last time you snuck into an Arasaka building, everything went to shit and it made its mark. The lack of visible ripples makes you feel like nothing’s happened at all. Like it’s all been a fever dream, and you and Takemura didn’t sit on that roof for hours, watching the cat, just… talking.

Jesus, you need to get laid.

“Still don’t know why you bother cooking,” you say. Takemura noticeably stiffens and even though you don’t see it, you can almost feel the way he manipulates the air he stands in. He has that power—pure corpo power—and you clench your jaw. “Why waste time on someone so lazy as me?”

“V—"

“Nah, my bad. Arrogant. Hell, you probably see all the takeout around here and think I’m taking some easy route to food.” The bitterness is enough to puncture holes in steel as you stare blankly at the screen. “After all, I dirty my hands for money,” you quote. Your chest tightens as you hear his voice echo in yours, the way he had said it so coldly. Stomach turning, you shake your head. “Not in the name of some fucking principles.”

There’s a silence on his end and you close your eyes, swallowing through the bruising in your throat, a telltale sign you’re holding back tears. Just the mention of Jackie makes you want to spiral and you take a deep breath, trying not to react.

For the first time, you think Johnny might be right.

“Damn right, I am,” a voice says and you open your eyes, gaze fluttering to the side to see Johnny lounging against your couch. You turn around to see Takemura’s moved to the bathroom, probably to clean rice… however the fuck you make onigiri. You don’t know. You’re too tired to care about food, or feelings, or anything. “Never can trust a corpo. They all want one thing.”

“I don’t need to remind you that I was a corpo kid, do I?”

“Not anymore. It’s about principles.” Johnny’s tone is wry and you scowl at him. “What? If there’s one thing you might be able to relate to is that you both have ‘em. His might be wrong as shit, but…”

“Yeah, whatever.” 

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re gonna forgive him. This guy’s got you wrong, V. You don’t waste time on people like that.”

“I don’t have time to stay angry with him,” you argue. “The fact is, I’m dying and he’s gonna be the only one who can save me.” Johnny sits up straight, leaning on his knees and you sigh, shaking your head. Resting your arm along the back of the couch, you fit your hand to your face, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Fuck.”

“Stop. Don’t do it, V. It’s not worth it,” Johnny warns, standing up and you wrench your gaze up as you shift your feet on the floor and lean forward, burying your face in your hands. “I can feel everything you are feeling, and if I have to deal with your indecisive debates on whether or not it’s worth it to become attached to this corp piece of shit, I’ll kill myself.”

“You’re already dead, Johnny.”

“Let me live a little.” He stands and edges around you as if he were real and you rest your chin in your palms, watching as his holographic imagine crosses you before glitching back into view again across the table. He sits down. “The truth is, you’re gonna have a hell of a problem.”

“I know.”

“So, stop.” Johnny says it like it’s so easy and you chew on your cheek as the faucet turns off and you turn around to see Takemura begin to leave your bathroom. His pale eyes catch yours and you turn around only to see your brain tumour’s gone and left you alone. It’s eerily quiet in your head and you stand, clearing your throat.

Takemura slips the clean rice into the rice cooker before closing it and you cross your arms below your breasts, squeezing yourself tightly. You feel bare in your clothes despite wearing your scuffed jacket. He regards you warily, and then he sighs, gesturing to the couch—a silent ask.

 You nod, stepping back and letting him take where you were sitting earlier. You retreat across from him, where Johnny was sitting and he glances around your apartment. You wonder if he’s judging even more of you, but then he looks into his hands, swallowing visibly. 

“V—"

“You’re not the only one with principles. Just because I kill for money don't mean I'd do anything for it,” you begin coldly, leaning back and studying him. “And nothing about my life has been easy. When I said you did what you had to do to keep food on the table, that wasn’t me judging you. That was me getting it, alright, Goro?” His eyes meet yours and you arch an eyebrow, scoffing. “Not my problem if you don’t believe me. Yeah, I oppose corps, because they ruined my life, and so many other people’s lives no one can count 'em, but that doesn't mean you're any better than me. You don’t get to make assumptions about me. You never get to make assumptions about Jackie.That is all I have to say.”

He nods, accepting your harsh tone and you bite your tongue, trying not to burn down the bridge anymore than you need to as you prop a foot up against the table. Takemura doesn't say anything for a hot moment and you think you've wasted your time. Your knee jiggles. He doesn't even look at you.

Then: “I must again say that we are both still grieving. We ache to lash out. That is why I said what I said, and why, I presume, you say what you say.” He steeples his fingers and regards you with those eyes, gorgeous in their own right. “I understand what I said was callous. You have been nothing but understanding to my own loss.”

“No shit.”

“And I understand Mr. Welles was your friend.”

“He was like my brother,” you correct icily. “He’s been there for me since the beginning, I—I can’t forgive you saying something like that about him so easily, Goro.”

He dips his head. “I understand. It is why I cook for you. It is how I best express myself." The corner of his mouth tugs up faintly in a mirthless facsimile of a smile before he exhales sharply through his nose, looking at you again. "I confess I have not had time recently to cook, but I will do my best.” Johnny’s link comes to life at the mention and your own stomach squirms silently. “We are in this together, V. I do not wish for you to be angry at me.”

“Don’t do it, V. Don’t take it.”

“Fuck off, Johnny. I’m starving.” Aloud, you say: “I’ll be angry for a while. Just… let me sleep on it and we'll see from there.” He nods and you let your arms fall to your sides as you sit up. “It’s been a long few days, so I just… I just want to not think about anything for a while, you know?”

“I understand.”

He says that a lot, you notice. 

“Thank you for apologizing, at least,” you continue grudgingly. “Thanks.” You stand and gesture vaguely around the place. “Make yourself at home. I’m… I’m going to shower and scrub this grime off.” Dried blood, sweat, dirt, et cetera. He nods and stands as well, returning to the tiny cooking station he’s made for himself. You head to your closet, managing to pick out a clean shirt that’s a bit big and a jacket you ripped off a 6th Street goon a few weeks back. You just picked it up from the cleaners.

Heading for the bathroom, you set your crap on the toilet cover before poking your head out. Spotting Takemura sitting in front of the table, carefully sharpening a knife, you wait until he’s noticed you staring and he prompts you silently to ask.

“How’d you even know where I live, anyway?” 

He turns his gaze back on the blade.

“Ms. Olszewski marked it in my map, should the need arise.”

“This was a need?” you ask, curiously sardonic. Takemura doesn’t smile back and again, you get that impression he either doesn’t know how or he doesn’t do it often enough to remember. For some reason, that makes you sad. "Could've left it well enough alone. You know that."

“Oh, come on, V,” Johnny murmurs in your ear. “Don’t wax poetics on this guy.”

You ignore him.

“I do not enjoy the thought of a rift between you and I,” admits Takemura. He sets down the knife and sighs, eyes flitting to you briefly. Your hand wraps around the doorframe and you press your lips into a faint frown. "I... I have grown used to you."

You nod despite the words punching into your chest. “I don’t like it when we fight either.” At least, that you don’t have to fight twice to figure out. Your expression eases and your shoulders drop. “I’ll just hop in. Help yourself to whatever you can find. Really.” He accepts your offer with another nod and you close the door. It locks and you press your back against the metal, tipping your head back.

“For the love of—“

“Shut it, Johnny. Just… just give me a second.”

And on one of the rare occassions that he listens to you, Silverhand says nothing about how your heart doesn’t feel like wrought iron anymore.

#fic: tales of a two bit thief #goro takemura x you #goro takemura #goro takemura x reader #goro takemura x v #goro takemura imagine #takemura #takemura x reader #takemura x you #goro takemura imagines #takemura imagine #takemura imagines #cyberpunk 2077 #cyberpunk 2077 fic #cyberpunk 2077 fanfiction #cyberpunk 2077 imagine #cyberpunk 2077 x reader #cyberpunk 2077 x v #takemura x v #my writing

[kingexpl0sionmurder]

Clouds - Shirakumo Oboro

Author: @kingexpl0sionmurder​ Rating: 16+ Words:  5,674 Pairing: Shirakumo Oboro/F!Reader Warnings: Nudity, sexual innuendo, kissing, Oboro has no shame honestly. No spoilers here, I just mention his friends and his quirk a little! AN: Here is my entry for this month’s BNHarem server collab! The theme was Fantasy, so have this Greek Mythology AU where I basically floundered through ancient Greek customs and got to think about EraserCloudMic being best friends and Demigods. I don’t promise that any of this is historically accurate but I did try to get some things right! It’s all in good fun anyway, I just needed some nice fluff and some time to play around with Oboro because I love him a lot. Listen to the song Clouds by Borns pls and thanks. As always, the masterlist to check out everyone else’s stuff is HERE. My masterlist is HERE.

Buy me a Ko-Fi HERE.

--

You’d never experienced a drought this severe before.

The weather had become so unbearably hot. Even your lightest tunic was too much, and you had resorted to wearing as little as possible when you were home, spending as much time as you could in the nearby river to keep cool. 

However, the river seemed to be getting shallower, the lack of rain causing the water source to dry up.

The entirety of the small village that you resided on the outskirts of was in a panic. Crops were drying up, which was affecting people’s livelihood. The agora was nearly barren when you went in to sell the cloth you’d dyed and embroidered, the food stalls empty of the usual grain and barley you would typically find this time of year. 

Most people had taken to making the trek past your house and down to the small temple there, praying to Zeus for rain, hoping that he would smile down upon you and bring good fortune, and maybe a storm cloud or two.

You knew that it was probably fruitless, but you decided that maybe you should leave an offering to appease him. It wouldn’t hurt to try.

Wanting to wait until it was cooler so you didn’t die of heatstroke while you leaned over the boiling water, you waited until the sun went down before you dug out your best fabric and dyed it a pretty blue color. You pricked your fingers with a needle more than once while embroidering the edges with clouds and raindrops, using white thread so it stood out against the cerulean fabric. A few days later, you deemed it ready, attaching pins so the person wearing it could fasten it and folding it gently. You slipped on your sandals and headed out with the garment draped over your arm.

It was late, so no one was around, but you weren’t afraid. The breeze was cold now that it was dark out, making you sigh as you listened to the leaves rustling in the olive trees that lined the path. You hoped Zeus would be pleased with what you’d made. Garments that you’d crafted and sold in the agora were always highly sought after and praised. The attention to detail and the small embroidery work you did on the fabric caused you to get lots of commissions from high-class women who lived in the city. It was something you were good at and took a lot of pride in, so you hoped that he would be impressed by your hard work. 

When you arrived, you noticed there were a lot of offerings waiting just inside the door. You bowed your head and dropped to your knees in front of the statue within, closing your eyes as you placed the folded tunic at Zeus’ stone feet. “Please help us and send some rain. I made this tunic by hand. I hope you like the color. I chose it because it reminds me of the sky.” Whispering, you spoke aloud, feeling kind of silly, but willing to try anything to gain some relief from the sweltering heat.

Finishing the rest of your prayers in silence, you stood up and bowed, hurrying out of the small shrine and back up the path toward your home. When you laid down to sleep that night, you sent up one final prayer, hoping that things would get better when the morning came.

--

You woke up hours later to the sound of thunder. Sitting up in your bed, you felt tears well in your eyes, relief flooding through you. The rain was finally coming!

Briefly, you wondered if your gift had been the one that Zeus had deemed worthy enough to grant your village’s prayers. Swinging your feet off the bed, you dashed from the room, wrenching the front door open and running out into the night, bare feet slapping against the dirt as you made your way down the path towards the temple.

You didn’t know what you expected to find when you arrived. Would all the offerings be gone? Or would it be just as you left it hours before?

Dark clouds were rolling in overhead, and you laughed when you felt the first few drops of rain pelting on the bare skin of your arms as the temple came into view. You slowed to a stop, breathing heavily; the smell of petrichor in the air as water finally touched the dry grass and soil around you. 

Stepping forward, you entered the temple, lingering in the doorway. Zeus’s proud statue stood in the center just as before, offerings still sitting untouched at his feet. They all remained, except for one.

The sky blue tunic you had crafted was missing.

--

It rained for three days straight, the constant onslaught of water on the parched ground, causing puddles to appear in every dip of the landscape around your home. You stayed inside, leaving the windows open to let in the fresh air, breathing deeply as your worries melted away. You were excited to visit the river, hoping the water would be rushing and kissing the edges of the riverbank as it always had before. 

When the fourth day came with clear blue skies and a gentle breeze, you gathered up your towel and set off to the river. You skirted around the slowly drying puddles on the path, your sandals sinking into the soft earth as you made your way to your destination.

You arrived to see the river looked as you had expected, the water back up to its normal height, the current gentle, leaves floating along its surface. You looked around, making sure you were alone before you removed your tunic and laid it across a rock on the riverbank, before slipping into the cold, clear water. Most people from the village didn’t bother to come out here, so you weren’t too worried about being seen skinny dipping, but you always kept your ears open, just in case.

Time passed as you relaxed against the river’s edge, head tipping back to bask in the gentle sunlight filtering through the trees surrounding you. The weather was beautiful and was a welcome change compared to the unbearable sweltering days you’d been living the past few weeks.

A gentle splashing caught your attention, and your head snapped up, eyes scanning the water’s surface, assuming it was a fish. What you weren’t expecting to see was a man a little ways up the river, crouching down with his hand in the water, a serene smile on his face. You didn’t know if he saw you, but you suddenly felt self-conscious, dipping lower and crossing your arms across your chest to hide yourself. The plan had been to keep quiet and wait until he left. But then you saw what he was wearing.

The sky blue tunic was unmistakable.

“Where did you find that tunic?” You called accusingly. You had assumed that the tunic was missing because Zeus enjoyed your gift, and had given yourself credit for pleasing him enough to send the rain. To know that you hadn’t done anything at all, and a thief was the reason that your hard work was missing from the temple, was disheartening.

The man stood, his eyes searching for the source of your voice. When they landed on you, huddled against the side of the river, your head barely visible on the water, he smiled at you brightly. “It was an offering from the temple! Honestly, this is the nicest tunic I’ve had the pleasure of wearing.” He pulled on the bottom of it, pointing to the embroidered clouds. “The detail here is exquisite.”

Huffing, you frowned. “I know. I’m the one who made it.” His eyes lit up, and he opened his mouth to reply, but you interrupted him. “I don’t know who you think you are, but that tunic was made for Zeus. It’s extremely disrespectful to steal something from the gods. You must be crazy if you don’t think he’s going to strike you down with a lightning bolt the moment he finds out what you did.”

The man chuckled, raising his arms and folding them behind his head. You tried not to stare at his tan and muscular legs, or his equally muscular biceps. “You think I’m a thief? I’m offended, sweetheart.”

Blushing at the term of endearment, you shook your head. “Well, that’s the only logical explanation-“

“That’s where you’re wrong.” The man walked closer, and you shrunk back, trying to preserve your modesty. “It was a gift from Zeus himself.”

Your jaw dropped open, eyes wide. You weren’t sure how that was possible, but looking at the man before you now, you realized there was no way that he was mortal. He was too perfect.

Not to mention, his hair was like nothing you’d ever seen before.

It was a beautiful light blue, similar to the fabric draped around his body, fluffy and soft looking even from a distance, and it floated back and up, away from his head on its own.

“You’re a…” Trailing off, you got lost in the blue of his eyes as he stepped closer.

“Demigod.” He dropped his arms and shrugged. “My name’s Oboro.”

You were suddenly reminded of how very naked you were. “Could you, uh, turn around? So I can get dressed?”

Wiggling his eyebrows, Oboro smirked. “You sure? I mean, it’s nothing I’ve never seen before.”

“Ugh, please.” Annoyed, you glared at him. Demigod or not, what a perv.

“Kidding! I’m kidding!” Holding up his hands in defeat, he turned around, chuckling.

You took the opportunity to lift yourself out of the river and hurry over to where you’d left your clothes. You dried off quickly with your towel and wrapped your dress back around your frame.

When you were decent, you cleared your throat. “Thank you, Oboro.” You tugged at the fabric that was clinging to your semi-wet skin uncomfortably, watching as he turned back around and shot you a grin.

“So, you made this thing, huh?” Stepping closer, the man was suddenly towering over you, his smile charming. He reached out and plucked the towel you were still holding from your hand, bringing it up and over your head, his fingers rubbing your scalp as he dried your hair for you.

Speechless, you stuttered. What was he doing? 

The towel lifted, and you watched as Oboro gathered your hair and squeezed out the water that was sitting at the ends of it. “That’s better. So, you going to answer me?’

Blinking up at him again in shock, you watched the laughter dancing in his clear blue eyes, the way his nose crinkled when he smiled, the white bandage across the bridge of it making him look boyish and handsome. You were swooning. You needed to get a hold of yourself. “I...yes. I made it myself. I make clothing to sell in the agora all the time.”

Nodding, he handed your towel back to you. “Zeus is a pretty busy guy, you know? He asked for my help, told me to check into some of his temples to see if anyone needed help. He said if it was something we could do, I could take care of it and help myself to anything left for an offering as a reward.” 

“And you picked my tunic?” You felt a weight lift from your chest at his story.

Grinning, he pushed a piece of your hair off of your forehead. “It matches my eyes; how could I not?” He let his arm fall to his side. “I’m an altruistic guy. I like to help people, so I always jump at the chance when my father asks for my assistance. As soon as I saw that blue fabric, I knew I had to do something. I always say that handmade gifts are much better than jewels or gold because they come from the heart. So I called upon the Nephelae to come and bring some rain.”

You hummed, your face turning pink as you blushed. His innocent touching and compliments had your skin feeling warm. “Thank you, Oboro. I’m glad that it was well-received.” Clearing your throat, you glanced up at him through your lashes. “If you like it, I could make you another.”

“You’d do that?” He always seemed to be smiling, and you briefly hoped you’d never have to see him frown, knowing it would look out of place on his face. “I couldn’t ask-“

“I’m offering! I want to, honestly. You did so much for us with just that little bit of rain. I feel like that one tunic isn’t enough to show my gratitude.” 

It was his turn to blush, his teeth worrying at his bottom lip. “Okay. Only if you want to.”

“Great!” You clapped your hands together. “Do you have anything you want specifically? I have lots of different fabric to choose from, and I can dye it any color you’d like.”

“Surprise me.” He winked, lifting his hand to poke the end of your nose playfully. “You know, when I saw that thing, I figured an old lady must have made it. Didn’t think a beautiful woman like you would have done it.”

Scoffing, you folded your arms across your chest. “Do you have no shame? Flirting with me, and you don’t even know my name.”

He threw his head back and laughed. “I like you, you’ve got guts. What’s your name then, sweetheart?”

“It’s Y/N.”

—

After Oboro left you at the edge of the river, promising to come back and see you in a few days, you went home and sifted through the piles of fabric you had collected, trying to find something that you thought would be fitting for the handsome Demigod.

The original tunic you’d made was linen, and since it was still early in the summer, you surmised that it would be best to stick with that fabric. Your other choices were wool or silk, and neither would do well in the hot weather. 

You worked on dying the fabric a dark grey, the color of the sky before a storm. This time you embroidered the edges with golden bolts of lightning and white stars. You were very proud of it when it was finished, thinking it looked as lovely, if not better, than the one you’d left in the temple.

A few days later, you were outside tending to your garden when you heard footsteps approaching behind you. 

“Good morning, sweetheart.” 

The timbre of his voice made you shiver as you stood and turned to meet him. “Morning, Oboro! You’re here just in time!”

“Finished already?” His eyebrow raised. “Did you even sleep?”

Rolling your eyes, you smiled at him. “Of course! I slept some.”

Shaking his head, he stepped towards you, ruffling the hair on your head. “Don’t lose sleep on my account, okay? I can wait as long as I have to.”

You wished this man would stop making you blush so much. “Okay, fine. It won’t happen again. Would you like some wine?”

“Why would I say no to that?” He chuckled, following you into your small home, sitting at the table when you pointed to the chair, watching as you flitted around the kitchen preparing his drink.

“What have you been up to? Helping out your father?” You asked conversationally, setting the glass down in front of him.

Humming, he picked up the glass and took a sip. “A little. I spent some time with my friends mostly. I don’t get to see them too often since they’re always so busy.”

“Oh? Are your friends Demigods too?”

He hummed, sipping his wine again. “Shouta is the son of Hypnos, god of sleep. Hizashi is the son of Apollo, god of music.”

“Wow. I’ve never met anyone important like that. Well, besides you.” 

He snorted. “We’re not important, our fathers are. We’re just regular people.”

“Except you’re half god and incredibly handsome.” Huffing, you blushed, realizing what you said.

“You think I’m handsome?” His cheeky grin was too much to look at, so you turned away. 

Changing the subject seemed like the best option for your sanity. “Let me show you what I made for you.” 

He didn’t push it, which surprised you, but also made you feel grateful. You didn’t want to think about the man any more than you already had been. He was funny and kind and gorgeous, but he was also a flirt and a Demigod, and you really didn’t know what to make of all of that. You realized that some people might think the way you acted with him was disrespectful, but he was just a person like he’d pointed out. Mostly.

You walked over to your work table and unfolded the tunic, turning around and holding it out towards him. “I was trying to keep with the sky theme. What do you think?”

Oboro stood up from the table, leaving his wine glass behind. He stared at the fabric, taking it into his hands, his fingers tracing the embroidery. When he looked up at you, his face was filled with wonder. “Are you sure you’re not magic?”

You blinked at him. “What? Why?”

“This is amazing, Y/N. Truly. Thank you.” Grinning, he handed it back to you, his hands moving to the pins keeping his tunic fastened around his body.

“Oboro, what are you doing?”

The pins opening let the fabric around him fall free. “Trying it on.” 

You covered your eyes with your hand as he pulled the garment off his body, resisting the urge to peek through your fingers when you caught a glimpse of his chiseled abs and the swell of his pectorals as you heard his clothing fall to the floor. He took the tunic from your hand, taking his time pinning the fabric at his shoulders and under his arms. 

“How do I look?”

Removing your hand away from your red face, you moved forward, redoing the pin at his shoulder to sit straight. Stepping back, you walked around him. “It’s missing something.” 

He looked at you curiously, his brow furrowed. “What?”

You looked puzzled, finger tapping your chin before your face suddenly brightened in recognition. “I’ve got it!” You scurried away to your work area, coming back with a golden colored braided cord. 

Oboro watched as you reached around him, passing the rope between your hands. He lifted his arms as you tied it around his waist, cinching the fabric a bit and moving back to look over him again. “Perfect.”

His arms dropped, his head tilted down as he looked over the fabric again. Teeth pressed against his bottom lip, he looked up at you. “Another masterpiece, Y/N. I’m going to look better than all the gods in Olympus when I visit my father later.”

You shook your head, laughing. “Oh please, I’m not that great, Oboro.”

He huffed, stepping forward and surprising you when he wrapped his arms around you in a hug. “Just accept the compliment, would you?”

Hesitantly, your arms moved around him to return the gesture, your voice horse as you replied. “Okay.”

—

Oboro became a permanent fixture in your life after that. He appeared nearly every day, treating you to picnics and taking you for walks through the forests and down to the river. You looked forward to seeing him, his face the last thing you thought of before you fell asleep, and the first thing you imagined when you woke up. You were in too deep.

It rained more often, but it was welcome after the hell of drought you’d been through earlier that month. The weather didn’t stop Oboro from visiting, his strong arms dragging you out into the storm so you could watch the dark clouds above roll past. He made you laugh, his bright smile infectious as he carved himself a place in your heart.

You didn’t know what this was. Did he like you more than just a friend? He was a flirt, but you assumed he was like that with everyone. You weren’t sure if you should read into it any deeper, but there was a big part of you that wanted him to want you just as much as you found yourself wanting him. 

He was gentle and kind, going out of his way to help the people in the village when he visited, hefting large bags of grain in the agora. He never hesitated or asked for anything in return, and it made your heart flutter. The old ladies would stop you to tell you how wonderful he was, that he was a keeper, and whenever you tried to open your mouth and correct them, he would grin over at you and wink, and you’d lose the ability to speak. 

When he showed you the power bestowed upon him by his father, you couldn’t help but giggle. He waved his hands around, creating a cloud out of the air’s moisture and pushed it towards you. “They can’t do much but float around, but if I make one big enough, I can sit on it and ride it where I need to go.”

“You aren’t able to make them do anything else?” You poked at the cloud, watching as it broke apart and drifted away. 

“No, but they’re fun to look at.” He made another one shaped like a bird. “What do you think?”

“I think they look like your hair.” You teased, watching it float up above your heads. 

He starting making another one, bigger than the ones before. “Come on.” He brought it down low, sitting on it and crossing his legs underneath him. “Want to go for a ride?”

You shook your head, frightened at the thought. “No way, that’s too scary.”

“Come on!” He held out his hand. “I can show you the world this way.”

His smile was disarming, and you felt yourself stepping forward before you knew it. “You better not let me fall.”

“I won’t, I promise. I’ll keep you safe.”

--

“What are you doing tomorrow?” He asked, kicking his feet in the water. 

You were sitting side by side on the riverbank, leaning back and basking in the afternoon sun. “Mm, probably this?” You opened one eye and looked over at him. “Why?”

He shrugged. “My father wants to meet you.”

You sat up so fast you almost flung yourself into the river, Oboro’s hand grabbing onto your arm the only reason you didn’t fall in. “Excuse me?”

Snorting, he let go of you and rested his palms on the grass beside him again. “He wants to meet the woman who made the outfit I wore to dinner a few weeks ago. Remember, I said I was going to show up everyone in Olympus?”

Nodding, you shut your jaw, which had been hanging open since he’d told you his father, also known as Zeus, the god of the sky and thunder, the king of the gods, wanted to meet /you/.

“Well, Aphrodite commented on it, and then father asked who made it, so I told him about you. Will you come?”

You swallowed thickly, trying to find your voice. How could you say no? Could you refuse to meet Zeus if he asked you to? “I…”

His arm moved around your shoulder, pulling your closer. “Don’t be nervous.”

“Don’t be nervous? Are you kidding me? I know he’s your father, but to me, he’s a god.” You sputtered, feeling yourself shake at the thought of being face to face with him. 

“Well, I mean, I’m half-god, and you’re not nervous around me.”

You decided not to point out that he made you incredibly nervous. You were just good at hiding it. You pressed on instead. “What do I even say to him? What do I even wear?”

He burst out laughing, throwing his head back. “What do you wear? Clothes would be a start, Y/N.”

“I hate you, have I mentioned that before?”

--

You barely slept that night, your thoughts racing as you went over scenarios in your head, trying to imagine what it was going to be like when you were face to face with the king of the gods. For some reason, you were worried that he wouldn’t like you. You weren’t sure why it mattered so much to you. You tried to push the little voice in the back of your head away when it started pointing out how you were probably worried because of how you felt about Oboro.

It was ridiculous to fight it anymore. You knew you liked him. You weren’t sure what to do with that information, but there it was. And now you were going to meet his father. 

Oboro came to get you after breakfast, his cheerful smile falling when he saw your face. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“You look like you haven’t slept.”

You laughed. “I haven’t.” Rubbing your eyes tiredly, you sighed. “I’m just worried I’m going to make a fool of myself.”

Shaking his head, Oboro pulled you into a hug. “You’re not going to make a fool of yourself. You’re going to be fine. He’s not as scary as you seem to think. Plus, I’ll be right there with you. You don’t have to be afraid.”

Letting yourself melt into him, you buried your face into his chest. “I know, I’m sorry. I’m probably just making things worse.”

“Don’t apologize, it’s fine.” You felt his fingers tangle in your hair, his chin leaning on the top of your head before he pulled away. “Come on, let’s go. He’s going to meet us at the temple.”

“Do I look alright?” You stepped back from him and looked down at the dress you’d made; the fabric dyed a deep burgundy. 

Oboro didn’t say anything at first, making you doubt yourself, your head falling forward to gaze at the sandals on your feet. 

“No, you don’t look alright.” He said finally.

Eyebrows furrowed, your head snapped up to look at him. “What?”

He was grinning widely at you, holding out his hand to take yours. “You look beautiful.”

Your entire face felt like it was on fire when you realized what he said, your expression melting into a small smile. He wrapped his hand around yours and tugged you towards the door, his eyes crinkled merrily, trying not to laugh at his trick. He was such a lousy flirt, but his compliment made you feel better, even if you didn’t think he meant it.

--

Zeus was waiting inside the temple when you arrived, gazing up at the statue of himself with his hands folded behind him. “Sometimes, these things don’t look anything like me, but I’d say this is a pretty accurate one, don’t you think?”

When he turned around to face you, you had to agree. The statue looked just like him. “Y-yes, sir.” Bowing your head, you brought your hands in front of you and pressed them together. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Zeus laughed, stepping forward. “You don’t have to do that, though I appreciate it.” You looked up at him, meeting blue eyes the same color as his son’s. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Y/N. I’ve heard so many things about you. Oboro talks of you often.” He took one of your hands in his and kissed the back of it, his gaze moving to the man beside you. “You weren’t kidding when you told me she was beautiful, son.”

Your cheeks turned pink as you turned to look at Oboro, his face tinted red with embarrassment. “Father, please.”

“Please what? She’s beautiful and talented as well.” He turned back to you. “Oboro’s tunic was all anyone could talk about at dinner a few weeks ago. Aphrodite was impressed, and that’s not an easy feat to accomplish.”

“Thank you, Zeus. I’m humbled. I never thought what I did was anything extraordinary.”

“Nonsense! Quality work like that should be appreciated.” You heard Oboro telling you to accept a compliment in the back of your head, so you just smiled and nodded. ”Oboro showed me the blue tunic you made as well, and I would like to ask a favor of you.” 

“Anything, sir.” You felt your heartbeat quicken in anticipation, relaxing minutely when you felt Oboro place his hand on your shoulder and squeeze.

“I would like for you to make something for me. I know that the first tunic was originally an offering for me, but I think it better suits Oboro. I can give you whatever materials you desire. Color and pattern don’t matter to me; I just want something like what you’ve done for my son. Do you think you could do that?”

Your mouth worked without a sound coming out, your brain trying to process what was happening. Zeus wanted you to make clothing for him. “Yes, of course! I would be happy to.”

“Wonderful.” Zeus clapped his hands together and smiled kindly at you. “You’ll be paid for your work, of course. Anything you need, you let my son know, and he’ll get it for you.” He turned to the man beside you, a severe look on his face. “Don’t be a fool, Oboro.”

“Father, what do you-”

“You know what I mean. Have some courage.” He put a hand on his son’s shoulder and squeezed before turning and nodding back at you. “I hope we meet again soon, Y/N.” 

Before you could say goodbye, a clap of thunder sounded in the temple, causing the ground to shake slightly, and he was gone.

--

You weren’t sure how you made it back to your house, your thoughts elsewhere as you tried to imagine what you could make for Zeus that would impress him.

Oboro was uncharacteristically quiet beside you on the entire walk, his mind obviously elsewhere as well.

“You okay?” You asked him, cocking your head to the side as he stood in the doorway to your home, his shoulder resting on the frame.

He nodded, smiling at you. “Never better.”

Not believing him for a second, you pressed on. “Did your father say something that’s bothering you?” He looked away, his eyebrows furrowed. “You don’t have to tell me, you know. I’m just worried about you.”

His eyes met yours again. “You’re worried about me?”

“You always have a smile on your face, no matter what, so seeing you without one is a little worrisome.” You stepped towards him, craning your head back to look up into his eyes. “You can talk to me if you want. I won’t judge you too hard, I promise.”

Oboro huffed a laugh through his nose. “You’re funny.” His fingers traced along your jaw as he stood up straight, gazing down at you. “You want to know what he was talking about?”

Nodding, you swallowed thickly, feeling the mood in the room shift, the tension between the two of you was palpable. 

“He was telling me not to be a fool about you.”

Blinking, you tried to focus on the feeling on his fingers on your face, moving down to your neck. “About me?”

Humming, his thumb brushed across your chin, moving up to tug on your bottom lip. “He knows how much I like you. He just doesn’t want me to miss my opportunity.”

Eyes wide, you stared at him, not sure what to say, more content to watch him and see what he would do next.

“Ever since I saw you at the river that day, your face is all I can think about when I’m not with you. Spending time with you is all I want to do. I would be content to sit there and drink wine and watch you sew all day, just because I get to be with you.” He chuckled under his breath. “Shouta and Hizashi are tired of me going on about it. Well, Shouta is always tired, so that’s nothing new.” He pushed your hair behind your ear with his other hand. “They all just wanted me to tell you how I feel.” 

You closed your eyes briefly, breathing in deeply. You let your hands rest on his chest, smoothing the fabric of his clothes beneath your fingers. “I like you too, Oboro. A lot.”

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping in pitch and volume when he spoke. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

You felt his breath on your face, and you closed your eyes again when his lips met yours. Letting yourself melt against him, your hands slid up and over his shoulders. He kept his warm palm against your neck, his other hand moving to your waist to pull your body flush against him. He smelled like petrichor and sunshine, and though you were used to the smell because of all the time you spent with him, somehow it was different when he was kissing you, making your knees weak and your heart pound against your ribcage like it was trying to break free. You sighed when you felt his tongue press against your lips, your mouth opening to deepen the kiss, inhaling through your nose, not wanting to let the moment end.

When it did, your chest was heaving as you sucked in air, but you were still pressed against him, your fingers toying with the hair by the nape of his neck.

He looked down at you, his eyes bright and his lips twisted into a smile. “You okay?”

“Better than okay.” You were still out of breath, but you returned his bright smile. 

“Good.” He leaned down to kiss you again, but this time the kiss was chaste and left you chasing his mouth for more. He chuckled. “Come on, let’s have some lunch, and then I think you should take a well-deserved nap. I know you’re exhausted.”

Humming in agreement, you took a step back, your hand moving to cup his cheek. “Alright. You’re going to stay, right?”

His smile got impossibly bigger. “Sweetheart, I’m not going anywhere.”

#shirakumo oboro #shirakumo oboro x reader #oboro shirakumo #oboro shirakumo x reader #bnha #bnha x reader #bnharem collab #kingexpl0sionmurder writes #shirakumo oboro fluff

[purplecantaloupe]

@lestrudel-scotlandyard :

Hey could you write a Calum one where he is super into y/n but she's Mali's roommate so Calum is hesitant to listen to his heart until he has a drunk chat with Mali about it?

Thank you so much for requesting this and I’m so sorry that it took me so long to get this out. I hope this is what you had in mind!! Love you so much and I hope you enjoy.

**gif is not mine**

Warnings: some swearing, alcohol abuse, no smut really just some foreplay and dirty words ig, lots of fluff

WC: 5484

It was so hard for Calum to sit upright in his chair as he watched you exit the hallway from your bedroom and out to the living room. Tonight was roommate movie night with Mali and Calum asked to join in since the guys were all with their girlfriends tonight which made it that much harder for you and Mali to refuse his company, plus he offered to pay for the snacks so you couldn’t say no. You were still in your bedroom showering and getting dressed when he arrived so when you came out to the living room with damp hair, some spandex shorts, and an oversized sweatshirt that Calum graciously let you borrow a while ago after a drunk night in the pool that the lot of you shared needless to say, Calum was a little taken aback.

-

Calum could remember that night so vividly (despite the amount of booze in his system). You had worn only but the tiniest bathing suit he’d ever seen. It was when you and his sister had first moved in together and she had told you that her brother had a house with a pool and you didn’t hesitate to buy a cute dark blue bikini that would compliment your skin perfectly and also keep you modest. It was the first time you and he had met, he had the guys over with their respective partners, Michael doing his DJ bit (as always Calum would help out a little bit with the setting up) and once you and his sister arrived he only saw you. His brain could only describe you as the angel that had fallen from heaven and into his backyard. You unknowingly wore his favorite color and you were oblivious to the fact that your breasts were spilling out of the top just a bit. Nobody truly noticed except for Calum. Mali-Koa introduced you to everyone, sharing handshakes and hugs and the smile never leaving your face and shining a light across his dim patio. Calum came up to you introducing himself as the bassist in the band and the little brother of your roommate, making you giggle and nod your head as you introduced yourself as well. He could still see your smile in his head, hearing that melody of your giggle and wanting everything in his power to never let that smile leave your face; Calum wanted to always be the reason that you were smiling. No matter how much he wished that he could just make you happy and treat you the way that a lady should be treated he knew deep down that to you, he would always be your roommate’s little brother.

The rest of the night at Calum’s house was spent with you and the girls floating in the pool, drinking booze and ultimately Calum watching you keep the party bright and lively; dancing to Michael’s beats and your contagious laugh filling into the moments between the songs which only made Calum want to watch you even more throughout the night. Once the party was moved inside due to the breeze and decrease in temperature of the water, you rinsed off with the other girls outside before wrapping your towel around yourself and made your way over to your clothes you had left on a lawn chair. You picked your clothes up and while feeling the denseness of them you let out a sigh as pool water dropped through your fingers. You had asked Mali if she brought any extra clothes to which she frowned and shook her head.

“Maybe Calum will let you borrow some?” She looks at you with the concerned frown still on her face.

“Oh no I wouldn’t want to be a bother-”

“No bother at all, I’ll show you where to change,” Calum startled you as you turned around, watching him eagerly ascend to what you could only assume as his bedroom and wave a hand for you to follow him. You glance back at Mali and she smiles reassuringly at you then turns to converse with Andy. You follow Calum into his bedroom and see him rifling through his drawers and closet then pulls out a sweatshirt and some sweatpants.

“Here you should stay warm in this; I’ll go wash your clothes for you,” he smiles bashfully, trying to hide his blush as he takes the drenched clothes from you and makes his way to his laundry room. He would never admit to you that he was the one who got your clothes wet, he knows the outcome of his normal get togethers with his bandmates usually go until all hours of the night and maybe the off chance that you would be staying as well; he’d hoped that you would ask him to borrow some clothes, just to be able to talk to you (and see you in his clothes obvs). Knowing that he would never be able to make a move, he decided why not have a little play before the night was over.

Once you changed into his clothes you felt as though you were swimming again due to the size difference. You took a look at yourself in the mirror and let out a scuff of air at your current state as well as your thoughts. A knock at the door startled you a bit, you looked up at the door before slowly opening it. Calum’s jaw went slack and his eyes bugged out but he recovered quickly before you could really notice.

“Everyone is out in the living room, just wanted to let you know,” he says and then clears his throat.

“Thank you for this, I really appreciate it,” you say and wave the oversized arms around and smile.

“No problem,” he smiled and that was it for him, he was a goner for you though he wouldn’t admit it to anyone, not even himself really he just thought that this was an innocent brief moment of passion before he found another girl to gawk at. It shouldn’t be that hard, right?

--

Even months after that pool party Calum had to get you out of his head, he couldn’t possibly go for his sister’s roommate. The consequences from his sister as well as the break up could and would set him into a frenzy which is why he’s built a wall over his heart. Calum hasn’t let a girl in, in God knows how long and he refuses to let his guard down after his past relationships, being used for money and fame as well as sex on the off chance the girl he was seeing was trying hard enough. He knew that getting so attached to somebody so close to Mali would result in something detrimental, he didn’t have the time, patience, or mental health to patch himself up again. Calum had to get away from you not only for his sake, but for yours as well. He didn’t want to be the reason that you cried and he couldn’t handle the fact that you would hate him after something he’d done stupidly on a whim.

He had tried to forget about you, he tried with so many other girls, kept getting wasted which would only make it worse to which he would wish you were the one rubbing his back instead of Ashton as he threw up the remnants of acid and liquor from his stomach. Calum even tried meditating and yoga which would result in him rolling over and falling asleep on the floor of his home recording studio dreaming about you, being on top of you, inside of you, anything that his subconscious could come up with. His dreams would result in him trying to find women that looked similar to you and start the process over again.

Once the boys saw that Calum was basically ruining himself, they decided to do something to try to get him with you, since getting him away from the thought of you wasn’t going to happen anytime soon, no matter how much he stated he was ‘trying to forget about you’.

They all decided to have a couples night which hurt Calum in the long run because he knew he’d be the third-wheel and wouldn’t want to be the sob story. Luke slyly reminded him of the up and coming Friday night would also be the roommate movie night that you and Mali-Koa would post about on Instagram, maybe even going live and trying to drunkenly bake some brownies, both of you wearing fuzzy socks, hoodies and a blanket covering your lower halves, until you moved to the kitchen to talk about your love-lives all the while still on live and entertaining your virtual friends.

Calum had watched the lives that you two had done before and it looked like so much fun, not only would he get to be with you but he could spend some time with his sister who he loved oh-so much. He was practically shaking as he asked his sister if he could join your roommate ritual and when she had replied with an, “only if you bring snacks and booze!”

He sighed in relief, already deciding on which snacks he wanted to bring. He stopped by the closest corner store and bought all the snacks that the girls requested along with what he wanted as well, sending a quick text to his sister that he was on his way and headed to your flat.

Once Cal got there he was informed by his sister that you were still in the shower and you'd be down any minute, giving a nod to his sister before making himself a drink, anything that would get him loose, and down it as fast as he could. He hoped that tonight could go as he planned and he could keep his feelings down as much as he could, maybe his blush would be hidden by the alcohol. The amount of liquor that Calum consumed could also be equivalent to that of ‘a fifty-five gallon drum’ but he was still convinced that he needed to be drunk-er just to be able to sit in the same room as you.

After your shower you grabbed an old sweatshirt that you couldn’t be bothered to remember the origin and some bed shorts to stay comfortable while you watch the movies. If you were being honest, you didn’t even remember that Calum was coming over if you had known you would’ve put on some longer pants and now you just feel like you were exposed in front of the only guy that you’d been attracted to since you moved to LA.

His bickering with his sister hadn’t seized since she chose a cheesy/sappy rom-com (that was chosen well over an hour and a half ago) that he audibly groaned at. His groan sent you into overdrive and you had to keep the redness from forming on your cheeks wanting nothing more but to want to hear it again and again. Calum was oblivious to the fact that you even felt the least bit aroused at the sound of his turmoil. You had to stand up, not only to get away from the heat that was radiating off of your crush, but the bickering made you want to pull the nerves from your ears. You made your way to the kitchen, making yourself a margarita that Mali had blended up, taking a sip and sighing, the feeling of the ice cooling your insides.

“You ok?” You hear the husky voice of the one and only. You squeeze your eyes shut tight before you turn around to face him.

In Calum’s eyes you are the most beautiful thing he’d set his eyes on, anyone could see it except that you were blind. The fact that he was your best friend’s brother and nothing more could come from either of you stayed in your mind. Little did he or anybody know for that matter that you had thoughts and dreams of the moment that he would push you up against a wall and take you wherever and whenever: maybe he would tease you a little, wanting to see just how far he could take it before you were writhing under him. You had to pinch your arm to stop the thoughts and to snap back into reality, knowing damn well that he was meer feet away from you but upon seeing him, your naughty thoughts came back faster than Calum could even look away from you. Seeing those dark brown eyes craving to drink you all in, wanting to watch him peel your clothes off to reveal your curves to him; seeing his hands, hands that could gently constrict around your throat the same way they are cradling the neck of a beer bottle, ironic but still not helping.

Clearing your mind of all the filth you grab your half drunk margarita and a second one for Mali then you give him an exaggerated nod before you make your way to the living room to take a seat next to her. Calum followed you after grabbing a new drink of his own before he sat in his original seat.

Calum knew that his blush had to have been evident on his cheeks, he was imagining tearing you apart right there on the couch, the blood was rushing to his cheeks as well as his cock, although he wouldn’t admit that to you. The shorts you wore were practically invisible to the naked eye and your hair was adorning your face with such grace that he almost could just flip you on your stomach and pull on your loose locks just hear that delicious moan-

After consuming enough tequila that your brain was fuzzed over and your body felt warm you noticed the movie was over and Calum and Mali were arguing over the next movie, typical.

“Mal you chose the last movie! Practically bored me to sleep! Can we please watch something with a little more action?”

“Guys I’m gonna head to bed, I’m feeling too good and your yelling is killing my buzz,” you say interrupting the brother and sister banter.

You stand up only to stumble a bit and giggle at yourself, you didn’t even realize you were that drunk.

“Help her you doof!” Mali-Koa says to her brother and rolls her eyes, equally just as tipsy as you are.

Calum had drank twice as much as both of you combined but he was still comprehensive, he shames himself for drinking so often that his tolerance was so high, he stood to which you just shook your head.

“I got it, I got it. I’m good.” You say and use the wall to guide you to the hallway. He sat back down at your words, watching you warily. You make it to the entrance of the hall, your room seems so far away but you take a breath and start on your drunken journey. Just as you start to waddle your way, guiding yourself with the wall, you feel a hand on your back which startles your drunken state.

“Hey I got you, it’s okay,” Calum says and takes your hand in his and uses the other on your back to guide you into your bedroom. You giggle and lay your head against his chest as he guides you through your corridor. He pulls your blankets down on your bed, still using his arm to hold you steady and he gently helps you lie down in the bed. He pulls the blankets up to your neck, tucking you in and just as he turns to walk back out he hears his name fall from your lips.

“Calum, please stay,” you whisper and move back as far as you can under your covers before patting the bed in front of you, “just for a little bit.” You whisper and smile at him tiredly.

Calums brain is running fast, the wheels turning in his head as he tries to think of a logical explanation as to why he should leave. His brain becomes even more intoxicated just looking at you as you look at him. He curses himself as his drunken brain leads him over to you and lays himself over the comforter. His tall stature leaning over you as he maneuvers himself beside you. You lay your head on his chest as he lays his arm under your head, your hand coming up to run along the valleys of his abdomen and he has to bite his lip from cursing.

Not even three minutes later your breathing evens out and he looks down at you, your eyes shut and your finger paused along his stomach. He gently rolls out from under you, sighing as he lays the faintest of kisses along your hairline.

“Good night, beautiful,” he whispers as he takes one last glance at you before turning your lamp out and shutting your door quietly. He makes his way back to his sister who is watching yet another rom-com and he can’t even be mad, he just cuddled with the only girl he’d ever wanted. Granted, she was drunk out of her mind and doesn’t even understand what happened.. god what was he thinking? This just sent him back so far in the healing process and now he won’t be able to get you out of his head for another year at best. Mali glances at him before looking at the tv then looks back at him.

“You ok?” She asks. Maybe it’s the alcohol talking, or maybe it’s his mind finally giving up on trying to hide but he shakes his head. Mali pauses the movie and pats the sofa next to her.

“What’s up?” She asks as he sits, both of them swaying a little in their tipsy state.

He doesn’t even know what to say, ‘I’ve had a crush on your roommate for almost a year now?’ No that wouldn’t sound good coming out. ‘I’ve been thinking a lot about y/n lately and I think I’m in love with her?’ GOD no, he couldn’t say that. His drunk mind takes over.

“I like.. this girl,” he pauses midway through.

Mali nods, silently telling him to continue.

“..and she’s all I can think about. She’s stuck in my head and Mali, I’m scared. I’ve never felt this way about another girl before, she’s different, so… unique, so loving, she cares for everyone and overall just so amazing,” he says and Mali nods.

“Well do you want to go for it? Can you see yourself with her in the future?” She asks, kind of taking advantage of his unfiltered thoughts.

“Mal, I can see us with kids and a house, Duke and a few others running around. The guys and you spending time with us as y/n’s pregnant belly pokes out with our second child. Mali I don’t know what to do,” he says and tears up just the slightest, his voice cracking. He realizes that he just said her name out loud, to his sister, your roommate. His head is spinning.

Mali already knew through her drunken thoughts that he was talking about you but Calum needed to hear it from himself.

“Well I know she likes you too, unless she has eyes for another Calum that I don’t know about,” she jokes. He surprised at his sister’s words,you like him back? He was blind, he had no idea that you felt the same for him. His intoxicated brain is getting too excited. “I think you should go for it,” she states, truth fully laced throughout the whole sentence. He stands up, gaining his land legs before he stalks towards your room. “I didn’t mean right now, but…” Mali’s words get lost in his thoughts as he quietly opens your door, shutting it gently before he sits back down in his original spot.

The weight difference wakes you slightly as well as the hand touching your shoulder. You hum as you feel the hand start to massage your shoulder and trail down your back. Your half dreaming state makes you imagine it’s Calum who is giving you the best post-inebriated massage.

“Mmm don’t stop, Calum,” you mumble into your pillow.

“How did you know it was me?” He giggles continuing to rub your back through your shirt before gently lifting it and rubbing his thumbs up your spine.

You jolt up a bit at his actual voice and you furrow your brows,

“What are you doing in here? What are you doing period?” You ask, hiding your blush in your pillow.

“I wanted to ask you something but I didn’t want to just wake you up and have you give me an answer while you’re grumpy,” he says and chuckles, reminiscing on the few times you’d slept over at his house and woke up annoyed and your hair in disarray.

“What do you have to ask that’s so important that you had to wake me up at two in the morning?” You ask and let out a sigh as he rubs a knot out of your back. He tried to keep his erection calm at your little noises but his mind betrays him as he feels himself growing.

“Well it’s more of a statement than a question,” he says and warily leans down pressing kisses up your back.

Your only logical explanation you could come up with is that you're dreaming, Calum would never do this type of thing, let alone sneak into your room.

“Am I dreaming?” You whimper at his lips on your back, his mind going to other places as he hears your whimper.

“No baby, I’m really here,” he whispers and climbs off from behind you and lays next to you, looking you in the eyes. He takes a piece of hair that has fallen on your face and gently tucks it behind your ear.

“Holy shit,” you whisper and look up at him, reaching your hand out and grip his shoulder, leaving your hand there to keep a grip not only on him, but on reality. He chuckles at your profanity and lays his hand on your shoulder blade, gently pulling your shirt back down before he draws patterns into your back through the fabric.

“I came in here to tell you that I like you and that I want to ask you out on a date,” he whispers, his fingers still rubbing on your back. Your brain is literally spinning from both his confession and the alcohol still present in your body. You feel the sudden urge of the snacks deciding to knock on your throat. You immediately shoot up and move as fast as you can to the bathroom. You kneel at the toilet letting all your undigested food out of your body, Calum rushes in behind you grabbing a hold of your hair and pulls it out of your face.

After throwing up the contents of your stomach, your hand leaning on the toilet seat and your head is laying on your arm as you try to catch your breath. Calum’s hand is rubbing circles on your back as he slides a Dixie cup of water under your head and whispers a small ‘here’ into your ear. You gladly accept and swallow it in one gulp.

“You could’ve just rejected me,” Calum says through the silence.

You smile and bite your lip, “you really just caught me off guard.” You say and giggle softly. Calum stands behind you, walking out of your bedroom which honestly stresses you out a little before he comes back in the room holding three water bottles.

“Here let’s not talk about that right now. Let’s go get you back in bed and drink some water,” he says which melts your heart down to the core. He helps you stand up and warily let’s go of you to let you brush your teeth. He slowly walks alongside of you, back to your bed before he covers you up. After satisfied he hands you a water bottle and kneels next to you for a second, taking your hand in his before he sighs, “I know that I would’ve somehow done something stupid to lose you, I just didn’t realize it’d be before you even could verbally reject me,” he says and bites the inside of his lip.

“What the fuck are you talking about? Calum I didn’t even get to respond.” You say and squeeze his hand. “Why don’t you just lay down and we can talk? Your knees are shaking,” you say and he looks down confused, his body still as a board, “made you look,” you joke, lightening the whole mode of the room instantly. He lays his head against your intertwined hands and chuckles.

“You got me,” he whispers. You never fail to lighten any mood.

“But seriously come lay down,” you say and nod your head at your bed. He let’s go of your hand and sighs walking around your bed and crawls in behind you on top of your blankets. Once he lays down you roll over and look at him through the moonlight cascading through your window, shadowing his features. “I like you too,” you whisper and run your finger down his cheek. “My answer is yes,” you add and the smile stretches across his face.

“Really? Oh my god Mali told me I should’ve waited and I thought I totally screwed up when you ran away,” he says and sighs, taking your hand in his once again.

“Wait Mali is behind this?” You say and look up at him.

“No I told her that I like you and she told me I should go for it.” He replies and rubs his thumb across your knuckles.

“Well I guess I can’t be mad at her,” you say and bite your lip which makes Calum’s erection grow back.

He doesn’t want to rush this relationship like he has in the past so he has to find an escape before he truly fucks up.

“I think I should better go now, you should get some sleep you’ve had an evenful night,” he whispers.

“Wait you were drinking, you shouldn’t drive.. stay,” you say, fully awake now and you couldn’t let him get away so soon.

He sighs jokingly, “if you insist,” he says tilting his head and chuckles, climbing underneath your blankets along with you. His thoughts focusing on breathing instead of his dick. You lean into him and lay your head on his bicep, he wraps his arms around you almost in a protective way. “Good night, beautiful,” he whispers, shutting his eyes.

Calum finally felt safe.

-

Waking up next to Calum was alarming at first, you didn’t quite remember last night’s interaction. As you slowly opened your eyes you turned and he was sound asleep, small breaths of air left his mouth as he dreamt.

Once you got out of his light grip, you make your way down the hall to the kitchen and start up some eggs and pancakes for the residents of the house. Mali had joined you and you spilled everything that you could remember from last night to her and she listened intently.

“He told me he was going to leave but I knew he was drinking—“ before you could let her know he’d spent the night Calum made an appearance in the doorway, hair sticking up in all different ways and his sister gawked.

“I didn’t realize how awkward this’d be,” she says, “well I’ll leave you two to it, thanks for breakfast, babe,” she side hugs you before she makes her way back to her bedroom.

You smile up at Calum, “good morning,” you say and giggle at his sleepy state. He makes his way over to you and wraps his arms around your waist, pressing a kiss onto your forehead. You smile and bring your hands up, smoothing his hair down a bit.

“Mornin’,” he replies and leans into your touch.

“I made you some breakfast,” you say and tilt your head toward the pans and plates of pancakes and eggs. He looks over the top of your head and smiles.

“Thank you, love,” he smiles and squeezes your hips in affection, your insides melt. He makes his way over to make himself a plate before sitting down with you as you sip your coffee at the dining table. “What’s on your mind?” His voice husky as he eats.

“Lots.” You simply reply.

“What about?” He swallows and takes a sip of his coffee as well.

“Where you want to take me on a date, what I should wear, how bad I want to take a shower, how bad I want you to join me but I think that’s also moving too fast,” he chuckles, cutting your rambling short.

“Well the date is a surprise, you should wear something comfy, I think you should take a shower and I’d love to join you as well,” he says, “as soon as I finish this,” he motions to his almost finished plate. You blush.

“Well I already ate so I’m going to go start up the shower, you can join whenever you’re done,” he nods as you stand and make your way to the en suite bathroom. While you start bathing, Calum texts his group chat with the boys and announces that he finally made a move to which they all had individual compliments and congratulations to share with him. He puts his plate in the sink after thanking his friends and he makes his way to your bedroom. Hearing the shower running, he takes his clothes off, climbing in behind you and wraps his arms around your waist.

You jump as you wash your face, eyes closed as you lean into the water. He runs his hands up your front, both hands cupping breasts as he kisses your neck, back pressed against his front. You lean away from the water and lay your head against his collarbone.

“I've been waiting so long for this,” he whispers and presses a kiss to your shoulder, littering your clavicle. He trails up to your neck and presses a kiss into your cheek then slowly turns you around and lays a kiss at the corner of your mouth. You have to refrain your eyes from adverting to look down at him, that was the biggest struggle you’d faced, besides not wanting to jump his bones right then and there. “Am I rushing you? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” He whispers, his hands making their way to your lower back.

You shake your head, “kiss me,” you whisper, reaching your arms up and around his neck to pull him down to your level. He presses his lips against yours in the most tender and soft kiss. Your lips mold together, he bites your bottom lip and runs his hands down your backside gripping your asscheeks in his hands, both actions making you gasp. He takes the opportunity to swirl his tongue around yours, both dancing for dominance. He runs his hands down your thighs and lifts you up into the air easily, pressing your back against the cold tile wall of your shower. He trails his mouth down your neck to your chest, leaving a lovemark right on your sternum keeping in mind that you had work on Monday and he didn’t want the kids to ask why you had a bruise on your neck. Your moans could be heard but drowned out by the water hitting the floor. He pulls his mouth away from the forming purple mark on your chest and looks up into your eyes.

“I have to stop, I don’t want to ruin this before it even starts,” he drops your legs back onto the floor and runs his finger tips up your sides, making you shiver. “But god dammit I don’t want to stop,” he chuckles and you giggle breathless. “I’ve just waited so long for this.”

You nod, “me too,” you admit, your eyes flashing up to his, you both share a look of lust. “All good things take time,” you nod, still looking into his eyes, he nods as well.

You both finish showering and make your way to your bedroom after drying off, lending him a toothbrush and a pair of your oversized sweats.

“Sorry I don’t have another pair of underwear for you, but I’ll go wash this shirt I wore last night and you can wear that,” you say and he shakes his head.

“It’s okay, I’ll wear it now,” he smiles and slides it over his head. “It smells like you,” he tries but fails to hide his smile by biting his lip. You smile as well.

He silently thanks himself for getting her clothes wet the first time they met.

#5sos fluff #5sos smut #calum hood #calum hood smut #calum hood fluff #calum hood blurb #calum hood imagine #calum hood 5sos #calum 5sos #calum 5sauce #calum x reader

[wwitbeyondmeasure]

Summer at the Burrow / Ron Weasley fan fiction

Previous Chapters

Introduction / Author’s Note / Chapter 1: The Journey to the Burrow / Chapter 2: Hidden Letters / Chapter 3: Ron’s Return / Chapter 4: Nighttime Conversations / Chapter 5: A Morning Surprise / Chapter 6: The Quidditch Match / Chapter 7: Girl Talk / Chapter 8: Aphrodite’s Push / Chapter 9: Mistakes and Love Potions / Chapter 10: You Would Be Fine / Chapter 11: Spell It Out / Chapter 12: Long Overdue 

Chapter 13: Always Want You

Author's note: okay so this chapter is gonna be a little steamy...pretty much the entire chapter is literally just steam so if you're not comfortable with that please don't read this chapter! thanks! :) 

Your knuckles hovered over the wooden door of Ron's bedroom. They were shaky, and your heart was beating faster and faster. You had successfully slipped out of Ginny's room after (of course) gushing to her and Hermione about all the romantic things that Ron had said to you. You were pretty sure they had seen you leave Ginny's room during the sleepover, but they opted to let you have your fun.

And fun you would have. If only you could work up the courage to knock on the door.

You don't know why you were nervous. Ron just bared his heart and soul to you outside a few hours ago but now standing at his bedroom door, you were racked with nerves. What if he changed his mind? What if you messed something up? What if you weren't as good a kisser as he was? Juvenile thoughts, yeah, but everything with Ron was new and exciting, you couldn't help feeling so inexperienced.

Before you could even decide whether or not to turn around and run back up the stairs, you heard a very familiar squawking noise. Dite. Perfect opportunity, you thought, before knocking on the door

The door swung open before you could even lift your hand away. Your knuckle was frozen there in midair as your gaze met Ron's. He had changed out of his button-up from the party and was now wearing loose sweat pants and his signature Chudley Cannons t-shirt. Just the sight of him made your head feel woozy and clouded.

"I....uh...heard Dite, so I decided to come check on her," you said, very awkwardly. Even though you knew how Ron felt about you, and vice versa, you still found yourself at a lost for words standing at his bedroom door. For some reason kissing him now seemed drastically different from kissing him in the garden.

Ron gave you a lazy grin.

"You came just for Dite, huh?" He asked, seeing right through you. Blush spread across your cheeks and you nodded curtly.

Before you could make any more of a fool of yourself, Ron gently clasped his fingers around your wrists and pulled you into the room, promptly shutting the door behind him. He then pushed your back up against the door and kissed you. Surprised, your hands flew to his hair and you deepened the kiss. Even though you had exchanged countless little kisses the entire night (you could barely keep your hands off each other), every single one had felt as passionate and important as the first.

Ron pulled away from you, his grin still playing on his, now chapped, lips.

"Still only here for Dite?" He asked, his eyes joking.

"Definitely," you responded, taking every ounce of your will power to push away from him rather than wrap your legs around his torso. You walked over to the owl cage in the corner of the room. Inside, standing on straw and looking very smug, was your little friend Dite.

You stroked the top of her feathers with the back of your fingers, smoothing out the black heart on top of her head. While you were distracted by your pet, you felt strong warm arms wrap around your waist from behind. Ron leaned down to rest his chin on your shoulder.

"Do you think she knows? About us?" Ron asked, tilting his head towards the small owl you were petting.

"Oh, definitely. She's practically screaming 'I told you so!' right now."

Ron wrapped his arms tighter around you as he chuckled. Your entire body felt warm with him wrapped around you. Wow, you thought. You could get used to this feeling.

He laughed again, kissing your shoulder while doing it so you felt his hot breath on your bare shoulder. You decided to wear a tank top and pajama pants to meet him tonight, and you were glad you did. His breath directly on your exposed skin was driving you insane.

"What're you laughing at?" You asked, your fingers moving away from petting Dite and instead landing on his arm. You traced up and down his freckled limb, soaking in every bit of him.

"People always say I'm the dumb one, but I literally bought you an owl named Aphrodite and you still didn't know how I felt about you," he said. You could feel his shoulders jostling up and down as he spoke so you knew he was still laughing.  

Rolling your eyes, you turned around in his arms and were now facing him. Your fingers trailed from his biceps up to his neck as you wove your fingers through his orange hair.

"I didn't want to assume anything," you defended yourself.

Ron lowered his lips to yours. "I wish you would've, then we could've done this a lot sooner," he responded. You could feel the shape of his words barely touching your lips as he spoke against them.

"Done what, exactly?" You asked teasingly.

His lips connected with yours once more and as he kissed you deeply, he slowly walked you back towards his bed.

"This," he mumbled huskily when your knees hit the edge of the mattress.

Desire pooled into every pore of your body as you laid down on his bed, him hovering above you.

"Some privacy, please?" You said, regarding the birds in the corner of the room. Dite sent a wink in your direction as she flapped out her wings and took flight. As soon as your owls had flown out the open window, you dragged Ron's face down to yours.

"Kiss me, Weasley," you breathed.

And kiss you he did.

You thanked your lucky stars you were laying down because if not, your knees would have given out with the intensity of Ron's kiss. His mouth was hot against yours, his tongue dragging across your bottom lip hungrily. You kissed him back with the same feverish energy, wrapping your leg around his waist in one swift motion. He grunted into the kiss, left hand coming up to tangle in your hair as his right trailed down your body, touching you in places you desperately needed him at. His lips trailed from your mouth to your neck, leaving hot wet kisses along your jaw line.

"Y/n," he rasped against your skin, making you shudder under him.

Slowly, he kissed from your neck to your collarbone, relishing in the little moans you were emitting. His fingers bunched around the hem of your tank top, his eyes searching yours for permission. You nodded, letting him lift the material and smiling to yourself when he sharply inhaled. You hadn't worn a bra.

"Decided to keep with tradition, you know?" You joked as his eyes drank in the view of you.

"I love you so damn much," he said, his hands roaming over your body. His eyes bounced back up to yours and held your gaze. "You look so beautiful like this, all splayed out with your hair messy," he said. He was looking at you as if you were the most magical thing in the world-and to him you were. Which is saying a lot, because he was a wizard.

"I'm sorry I ran out on you the morning after we slept together," he blurted out. Wincing, he amended, "I mean not sleep sleep together, but sleeping next to each other, in the same bed, like we did."

It made your nerves ease when you watched him get flustered around you for once, instead of the other way around.

"Why did you?" You asked.

His hands stalled their trek on your body and moved back to your chin, cupping your face. He did that a lot, holding your face in his hands so gently. It made your heart melt and other parts of you heat up.

"I dunno, I guess I've just pictured this moment, right now, what we are doing, for the longest time...and I wanted to act on how I felt so badly that night...but I was too nervous," he confessed sheepishly.

You propped yourself up on your elbows so you could look him deeper in the eyes.

"Apology accepted. Just don't run out on me tomorrow morning, okay?"

His breath caught in his throat.

"You want to stay the night? With me? In my bed?" He asked nervously, as if he couldn't believe his luck.

After glancing down at your bare chest, you looked back up at him.

"Well, obviously," you joked.

He laughed through a grin and brought his lips to yours, before pushing you back into the pillows. Your head rested on his soft pillows and he kissed you again, making you feel like you were floating. His hands explored your chest while your fingers gripped the ends of his t-shirt, tugging it up slightly.

As if he could read your mind, Ron leaned back, quickly taking off his shirt and casting it away. Instantly, you attacked his shoulders and collarbones with hot, open mouthed kisses. You kissed every freckle, every mole, and every muscle on his chest.

Once you felt satisfied, you made your way back up to his lips, attaching yourself to them like they were water and you were dying of thirst. Ron eased you back to the pillows once more as his lips started kissing and sucking at the crook of your neck. You pressed you face into his red hair, the smell of cinnamon and apple filling your nose. He licked a particularly sensitive spot on your neck and you groaned, back arching.

Ron's fingers reached the drawstring of your pants, and he pulled away to look you in the eyes.

"Are you sure you want to do this? Because we can wait if you want," he rushed, his words tripping over one another.

You pulled him back into a kiss, breathing through it, "Ron, I want this, I want you, as long as you do too."

"I'll always want you," he replied.

His fingers dipped below your waistband. They immediately found their way to your core and you moaned louder than you expected, heat rushing to your face.

"Alright there, love?" Ron asked with a smug grin.

"Perfect," you replied, moaning again, not really caring about how desperate you must have seemed in the moment.

The rest of the night was filled with the same rhythm, kissing and asking permission and unabashedly showing each other how badly you wanted one another.

This lasted for quite some time, but by the time Dite and Pig had flown back into the room, you and Ron were cuddling together, out of breath, legs tangled up in the sheets.

"Hello," you greeted your owl. She gave you an approving nod before nestling into the straw of her cage, soundly falling asleep.

You turned your attention to the red haired boy laying next to you, his arms wrapped tightly around you. His eyelids were heavy, and you could tell he was just as tired as you were. Taking out years worth of pent up desire and lust really tires a person out.

Ron pressed his lips against your mouth, your temple, your cheek, all the while mumbling "I love you," against your lips, again and again and again.

You fell asleep to that mantra, heart full, hair a mess, and absolutely, blissfully in love.

#Ron #Ron Weasley #ronald weasley #ronweasley #ron weasley fanfiction #ron weasley fan fiction #ron weasly imagine #ron weasley imagine #ron weasly x reader #ron weasley imagines #ron weasley x reader #reader x ron weasley #ron weasley smut #Harry Potter #harry potter references #harry potter fanfiction #harrypotterfanfiction #Harry Potter fan fic #harry potter fan fiction #harry potter smut #Rupert Grint #rupert grint imagine #smut #imagine #imagines #fanfic #fan fiction #fanfiction

[amongtheshadowandlight]

In Twilight: 7 of ?

Chapter Seven: Silence is Deafening

"Aw, but it was so nice here in the twilight, what's so great about the world of light anyway? See ya later."

Ombretta blinked blankly as her vision returned from the sheer white, her body tingling as She shook out her arms and legs, the familiar tingling coursing through her limbs. She examined the area around her. Gone were the yellow haze and the floating squares but seeing the familiar light of spring, the water turned a liquid gold before the ball of light, same to the one in Ordon, floated up from the water. With the ball of light, manifested the likeness of what Ombretta could only picture was a giant squirrel, it's tail circling around it.

"My name is Faron. I am one of the light spirits who dwell in Hyrule. By order of the gods, I protect this forest. Oh brave youth...in the land covered in twilight where people roamed as spirits, you were transformed into a blue-eyed beast."

Obviously talking about Link. Ombretta thought.

"That was a sign. That was a sign that the powers of the chosen one rests inside you and that they are now awakening. Look at your awaken form..."

Ombretta looked to her left, her heart leaping at the sight of the sight of blond hair instead of grey fur. But instead of the normal Ordonian clothes she was used to seeing and what Link was originally wearing in the first place, was replaced with green tunic. Her eyebrows furrowed together the more she looked at the green outfit. It was like...she had seen the same outfit before, but she couldn't place it. Looking at the outfit felt like a locked up memory, something her mind was desperately trying to remember, but couldn't.

"The green tunic that is your garb once belonged to the ancient hero chosen by the gods...his power is yours, the true power that slept inside you. Your name is Link. You are the hero chosen by the gods."

Ombretta took a step back, her jaw slacking open as Link stared up at the spirit, his eyes wide as dinner plates.

"Brave youths...A dark power rests in the temple deep within these woods. It is a forbidden power. Long, long ago. I and the other light spirits locked it away." Faron began to explain, his form beginning to grow fainter with each word. "Because of its nature, it is a power that should never be touched by those who dwell in the light. But this world weeps under a mantle of shadows and there is no other choice...you must match the power of the king of shadows. Proceed to the temple within the forest depths."

His form faded, leaving both Ombretta and Link silently standing still in the shallow waters, trying to process all the information given. Link was the first one to make a move, lifting his hand to look at the leather glove and guard he now donned.

"Well...huh!" Ombretta finally got out, swallowing the building up saliva. "That's truly somethin'..." She looked at Link once more. "That stitchin' is immaculate..."

"Of course you would say somethin' like that."

"If you were raised by my mother, you'll be thinkin' the same thing."

"Well well well...!" Midna sneered as she popped out of Link's shadow. "You're the chosen hero and all that, huh? So that's why you turned into that beast! What a shame...I mean, maybe you'd rather just wander as a spirit like the rest of them? Totally unaware of what's going on for all time, right?"

"Doesn't answer my question as to why I didn't change into a spirit." Ombretta shot back, crossing her arms. "I have no ideas, my head feels so jumbled right now..."

"Well, what do you want to do? Do you want to head to that temple?" Midna asked, seeming like she was ignoring Ombretta's comment. "How convenient! I was about to head there myself!" she sighed. "Look, you want to help your friends, right? And get the answers you want? The way I see it, it's all in that temple, just waiting..."

Ombretta glanced at Link, who just gave a slight shrug in return.

"Well, good luck you two." Midna giggled before diving back into Link's shadow.

"Well, what's the plan here? Go to the temple?"

"I guess there isn't much choice, is there?"

Ombretta shook her head, handing Link the scabbard and shield off her back. "No, not really."

"Well, I better go back to town to stock up, I have a feeling it won't be easy."

"Oh! Now that you can produce words. How is everything?" Ombretta asked as they began walking back to Ordon, but frowned when she was met with silence. "Link?" she jumped slightly ahead of him, turning around so she was walking backwards. "Link, what happened?"

"We weren't the only ones taken..."

"Link...?"

"All the kids were taken. Beth, Malo, Talo, Lennel..."

It felt like the world stopped. Everything zoned in on her as her breathing picked up, her heart beginning to race as she turned around on her heel, taking off in a sprint. She could barely hear the call of her name behind her as she ran through the woods, her vision becoming a tunnel as she only focused on the pathway in front of her. Her lungs screamed at her to slow down, her legs begging but she only pushed herself forward, only slowing down as she ran through the clearing.

She skidded to a stop once she passed through the gate. The air fell so still, even being the village for one minute, the quiet was deafening, the normal ruckus of animals seemed to have disappeared along with the usual bustling of the adults.

It was like the very life of the village was gone.

Ombretta let out a shuddered breath, flinching slightly at the gloved hand landing on her shoulder.

"I'm gonna go check on Rusl and Uli, you go home. I'll come see you before I leave." Link said before walking away from her.

She felt like her body was moving on it's own as she walked towards her house, dread building in her chest as she got to the door. "Hello...?" She called out as she walked through the front door. "Anyone here-oof!!" All the air escaped her lungs as a body flung into her, a pair of arms wrapping around her shoulders.

"Ombretta, oh my good stars." Her mother whispered, squeezing her daughter as tight as she could. "You're alright..."

Ombretta wrapped her arms around her mother, "yeah...yeah I'm alright."

"Oh! It was horrible, when you didn't come home I assumed you were taken as well..."

"So..it's true then?" Ombretta asked as she let go of her mother. "All the children were...?"

Maren nodded. "It was so fast, Rusl got badly injured, the mayor went out and your father as well. But they're up there in age so Ciel went with them and took Kano and oh!" She shut her eyes tightly, rubbing her forehead. "I can't help but think the worst."

Ombretta glanced down at her feet, her eyebrows furrowing together before shooting her gaze back up at her mother, Link's words floating around her mind. "Where's dad's old huntin' clothes?"

"Huh?"

"Where are dad's old huntin' clothes?"

"In-in a chest, in our room." Maren stammered out, following Ombretta as she raced up the stairs and into the main bedroom. "Ombretta, what are you doing?"

"I'm going."

"What?"

Ombretta pulled out the clothes, draping them over her arm as she stood up. "Link's going to find the children, and I'm going with him."

"Ombretta, no." Her mother protested, blocking the doorway. "I won't let you!"

"Mom..."

"Don't "Mom" me."

"Mom...I gotta go, if I can help in any way, I'm going to."

Maren sighed, moving away from the doorway after a few minutes, allowing Ombretta to rush past her and into her room.

Pulling on the hunting clothes, Ombretta stilled in her movements, staring at herself in the mirror. It felt like the previous day was finally catching up with her, her body beginning to feel sluggish, knees beginning to tremble as she lowered herself to the ground, her face going straight into her hands once more. She only lifted her face out of her hands when she felt a body next to her, peering at her mother.

"...Will you be okay, mom?"

Maren nodded, smoothing the back of Ombretta's hair. "I will be, I have a feeling that you need to go."

Ombretta shrugged a shoulder, the corner of her mouth lifting. "Then we share the feelin'." With a heavy sigh, Ombretta pushed herself to her feet, grabbing the arm guards and slid them on before pulling on her boots she mostly wore for travelling.

"Come to the kitchen once you're finished," Maren said as she stood up after Ombretta before leaving the room.

Her nose crinkled a bit as she looked to the door, sighing before turning back to the mirror, checking if everything was in place. It felt a little weird, the clothes being bigger than what she was used to, her belts being the only thing keeping some things in place but that being a given she supposed. Deeming that everything was good, she left her room, pulling her hair to the side so she could throw it in a quick braid.

Walking into the kitchen, Maren stood by the table. In her hand was a brown leather pouch, on the table were two scabbards laying on the tablecloth.

"Here, this was mine when I was younger. I figured you'll get some more use out of it."

"Oh, thank you, Mom." Ombretta thanked as she took the pouch from her, attaching it to one of her belts. "And thanks for pulling out my swords. But I'm shocked you put them on the table. I thought 'no weapons on the table'?"

"Oh, shush you."

Ombretta laughed, putting the scabbards on her hips, but her laughter dying down quickly as she stared at her mother.

"Please, be careful."

Ombretta simply just nodded. She couldn't bring herself to say anything, her saying anything would feel like an empty promise. She already knew what they were facing, it wasn't going to be easy. And she felt like her mother knew that as well. Giving her one last look, Ombretta raced out of her house and towards Link's house, where said man was climbing down his ladder.

"Ombretta?" He said once he noticed she was there. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like? I'm coming with you."

"Ombretta, no way."

"Yes way."

"Ombretta..."

"Link, I need to come with you." Ombretta crossed her arms, her stare becoming hard. "I wouldn't feel right just having you go on your own, plus those kids are just my responsibility as yours..."

"And the third argument?"

"What if Midna's right?" Ombretta sighed, her arms dropping to her sides. "What if the answers I want are out there? If I can kill multiple birds with one stone, so be it."

Link couldn't help but smile slightly at his friend's determination, "it's gonna be dangerous y'know."

Ombretta smiled back, "I was countin' on it."

"Well, then we better not waste anymore time."

"Lead the way."

So they went, silence surrounding them as they trekked through the forest. With each step taken, Ombretta could feel her nerves coming more and more alert, the pain slowly coming back, not the skull splitting pain she was growing accustomed to, but like a simple poke. It was like her own body was trying to warn her. Warn her of what, she didn't know.

She didn't dare say anything out loud though, what would she even say? Link would probably attempt to tell her to turn around and go back home. She couldn't have that. So she simply pushed the feeling to the back of her mind, focusing in front of her.

"How's your leg?"

"Hm?"

"Your leg," Link pointed down. "How is it?"

"Oh!" Ombretta patted her leg slightly, "It's fine, I used some of the spring water I told you to have, nothing but a dull ache now."

"Oh that's good!" Link said. "You have no idea how nice it feels to talk again, I thought I was gonna go insane."

Ombretta giggled. "I can't imagine. I would never want to be in your shoes-oh yeah, gate's still locked." Ombretta walked over to the wooden gate, giving the metal lock a few tugs. "Yeah no that's not happening."

"Let me go talk to Coro, maybe he'll have a key or something."

"Coro?"

"The guy who lives in the shack just over there?" He pointed to the clearing.

"Oh! Him, yeah okay." She said, watching Link take the path to the left. She leaned against a rock face, arms draped across her chest as she waited for Link.

"Don't tell me you're bored now."

Ombretta jumped back with a yelp at the sudden voice, scowling when she saw the black shadowy figure of Midna floating next to her. "Sweet Nayru, What are you doing?"

"Saying hello."

"And scaring me outta my wits more like it." She scoffed, moving back to lean against the rock wall, her hand pressed against her chest. "Oh my poor heart...so, what's with the shadowy-ness?"

"It's the only way I can be in your light."

"Oh yeah, I guess that makes sense huh? I can understand you a bit there I suppose." She shrugged, lifting up her arm. "The sunlight doesn't really like me either. But, what can you do, right? It won't kill me."

"No, the sunlight won't."

"Oh! Link," Ombretta pushed herself off the rock, Midna fleeing back into her shadow. "Well?"

Link held up a small key, "I also got a bottle of oil for the lantern."

"Did he just give it to you?"

"Oh no," Link said as he went to unlock the gate. "Sold to me for about a hundred rupees."

"A hundred rupees? Link!"

He shrugged, giving Ombretta a guilty smile as he pushed the gate open.

"You're too nice for your own good, I swear." Ombretta said as she walked past him through the gate. "Speaking of which, what did you tell Rusl and Uli about the sword you stole from them?"

"I didn't tell Rusl anything and Uli assumed that a monster stole it and I just happened to get it back." He replied, jogging to meet Ombretta's side, a now lit lantern in his hand.

"Wait, whaddya mean by that?"

"Rusl was badly injured, he had just fallen asleep when I went there."

"And what about Uli? Is she okay? And the baby?"

Link nodded, making Ombretta sigh, her hand clutching at her heart. "Goddesses, the poor woman, husband injured, son missing and heavily pregnant."

"Speaking of that, how's your parents?"

"Well, only spoke to mom. Dad joined the mayor on his search and Ciel went with them and mom is just...distraught."

"Which is why we need to find everyone as soon as possible."

Ombretta nodded. "Quick question," she asked as they were nearing the opening of the tunnel. "If the purple fog’s still there, how are we getting across?"

"Oh I didn't even think 'bout that." Link scratched at his cheek as he peered at the purple fog that was still as thick covering the forest floor. "You can "jump" I guess but me-HEY!"

It was a second, from Link holding the lantern to then being in the clutches of a monkey, who put it on a long branch. Ombretta took a step forward, but was held back by Link, watching as the monkey made her way to the end of the broken bridge, waving the lantern around then turning around, making the motion to follow.

"Hey, what's this monkey's problem?" Midna asked as she popped out from the shadows. "You idiot! While you two were chit chatting, your lantern got stolen!"

"Excuse you, Midna. But we were trying to figure out how we're gonna get across, no need for names."

Ombretta locked her jaw as Midna merely scoffed as she dove back into Link's shadow.

"Let's just follow the monkey, maybe she can help us."

"Hm, fine." Ombretta sighed.

They made their way towards the monkey, who jumped down from the broken bridge, instantly waving the lantern around. And to their amazement, watched as the fog moved, as if it was trying to get away from the light as much as possible.

"Well, that solves that issue." Link pointed out as he jumped down from the bridge, holding his hand out for Ombretta to take. "I have good ideas."

Ombretta took Link's hand, stumbling slightly as she landed. "Um, it's more the monkey's idea than yours but sure!" She giggled, following the monkey as she kept waving for them to follow.

The walk was mostly eventless. Other than the occasional keese or deku baba showing up, they safely made their way up to the gate to the north part of the woods. The monkey jumping around as they got to a safe part of the woods, the lantern falling off the stick and the monkey running off past the gate.

"Huh, at least she helped us right?" Ombretta shrugged. "And gave us back the lantern, somewhat?"

Link nodded, picking up the lantern and looking it over. "Used up all the oil though. Luckily I bought more." Link pulled out a jar of oil, giving it a little shake towards Ombretta. "See? I was smart to buy the oil."

"Oh, I wasn't against you getting the oil, I was against you paying a hundred rupees for only one jar."

Link merely shrugged his shoulders as he filled up the lantern, making Ombretta roll her eyes.

"And how do you plan on getting more money?"

"There's treasure in temples, isn't there?" Link said nonchalantly as he continued past the second gate.

"Oh, we're temple robbers now?"

"Ombretta..."

She giggled, shoving him lightly. "I'm just pullin' your leg." She went silent after that, something feeling like it was stirring inside her, the warning feeling showing up once more. "Pull out your sword."

"Huh?"

Ombretta pulled out one of hers, "Pull out your sword." she repeated, her walking became more slow and cautious as they neared a clearing, the likeness of two bokoblins standing within the clearing, their backs to them. Slowly, Ombretta inched her way behind them, getting close enough before trusting her sword forward, her blade going through one. The other one let out a single squawk before Link's blade followed Ombretta's.

"How did you know that these two would be here?" Link asked as he pulled his sword out, sheathing it.

"I didn't." Ombretta replied as she followed Link's movements, watching the two bokoblins turning to black dust. "I just...had a weird feeling. Almost like I knew that there was danger, before I really knew myself?"

"Weird."

"Tell me about it."

"Hey!!"

Both Link and Ombretta looked to the right, to the small hideaway vendor or rather, to the lone bird sitting within the hideaway vendor.

"Buy something! Anything!" The bird squawked, waving it's wings about.

"I didn't know there was a vendor here."

"I didn't either until that day that Talo was captured." Link walked towards a large vat, filled with what Ombretta assumed to be lantern oil.

She watched as Link pulled out the empty bottle from before, dipping in the vat of oil. After making sure he put the right amount of money in the box, Link walked back to Ombretta, sliding the bottle back in his pouch.

"There! Now we have extra, just in case."

Ombretta rolled her eyes once again, continuing to the temple, only to stop at the sight of a golden wolf just sitting in front of the narrow path, just staring at her, nothing like she had ever seen before. She slowly inched closer to the wolf, who just sat there unbothered. She jumped back once the wolf suddenly moved into an attack stance, growling but not at her.

But to the man beside her.

Both of them pulled out their blades, watching even for the slightest movement. Ombretta put her blades up to block as the wolf made a lunge at them or specifically, at Link. There was abruptly a flash of a blinding light, causing Ombretta to promptly shut her eyes tightly. She opened them after a few moments, the light slowly fading away. She scanned the area, looking for any signs of the golden wolf, but couldn't see any traces of it. Seeming like it just disappeared along with the bright light.

"That was odd, don'tcha think?" She asked, her eyebrows furrowing at the lack of response. "Link?" She asked once more, looking to her left.

She let out a gasp as she saw her friend laying on the ground, still as a board. Instantly, she fell to her knees, barely acknowledging Midna popping out of the shadows, pressing her ear to his chest. Relief washed over her as she felt his chest rising, a heartbeat under her ear. A slow one but a heartbeat nonetheless.

"What was that about?"

Ombretta shrugged as she lifted her head off his chest, giving Link a shake, frowning at the lack of movement from him. "I don't know. He's alive, that's all I know. Something tells me that wolf isn't an ordinary wolf..."

"So, now what?"

Ombretta sat back on her heels. "We wait."

She didn't know how long she waited, Midna having gone back into Link's shadow after a while. But finally and to Ombretta's relief, a small groan escaped his lips, his face scrunching up before opening his eyes.

"Link! You're alright!"

"Yeah..." Link drawled out as he slowly sat up, rubbing his forehead. "I'm alright..."

"What happened?"

"Would you believe me if I told you that the wolf turned into a skeleton that I had to meet in battle, called me a disgrace and taught me a sword technique?"

All Ombretta could do was blink at Link, scanning his face for any trace of a lie.

"I'm not kidding."

"Well....I'm glad you're okay at least?" Ombretta dragged out as she stood up, helping Link stand up as well. "I believe you, but wow that's a lot in thirty second."

"Tell me about it." Link shook his arms, rolling his head around his shoulders. "It was...really weird."

"To say the very least. Are you okay to continue?"

Rolling his shoulder one last time, Link nodded, "let's go."

They made up the narrow winding path up to the temple once more, quickly cutting down the two bokoblins standing in front of the temple's entrance, which was covered by a large silk web. Ombretta swallowed thickly the more she stared at it. She didn't want to meet the thing that made that.

She looked to Link, who had pulled out his lantern, it already flickering to life. With a final nod, Link swung the lantern at the web, the flame quickly catching it, the web disappearing within seconds. The familiar feeling of dread settled into her stomach once again, but with a single deep breath;

They stepped in.

#link x oc #link x reader #twilight princess #legend of zelda #Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess #twilight princess link #TP Link

[piratesfromspace]

Five Times Din and Cobb protected you - and one time they didn’t have to

Pairing: The Mandalorian x Cobb Vanth x Reader

Summary: The title says it all. Five Times Din and Cobb protected you, saved you, or just cared for you - and one time they didn’t have to. It's just self-indulgent fluff to make you feel safe and loved, enjoy!

Those small stories represent part 2 of my series “A Mandalorian, a Marshal, and some complicated feelings”. You can read part 1 here: “Two saviors and some hope”. I strongly advise you read it first!

Word Count: 7.1k

Warnings: canon-typical violence, alcohol, brief mention of past abuse, sexual harassment, depiction of PTSD

A/N: Neutral pronouns for reader. English is not my native language, please be kind. Fic also available on ao3.

Part 1 ✧ ☽ Chapter 1: The Bruises ☽✧ 

The first time is the day after Din and Cobb saved you from the slaver in the market of Mos Pelgo. The Marshal had already noticed the bruises left on your upper arm by the mean grip of your captor’s hand. He too was a slave once, and he knows. Worse than the pain, is the actual humiliation of seeing on one’s own body the bruises and cuts inflicted by a tormentor. In the afternoon, he comes home with some sort of ointment he bought off of an old lady that is kind of a healer. He offers to apply it for you. The swelling wraps all around your arm, making it difficult for you to reach on your own. You agree.

He’s quick and focused on the task, and you guess it’s not the first time he has to do something like this. His gentleness is almost startling, such a contrast with the faceless authoritarian figure he was just the day before, when you first encountered him. When he’s done, you can already feel the balm starting to soothe the pain. Although you’re not so sure whether it’s thanks to the actual ointment or the calming warmth of his hands against your abused flesh.

He wants to give you the small bottle containing the medication, but you explain you don’t have any credit to pay him back, cheeks hot with shame. His smile is bright and honest, and he assures you you don’t owe him anything. You thank him in a whisper. And you thank the Maker as well for sending him on your path.

✧ ☽ Chapter 2: The Cantina ☽✧ 

The second time happened during a weekday night. The bartender of the local cantina had an errand to run and asked you to replace him. Him being a dear friend of Cobb, you have accepted. Being a barmaid is one of the many previous jobs you have already done, and it is actually a nice distraction. It also is a nice way to earn some credits, let’s be honest.

As the evening unrolls pretty peacefully, a group of very loud male Devaronians enter the cantina, and you can smell trouble as soon they step a foot inside. You’ve already seen them around town for the past couple days, they seem to be resting here for a while before travelling further into the desert. Although their stay is temporary, they’ve managed to make themselves known to the local population as pretty annoying, searching to start a scrap more often than not.

They settle at the bar, ordering a round of spotchka, before one of them starts speaking about you like you weren’t there. “Hey what a pretty human we have here… I’ve heard humans are all soft and light, ‘wonder what they could taste like!” He follows the declaration by an obscene sound of mouth and an exaggerated lick of his giant tongue on his lips. His friends let out silly sneers at the dirty joke. You roll your eyes, when another expands: “Ugh, I don’t think it’s a good idea to eat humans, you know, I’ve heard they’re all bones and no meat.” “No, not like this Kard’ye, Kriff, you’re so stupid.” The whole group laughs loudly, while the aforementioned Kard’ye struggles to understand the innuendo of his camrade. You don’t know if it’s the alcohol or a natural lack of intelligence, but they indeed all look pretty dumb.

Lucky for you, they let you out of their next conversations, and you tend to the rare other clients, praying for the Devaronians to leave soon. The night goes on, and you’re preparing to close the bar. All the patrons quickly leave, except for the bunch of Devaronians, of course. Just before you can tell them to go somewhere else, they order a whole round of the strongest - and most expensive - alcohol you have. You consider refusing, but you don’t want to be the one explaining to your employer why you let so many credits go away.

“This is your very last round, ok?” you finally say, not even trying to hide the exasperation in your voice.

As you’re serving them, you have a short moment of absence and the heavy bottle of alcohol escapes your hands. You try to catch it back with a gasp, but the brown thick drink ends up all over the counter and on the jacket of one of the Devaronians. “I’m so sorry! Let me cl…” you don’t have the time to end your apology that the thug grabs your faulty arm and pulls it toward him, your ribs hitting violently the countertop in the movement. You freeze, the memory of a similar situation suddenly invading your mind. The cruel hand of your captor. The burning sand beneath your feet. The feeling of despair. It’s all back at the front of your mind. The world is shutting down around you, it’s like you’re floating and being stuck at the same time.

“You stupid human, look at the mess you’ve made! You need a correction, maybe Kard’ye is right, I should actually take a bite, just to try…” the creature growls with a vicious smile, revealing two sets of sharp teeth. He tugs your hand closer, like he’s really gonna bite your fingers off. You can feel his lukewarm and disgusting breath on your skin but you’re incapable to move, completely frozen.

“Actually you shouldn’t” the familiar filtered voice takes you out of your paralysis. There is the sound of a blaster getting armed. “Or you won’t have any teeth left.” Din adds while pressing his blaster’s barrel up against the jaw of your aggressor.

There is a little bit of mayhem as the group of Devaronians pull out their own weapons, stepping back and shouting in surprise. Your attacker lets go of your arm, and turns slowly to face the Mandalorian. The threat of a fight is floating in the air as the orange-skinned alien is deciding whether to take offense or not.

His smile gets bigger and he raises both his hands in a mockery of surrender. “A Mandalorian, what a surprise! Are you a Marshal as well? Or maybe you just happen to share the same closet...” his drunk friends giggle at the implication.

“I’m no Marshal. And I make my own justice. Wanna try it?” He says, his blaster sinking a little deeper into the creature’s cheek. His voice is so steady and emotionless it’s borderline scary. “And if you think you’re insulting me by implying the actual Marshal of this town, the most brave man that I know, is my partner, then you’re even stupider than what I thought.”

The tension is thick as the smile on the Devaronian’s face disappears. He snorts loudly and spits on the floor, in a pathetic attempt to regain some stature.

“Well guys, let’s go out of this rat hole, the spotchka wasn’t even good anyway.” he says aloud for the whole group to hear. His companions grumble last threats while leaving the place.

Mando’s blaster is still aiming at their back as they walk out of the cantina, and as soon as the last one of them is in the street, he walks behind the counter and seals the door behind them with the push of a button. You watch him act, but you’re still stuck in the same position, your mind blank.

“Are you alright? Are you hurt?” you can hear the worry in his voice this time. You want to answer but you can’t, you open your mouth but you’re unable to produce a sound. You’re slowly coming back to your senses, tears of fear prickling in your eyes after the fact, like your emotions are just now catching up with what happened.

You’re desperately looking at Mando’s visor, searching for something, anything that would help you ease the wave of terror that’s preventing you from speaking. “Hey, you’re safe now, I’m here, they’re gone” he whispers, closing prudently the distance between you two, before pulling you gently in his embrace.

You wince when your injured ribs bump into the beskar of his breastplate, but at least the physical pain helps you get back to the here and now. He lets go immediately, startled, taking a step back.

“I… I’m gonna be fine.” you finally find the strength to speak to reassure him. “You’re a strong one, I’m sure you will.” There is no irony in his voice. His visor tips slightly down, toward your ribs. “Let’s go home and have Cobb take a look at this, okay?” You nod in agreement.

“I’ll come back and clean this mess.” he adds finally, while looking at the drink spilled all over the counter. Then his voice gets lower, laced with threat “And after that, I think I also have a few things to clean with some Devaronians.”

✧ ☽ Chapter 3: The Language ☽✧ 

The third time is all about a misunderstanding.

You go on your day, out in the streets of Mos Pelgo to buy some food. You still avoid the marketplace since it has a few brutal memories attached to it that are still too fresh, but it’s okay because you usually find what you want in the small shop next to the cantina.

As you make your way out, arms full of supplies, you miss a step and accidentally bump into a Tusken. Your groceries fell on the ground as you try to catch your footing, and you apologize while picking everything up, too embarrassed to look up at the stranger you just pushed. But the language barrier is not working in your favor, and the Tusken is quite upset. You know their tribe is not always welcome in town and the tensions were already pretty high long before you arrived.

You try desperately to remember the few gestures Din taught you, but you’re panicking and afraid to sign something wrong, making the situation even worse. The angry grunts of the Tusken are not stopping, and you try to apologize again, but to no avail. The loud quarrel doesn’t go unnoticed. More and more bystanders are stopping to look at the scene, and soon, there are quite a handful of villagers and Tusken around you both. Some of them start to take sides, humans insulting the Tusken, and Tuskens raising threatening fists at the town inhabitants.

It’s all going down pretty quickly, until you catch the shining glimpse of a beskar armor, and the rumble of a deep modulated voice. Mando parts the crowd, plants himself in front of the Tusken and signs in annoyed short gestures. He seems tired of this. Playing the peace keeper and the translator for two opposing sides was an honorable mission at first, but it begins to be more troublesome and repetitive those days. You can’t really blame Mando, when the townsfolk are not making the slightest efforts to include the Tusken tribe - and the desert warriors are not really helpful either. Nonetheless, you watch as Din tries his best to avoid a fight and calm the tensions. After a few back and forth, the offended Tusken finally shakes his head, weary, and signals to his group it’s time to leave. You’re relieved, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

The crowd is dispersed, and Din helps you pick up the last of the food supply still on the ground. After a while, Mando finally breaks the silence between you.

“I’m sorry.

He answers your surprised look with a heavy sigh.

“Sorry you had to end up in the middle of this nonsense while you had nothing to do with it in the first place.”

“I am sorry too, I mean, I failed you. You taught me how to sign their language and I couldn’t even remember how to say sorry. I’m a bad student... Or maybe you’re a bad teacher?” you let out a half-hearted giggle, in an attempt to lighten the mood. Din’s visor drops slightly and you swear you've heard a chuckle.

At least you still remember how to make him smile.

✧ ☽ Chapter 4: The Scar ☽✧ 

The fourth time is a night when the pain in your back wakes you up.

Again.

You know you need to find a competent medical droid to fix what has become a chronic pain, but it’s easier said than done when you live in a small town lost in the desert on Tatooine. You turn in your bed, trying to find a more comfortable position, but after a few minutes of unsuccessful attempts you give up. With an exasperated sigh, you get up. The call from the painkillers still stored in your roommate's bedroom and the promise of an oblivious sleep is too strong. With some luck, you might even be able to sneak under Cobb’s blanket (you know he sleeps alone tonight) and cuddle against his warm chest without waking him up.

With silent steps, you sneak into his room, and quickly find what you’re looking for. It would be way convenient to have the medication stored elsewhere, but you suspect he deliberately keeps it there, so he can keep a tab of your consumption. Was he afraid of you getting addicted to the drug? And wasn’t he right to be so?

A voice interrupts your train of thoughts before you can step outside of the room.

“Leave the pills. And come here.”

You feel like a kid caught with their hands in the sweet-sand cookie jar.

“Please, sweetheart. Don’t make me get up.” you guess a smile behind the voice hoarse with sleep.

But you’re annoyed, your back hurts and he has no rights giving you order, he’s definitely not your dad or anything.

“I’m hurting, Cobb, and I can’t sleep, let me have that.” your answer is more curt than you want to.

“I’ll rub your back.” he offers. “Come here”.

He’s being really patient with you, and it’s even more annoying because now you can’t say no.

You lay on your stomach next to him and he straddles you, one leg on each side of your body, resting ever so lightly on your hips. He asks if you’d prefer to remove your top, and you fumble to push it over your head. Big hands are splayed on your back and you suddenly feel so small under the giant Marshal. It’s like he could cover your entire back with just his two palms. He gently massages your shoulders before going lower, working the knots out of your contracted muscles. The slightly callused skin of his hands feels like heaven against yours. Until he touches your spine and pain courses through your nerves like a lightning bolt. You jerk and let out a repressed whimper.

“Sorry, dear.” he whispers, worried. “should I stop?”

“Don’t you dare.”

He starts again, careful, and despite some occasional - but weaker and weaker - surges of pain, you feel your entire body relax, and your eyelids getting heavier. The grounding feeling of Cobb’s body pressing against yours, the repetitive rhythm of his massage, the soft pillow under your cheek that smells like him: it doesn’t take long for your breath to get steadier as you slowly fall asleep. Before you’re totally gone, you feel Cobb’s lips leaving a gentle kiss on the scar on your back - the one you’re glad you kept as proof of the battles you’ve won.

✧ ☽ Chapter 5: The Desert ☽✧ 

The fifth time involves the desert and a storm.

In retrospect you really wonder what was going through your mind when you thought this was a good idea. Leaving the safety of the town to go out in the desert.

Alone.

Just a couple hours before a sandstorm - a storm you knew where coming.

But after another sleepless night due to the pain, and somewhat of a fight with Din (for stupid reasons you can barely remember now), you were more than upset. On edge, even.  And a quick trip out in the open would clear your mind, you thought. You would totally have time to come back before the announced sandstorm.

Yeah sure .

Except you hadn’t planned for the nav computer of the speeder bike you stole in Cobb’s frontyard to break.

In the middle of nowhere.

Just dunes, and dunes, and more kriffing dunes all over.

The sky was cloudy, announcing the storm, so there was no way you could use the position of the two suns to help you figure out in which direction the town was. You tried to reboot the thing, even to disassemble it. Your attempts were useless. Fixing this computer was beyond your abilities.

And here you were, sitting on a speeder bike with no idea where to go. Which would be scary enough. If a sandstorm wasn’t coming.

You’re used to joke about your poor sense of direction, but right now you’re just angry at your inaptitude and your carelessness. There is very little you can do. As far as you see, there is just sand. Not even an isolated farm, or some sort of rocky valley where you could hide. Nothing, but sand. On your right, you can see the horizon slowly darkening, the sandstorm inexorably moving towards you.

So this is how I die , you think, on my own, in the desert of some forsaken planet, because of a kriffing nav computer. I’ve survived some of the worst things this galaxy can throw at you, and THIS is it?

You don’t know if you want to laugh or scream or cry, so you just walk around the speeder bike for a few minutes to try and calm yourself before sitting down in the sand, your back against the useless vehicle. Your only chance of survival would be someone travelling through the area. But with the storm, any reasonable beings - that excludes you - would stay in their village and not go out. Cobb is probably too busy preparing the town for the tempest to notice your absence. And Din, well, with your little quarrel, he surely isn’t gonna come check on you, not realizing you were gone either. Even if they eventually notice it, it’s probably too late.

You let your head fall back against the cold metal of the bike. The wind is getting clearly stronger by the minute, already picking up some dust. Soon it will become hard to keep your eyes open. Even hard to breathe.  You pull your scarf up on your mouth and nose. Silent tears briefly roll on your cheeks before getting trapped by the fabric. The last hope you had to cross someone’s path was dwindling with every second.  You look at the sky, swirls of brown dust staining the clear grey canvas above you. And then you notice a star, it’s weak at first, but it shines brighter and brighter. A deep tone, something too loud to be the sound of the wind, intensifies with it.

It’s coming towards you real quick and it’s not a star. It’s the flames of a jetpack. And attached to said jetpack is the Mandalorian. You get on your feet, your heart racing, and for a moment you wonder if you’re hallucinating. But he lands gracefully on the dune’s crest, muscular figure all clad in beskar, impressive as always. You run in his embrace, the earlier fight forgotten.

You want to explain, to apologize, to thank him, but there’s no time to lose.

“You need to keep this scarf on your face, to grab me and to hang on strong. Don’t let go whatever happens, got it?” You nod, tears of relief clouding your vision.  “It may be a bumpy ride.”

He takes you into his arms, clutching you against him with all his strength and you’re both going up in the sky. His jetpack is at full power, trying to outrun the sandstorm. You can feel him straining against the wind, trying to protect you as best as he can from the flying grains of sand scraping your exposed skin. Unlike him, you’re not wearing any gloves or helmet, there’s no beskar between you and the world.

Through squinting eyes, you can finally see Mos Pelgo in the distance, and as you approach the town, you’re joined by another jetpack wearer. You recognize the red and green of Cobb’s armor. They were both looking for you.

It’s a matter of minutes, seconds almost, but you all reach the safety of Cobb’s home before the sandstorm fully hits the streets of Mos Pelgo. The door is closed in a hurry, all three of you tumbling in the small hall. The Mandalorian finally let you go, and you can feel his arms slightly shaking, muscles spasming after the long and grueling effort. The heavy jetpack is discarded on the ground with little care. His chest is rising quickly, his ragged breath creating weird sounds through the modulator of his helmet, a hand on the wall for support.

You don’t really know what to say and you stand in the hallway, trying to catch your breath as well. You can hear Cobb fumbling to remove his armor and helmet, and as soon as he’s free, he hugs you, whispering reassuring words, although you’re not sure if he’s speaking to you or to himself. And when he lets go of his embrace, he turns to Din and hugs him as well, slightly lowering his head down and placing his forehead on his helmet, a sign you know of affection and love.

“Let’s get you out of your armor, cyar'ika” Cobb’s husky voice is warm but your heart stings at the word. It’s Mando’a and while you don’t know the exact translation, you’re sure it carries a lot of meaning with it. It dawns on you at that moment, your foolishness may have caused one of them to be injured or worse .

You try to hide your self-loathing behind a blank face, and you start helping Cobb. You work in silence, removing every piece of beskar armor from The Mandalorian’s body. When you’re done, Din heads toward the refresher without a word.  You want to cry, he’s obviously mad at you - if it isn’t for the trivial fight from earlier in the day, it’s obviously because you almost killed yourself and put his and Cobb’s lives at risk. You can’t hide your feelings anymore. An overwhelming wave of raw emotions hits you and you rush to your bedroom. Outside, the weather matches the storm inside your head.

A deep soothing voice shakes you out of your thoughts. You can’t really say how long you’ve stayed huddled on your bed. Maybe minutes, maybe hours.

“Hey, you know he’s not mad at you, right?”

Cobb is leaning against the doorframe of your room. He knows when to leave you space, but also when to check on you. You raise red eyes and a runny nose toward him.

“Actually I think he’s mad at himself.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s mad because he upset you and you left, because you got lost and he almost failed to protect you.” He pauses, crosses his arms on his chest. “Actually I’m also mad at myself, for not fixing that damn speeder bike earlier.”

You gasp, you’ve almost forgotten that part. The stolen bike is likely buried in sand as you speak. And if it’s still in one piece at the end of the storm, it should not take long before some jawas find it.

“I’m so sorry about that, Cobb, I… I’ll pay you back, I promise.”

“It’s ok, it was a rusty scrap of metal anyway.”

Cobb lets out a chuckle, mischief back in his eyes.

“Although I may have to arrest you, you know, since I’m a Marshal and you’re a thief. Let me find my handcuffs!” he concludes with a wink, and you can’t help but smile at how corny he sometimes is.

“Now let’s see Din, he needs us I think.”

He grabs your hand to help you get up, and leads you to his room. The storm is still raging outside, and it’s dark, probably early in the night. He knocks on the door, opens it slowly, and in the very dim ray of light that flows into the room, you can guess Din’s back and a glimpse of his soft brown hair. He’s sitting on the bed, facing the opposite wall. Cobb shuts the door behind you both, casting the room into darkness.

“I’m sorry…”

“Please forgive me…”

Din and you both start speaking at the same time.  There is a second of silence, before he resumes.

“No need to apologize. I’m just glad you’re here and safe now.”

His voice is unusually soft, a little less deep than through the modulator, more vulnerable, more human . It’s always a bit weird to hear his real voice, but at the same time you’re grateful to be able to hear it in the first place.

You climb on the bed, and you carefully reach for him, hugging him from behind. He grabs your hands and brings them to his lips, leaving kisses on your scuffed knuckles. You melt into his touch, and you both stay silent, but there is no discomfort between you. The sound of the wind outside is strangely comforting, some sort of a peculiar lullaby. The whole pressure of the day is finally released, and the only thing left is your gratitude and love for the two warriors in your life.

✧ ☽ Chapter 6: The Chiss ☽✧ 

And then there is the time when you can save yourself.

As the weeks pass by, you spend your days taking care of Cobb’s home, or working odd jobs here and there in Mos Pelgo, helping townsfolk with their businesses, trying to make some credits. You don’t really have a plan for your professional future right now. But regarding your freetime, you do have a plan. You’ve asked Din to train you in close combat. At first, he was reluctant, but you convinced him it was about guaranteeing your own safety and not becoming a bounty hunter or some sort of hitman like him.

His lessons were not the easiest to follow. He was patient, but he treated you with no special privileges, barely restraining his force when throwing you on the ground if you failed to escape his attack. He saw no point in playing soft or fair since a real-life aggressor would not be. You learned how to dodge and duck, how to aim for the weakest points of your opponent, and how to use your speed and lightness as a strength against what would likely be a bigger and stronger enemy. It was not about defeating an attacker. The spirit of the lessons were more about how to escape, run and hide efficiently.

You dreaded his lessons as much as you waited impatiently for them. You were pretty sure Din voluntarily over-played his toughness for the first couples of training sessions in order to test your will to really learn those techniques. But you could almost hear the proudness in his voice after each particularly grueling practice. Of course, your body was not spared, and more often than not you ended up with bruises and scratches in unexpected places. You had to reassure him quite a handful of times you were okay with this, because his guilt and fear of really hurting you was ever so present. He always took a moment after your lessons to take care of you, applying soothing balm over your bruises or bacta on your cuts, and those rare instances made you feel like you virtually were his equal, a warrior as well, not afraid of getting hurt in a fight. Of course Cobb always looked at the both of you with concern and suspicion, because he knew too well he was the one who would end up going shopping for medication and handling your healing process in the long run.

But Cobb was also an integral part of your plan. You couldn’t live with one of the best gunslingers in the area and not ask him to teach you how to use a blaster. The lessons were definitely easier to follow, and way less demanding. Cobb was a fun teacher, and while he was serious when sharing his knowledge, he made sure your training stayed enjoyable. Cracking jokes and delivering corny punchlines, calling you all sorts of outdated cute nicknames and cheering on you when you would finally shoot in the middle of the makeshift target of the day. Besides teaching you how to aim, he also showed you how to pull your gun faster than an adversary, the key to winning any fight according to him. When he was too tired after a long day of work to take you out, he would stay home and show you basic blaster maintenance. You would watch, mesmerized as he methodically disassembled his own gun before cleaning it, and re-assembling it with a speed you would not believe possible. Din would usually scoff at his little manly and self-indulgent demonstration, but you bet he was also impressed because you could clearly see the way his visor kept focusing on Cobb’s large and skillful hands. With their guidance, it took only a handful of weeks for you to feel more confident about your chances of survival in a fight.

While you suspected Din and Cobb both knew what motivated you to ask for their training, they never pushed you for any answers. It was about claiming your independence back, claiming your body back, and also a little bit about being prepared in the eventuality you’ll cross paths again with a certain Chiss slaver.

And then, one day, this eventuality becomes reality.

Din, Cobb and you, as well as a couple of other villagers have made the trip to Mos Eisley for a few days, in order to gather needed rare supplies, from mechanical parts to special medicine or new droids.

It’s your first day in the big town when you catch a glimpse of him, in the market. A flash of bright-blue in your peripheral vision. At first, you dismiss the alarm signal your brain sends you. It’s not because the alien is a Chiss, that it was this Chiss. But when he turns his face ever so slightly, you recognize him with no room for doubt. You try to stay calm and act like it’s nothing even though your mind is on a code-red alert.

You spend the rest of the day on edge, and you’re pretty sure Din and Cobb have noticed. As you all three settle in the small room you’re renting for the time of your stay, your suspicion is confirmed when Mando finally let out the question that was on his mind all day long.

“About who we saw in the market today, what do you want us to do about it?”

The tone is severe, no emotion in it, like a soldier ready to take any order. You left a moment of silence.

“I want to handle this myself.” you answer with a surprisingly determined voice.

Cobb’s brows furrow, he runs a hand on his face, and lets himself fall on one of the small beds. He lets out a sigh before adding an ominous “That’s what I feared.”.

You cut short to the discussion, because even if a Marshal and a Mandalorian want to discourage you to go on with this idea for your own safety, you’re still your own person. It’s your choice to make. They don’t push it, and you go to sleep with a very clear objective in your mind.

The next day, you see him again. He’s still in the marketplace and he’s accompanied by a couple of twi’leks in chains he seems to be trying to sell. It’s easy to forget what’s going on outside of the safe haven of Mos Pelgo, but here in Mos Eisley slavery is still a thing and the Republic isn’t in any rush to make it stop. It disgusts you, and your resolution only strengthens. You don’t have any specific plan about how you want to do it but everything falls into place when you spot him in a Cantina later that day.

The suns are already setting when your little group decides to go grab a drink. The Cantina is crowded with travelers and local inhabitants, but the tall Chiss is hard to miss. Of course, you two bodyguards have noticed him as well. As the night goes on, your eyes never cease to dart out of your booth and you have trouble focusing on what your lovers are discussing. Cobb is sipping on his third beer, relaxed. Din is playfully grazing his hand on Cobb’s knees while speaking, getting drunk in his own way. You, you barely touch your drink, too focused on your target.

Then everything happens really fast. You see the Chiss getting up from his stool and leaving, but Cobb and Din are now sitting at the very back of your booth and can’t see what’s happening. You smile at them and say you just need to use the bathroom before slowly walking out of their visual field with a calculated casualness. As soon as you reach the other side of the cantina, you slip out of the place amongst a few other clients. The night is clear, and the freshness of the air is welcome after the moist and warm atmosphere of the cantina. Your heart beats so fast in your chest it’s the only thing you can hear. Adrenaline is flowing through your veins like the most powerful drug in the galaxy, and you feel invincible.

The Chiss is walking further in the main street, and you start following him, your hand resting on the blaster on your hip, hidden under your long jacket. He’s alone, and as you silently creep behind him while he turns into smaller and smaller streets, there is no one left around you.

Suddenly, he stops in the middle of the alley. Without even turning back, he starts speaking.

“How long are you gonna follow me like this? You missed me?” you can hear the smirk in his voice. You’re a bit taken aback.

“You know who I am?”

He finally turns to face you.

“I had a doubt when I saw you earlier but then, I recognized the Mandalorian sitting at the cantina. Quite hard to hide such shiny armor.” he seems very amused by the situation. “I hope you had fun removing that chip, can’t wait to put a new one in your brain. And maybe I should have you branded. So no one will steal my property this time. I have to warn you though, it might be a bit painful.” He’s obviously getting high on his own cruelty.

“Stop it.” you growl through gritted teeth, barely recognizing your own voice.

But he goes on.

“Don’t worry, my crew will also take care of your two boyfriends. I’m sure they will greatly enjoy the little noises you’ll make when I’ll carve my mark into your skin in front of them, and then...”  

“I said stop it .”

If there was any doubt left in you before this encounter, now it is clearer than ever: you need to end this. You need to end him .

Your hand reaches for your blaster but he’s quicker and he’s on you before you can do anything. He runs into you with all his strength, his right shoulder in your ribs, and you both fall on the ground. Your blood is already so full of adrenaline, the usual flashbacks don’t even have the chance to cloud your mind. The pain in your chest doesn’t register either. Your body reacts almost on its own, the long hours training with Din have you move on instinct. Your fist flies up into his nose which breaks into an awful noise, then to his eyes, while you try to kick him in the guts with your knee. He’s taken by surprise but not ressourceless and he has the time to hit your cheek before you manage to crawl from under him. He lets out a grunt of pain and tries to get back up on his feet, but it’s too late. The red lasers of the blaster blinds you. You fire once, twice, more times than you care to count. The Chiss in front of you falls flat on his face, finally silent.

You’re panting, on your knees, a steaming blaster in your hands. The cold air of the night useless to soothe your thrumming body, skin hot like flames were lapping at you, head spinning. The hurried footsteps suddenly stopping behind you take you out of your frenzy.

“Told you.” Cobb says with a shove into Mando’s side, before prudently crouching beside you, gently taking the blaster out of your hands.

“I’ve got you sweetheart.” he whispers softly while he helps you get fully up. “Are you hurt?” You shake your head, still high on adrenaline, not feeling the swelling of your cheek, your scratched palms and what is probably a cracked rib. Cobb is not convinced.

“Well, I doubt that, but we need to go now. Don’t want anyone to find us near this corpse.”

“No, wait!” you clear your throat and lower your voice “We need to take his access cylinder, and check out his ship, make sure there’s no one left chained in there.”

“Then we move now.” Din speaks at last, tone flat, and it’s hard for you to tell what he thinks of this whole mess. He sees you have a moment of hesitation, not really in a rush to search a dead body, and he spares you the gritty work, turning the corpse on his back and rummaging in the pockets and satchels of the dead Chiss to find what you’ll need.

You all leave the crime scene silently, running straight to the spaceport to find his ship. It’s empty, except for quite a few credits Din is happy to steal. The way back to your inn seems incredibly long, but you need the lengthy walk in the fresh air to let the pressure go down. You can hear Din and Cobb talk to each other behind you with low and concerned voices, but you don’t really care. Their conversation doesn’t last though, they catch up with your pace, and The Marshal slips a protective arm around your shoulder, which stays here for the rest of the way.

When you finally reach your room, dawn is only a couple of hours away, and exhaustion is hitting you like a wall. You crash on your bed, barely taking the time to kick off your shoes before rolling on your back and passing out, not even bothering to slip under the sheets.

The two suns are already pretty high in the sky when you wake up the next day. Most of your clothes are folded on the foot of your bed and there is a blanket drawn onto you. You guess Din and Cobb couldn’t let you sleep in your leather jacket and dusty cargo pants. Thinking of them , you don’t know where they are because the room is empty. You sit up, and you let out a groan of pain. Your ribs hurt like hell, your head aches from dehydration and overall you feel like you were hit by a running bantha. You manage to make it to the refresher, and you gulp long sips of water directly from the tap of the washbasin, consciously avoiding the reflection of your bruised cheek in the mirror. The water tastes like sand with an aftertaste of bleach but at least it’s potable - it is, right? You chose to believe it’s clean and settle under the thin water spray of the shower, trying to wash away the dirt of the past night.

With fresh clothes on and a clean face, you feel a little bit better, but there is still no trace of Mando and the Marshal. You don’t have to wonder where they are for very long though, because you soon hear their voices echoing in the hallway before the door slides open.

“Hello sunshine” Cobb’s grin could almost be enough to make you smile. “How are ya’ feeling? You must be hungry.” He gestures at Din and a little box full of steaming food is delivered on your knees.

“Thanks.”

The street food is not the most appetizing you ever saw, probably too greasy and too salty, but your belly rumbles in anticipation and you start eating without any further ado.

There is an awkward moment of silence between the three of you, no one really knows what to say regarding the fact you murdered someone for the first time of your life a few hours ago.

“He saw it coming and he deserved it.”

Din finally breaks the silence, voice steady through the modulator, and it’s like he’s reading your mind. Can Mandalorians even do that?

“You don’t have to feel guilty. Now the only thing that matters is you and your future.”

“And that broken rib we need to heal.” Cobb’s sounds amused “don’t try to fool me by saying you’re okay” he adds with a smirk, his own way of dealing with the situation.

You chuckle and you immediately regret it because it makes you wince.

“You got a point, Cobb.” you admit.

The couple next days are so uneventful, if it wasn’t for the pain still lingering in your chest, you could swear you dreamed what happened that egregious night. Nobody is really bothered by another random slaver missing after a party night at a cantina, especially not the local authorities. The streets are still full of busy travelers, the market full of loud merchants, the bars full of singing drunks. Mos Eisley is the same, even if you’re not anymore.

Nevertheless the trip back to Mos Pelgo still feels like relief.

You’re sitting between the Marshal and the Mandalorian in the transport, neatly tucked between a warm shoulder and cold beskar. Cobb’s fingers are absent-mindedly rubbing circles into your thigh, and you can hear the regular breathing of Din through his modulator. Combined with the soft buzzing of the ship, you feel like you could almost fall asleep.

You’re glad to be coming back to the small desert town. Glad to set foot on its dusty streets. Even glad to find again your tiny bedroom in Cobb’s house.

You realize the trip back to Mos Pelgo does not only feel like relief.

It feels like more than that.

It feels like finally coming home.

And no matter how many times the two warriors who crossed your path a few months ago had to save you, no matter how many more times they will have to, you now know you can also be your own savior.

You now know you can also be your own hope.

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